Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.8 – The Knight Acquired an Assistant (1)
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Crunch! Crunch!
Common sense dictated that climbing a cliff involved searching for handholds and footholds, gripping them with hands and feet.
Even that alone was grueling enough that it felt more inevitable than merely sensible.
But the way he climbed was different from others.
No, it defied common sense entirely.
Stab!
"Hoo! Hooo!"
Forcing his hands and feet into the rock.
The cliff wasn't some sand dune, yet as he ascended, he kicked footholds into it without hesitation and stabbed his hand blades to create grips.
Barefoot and barehanded.
With no equipment whatsoever, he advanced in a brute-force manner, but watching him, the word that came to mind wasn't "brutish" but "stubborn."
He simply stared straight up with unyielding determination, and when he finally reached the top...
"Haa...! Haaaa!"
He collapsed spread-eagled, breathing raggedly.
His body was drenched in sweat, and his feet, hands, and skin bore numerous scrapes.
This was proof of how many times he'd nearly slipped during the climb and how perilously dangerous it had been.
However, most people wouldn't know.
That he'd scaled the cliff more than five times, and had even fallen once.
His survival itself was miraculous, but his inexplicable recovery power and the body he'd relentlessly toughened day after day without rest had undoubtedly saved him.
The man, Lee Han, had exhausted every ounce of his stamina; he had no will left to even twitch.
Cliff climbing was far more arduous than he'd imagined.
Not only did every muscle in his body scream with each ascent, but it drained tremendous physical and mental energy as well.
A single lapse in concentration could spell disaster, and injury was always a hair's breadth away.
That was why cliff climbing required so much specialized gear.
Thus, what Lee Han was doing was pure recklessness.
To outsiders, it looked no different from suicidal frenzy.
Yet Lee Han believed that pushing past his limits like this would make his body grow stronger.
Well, the effects weren't visible yet. But if he kept at it and mastered the repetition, results would come eventually.
That was the nature of effort.
"...Let's do the next one."
Though he deserved a nap, Lee Han chose movement over sleep.
He lightly replenished his nutrients and immediately...
Thwack! Thwack!
began practicing his "techniques."
Simple moves he'd roughly picked up by observing others in the knight order.
Mostly joint locks like submissions.
He hadn't practiced them much before, but now he dove into joint lock drills.
His training partner was a human-shaped dummy stuffed with sand.
Live opponents were best, but without one, this would have to do.
He practiced joint locks and tackles that way, then tied ropes to thick tree trunks to drill throws like in judo.
Judo he'd learned as a non-commissioned officer in his past life.
He hadn't used it much until now, but honing it would surely prove useful someday.
Besides that, he needed to practice sword and spear work, axe swings, and dagger throws.
He couldn't wield over ten weapons freely like other knights, but he had to train everything he could.
"24 hours in a day just isn't enough, seriously."
Lee Han grumbled that the day was too short, yet he steadily worked through what he could do.
It wasn't full enlightenment, but last night's events had been enough to ignite a fire in his chest. Lee Han harbored venomous resolve in his heart.
Aside from Baltar Grace, that old coot, more foes he needed to overcome had multiplied.
Whoosh!
The air around his body thickened with determined whooshes.
...And so Lee Han was late.
It was the first day of class.
"Did you hear? That guy's been summoned to the dean again for being late on the first day."
"He was late to the entrance ceremony too, but he's historic in all sorts of ways."
"His skills seem impressive, though."
"Impressive skills don't excuse poor conduct and a total lack of manners. He's no knight—just a mercenary at best."
"...That might be why he got demoted. The higher-ups probably don't approve."
"Makes sense."
The Royal Academy was vast.
Yet at the same time, it was narrow.
Cadets were lively in all sorts of ways, often clumping together in groups, which made rumors spread like wildfire and secrets nonexistent.
Even this morning's incident had circulated within ten minutes.
"...That instructor's really okay, right?"
"Who knows."
The cadets in the Swordsmanship Department sighed with evident worry.
The instructor assigned to teach them this year felt utterly unreliable.
An anxious buzz filled the training grounds where about eighty cadets had gathered.
There were some second- and third-years, but most skipped classes.
From second year on, they preferred private family training over academy attendance.
They only showed up for swordsmanship tournaments.
In other words, this was mostly first-years—eighty of them.
Some had mastered Fighting Techniques at trainee knight level; others barely qualified as swordsmen.
Especially commoners, who'd only roughly learned basics at local sword dojos.
One wondered if you could even call it "basics."
Yet they were the lesser irony: plenty came not for swordsmanship or knighthood, but to network with future knights.
"Didn't expect him to show for class, though."
"Right? He'd be better off focusing on personal training."
But this year was a bumper crop, so to speak.
Unlike years full of posers despite the numbers, this batch had genuine heavyweights mixed in.
For starters, the standout among freshmen:
Young Master Roan.
A top contender for next Grand Duke of Lionel, said to hold his own against full knights.
But there were other notables too.
Disciple of the Mercenary Union's leader, dubbed the Mercenary King; eldest son of the famed Opfen swordsmanship house.
Descendants of mysterious desert, steppe, or jungle tribes, or so-called barbarian warriors.
And finally, those who established a spell world to wield mystical mana...
...mages.
"...Why's she here?"
"Most magic classes are self-study, so maybe filling credits? Or networking like the others."
"R-Really?"
"Odd move for a mage."
"Agreed."
People cast intrigued glances at the fairy-like genius female mage, Irene Windler.
Mages in Swordsmanship Department classes were rare, after all.
"...Ugh."
And Irene Windler herself squirmed awkwardly under the attention.
She clearly found the spot uncomfortable.
'D-Did I apply for this by mistake?'
Irene had second-guessed her own registration even after submitting it.
But she had no choice.
This time, it wasn't some ghost nagging in her head—it was purely her own blunder during enrollment.
'Didn't think there'd be this few classes left...'
[Aarin's an idiot. That's why I told you to do it early.]
'Quiet! I was busy house-hunting, that's why!'
[Narrow-minded idiot Aarin.]
'You wanna say that to my face?!'
She bickered with the ghost several times a day, including today, but inwardly she felt relieved.
At least it was an instructor she knew.
'H-He might actually look out for me.'
They were neighbors who'd even shared meals.
Irene harbored hopes things would go smoothly.
Then.
"Ah, so everyone's here."
He finally appeared at the training grounds, and the moment Irene heard his voice, her face lit up with joy...
"...Huh?"
But she and the other cadets blinked in confusion instead.
And understandably so.
"Chair."
"Yes, sir!"
"Tone it down. You're loud."
"Ah, understood."
"Don't tremble. Someone might think I'm gonna eat you."
"...Yes, sir."
"Better. Huh? Why's this chair so low?!"
"Eek! S-Sorry!"
"Sorry gonna end your academy life?"
"......"
"Kidding."
"......"
...When did the baron's young master switch careers to servant?
Damian Pollet.
The immature young lord who'd sparked yesterday's entrance ceremony fiasco was attending him.
...His face was swollen like a burst ravioli, quite the unsightly sight.
The cadets blinked.
Lee Han had, once again against his will, been chewed out by the dean on his way here.
He'd been late to the morning assembly, so no surprise there.
'...How many times has it been this time?'
In his past life, he'd never even set foot in the principal's office, yet this life had him in and out of the dean's room constantly.
He had no one to blame but himself, but it made him wonder if he'd always been this unreliable, stirring a twinge of guilt.
Now, seeing the dean's face first brought awkwardness.
However,
"G-Good morning, sir..."
"......"
He felt zero remorse.
The puffed-up steamed bun—no, ravioli—greeting him soured Lee Han's mood from the morning.
How dare this punk show his face before me!
"Come for another glove to the face?"
Lee Han half-lidded his eyes and rubbed his bare hand.
Maybe chuck a copper coin this time.
But then.
Thud!
"P-Please take me as your squire! I'll be your attendant knight!"
"......What?"
The lunatic dropped to his knees, spouting nonsense about becoming his squire.
'Squire... as I recall, that's basically...'
...a declaration of bodily enslavement, right?
Casually,
Lee Han subtly backed away from the guy.
With contempt for his trash-tier tastes.