Ch.4EP.2 – I Am Knight Ihan

After finishing his morning training, he meticulously washed his body.

He didn’t want to hear comments about smelling of sweat.

Afterward, he ate another meal.

After all, consuming nutrients is just as important as exercise.

Stew.

He had simmered it overnight, packed with meat, vegetables, and tomato sauce.

Surprisingly, stew was one of the dishes that allowed for efficient nutrient absorption.

Though he used only inexpensive ingredients, when simmered for a long time, the ingredients became tender and easier to digest, while tomato sauce and commonly available herbs like basil enhanced the flavors.

For a poor commoner knight, it was certainly a satisfying meal.

“Whew, that was good.”

After eating comes rest.

Ihan was the type to be as meticulous about rest as he was about eating.

A short 30-minute nap.

Though not as effective as deep sleep, there were numerous benefits to taking a short nap.

It provided brief but intense effects, helping to restore both physical energy and mental fatigue.

After his short nap, Ihan got up and stretched.

‘Is my morning routine mostly done?’

Seven hours of sleep, stretching immediately upon waking, followed by intense training and nutrient intake.

After sword practice, a bath and more nutrient intake.

A nap followed by stretching.

This was the routine that governed the start of Ihan’s day.

It was a routine he had maintained for the past three years without missing a single day.

Even the day after being beaten to a pulp by the Order Master, who was like his mortal enemy.

‘It’s disgusting how I actually feel my body improving more after getting beaten up and recovering.’

If asked why he continues such insane training, Ihan would answer that it’s because it works.

Training until his body breaks down, then recovering with a troll’s healing ability makes his body even stronger.

The progress might be as slow as a snail’s pace, but the key is that there is “progress.”

Even if his strength and stamina only increase by 0.01, after a hundred days that becomes a strength and stamina increase of 1.

After a thousand days, that’s an increase of 10.

After experiencing this definitively, Ihan has trained consistently.

…While a 0.01 improvement might seem hopeless to some, for someone who isn’t a noble, has no proper master, and possesses nothing but a healthy body, even such subtle growth methods serve as a beacon of hope.

Moreover, sometimes the improvement is 0.05, and occasionally even 0.1.

The pleasure derived from improvement was incomparable to anything else, and Ihan believed he was steadily progressing toward self-completion.

“…Sigh, but seriously, when will I ever win?”

However, people aren’t machines, and sometimes gloomy feelings appear out of nowhere.

Unfortunately, today was one of those days.

…It seemed like it would be an unpleasant journey to work.

* * *

As he moved away from the outskirts of the city, known as the area where farmers and commoners lived, a bustling city emerged.

The overwhelming majesty befitting the capital of the Pendragon Kingdom.

The closer one got to the royal castle, the more prosperous the commercial districts became, with impressive buildings comparable to modern ones and artistic sculptures not uncommon.

Originally, it wasn’t this large, but after the war, when the kingdom transformed into a great nation, the capital was developed to match the name of a great nation.

If someone who remembered the old scenery were shown the current landscape, they would likely be in disbelief and momentarily confused.

Before he knew it, he had entered the city where the nobles of the capital lived, and the majestic royal castle came into view.

A castle that some might gaze upon with admiration.

Ihan agreed it was magnificent, but…

“…I really don’t want to go.”

Ihan’s expression was thoroughly crumpled, clearly showing his reluctance.

After standing still for a few minutes, as if engaged in a subtle mental battle with himself, he reluctantly went to the castle gate.

Then…

“Salute! I see Sir Ihan!”

“Good morning, Sir Ihan.”

“Yes, good work everyone. …But my name is Ihan, not Rihan.”

“…Isn’t that the same thing?”

“……”

Ah, grandfather.

The honorable Deoksu Lee clan is being disrespected in this medieval world.

Should I beat these people up?

[Stop talking nonsense and just do your job, kid.]

‘…Yes.’

Somehow feeling like his (past life’s) grandfather would say something like that, Ihan nodded and presented his identification.

A necklace that looked like dog tags.

The soldier shone a magical item on the identification, and it glowed blue.

A technology reminiscent of fingerprint or iris recognition devices.

Magic is truly fascinating in its own way.

“No problem. Have a good day of work, Sir Ihan.”

“…I don’t want to work hard.”

“Haha, you’re quite the joker.”

“……”

What does this man find so funny?

Feeling annoyed that everyone except himself seemed happy, Ihan entered the castle.

He didn’t know about others, but he was quite stressed, and at this moment, he felt like he might explode if someone provoked him.

Just let someone try me.

Hoping for this, Ihan quickly headed toward the outskirts where the Order was located.

“It’s Ihan.”

“He’s here.”

“Wonder how today will go?”

“Is the Order Master here?”

A group wearing the same armor as Ihan—white silver armor with a white lion emblem—welcomed(?) him.

Of course, while subtly avoiding his gaze.

‘Such spineless bastards.’

When a commoner arrives, shouldn’t they glare, hurl insults, and pick fights?

Shouldn’t they rush at him with murderous intent, push him into traps, and send assassins?

Why do none of them have that kind of spirit?

‘The old ones had better spirit.’

Noble-born knights who tried to stab him, sent assassins, and attempted to kill him.

He had fun with them.

They gave Ihan justifiable reasons to beat people up whenever stress built up.

But now it’s different.

Perhaps because he had beaten up so many of that kind, at some point, those who would pick fights with him disappeared.

Looking at this, he felt the passage of time.

‘I should have left some.’

He should have left some chihuahua-like individuals who would bark aggressively so he could beat them up later when they provoked him.

With a slight regret, his brow furrowed.

“Ihan, who are you planning to kill today with that expression?”

“…Would you pick a fight with me instead?”

“No way. What kind of madman would pick a fight with a monster like you?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“…It’s not exaggeration, man.”

Jake was one of the rare noble-born individuals with good character who didn’t look down on Ihan for being a commoner, and one of the few friends Ihan had in the Order.

He also called him by his proper name. His skills were among the top in the Order, and he would make a good sparring—no, venting—partner, but…

“Don’t look at me like that. Sparring with you makes my bones ache.”

Jake preemptively blocked any opportunity, not giving him a chance to interject.

He’s always been perceptive.

“For a noble, you should have the spirit to get angry when a commoner acts impudently and rush in to kill them, tsk tsk!”

“…I don’t know about anything else, but I can see how biased your image of nobles is.”

Jake had joined the Order at the same time as Ihan.

Therefore, he knew how much Ihan had clashed with noble-born knights during his early days in the Order.

…And he certainly knew what happened to those nobles who clashed with Ihan.

‘Hmm, it still gives me chills.’

The shock of that day still left a deep impression on Jake.

After bullying Ihan to the point where it seemed excessive, they finally crossed the line with their provocations, and subsequently, Ihan became like a “demon,” beating them as if he wanted to kill them.

Others rushed in to stop the rampaging Ihan, but instead, all who intervened were severely injured to the point where they needed extended recovery periods, making the intervention worse than doing nothing.

If the Order Master hadn’t stepped in that day, three of those present would certainly have died…

Afterward, there was talk within the Order about expelling Ihan or punishing him, but this was all ignored by the Order Master.

It seemed like the Order Master was protecting Ihan in his own way, but Jake and other perceptive members knew.

Ihan actually wanted retaliation and would have welcomed expulsion.

If it weren’t for the Order Master, Ihan would have resigned hundreds of times over.

Therefore, the Order Master was actually tormenting Ihan by acting as his shield, and while Jake thought the Order Master was being too harsh, he understood the sentiment.

After all…

‘He’s definitely strong.’

He was too talented to give up on.

The statement about not wanting to fight him was Jake’s sincere feeling from the depths of his heart.

* * *

To be honest, the Order’s training was just mediocre.

Neither harsh nor particularly challenging.

Rather, there was a certain degree of autonomy.

‘Someone might mistake this for the major leagues.’

He had heard in his past life that in Major League Baseball, most training is the individual’s responsibility.

Players spend their own money and divide their personal time by the minute to rigorously hone their individual capabilities, surviving in the infinite competition of the major leagues and earning the title of a major leaguer.

That was the life of a Major League player.

Similarly, most who maintain the title of knight are either disciples of renowned knights or noble-born individuals receiving support from their families.

As a result, they tend to engage in individual training to enhance their personal capabilities and never demonstrate their training methods in front of others.

Because the training method itself is a secret technique and an asset.

‘They certainly all have their own specialties.’

Like recipes passed down through traditions for hundreds of years, knights were like treasure goblins.

Occasionally, when crossing swords, they would surprise you with unexpected methods.

Like now.

Whack!

Clang!

Two knights faced each other, wielding training swords with completely unsharpened edges.

The sparks that flew each time their swords clashed were magnificent, and the display of high-level swordsmanship, even more splendid than those sparks, was more fascinating than a circus.

Whoosh!

One knight’s sword whipped around like a lash, pressuring his opponent.

Surprisingly, the pressured opponent effortlessly broke through this and swung his sword, showing three strikes in an instant.

“Splendid, truly splendid.”

A dazzling display of swordsmanship completely unrelated to him.

It was a precious experience that delighted the eyes and provided vicarious satisfaction just by watching.

…Of course, watching swordsmanship doesn’t mean one can replicate it.

‘In novels, reincarnated guys are all talented and copy geniuses, but why not me?’

At one point, he tried to steal their swordsmanship techniques by sparring with the knights, but far from stealing, he only became more confused.

He couldn’t understand why they moved in certain ways or how such destructive power could come from particular stances.

He had heard that families with considerable history possessed secret martial techniques, and learning these could give one the capability to match ten ordinary men.

There were also stories about struggling to reach “aura,” but whatever it was, it was certainly impressive.

Like the display of sword energy that martial artists in wuxia novels from his past life might use.

…He envied them.

“Everyone’s so talented.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Huh?”

“Sigh.”

Why is this guy suddenly picking a fight?

Could it be a signal that he wants to fight—

“For the record, I’m not sparring with you, ever.”

“…Hmm.”

Ihan was disappointed.

It wasn’t just Jake; other guys were also avoiding sparring with him, so Ihan had no opportunity to relieve his stress.

‘These days, people are—’

“—Senior Ihan!”

“…Yes?”

“I request a sparring match!”

“…Oh.”

Maybe not?

‘There is someone useful after all.’

Ihan smiled broadly.