Chapter 41
Chapter 41
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.12 – The Knight Wore a Black Octagonal Hat (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Vulcan of the Spirit Mountain.
The most rugged yet beautiful mountain in the kingdom since its volcanic activity ceased.
However, few people ever climbed it.
The ascent was so treacherous, with no proper paths, and ferocious wild boars roamed everywhere as a matter of course.
There were even rumors among herbalists of bear sightings.
That alone made climbing grueling, but the truly chilling fact was that Vulcan's environment was utterly erratic regardless of the season.
Daytime brought scorching heat of 40℃, while nights plunged into -30℃ blizzards with frost forming everywhere.
It was a mystical phenomenon, and all the flora and fauna that survived in such conditions possessed extraordinary medicinal properties, making them highly sought after.
A true spirit mountain.
That said, climbers risked death at any moment, and getting lost could mean dying of dehydration or freezing solid.
The wise choice was to avoid it altogether.
If anyone did climb, they were likely short-lived opportunists chasing a fortune from rare medicinal herbs.
And so.
“Huff! C-crazy... this is insane...!”
Climbing it for the 'purpose of training' was foolish in itself.
...Thus, they were foolish madmen.
“Guhhh...”
“I-I'm dying...”
“W-water...! W-water, please, guk...”
Fatalities—no, fainting spells—were breaking out everywhere.
The uphill slope wasn't just steep; it evoked sheer cliffs unfit for climbing.
It was little more than a precipice.
The cadets weren't walking on two legs; they crawled on all fours like beasts, reminiscent of turtles.
Step back carelessly, and they'd tumble down, bidding farewell to the living world. Backpedaling was out of the question.
If turtles couldn't back up biologically, these cadets couldn't for survival reasons.
In such a situation.
“Haa, feel that air. Spirit Mountain lives up to the name. So refreshing.”
“The air really feels good, Instructor.”
“Well, come afternoon, it'll be sweltering. Heatwave until 18:00, right?”
“...This place is nuts.”
“Haha, getting it now?”
Lee Han, laden with nearly twenty times the others' gear, strolled as if on a walkway.
Though all traversed the same sheer cliff, he alone seemed to live under different gravity.
Not on all fours, standing on two feet—it was astonishing.
Was it a sense of balance? Or...
“Instructor, your toe strength is incredible.”
“I've trained them decently.”
“...I wonder if training even makes that possible.”
“It does.”
“...”
He climbed barefoot.
As if shoes hindered him, gripping the ground with his toes like claws.
His footprints evoked a mountain beast.
“Don't just chat with me—look after him.”
“Yes.”
Humm.
Irene's mana flowed fluidly, seizing someone.
Lifting the fainted or dehydrated with telekinesis.
“Haa, this is getting heavy.”
“Don't wanna? Fine, but walk from now on.”
“...I'll diligently do rescue duty.”
Irene wasn't walking diligently like the others.
She hovered slightly, levitating through the air.
Telekinesis again.
Arguably against training rules, but Lee Han permitted it.
After likening telekinesis to a warrior's muscles for mages, he'd grown positive about it.
Besides, Irene Windler's stamina made marching impossible from the start.
Weaker than a kitten—marching? Please.
Far more efficient to have her do relief work.
Useful.
He'd planned to cart the fallen himself, but no need now.
Magic had its inconveniences, but undeniable convenience too.
“Ah, another fainted.”
Whoosh.
Not just herself, but over ten cadets—her handling was masterful.
All fainted or collapsed, including Levi Polt from early in the climb.
Yet Lee Han had no mind to chide her.
A miracle she'd reached here with that build.
Mental fortitude, not physical.
“She's better than the sprouts in mental strength.”
“Levi's tough. Says she must work harder to raise her family.”
“...Close with Chick No.1, huh?”
“Just tea buddies, meal mates? Not friends yet, but acquaintances.”
“Isn't that a normal friend?”
“...Haven't had many friends, so...”
“Mm, sorry.”
“...Apology feels more pathetic.”
[Arina. Don't say weird stuff. Embarrassed.]
Surprisingly, the human-like forced march started smoothly.
Well.
“S-save me...”
Not smooth for the cadets.
They failed to conquer Vulcan.
Meaning they didn't reach the summit.
But that was Lee Han's intent.
He'd never set the summit as the goal, merely pointing to this mountain.
Thus, their destination was originally the midway point.
“Drop the gear.”
Thud!
After three grueling hours, unloading made the ground rumble.
Meaning the supplies were massive.
“L-live...”
“...Thought Avalon at this age.”
Yet they were grateful just to survive the climb, beyond the gear volume.
Brutal beyond brutal.
Hell itself...
“The maid, far smaller than you lot, is fine—and what are you?”
-......
“Tsk tsk, pathetic bunch.”
-......Guh.
Want to retort, but can't.
They fainted or collapsed mid-climb constantly, while the sole 'maid' with more gear succeeded unscathed.
“Hehe, nice air here. Knight! Pitch tents here?”
...Perky.
Not even winded?
Leira Winter.
The royal maid walked the march's ordeal unfazed.
What was she?
Lee Han yelled at the dumbfounded cadets.
“Feel shame. Leira, much smaller, carried more and completed the march.”
...Even he found her species intriguing.
Really, how with that body?
Offered telekinesis repeatedly, yet.
-Not tiring?
Truly not.
No normal human.
Maybe born with heavenly martial physique or phoenix body from wuxia tales.
Probe her physical secret later.
Now, vital: turn these sprouts into 'wildflowers' in a month.
So current actions were bluffing, stoking kindling to ignite will.
Boost the blaze for positive schedule ahead.
Instructor work ain't easy.
Inwardly respecting educators, he injected dense oxygen into their flickering embers.
“Levi Polt too. You learned swordsmanship, but she knows neither, fragile body sans fighting technique. Yet walked 10km on mental alone!”
Cadets eyed Levi Polt.
Legs still trembling, but she struggled to rise persistently.
...That fragile body.
“You lost. Not to a girl—bruise pride there if you want! Lost to a 'beginner'! Mental, tenacity, grit—all categories...!”
Cadets clenched fists hard.
Not oxygen—poured oil provocation.
Exhausted minds reignited with will.
“Snap to it. Training started. Helped march fallouts, but not 'cause cute. Pitied and saved.”
Heat surged further.
He knew exactly how to rile and anger people.
“Damn...”
Most cadets gnashed teeth in fury, disappointed in own pitifulness.
itching to vent immediately.
Now, ease up.
Fires flare sudden, die fast.
Gentle sustain keeps flames long.
“Good, hope minds cleared. Tsk, 30 minutes: pitch tents, breakfast. 90 minutes breakfast. Then real basics and schedule. Rest fully till then. Got it? Fully.”
Rest too is training.
His perennial emphasis; cadets bellowed response.
Eyes reviving—nice sight.
Lee Han nodded, eyeing the utterly fine ones.
“You lot, see me.”
“Kunta wants sleep too.”
“I'm tired too.”
“Mercenary bands get breaks...”
“Tough?”
“...”
They were dragged off.
Some hid among others.
“Come nicely, now.”
“B-breakfast...”
“Breakfast from instructor? Luxury.”
“...Instructors are human!!”
“Since when?”
“......Bastard.”
The instructor teared up.
“-You alright, Jake?”
“My lord.”
Jake bowed.
Roan, his lord, bore the weight over vast distance unfatigued.
As expected of one whose basics surpassed knights.
Jake, conversely, was drained.
Utterly deficient capacity.
Self-loathing from disappointment.
“Rest. You look spent.”
“...Sorry, utterly worthless.”
“No. Your talent's just blooming. Inevitable. Half-year knight resolving forced march? Impressive.”
“...Still hopelessly inadequate vs main job.”
“......True.”
Jake, somewhat bland-faced everyman.
Seemingly anywhere roadside; some said forgettable impression, but that was his 'talent':
Unmemorable, blends anywhere, hides easily.
Thus, 'better suited assassin'.
Knight talent low, but espionage/assassination top-tier potential.
Yet he.
“Still my choice. Even I can be knight—you said it. You're my lord. No sorry face. Were those words lies?”
“No lies. All sincere.”
“Then fine.”
“...Sorry still. Seems I upended plans for my greed.”
“Fine. Your 'foresight' isn't absolute, right?”
“Umm...”
Roan nodded effortfully at Jake's words.
Jake believed thus.
Roan's ability [Foresight].
Good, this suffices.
Knowing that much enough.
True secret best unknown.
Revealed, mere chaos.
Not his desire.
Hiding depths, Jake rose weary, chattering.
“Recruitment ramps next year anyway. Few targets now, so this year honing strength fine. ...Plus, my lord seems interested in instructor's training.”
“Fresh perspective. Learn, invaluable later. Especially vs 'temple'.”
“Umm...”
Jake swallowed, scanning surroundings.
No eavesdroppers allowed.
Thankfully, lord no amateur; sounds fully blocked.
As expected, needless worry—thorough.
Roan, grateful for loyalty without show, continued firmly.
“Jake, remember. Grow strong. Instructor's harsh training will make you stronger. Again: not just me. You too. Can't win them alone.”
“Yes.”
Why enter pointless academy?
Prime: build strength sans enemies.
Secondary: capital kill.
And finally.
“Watch this training closely. Expect masses of unexpected talents.”
Talent sourcing, force building.
Perhaps starts this year, not next.
Depending on changes instructor sparks in these weeds.
“Truly? Still half-doubting.”
“No certainty. But Jake, I think.”
Weeds now, perhaps.
“Might bloom wildflowers.”
And he preferred wildflowers to greenhouse blooms.
The boy anticipated, the assassin shook his head, deeming his lord occasionally a romantic chasing fancy.