Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.9 – A Knight's Rewarding Instructor Duties (1)
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The moment Baltar Grace's name came up, excitement was plain on everyone's faces, composure be damned.
An opportunity to learn from the pinnacle of the kingdom's knights.
No, even if they couldn't learn a thing, just laying eyes on him would be worth a fortune beyond measure.
Baltar's presence was that monumental.
"...You're not joking, are you?"
It was one cadet's question, and far from rude.
The knight was staking the honor of his own order on it—common sense said he wouldn't go back on his word.
"Of course."
And the instructor nodded firmly without even a 0.1-second hesitation.
As if to say he never lied.
Half the swordsmanship cadets swallowed dryly, their greed awakened.
'Can I beat an active knight?'
'Beating him straight-up is impossible. But if I wear him down stamina-wise first, then go in... maybe!'
'Gotta play it strategic. Strategic.'
The cadets racked their brains for strategies.
Or rather, they were hardly worthy of the name—ideas any kid could come up with. Rookies without the skill to analyze an opponent's tactics weren't about to dream up some genius plan to topple an active knight.
So it wasn't that they were fools.
Just simple.
And the simplest among them...
"Kunta... steps forward."
A man mocking the slurred pronunciation stepped up.
A warrior from jungles, plains, and deserts, still unfamiliar with the continental common tongue, made his appearance.
He evoked a handsome black panther—and he was none other than a valiant barbarian warrior, famed as a mysterious race.
"Great warrior serving the white-feathered serpent, son of Urba, Kunta."
Hum.
"I... challenge to duel...!"
His S-shaped single-edged sword gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
Known as a sickle sword or Kopesh.
Tricky to wield, but once mastered, a nightmare for any foe.
Yet the blade hummed with resonance.
Not Sword Resonance. But the tremor right before it.
Proof of his deep familiarity with the blade—and that he was no lightweight.
The cadets realized this savage warrior was no inferior.
Nay, leagues above them.
Bitter as it was, the cadets grinned.
'At that level, even the instructor'll have a tough time.'
'Perfect!'
Jealous of the savage warrior though they were, they hoped he'd hobble the instructor as much as possible.
For their own goals...!
WHAM!!
Thud-!
...The next instant, Kunta's body flipped and slammed into the ground.
"???" ...Kunta blinked, not even registering his defeat.
"What the hell? What just happened!?"
"...I didn't see a thing..."
It all happened in the blink of an eye—no one caught it properly. A commotion stirred, and the instructor hauled the still-sprawled Kunta up. Whoosh! ...Could a person really be lifted that easily? Even one that huge?
"Your form was solid. Swordplay too. But that cocky stance—you lost before you could even swing. Can't afford to get careless."
"...Kunta doesn't get careless."
"Like hell you don't. You saw I'm smaller than you and slacked off."
"......They said don't bully the smaller, frailer ones."
"That's called carelessness, dummy." Snap! The instructor's finger flicked lightly at Kunta's forehead, sending the two-meter brute tumbling back. A mere knuckle rap toppled him.
"Urgh!"
"Don't slack next time. Keep it up, and you'll die someday."
"......Got it, Instructor. But what was that move? Never seen a grapple like it."
"Shoulder throw."
"Mm. Got it."
Kunta accepted defeat with good grace and trudged back. Humiliating loss, but he didn't hold it in his chest. And then.
"Next—who's up?" -......
"Come on. Sun's setting." ...The cadets fell silent.
Truth be told, Lee Han hadn't done much.
Just slipped into his guard and palm-struck the wrist.
A wrist snap strike.
A light snap to deaden the grip, snatch the sword, shoulder-throw, and hurl.
Simple as could be.
Sure, he'd mimicked something like Baltar's weight-shifting method from yesterday in the strike, but it was so sloppy it barely qualified as a technique—blockable with ease if you saw it coming.
Yet that simple move...
"Gah!?"
"What's the point of a so-called swordsman with such weak grip strength."
...Overpowered them effortlessly. That was the problem.
Sixteen straight wins.
Lee Han's record—and the ground was filling up.
Wins by throws and joint locks, not strikes.
Practicing on people was honing his skills fast.
'But aren't these guys too weak?'
Lee Han eyed them pitifully.
Barring first opponent Kunta, none sparked interest.
Just punching bags better than ugly rags.
Cadets at this level? Lee Han was dissatisfied.
'Now my standards are ruined.'
Fighting that Rak guy yesterday showed plenty of skilled knights besides Baltar—yet these academy brats soured his mood.
Not because he was some freak outlier.
On the contrary.
'Most of these punks have shit foundations.'
Hardly any had proper basics.
Believe that only two of sixteen had solid fundamentals?
'Hmm, this is kinda serious.'
They were supposed to be elites—why the mediocrity?
Such thoughts swirled when...
"...Yeah, this is more like it."
Two more stood before him, and Lee Han's expression finally eased.
"Arno here, Arno de Oppen."
"Name's Garand, Instructor."
"...Two of you."
"Problem?"
"Nah, doesn't matter. Glad to see some brains finally."
He'd never insisted on one-on-one.
Hell, he'd invited a rush.
Smart cookies, reading his intent.
Shing.
Dual-sword boy and spear youth.
Both skilled—Kunta's level.
Unlike Kunta, no slacking; full throttle from the start. No dumb losses incoming.
'Weeded out the weaklings; now the named ones show.'
He knew them both.
Even disinterested in cadets, these fame-mongers' rumors reached him.
Eldest son of the famed Oppen sword house, breeders of generals and swordmasters galore.
And disciple of the legendary Wild Wolves mercenary band's leader—the Mercenary Union's head, aka Mercenary King.
Frankly, neither belonged in the academy.
They should be testing for knight orders now.
"Why'd you enroll here? Playing house?"
"To duel Roan. Didn't expect an instructor like you—bonus satisfaction."
"Here to become a knight. Beats mercenary work. Figured enjoy youth before jumping straight in."
"...You two are weirdos."
"Takes one to know one, Instructor?"
"Not your line."
Finally, worthy foes. Lee Han grinned, picking up a wooden sword for the first time—not bare hands.
Wood against real blade and spear, but he'd floored armed groups barehanded till now. This showed real intent.
High regard for their skill.
"Thank you, Instructor."
"No real sword?"
"Want to, but can't kill cadets, right?"
"......"
"...Scarier than the old man."
Whoosh!
No more talk.
Arno swung first.
Left: short-but-wide army broadsword. Right: longer broadsword.
Dual-wielding usually folly, but his bloody practice shone—masterful freedom.
Whoosh! Whoom-!
One hand fencing, the other scorpion-stinging for openings.
And Garand's spear? No ordinary polearm.
Crunch!
Heavy heft, blade not just tip—a massive pole arm like eastern glaive.
Swept with man-slicing might.
Instant clash frenzy.
Clangs sparked, explosive bursts deadly.
Blades trailed arcs; Garand's swings rock-shattering fierce.
BOOM!
Even active knights would struggle blocking both.
Thus.
"Huff...!"
Their fatigue first? Unthinkable.
Drenched in sweat, they eyed Lee Han like some otherworldly beast.
What weight was this?
Breathing hurt that bad?
"...Instructor, if I may— are you actually human?"
"Ha, ridiculous."
Arno and Garand, dumbfounded, blurted the foolish question.
Look at this.
Prideful duo bending pride for teamwork.
Sword scion and merc pup—oil and water—frantically gunning to win.
"Human, yeah. Just stronger than you."
...Not a single step back.
Every blow parried clean; push with strength, and they'd topple rebounding.
His wooden sword unbreaking—theirs screamed like shattering.
Weapon wails numbed wrists and arms; they gazed at their instructor dizzily.
Lee Han.
"Your momentum's weak. Immature hearts show. Fix that, and you'd be golden."
"...You say we lack heart?"
"Momentum's weak."
"I'd say we're decent."
"Nah. True strong momentum—"
Is like this.
Huuuuh!
Demonstrating over explaining, he inhaled deep.
Full force, testing lung limits.
"Haaap—!"
A thunderous kiai.
But no one truly heard it.
Zing!
Just a kiai. Not that loud.
Basic shout, bellowed hearty.
Yet that hearty roar buckled the faint-hearted.
"Grk...!?"
"Guh!"
Legs gave under his aura.
Some nearly pissed.
Beast's roar.
Fitting for the roar that froze Arno and Garand.
Bodies locked despite will.
"...Fear?"
Mage Irene defined it.
Great beasts faint foes with presence alone.
Rabbit panicking before bear.
Lee Han's the same.
"Lion's Roar. Literally, lion's bellow."
"......"
"Got it? Momentum's this. Oath to bite, overwhelm. Beat this level casually, I'd yield. But you lack it. Greenhouse flowers, probably. More real fights'll ripen it. Time fixes all."
"...Really human?"
They questioned again amid his lesson.
This aura didn't scream "practice makes perfect."
They collapsed.
Thud!
Couldn't hold out.
Grinning at the fallen, Lee Han looked refreshed.
Body finally warming up.
And then.
"Come on out."
"......"
"Others seem done rushing, but you? Feels different. Or not, whatever."
To whom?
Provocative words, and luckily, his target responded eagerly.
Step.
"-Not at all. Probably the most anticipated here."
Black-haired noble drew sword, facing him. Lee Han grinned—finally fun.
Roan.
Suspected reincarnator, prime surveillance target. Deep down,
'Big fish.'
Today's peak event.