Ch.35EP.11 – The Knight Hate Spellcasters (3)

Whoosh! Whoosh-!

“……”

As the swordsmanship department cadets energetically continued their steel rope jumping exercises today, as always, some collapsed after being hit by the rope or panted heavily from exhaustion while blankly watching their instructor’s training.

No, was that closer to torture than training?

It was an unbelievable, surreal sight.

“…Hey, young master. Is it normal for knights to train like that?”

“Stop mocking me and just call me by my name, mercenary.”

“Hmph, look who’s talking.”

“You started it first.”

The young man and the boy were arguing.

Though they were the same age, Garand, the mercenary’s apprentice who had grown up in harsh conditions, looked relatively older compared to the nobleman’s son who had been raised in comfort.

However, Arno de Ophen, the nobleman’s son, secretly envied Garand’s manly appearance, so different from his own childlike features, though he tried hard not to show it as he retorted.

“…Don’t ask the obvious. What knight would do such insane training?”

“Someone’s doing it right now, isn’t he?”

“That’s why I can hardly believe what I’m seeing.”

“…I see.”

Swinging a metal club with an 80kg iron bar attached to it without hesitation.

Even if one were to tell others about it, no one would believe it.

That’s how unbelievable the sight was.

Crack! Crackle!

Every time the instructor swung the rod with the iron bar attached, an ominous sound came from his body.

It sounded like bones breaking, but listening carefully, that wasn’t it.

It was the sound of muscles tearing.

The screams of muscles.

“Ugh!”

The groans came not from the instructor’s mouth but from theirs.

Having experienced that pain before, it came out automatically.

One of the phenomena experienced while systematically training to become stronger from childhood.

The pain of tearing muscles.

It’s no exaggeration to call it an injury, and it’s utterly terrible.

“That, hurt. Kunta, don’t like pain.”

A boy with exotic features and awkward speech.

Kunta, who was a head taller than the already tall Garand, shuddered.

Somewhat naive, but rather than naivety, there was an untainted purity in Kunta that made his expressions more sincere.

He knew that the tearing sound, the act of muscles tearing, was pain beyond imagination.

‘It hurts like hell… No, it can’t be explained by pain alone.’

It feels like your insides are burning up, like a knife slicing through flesh.

If the tear is severe, the intensity increases, and the pain becomes absolutely unbearable.

…That must be the case.

“Instructor, doesn’t that hurt?”

“It does. But it’s bearable.”

“…Instructor, strange.”

“What’s strange? Any knight can do this much.”

“…That’s a lie.”

“Ho, you’re not falling for it.”

A lie that even a naive barbarian wouldn’t believe.

He had intended to trick him, but unfortunately, Kunta moved away from him.

Of course, he still observed his training until the end.

Thud.

“Phew!”

The ground vibrated as he put down the metal club.

After casually placing the club somewhere, he lightly wiped his sweat-drenched body with a towel and immediately picked up his personal jump rope.

A 50kg steel rope, “slightly” heavier than the 10kg ones the cadets used.

The handles were dumbbells weighing 20kg each.

He wanted to make the rope heavier, but then it would become too large to spin, so 10kg was the limit.

A pity.

But as they say, if you don’t have teeth, you use your gums. Ihan, trying to be satisfied with a different weight, started jumping rope.

Swish swish swish swish!

Slow but steady.

Counting each jump, his muscles rippled.

Sometimes, due to mistakes, the rope would hit his skin with a slap, but Ihan ignored the pain and continued jumping.

Thump! Thud! Thud-!

The floor shook every time he jumped, and people could barely stand properly.

What is that?

As they stared in undisguised amazement,

“Aren’t you going to continue? How long are you going to slack off?”

“In-Instructor, do you still have the energy to talk in that state?”

“Even if I don’t, I should make time to scold slackers.”

“…We’re not slacking off.”

“Anyone can say that with their mouth.”

“Damn…!”

The young master’s group started jumping rope again.

This damn steel rope!

They would definitely break it someday.

Swish! Swish!

With renewed determination, they spun the rope at a pace much slower than Ihan’s.

A speed far from his, who easily spun a rope much heavier than theirs.

“…How much stronger are you trying to become?”

“At least always stronger than you all.”

“……”

The cadets were even more frightened because that statement didn’t seem like a lie.

* * *

Ihan wasn’t embarrassed to train in front of others.

Rather, he felt more uncomfortable just watching and ordering others around.

At the very least, he should be able to do what he orders others to do, and doing it more diligently and extremely would also motivate others.

‘After this, I should wrestle with Kunta.’

That guy is impressive.

He’s more skilled than anyone in hand-to-hand combat.

He’s probably the strongest cadet in unarmed combat.

That’s even better.

He becomes a practice partner for the fighting techniques Ihan needed anyway.

Although Ihan has a higher win rate, it’s because he surpasses Kunta in raw power, not in technical proficiency.

Besides him, there’s Arno for sword duels.

And Garand for spear techniques.

He’d like to face off against Roen too.

‘That guy seems to be avoiding me subtly.’

He’s probably avoiding it because he might reveal his true self if he faces off against Ihan.

Strange guy.

‘Well, I kind of understand what he’s worried about.’

Above all, he has a [hunch], so it’s hard to force the issue.

The unique incurable disease of war returnees.

He senses it from the guy.

‘…I guess returnees have their own struggles.’

Ihan didn’t want to forcibly touch on that.

It wasn’t someone else’s disease, after all.

At that moment.

“In-Instructor.”

“…Hmm? Do you have something to say, Chick Cadet No. 2?”

“It’s Irene, Instructor. And why am I No. 2? Shouldn’t I be No. 1!”

She, who was not only a neighbor but also the first cadet he became acquainted with, questioned why she wasn’t No. 1.

He couldn’t say it was because she was Surveillance Target No. 2, so as a suitable excuse:

“Who told you to repeatedly fail the physical fitness test? Originally, you should be the youngest chick, but because I know you, I made you No. 2. So be grateful.”

He decided to be brazen.

“…Fact-bombing is bad, Instructor.”

“What’s bad and excessive is your stamina, Cadet Irene.”

“Hmph…”

Irene Windler.

The only mage cadet in the swordsmanship department.

When he first saw her, countless male cadets blushed and hurriedly avoided her.

She had a fairy-like beauty, after all.

Golden hair like spun gold and eyes like blue jewels.

Skin as white and flawless as porcelain.

Her beauty could be compared to that of the mystical fairy race.

And she was also a mage with special mysteries.

It was enough to instantly steal the hearts of the male cadets.

…But now.

‘It’s not easy to have such poor motor skills.’

Everyone now looks at her with concern rather than blushing.

Like looking at an ocean sunfish that might die at any moment.

‘It was shocking.’

Even noble ladies with limbs as thin as twigs managed to do a hundred jump ropes before panting, but Irene was different.

‘Is it human to collapse after just 3 jumps?’

She did a mere “3” jump ropes and then collapsed, sweating profusely and panting.

It wasn’t even a heavy rope.

It was a really light one.

Yet she did jump rope like a marionette.

How could her arms and legs all move separately?

At that level, one would suspect some defect in the human body.

So, wondering if she had a hidden illness, he showed her to a priest in the recovery room, and the priest spoke with an incredulous face.

-J-Just seems like she has seriously low stamina? What is this? How did she live her daily life to have such low stamina? Even for a mage, there should be basic strength, but this…

…Later, he heard that Irene used magic for all her daily activities.

With her overflowing talent, she was able to use the basic magic [Telekinesis] as a substitute for her hands and feet.

-When did you start living like that?

-W-Well, since I could use magic?

-And when was that?

-…When I was twelve.

-…

Having lived like a bedridden patient for a full 7 years, it was natural that her stamina was weaker than a 3-month-old baby.

The “chick cadet” was just a joke, but her body was literally as weak as a real chick.

She truly is Number 1.

…From the bottom.

“Phew, Irene Cadet, weaker than our chick. How’s your diet improvement going these days?”

“I-I’m eating a lot of meat and vegetables as you said.”

“Good, cadets shouldn’t worry about health but eat everything. First, you need to gain weight to do anything. Make sure to eat at least five meals a day.”

“…Yes.”

“Understand? It’s about survival. Survival! Eat more if you want to live!”

“……Yes.”

An uncertain response.

It’s worrying, so worrying.

Sure enough.

“And you’re restraining from using magic as much as possible?”

“W-Well…”

“…Please, at least don’t use magic when coming to school. I’m saying this for your own good.”

“……Yes.”

…When will this chick become stronger than a chicken?

No, will there ever come a day when her stamina reaches human level?

‘No wonder female leads in romance fantasy novels fall down all the time; with bodies this weak, they’d get hurt frequently.’

Romance fantasy female lead characteristics.

They fall down easily, get hurt easily, and eventually become sickly.

But there’s a reason for their weakness.

Ihan looked at her with a pitying gaze, and Irene flinched.

Out of embarrassment.

[It’s good that you know it’s embarrassing, Arin. I’m still ashamed of you.]

‘Please shut up, you! I know I’m embarrassing!’

She only used magic because it was so convenient, but who would have known she’d become as weak as a patient?

In a way, choosing the swordsmanship department lectures was a stroke of genius.

Otherwise, she might have eventually become an ocean sunfish that would die just from stepping on gravel.

‘At least now I can do 10 jump ropes!’

[…That’s nothing to brag about.]

The ghost girl’s scathing remark.

As Irene blushed with shame and tried to shake it off, he asked:

“By the way, why did you approach me? Do you have something to say?”

“Ah, right!”

Startled that she had lost her original purpose due to the miscellaneous talk, she hurriedly spoke:

“I-It’s nothing else, Instructor. It seems like there will be a troublemaker in today’s class. I wanted to apologize in advance for that…”

“A troublemaker, hmm, are you perhaps referring to ‘that’?”

“…Huh?”

“That, over there.”

“……”

Irene slightly turned her head.

There stood the person Ihan had dismissively referred to as “that,” and Irene unconsciously:

“Ah! Yes, that.”

She ended up calling Odwal Bernard, a professor from the magic department, “that.”