Ch.43EP.13 – The Fair Instructor (2)

20 days.

It had already been 20 days since the Swordsmanship Department cadets arrived at Vulcan.

That meant twenty days since the cadets had truly begun training that put their lives on the line.

Putting their lives on the line.

Someone hearing this might consider it an exaggeration, but anyone who had witnessed their training from beginning to end wouldn’t doubt those words.

Their training was that harsh and desperate.

“Urrrgh!”

“Climb! You have to climb! If you fall here, you’ll die…!”

After a week of training, they attempted rock climbing for the first time in their lives.

They wondered why PT exercises unusually ended within two hours, only to discover it was to make time for this climb.

They had to struggle and strain every sense in their bodies to scale the cliff with its dizzying height.

A height where a fall meant death or disability.

They didn’t want to die yet, so they gave their best—no, they shed tears and blood as they desperately climbed the cliff.

In reality, only the three instructors and Roen Dmitri de Lionel made it all the way up the cliff.

The others fell partway, only surviving thanks to Irene Windler’s telekinesis as she waited at the bottom.

That was the result of their first cliff climbing, and it took four more days before everyone succeeded in reaching the top.

But after they all made it up…

Thud.

“From now on, wear this bag when climbing the cliff.”

“……”

…The instructor must surely be a demon.

How else could he order them to climb a cliff while carrying sandbags?

Yet they couldn’t object, partly because they had been conditioned not to defy his orders, but also because…

“I’ll demonstrate first. Follow me carefully.”

While they carried 10kg sandbags, that man carried a 100kg sandbag up the cliff.

And after reaching the top, he came back down and repeated the climb with them—how could they complain?

By now, there wasn’t a single cadet who hadn’t received his help.

Nine more days passed like that.

Only then did they finally succeed in climbing by themselves while carrying sandbags.

“—Everyone did well. We can probably stop the calisthenics soon. You seem to have learned how to squeeze out your strength even without the exercises.”

After 20 days, hearing praise like this almost brought tears to their eyes.

It wasn’t just the emotional relief of not hearing that hateful, detestable whistle.

It was because he acknowledged them.

That alone was enough reason for tears, and everyone who had trained would understand.

After all, the instructor always trained alongside them.

No matter how terrible the training, he never just stood by watching.

He always went through it with them to the end, always working ten times harder than they did.

‘He constantly helped us.’

‘He always went down the mountain to bring food.’

‘He even brought reports to substitute for lectures… wait, should I be grateful for that?’

‘…There’s nothing he hasn’t helped with.’

They came to understand what it meant to be exemplary, why one could feel respect for another person.

And he was truly worthy of their respect.

At least to them.

So after 20 days…

While they might still have some complaints, none of them harbored resentment or hatred toward him.

How could they resent someone who governed them by example rather than oppressing them with violence?

They weren’t beasts.

“From now on, except for morning runs, you’ll handle basic physical training on your own. You should all know how to do it without the instructor telling you.”

“Is… is that really true?”

“What would be the point of lying? I’ve trained you thoroughly in the methods, so now you need to do it yourselves. Whether you do it voluntarily or not will determine your future.”

“……”

“I hope you don’t become lazy. Don’t make me feel ashamed of having taught you.”

“……”

Crack.

—Ahhh!!!

They shouted energetically.

With sincere hearts.

“They’ve definitely developed physically compared to twenty days ago.”

“People who knew them before would have trouble believing they’re the same people.”

That was the assessment from Arno de Ophen and Garand.

Twenty days ago, these cadets were at best low-level mercenary material.

Lives that could end at any moment.

But now.

They were no longer at that level.

“Mid-level, or maybe even upper-mid-level mercenary material.”

Not just their physical condition, but their aura was remarkable.

Veteran mercenary level.

And Garand wasn’t comparing them to ordinary mercenaries, but to those from the legendary mercenary group “Wolves of the Wild”—showing just how high his evaluation was.

“They could give the disciples from noble houses a good fight.”

The young lord of House Ophen, which had the most disciples in the kingdom, shared the same impression.

Arno seriously considered implementing Ihan’s training methods when he returned to his family.

Just then.

“Still, they can’t kill a bear with their bare hands yet.”

“…Kunta’s standards are a bit strange.”

“In my tribe, children must kill bear, crocodile, or monster to be recognized as warrior. When warrior level, not afraid of shaman. But sprouts not there yet. If fight shaman now, still can’t win. Sprouts still weak.”

“…Hmm.”

Both men nodded at his assessment, which was awkwardly phrased but understandable.

They understood that the “shaman” he mentioned referred to mages, and that twenty days of training was still insufficient.

However…

“We’ll fill in those deficiencies starting now.”

That was Ihan’s confident response, and everyone looked at him with expressions of heightened anticipation.

“Chick #2.”

“Yes, yes!”

“Bring that over.”

“Got it.”

Irene Windler followed Ihan’s order with familiarity.

After serving as an assistant instructor for so long, they had developed a certain telepathy—he didn’t need to specify exactly what he wanted her to bring.

This was something Irene Windler secretly took pride in.

Boom.

The ground suddenly trembled.

A considerable number of trees.

Dead or rotting trees that had been uprooted or cut down and gathered together.

Thunk.

“You’ll understand when you touch them later, but these trees are extremely hard. Though dead and rotting, they grew in Vulcan’s harsh environment, so it’s no wonder they’re solid.”

Even without touching them, their hardness was apparent just by looking.

Their enormous size was impressive, and they emanated a strange energy.

If dead trees were this formidable, how much harder must the living trees of Vulcan be?

Once again, they felt awe at the mysterious mana preserved in Vulcan.

“Don’t be intimidated. I’m not showing you this to discourage you. But you need to know that spell-casters are a breed who can move such heavy trees by themselves.”

“!!?!”

He hadn’t asked Irene Windler to move the trees just because he found it bothersome.

He was demonstrating.

Showing what those who possessed the mysteries of mana, those who wielded the incomprehensible power of the spell world, could do.

“It must weigh at least 1.5 tons. So, Chick #2, was it easy to lift this?”

“Well, it was a bit tricky. Telekinesis is like… wrapping the entire tree in mana to lift it.”

“How many trees could you lift if you tried?”

“If I really put my mind to it, about four?”

“Hmm, I see.”

Irene calmly making impossible statements and Ihan accepting them as normal.

The cadets felt a chill at their casual conversation.

Being able to lift four trees at will.

Approximately 6 tons.

To manipulate such massive weight freely…

It confirmed why mages were objects of fear.

One-person army.

Alone, they were enough to turn the tide of battle.

However…

“Don’t be scared, you fools.”

Ihan calmly scolded them.

A reprimand that their training would be wasted otherwise.

The cadets finally raised their heads and could see the instructor’s clear, confident smile.

“Yes, it probably seems more unfair than you imagined. Being able to manipulate that much mass at will, handling mysterious powers you didn’t expect. Chick #2, can you handle fire as well?”

“Hmm, that’s not my specialty. I awakened to the spell world with water and wind attributes…”

A surprising statement.

If a mage had been present, they would have been astonished.

Most mages possessed only one attribute, which they specialized in.

Yet she claimed to have two attributes.

Double.

An amazing characteristic typically found only in arch-mages.

However, the magic-hater who had little interest in the greatness of mages asked with an indifferent face:

“Enough chatter, can you handle it or not?”

He only wanted the conclusion.

“It-it would take time, but I could manage it.”

“Then infuse that tree with fire mana and throw it at me with all your might.”

“…What?”

“Don’t ask again. Hurry.”

“…Yes.”

Though still looking dubious, she followed his instructions.

Whoosh!

In an instant, the tree levitating in the air was engulfed in flames.

Irene Windler.

A mage known as the genius of the century.

It was said that no talent like hers would appear within the next 100 years.

She was a talent representing a century, and this moment showed why she received so much attention.

And now, this mage with such talent was pouring her mana into fire magic.

It was threatening.

Not just the heat of the fire, but the density of the flames enhanced by mana was extraordinary.

The burning log was no longer just a burning log, but had become a giant spear imbued with fire mana.

It could be called a [siege weapon] without exaggeration.

And yet, facing such a weapon…

“A-are you sure I should throw it?”

“Stop talking and throw it with full power.”

“…Gulp.”

Irene Windler swallowed hard and followed his command.

With truly all her might.

She channeled all her mana into her telekinesis, and the power was now too great to be reversed.

Whoooosh!!

Who knew that visible tree rings could be so terrifying?

It had the pressure of something that could pierce through a massive bell, not just ring in the new year.

Yet even facing this flaming giant spear flying straight at him, Ihan showed not the slightest hint of retreat.

He only looked forward, and gradually…

“A trained human body is strong. But most people don’t know how to use the power of their strong bodies.”

Crunch!

Ihan’s feet dug firmly into the ground, anchoring him.

As if declaring he wouldn’t retreat even an inch.

“However, depending on how you understand the flow of power, how you handle and apply that power, even this becomes possible.”

Ihan unhesitatingly rotated his body and threw a punch.

A straight punch.

Clean and orderly, exemplary yet more solid than any other stance.

Whoosh!

As his body rotated, a vortex formed around him.

He extended his fist.

That simple action seemed so magnificent, and in the next moment…

CRASH!!

The straight punch and the giant spear collided.

Logically, the human body should have been sent flying or torn apart according to the laws of physics.

However.

Crack-!

…What shattered was not the human made of flesh, but the incredibly hard wood.

“It-it split in half?”

“……”

“Is this a dream…?”

No one claimed to have blinked, yet they couldn’t believe it.

It seemed unreal, an utterly unbelievable sight.

The man who had performed this unbelievable miracle dusted off his uninjured hand and turned to them.

“This is what it means to use power, to throw a punch. Well, I’m still clumsy at it.”

“…Haha.”

His absurd declaration provoked involuntary laughter.

“…Does that punch technique have a name?”

Roen’s calm question.

Unlike usual, it contained a small tremor of expectation, and Ihan named it with the goal he someday wanted to reach with this fist.

“Hundred-Step Divine Fist”

The name of a punch that was still woefully inadequate, capable of striking objects only within a ten-step radius, let alone a hundred.