Chapter 61

Click-clack, click-clack.

“We’ve arrived, young master.”

The carriage that left the cathedral came to a stop in the middle of the central square.

“Thank you. I’ll be back soon.”

I got off the carriage.

My gaze fell upon a bench near the statue of the praying saintess.

That was the place we had agreed to meet.

I walked towards it with a steady pace.

The crowd was quite large.

I spotted the person I was supposed to meet among them.

I had planned to meet one person, but seeing two made me chuckle as I approached.

“Hey.”

“Ah, you’ve arrived, senior!”

As always, Annette was polite.

On the other hand, Camian just lazily nodded his head.

Is he not an easy man despite being the protagonist?

I smirked to myself.

“I was supposed to meet him, so why are you here?”

“I thought maybe I could be of help…”

Annette turned away, her cheeks reddening.

It was too obvious to miss.

She must have come out because she was worried about Camian.

“Well, it’s fine. It doesn’t really matter if there’s one more person.”

“Thank you, senior.”

“Eh, you don’t need to thank me for anything.”

My gaze shifted to Camian.

‘You want to become stronger? But with your current methods, it’s impossible.’

The words that had brought Camian here.

His falling grades had left him in a state of anxiousness, making him susceptible to provocation—a convenient fact.

“Can I really become stronger?”

Camian asked, looking at me directly.

After the incident in the underground space, his evaluation of me must have shot up significantly.

That’s why he came all this way after hearing just a few words.

“See for yourself and judge. You’ll surely feel something.”

“Then let’s go.”

I turned and walked back towards the carriage.

————————————-

‘Lower District…?’

As Max entered the Lower District without hesitation, Camian’s expression turned to one of confusion.

Even as the second son of a fallen baronet, a noble is still a noble.

He had never set foot in the Lower District before.

But although he had never been there, he wasn’t ignorant of what sort of place the Lower District was.

It’s literally where the lower class of society lives.

Is there a way to become stronger in such a place?

It didn’t make sense.

“What are you doing? Not coming?”

Camian closed his mouth just as he was about to speak.

He decided to trust.

The person was headstrong and not easy to get along with, but Camian knew from experience.

He knew the person’s abilities were real.

Of course, they were not absurdly powerful like Princess Oskar or Leon Benesse, the monsters surrounding them.

Honestly, he didn’t think there was a huge difference in their actual skills.

But that’s exactly why he thought there was more to learn from this person.

A calmness, audacity, and decisiveness that made you feel the gap beyond the gap in skills.

Multiple factors that allowed this person to exceed their own abilities.

Those were the things that made the difference.

He wanted to learn those secrets.

And they might just be here.

“What’s wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing. Let’s go, Annette.”

Camian started walking towards the Lower District.

**Turk’s Fencing Hall**

Camian’s pupils shook as he looked at the old wooden sign of the building.

A fencing hall?

A place to learn swordsmanship here?

In the Lower District?

Could there be a proper fencing hall that teaches real swordsmanship?

It’s extremely unlikely.

If there was someone with proper swordsmanship, they wouldn’t have set up a hall in the Lower District.

He had never heard the name Turk before.

He felt uneasy.

Very uneasy.

“Oh, welcome. Our new student.”

Turk had come out to greet us.

Camian’s face still showed signs of unease.

He clearly looked like a mercenary.

It was written all over the atmosphere he exuded.

If he had looked like a knight, maybe there would have been a sliver of hope.

But a mercenary?

Any faint hope faded away.

“And who are these people with you?”

“They’re here to observe for now. But who knows, they might become students in the future.”

Don’t just decide that we will be students.

Camian’s pupils shook again.

“Oh, I see. Welcome.”

Turk greeted them with a friendly smile.

“— Hello.”

Camian replied awkwardly.

“Pleased to meet you. I hope to learn a lot from you.”

Annette, on the other hand, greeted him with proper politeness.

The difference in their personalities was clear.

“Come on in, please.”

Turk led them inside.

Max and his group entered.

But there was another person inside.

It was Elaine.

“What, you’re here too?”

“I was called by my father.”

Elaine responded with a somewhat sullen expression.

It was because of the incident during the archery assessment.

She had been teased by Max and had done something out of character only to feel utterly embarrassed.

She had kicked her blankets in frustration in her room that day.

Ever since then, whenever she saw Max, she was reminded of that incident and tended to avoid him slightly.

“I see. Well, thanks for coming anyway.”

Max laughed lightly.

“No… it’s nothing…”

It’s not something worth mentioning.

Elaine turned her gaze away, looking embarrassed.

“Could it be Senior Elaine?”

“Yes, that’s me. But who are you?”

“Ah, nice to meet you. I’m Annette Laiel, a first-year. I’ve heard a lot about your great name, senior. Please take care of me.”

Annette bowed deeply.

Even if they had never met before, as an academy student, one couldn’t be unaware of Elaine’s name.

A second-year student who consistently took the top rank.

A prodigious magical talent rumored to be worthy of the title of a grand mage.

A model student with impeccable conduct.

In many ways, a senior worth looking up to.

“So you’re junior Annette. What brings you here?”

“Just… observing.”

“Oh, I see.”

Elaine gave Max a look that said it was obvious he had invited them.

Today was certainly an important day at the fencing hall with her father, but whether it was worth spreading around the neighborhood was highly questionable.

Yet here he was, having brought not one but two people.

“Is that person also here to observe?”

Camian flinched.

“Yes, senior. I’m Camian Croycher, a first-year.”

“I’m Elaine, a second-year. Thank you both for coming such a long way to grace this place with your presence.”

“What are you talking about?”

The first meeting flowed with a warm atmosphere.

Turk laughed heartily as if pleased with what he saw.

“On this meaningful day, the fencing hall is bustling, which feels good. It’s not polite to keep you waiting, so shall we start right away?”

“Anytime is fine. I’m fully prepared.”

Confidence overflowed on Max’s face.

“Understood. Then let’s start immediately.”

The two, taking their stances with swords in hand.

‘A real sword… This is serious.’

Camian thought, realizing it was a real sword and not a wooden one.

The situation suggested a sparring match.

To spar with real swords meant a live combat practice.

Injuries were common, and in severe cases, one could suffer grave injuries or even lose their life.

It’s because the blade has no eyes.

Therefore, the academy only allows real sword sparring in special cases.

The purpose of sparring is to become stronger, not to harm someone.

‘Could it be that this person’s combat skills… have been honed this way?’

A flicker of expectation returned to Camian ‘s expression.

Risky real sword sparring.

If one were used to it as part of their routine, perhaps it was possible to understand the reasons behind the person’s remarkably superior real combat skills.

‘But—

That stance, I’ve seen it somewhere before.

It’s not a mistake.

I’ve definitely seen it.

Camian thought hard and then his eyes widened as if he had finally realized something.

‘Huh? Imperial Style Number 8?’

A basic sword technique that any person from the Empire would encounter at least once.

It was certainly the starting stance of Imperial Style Number 8.

Wait.

Wait.

What is this?

Could it be?

“The swordsmanship being taught here…”

Camian spoke to Elaine next to him with wavering eyes.

“Is Imperial Style Number 8.”

Elaine answered calmly.

At that moment.

Camian looked as if he had been struck on the head with a hammer.

Imperial Style Number 8.

Was the swordsmanship being taught here really Imperial Style Number 8?

That means…

Camian recalled the scenes of Max’s combat he had seen until now.

Come to think of it, Max had relied heavily on basics.

But he had thought that was just his personal combat style.

A style that conserves energy, avoiding flashy and powerful but exhausting moves.

But thinking about it again………….

Had he ever used any other techniques?

He had not.’

Camian ‘s face was once again engulfed in shock.

It turned out that there were no other sword techniques for Max.

Only Imperial Style Number 8.

And he fought so well with that?

His heart started to pound amidst feelings he couldn’t quite understand.

‘Do you want to become strong? But your current method is impractical.’

Max’s assertion.

In the end, those words were true.

Max really knew how to become stronger.

The way for someone as talentless and ordinary as himself to become stronger.

Camian clenched his fist tightly, his eyes burning with resolve.

He couldn’t miss a single scene.

He would learn everything that could be learned.

“Let’s begin.”

Turk broke the silence.

Thump.

Max stomped on the ground.

And so the final sparring began.

The sparring had ended, but the heat had not yet dissipated.

Imperial Style Number 8.

He had thought it was a basic, unremarkable sword technique, but only today did he realize how good it was.

・How could I have been so blind?

Camian felt a sense of self-reproach.

“Ha-ha, finally……… Finally, a student who has mastered Imperial Style Number 8 has emerged in our fencing hall. This father is so moved. At times like this, it should be celebrated with a drink, a drink! Daughter, go buy some alcohol and snacks right now.”

Turk seemed very pleased, enough to send his beloved daughter on an errand.

“Yes, I’ll get ready.”

Knowing her father’s feelings all too well, Elaine nodded obediently.

Decades had passed with no one recognizing its value, only facing neglect,

But still, the father had steadfastly walked his path without changing course.

And finally, someone who truly understood its value had appeared.

Not only that, but someone had mastered it completely.

Elaine knew very well how happy and proud her father must be.

But there was just one thing.

Something subtly stirred her emotions.

That person happened to be Max Celtrine.

‘No, honestly, it’s something to be grateful for.’

Still, Elaine acknowledged it.

The first person to recognize the value of her father’s life’s work in swordsmanship.

And the father sincerely considered Max to be the sole successor.

Indeed, he was unique.

The first student that her father acknowledged had mastered Imperial Style Number 8.

That must be the reason.

The reason why her father was living a more motivated and fulfilled life than ever.

‘Max Celtrine……..?’

She had never imagined that this problematic peer could have a positive, rather than negative, impact on her and her family’s life to this extent.

Life is indeed unpredictable.

“Ah, I’ll go too.”

Max said to Elaine.

“But before that.”

Max’s gaze turned to Camian .

“How about it? Have you come to realize a way to become stronger?”

Camian didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he strode towards Turk.

All eyes turned to Camian with curiosity.

All except for Max, who seemed to know something, smiling wryly.

“Hm? Perhaps you have something to say…………?”

Turk tilted his head, puzzled.

At that moment.

Camian bowed deeply at a right angle.

“Please teach me swordsmanship, sir.”