Chapter 44
Chapter 44
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.13 – The Fair Instructor (2)
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20 days.
It had already been 20 days since the swordsmanship cadets had climbed Vulcan.
It also meant that a full 20 days had passed since they had truly staked their lives on their training.
Staking their lives.
Anyone who heard it might think it was an exaggeration, but those who had witnessed their training from start to finish would not doubt the words for a second.
Their training had been that brutal and desperate.
"Guhhh!"
"Climb! I have to climb! If I fall from here, I'm dead…!"
Once the training had passed the one-week mark, they attempted cliff-climbing for the first time in their lives.
They had wondered why PT exercises ended in under two hours for once, but it turned out they had finished early to climb the cliff.
They had to grunt their way up the dizzyingly high cliff, every sense in their bodies on high alert.
A height where a single slip could mean death or permanent injury.
They didn't want to die yet, so they gave it their all—no, they shed tears and blood in a desperate climb up the cliff.
In truth, only the three instructors and Roan had scaled the cliff to the top.
The rest had fallen midway and only survived unscathed thanks to Irene Windler's telekinesis from the base of the cliff.
That was the result of their first cliff climb, and it took another four days before everyone succeeded.
But once they reached the top...
Thud.
"From now on, wear this backpack when climbing the cliff."
"………."
...the instructor was definitely a devil.
How else could he tell them to climb the cliff with sandbags strapped on?
They couldn't bring themselves to object—not just because they had been conditioned to obey his orders without fail, but...
"I'll demonstrate first. Follow closely."
While they wore 10kg sandbags, this guy climbed with a 100kg one.
And after reaching the top in that state, he came back down and repeated the climb with them. How could they complain?
Every single cadet had received his help at some point.
And so, another nine days passed.
Only then did they finally succeed in climbing the cliff on their own with the sandbags.
"-You all did well. I think we can skip the exercises now. You seem to have mastered squeezing every ounce of strength from your muscles, even without them."
After 20 whole days, they finally heard praise, and it nearly brought tears to their eyes.
It wasn't the absence of that loathsome, hated whistle that moved them.
It was his acknowledgment.
That alone was reason enough for tears, and everyone who had trained alongside him would feel the same.
And rightly so, for the instructor had always trained with them.
No matter how grueling the session, he never just stood by.
He always went all the way with them—and worked at least ten times harder.
'He kept helping us out.'
'He always brought food from down the mountain.'
'He even delivered substitute lecture reports... wait, maybe that's not something to be grateful for?'
'...There's no help we haven't received.'
They learned what it meant to be a role model and why one could earn respect from others.
And he was indeed worthy of that respect.
At least to them.
Now, 20 days later...
The dorm supervisor might have had a few minor grudges, but no one harbored resentment or hatred toward him.
He didn't rule them through violence but led by example—how could they resent him?
They weren't beasts.
"From now on, you'll handle all basic physical training on your own, except for morning runs. You should all know what to do without me telling you."
"R-Really, sir?"
"Why would I lie? I've drilled the training methods into you thoroughly enough. Now it's up to you to do it willingly or not—that will decide your futures."
"……."
"I hope you don't grow complacent. Don't make me ashamed to have taught you."
"……."
Clap!
-Yes, sir!!!
They shouted with all their might.
With utter sincerity.
"Compared to twenty days ago, their physical specs have developed tremendously."
"Even people who know them wouldn't believe it—they hardly seem like the same people."
Those were Arno and Garand's impressions.
Twenty days prior, they had been mid-tier mercenaries at best.
Living day-to-day, never knowing when death might come.
But now...
They were no longer mid-tier mercenaries.
"Mid-level, no—even upper-mid-tier mercenaries, if they keep it up."
Not just their physiques, but their auras were extraordinary.
The level of veteran mercenaries.
And not just any average ones, but those from the legendary mercenary band, the Wolves of the Wilderness. Garand's evaluation spoke volumes.
"They could even hold their own against my family's disciples."
It was the sentiment of the youngest son of the Oppen family, the swordsmanship house with the most disciples in the kingdom.
Arno seriously considered introducing Lee Han's training regimen back home.
At that moment...
"Still, not enough to catch bear barehanded."
"...Kunta's standards are a bit off."
"In my tribe, kids must hunt bear, crocodile, or monster to become warrior. Once warrior level, not afraid of shamans. But sprouts not there yet. If fight shaman now, still lose. Sprouts still weak."
"……Hmm."
Though his words were clumsy, they got the gist, and both nodded in agreement.
They understood he meant mages by "shamans," and that twenty days of training still fell short.
However...
"Then we'll fill in those gaps from now on."
That was Lee Han's firm declaration, and everyone's faces lit up with peak anticipation as they looked at him.
"Chick Two."
"Yes!"
"Bring that thing over."
"Got it."
Irene Windler followed his order with practiced ease.
After all their time as assistants, they had grown so in sync that he didn't even need to specify what.
It was something Irene Windler quietly took pride in.
Thud.
The ground shook for a moment.
A considerable number of logs.
Dead or rotting trees uprooted or felled and gathered.
Snap.
"You'll see when you touch them later, but these logs are incredibly hard. Even rotten and dead, they grew enduring Vulcan's harsh environment, so of course they're tough."
No need to touch—they looked solid even at a glance.
Their immense size, and the faint energy they exuded.
If dead wood was this sturdy, how tough were Vulcan's living trees?
He felt awe once more at the mysteries of Vulcan's magic.
"Don't be scared. I'm not showing you this to intimidate you. But know this: spellcasters are the kind who can move even these massive logs alone."
"!!?!"
He hadn't made Irene Windler haul the wood just because it was a hassle.
He was demonstrating.
Showing what those who wielded the mystery of mana—what those with incomprehensible spellcasting power—could do.
"At least 1.5 tons each. With that in mind, Chick Two. Was it easy to lift?"
"Uh, kinda tricky? Telekinesis is like wrapping the whole log in mana to lift it."
"How many could you lift?"
"If I really tried, maybe four?"
"Hmm, I see."
Irene casually stated the impossible, and Lee Han accepted it as natural.
The cadets shivered at their nonchalant exchange.
Four logs at will.
About 6 tons.
To manipulate such vast mass freely...
It reconfirmed why mages were objects of terror.
One-man armies.
Even alone, they could sway the battlefield.
But...
"Don't freak out, you lot."
Lee Han calmly scolded them.
A reprimand that their training hadn't been wasted.
The cadets finally lifted their heads and took in the instructor's sharp, confident smile.
"Yeah, it's more unreasonable than you thought. She can handle that mass at will, plus all sorts of unexpected mystical powers. Chick Two, can you handle fire too?"
"Well, it's not my specialty. I specialize in water and wind spells..."
An astonishing statement.
If a mage were present, they would be stunned.
Most mages specialized in one element.
Yet she had two.
Dual affinity.
A trait fit for archmages.
But the magic-hater, uninterested in mage prowess, looked bored.
"Enough chatter. Can you or can't you?"
Straight to the point.
"It'll take time, but yeah, I can."
"Then infuse that log with fire mana and hurl it at me with everything you've got."
"...Pardon?"
"No backtalk. Now."
"……Yes, sir."
She still looked dubious but obeyed.
Whoosh!
The levitating log was suddenly engulfed in flames.
Irene Windler.
The mage hailed as a once-in-a-century genius.
Evaluated as unmatched for the next hundred years.
A talent to represent an era, explaining her endless spotlight.
And now, that genius poured her mana into a fire spell.
Threatening.
The fire's heat was fearsome, but mana-infused flames burned with unmatched density.
This burning log was no mere firewood—it was a gigantic spear of fire mana.
A [siege weapon] was no exaggeration.
And such a weapon...
"Y-You're really throwing it?"
"No chit-chat. Full power."
"...Gulp."
Irene Windler swallowed hard and complied.
Truly with all her might.
She channeled every drop of her mana into telekinesis, its power now irreversible in magnitude.
Fwooooosh!!
Its growth rings visible—such a terrifying sight.
Not for ringing in the new year, but like piercing a massive bell with overwhelming pressure.
Yet even facing the oncoming fiery spear, Lee Han showed no retreat.
He stared straight ahead, and slowly...
"A trained human body is sturdy. But most people don't know how to use its power."
Kwang!
Lee Han's foot dug firmly into the ground, anchoring him.
As if refusing to yield an inch.
"But depending on how you channel that power, control it, and apply it, even this is possible."
Lee Han twisted his body into a spin and unleashed a punch.
Straight fist strike.
Clean, disciplined, exemplary—and more solid than any stance.
Whoosh!
Rotation rippled through his body, forming a vortex around him.
He thrust his fist forward.
That simple motion felt so grand, and the next instant...
Boom!!
Fist met spear.
Common sense dictated the human body would fly or shred apart.
But...
Crack-!
...what shattered was not the flesh-and-blood human, but the incredibly hard log.
"It... split in half?"
"……."
"A dream...?"
No one had blinked, yet they couldn't believe it.
Was this reality? An unbelievable sight.
The man who performed this miracle dusted off his unscathed hand and turned to them.
"That's what it means to use power—to punch. Well, I'm still clumsy at it."
"...Haha."
An absurd declaration that drew involuntary laughs.
"...Does that punch have a name?"
Roan's calm question.
Unlike usual, laced with faint anticipation and excitement. Lee Han uttered the name, envisioning a distant goal he yearned to reach with that fist someday.
"Hundred-Step Divine Fist"
A sorely lacking punch that couldn't yet strike beyond ten steps, let alone a hundred.