Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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>Translator: Lord First
>Chapter: 23
>Chapter Title: The Saintess and the Woodcutter (1)
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*
Saint Yansk University has no garden. I've mentioned this before, but it's a point so important it bears repeating.
Therefore, even after picking up the pruning shears the administration had somehow prepared, there was nothing for Ivan to do.
However, for Ivan, who had now decided to ‘live life’—or at least resolved to try his best—there was no other choice.
This all happened while he was butchering a roadside tree with those pruning shears.
“I was just watching to see what you were up to. You've made a worse mess of this than my bonsai tree at home.”
“…Hm?”
Enrique jeered from behind him. Ivan glanced at the sky, then at the tree, before turning to look back at Enrique.
“Isn't it time for you to be asleep?”
“Surprised to see a beauty who isn't a sleepyhead?”
“You certainly seem to be lacking sleep.”
Ivan, a perfectly normal man who had never felt anything but respect for women over seventy, shook his head at Enrique's remark.
Enrique's eyebrows knitted together. She forced herself to remain calm and said,
“So your job is a gardener?”
“For now.”
“It certainly seems like a job that would be good for one's mental health. Not bad, but my prescription is a little different.”
Elizaveta probably intended to help this bearded monster (in his thirties) with his mental health through some leisurely activity, maybe even give him some pocket money.
But Enrique had other ideas. This guy needed practice interacting with people.
And not the kind of interacting you do with an axe or a gun. Well, technically that's part of it, but... Anyway, I mean normal human relationships.
“Come with me. I was just in need of an extra hand.”
“…Hm?”
“I've decided to be a guest lecturer for the Knight Division starting today. I was already an honorary professor, but I was just so bored.”
“…Knights?”
“Unfortunately, they don't have an Assassin Division.”
Of course, the world has no need for a university that teaches such things.
This is how Ivan ended up standing before a podium, glaring at the freshmen.
Saint Yansk University is a prestigious international institution equipped with facilities that are, by the standards of this era, state-of-the-art.
This was evident in places like the Theology Department's main building, which looked as if a cathedral had been moved there whole, the Magic Department's building, which mimicked the environment of the Kalion Archipelago, or the Knight Division's athletic building.
The freshmen were busy gaping and looking around. *Just like a bunch of chicks. Reminds me of the old days,* Enrique thought with a smirk.
In a gymnasium neatly arranged with a large ring and various training equipment, Enrique stepped onto the podium, slammed her hand on the lectern, and shouted thunderously.
“Greetings, kids!”
Was this her way of asserting dominance? The freshmen began to stare at the professor they had never seen before.
Knight Division required course, [Introduction to Close Quarters Combat 1].
It was a crucial class, one that all freshmen in the Knight Division had to take, yet the slender woman before them was a complete stranger.
Students could be heard murmuring as they tried to recall the list of faculty members.
Enrique grinned and puffed out her chest.
“My name is Enrique. Enrique Sergeyevika. If that name sounds familiar, you're right. I'm her.”
“The Hero's Party!!”
“Aah!!”
“Shadowblade!!”
Hearing the sporadic screams and cheers, Enrique grinned widely. *That's right. This is what ‘fame’ is all about. A reputation so great that not even the royal family dares to trifle with it.*
Enrique continued with a mischievous smile.
“There is only one thing I can teach you this semester. Defeat! You are the ones who have chosen to one day take up arms and fight on the front lines, and this class is the first gateway to prepare you for that!”
A warrior who wields a sword can never win every battle. Defeat is inevitable. And that defeat, more often than not, comes with death.
Therefore, you must get used to it. To being defeated. You must learn that before you learn the art of fighting.
How to lose. How to lose and still survive.
And, if possible, how to gauge an opponent's strength before you are defeated.
“Teaching each and every one of you isn't difficult in itself, but our class time is too tight. Therefore, I will divide you into groups according to your skill level to teach you.”
Even if you're all freshmen, you can't all take the same class.
It's only natural. You can't teach the student who entered at the top of the class and the one who barely scraped by off the waitlist at the same level.
Those who fight better must take a more rigorous class.
Hence, we need to split the class. Teaching over fifty students in three hours is too difficult to begin with.
“Now, freshmen. If I were to fight you, I wouldn't be able to gauge your skills. It would all be over in a single exchange, anyway.”
Despite her arrogant words, no one dared to object.
The Hero's Party were the ones who had slaughtered the Demon King and the Seven Dragon Generals. In other words, they were the strongest beings in the entire United Kingdom.
“So, for your sake, I'll provide an education tailored to your level. Here is our teaching assistant!”
Following Enrique's gesture, the students shifted their gazes and saw a strange man standing with his arms crossed in the shadows behind her.
Eyes burning with a cold blue light, a sharp presence, a stoic expression.
But his entire lower face was covered by a thick beard, making his age impossible to guess.
On top of that, he wore old work clothes with a towel draped around his neck. (It was a gardener's set hastily prepared by the administration.)
As large question marks appeared above the students' heads, Enrique said with a grin,
“The assistant is this university's gardener. I invited him on short notice this morning. Now, let me tell you his profile.”
Age: thirty-four. (Most of the students were shocked by this.)
Occupation: gardener. (Two students were shocked by this.)
Income: none. A poor man living off a state welfare pension. (Lieutenant Colonel Petrovich was officially deceased, so there was no way for him to receive his military pension. He was living off donations while running an orphanage.)
“This assistant will gauge your skills. I will watch you fight, grade you, and finalize the class divisions by the end of this session.”
“I have a question!”
A student shot his hand up. He had neat features and wore a clean, light training uniform. He was clearly the son of a noble family.
Enrique nodded, and the young man spoke with a sneer.
“What if that poor gardener gets hurt too badly?”
“What? Ahahahaha!!”
Enrique burst out laughing, tears welling in her eyes.
“Then you'll get a reward! I'll give you extra credit based on how badly you injure the assistant! Ahaha! My word!”
“…??”
“Ah, don't misunderstand, students. I'm not doing this because I want to see someone die. But at least show some respect. Whether it's respect for your elders, or respect for those who have experienced more than you.”
*If you want to live,* Enrique finished with a smile.
*
During that time, Ivan was glaring at the students.
The fact that he was participating in the practical evaluation as an assistant wasn't surprising in itself.
After all, it was ‘common sense’ for the first class at an academy to be a skill evaluation.
He had no idea why a university course would start with a skill evaluation, but he supposed it was due to the primitive nature of the education system in this pre-modern fantasy world.
In any case, there were four individuals worth watching.
Oskar, Isabelle, Yuri, and that muscular old beast sitting in the very back. Esidis's bodyguard.
Wait, why is that guy sitting down? Is he sitting there because he's a student? Does he have no shame?
A muscular monster in his forties sitting among students half his age was a bizarre sight.
That guy… his name was Mord, I think. Mord Eriksson. He remembered encountering him during his service. One of Great King Einar's closest aides.
He'd been one of the sharper ones, too. To think he'd enroll as a ‘freshman’ when he should be retired and training apprentices.
‘And that kid.’
Yuri. Yuri Frank. Top of the Knight Division's freshman class. Highest marks in the swordsmanship evaluation and a perfect score on the written exam. A full scholarship student.
Her behavior was also suspicious.
The moment she saw him, the kid had exhibited strange behaviors like quickly averting her gaze, breaking out in a cold sweat, and fidgeting restlessly. (She even looked shocked to hear he was a gardener.)
His eyes grew sharper.
‘A transmigrator…?’
If not, there was no reason for her to be scared of him, with his completely ordinary and harmless appearance, was there?
In Ivan's mind, two red lines were drawn under her name.
“Alright, who wants to go first?”
After Enrique's lengthy explanation, many of the students began to exchange glances.
It was understandable. For students in their early twenties, it must be quite embarrassing to put themselves on display in front of people they've just met.
It wasn't that they lacked skill or feared being humiliated by facing Ivan. They were simply shy.
How pathetic.
Ivan glared at the students in silence.
Just then, a student sitting in the very back shot his hand up.
It was the muscular forty-year-old monster, Mord.
“We meet again. Right?”
“…Mm.”
“And no matter how I look at you, you seem like someone I know.”
Mord cracked his shoulders and let out a hearty laugh.
“Get up here. We need to settle this. Oh, and. If I win.”
Mord leaped into the ring in a single bound and said,
“I'm shaving that beard off you.”
“Go, Mr. Eriksson!!!”
Isabelle, who had been watching Ivan nervously, jumped in surprise and suddenly shouted.
A stinging betrayal from the child of a Hero's Party member.
*