Academy Budget Shredder Barg
All eyes in the Training Ground locked onto me.
"That monster's really gonna fight the professor one-on-one?"
"Crazy... it's not like some beast subjugation mission..."
I shrugged and carefully disentangled my arm from Kara's tight grip.
"Be right back, honey. Cover Yeppe's ears so they don't get scared."
"Yeah, just don't hit him so hard you break the professor."
Kara gave my back a light pat, not a shred of worry that I might lose.
I slung the wooden sword they'd handed me over my shoulder and sauntered toward the center of the Training Ground with all the leisure of a man on a Sunday stroll. Thud. Thud. Each step I took sent a heavy thump echoing through the floor.
Sword professor, huh...
I faced the professor standing tall and waiting in the center. Gone was the playful guy from earlier; in his place radiated the aura of a true powerhouse who'd survived countless battlefields, his one good eye gleaming fiercely.
Ah...
A faint spark ignited deep in my chest. I'd endured a morning of boring number games in lecture, a lunch of coin-sized steaks that mocked my stomach, and an afternoon of watching greenhorn students play patty-cake with their spars. But now... right in front of me stood a magnificent, rock-solid opponent who could take my pent-up instincts full force without shattering.
Drip, drop.
For the first time in ages, berserker blood surged through my veins. My muscles swelled, making my thin training clothes scream in protest. The scar on my lip twisted upward uncontrollably into a savage grin.
"Heh heh..."
I flashed a wicked smile and smoothly lowered the wooden sword from my shoulder to the ground.
"Professor. Since we're killing time anyway, how about we play for real?"
"Oh ho? What do you mean by that?"
Sword narrowed his eyes with interest.
I casually tossed the wooden sword in my hand to the ground.
"If we're doing this, I'd rather skip the stick toys and go with real swords against you. Gotta see some blood to make it fun, right?"
"......!"
The students around us gasped in shock at my bold demand for a live-steel duel with the professor. Even Kairun resting on the benches widened his eyes, while the smug Rainer swallowed hard with a pale face.
In the empire's top academy, on the very first day of classes, during the first practical—provoking a professor into drawing real blades? It was utterly insane.
But Sword's face, hearing my battle-hungry proposal, bloomed not with anger but a deep, thrilled smile.
"Kuhahaha! Real swords! A real sword fight!"
He clutched his belly and roared with laughter. Deep down, he wanted nothing more than to draw steel right then and clash in a bloody frenzy with this cocky beast.
But he was a professor.
"I get your warrior spirit loud and clear! Love it! Those beastly eyes screaming for blood? Perfect!"
But Sword reined in his laugh and pointed at me with a finger.
"But no dice. You're under the professor system, my special personal trainee. You're not here to learn how to smash and bleed—you need to master controlling and reining in that overflowing power of yours. Pick up that wooden sword on the ground like a good boy."
His last shred of professorial reason was holding back the madness.
I clicked my tongue and scooped up the rolling wooden sword again.
"Well, even a stick hurts more than steel if you smash it enough times till it breaks."
"Yeah? Let's see how long that mouth of yours lasts."
In the center of the Training Ground, the empire's battle-hardened swordsmanship professor and the off-spec monster student from the northern tundra faced off without an inch of retreat.
No polite distance-measuring like in student spars. No formal "Alley!" call to start—such norms never even crossed these two warriors' minds.
"Learn this. This is the empire's sword..."
Clang-!
Before Sword could finish his arrogant line, his foot exploded against the ground in a leap. True shrinkage of the earth from the man skilled enough for the academy's picky sword instructor post. Mid-sentence, he surged into my guard with a surprise attack.
His wooden sword shot toward my solar plexus like an invisible bullet.
Any regular student wouldn't even register the hit before their gut exploded and they flew back.
But.
Where do you think you're going.
I didn't even blink. This level of ambush and speed? Familiar. Like the warriors from the Blood Fangs tribe who gave me a real fight back in the tribal wars.
I didn't back off. Instead, I swelled every muscle in my body and swung the heavy two-handed wooden sword upward from below in a brutal diagonal arc.
I met Sword's power-and-speed slash head-on with raw force.
Boom!
Wood on wood should have clacked or thunk lightly.
But no—
Kwaaaaaang-!!
Like a siege cannon slamming straight into a castle wall and detonating, a shockwave erupted from the center of the Training Ground. Dust billowed from the impact, shoving the surrounding air violently.
"F-Fucking insane!"
"Feel that wind... That's wooden swords clashing?!"
Students in the front row shielded their eyes from the gale and screamed.
Dust cleared in the Training Ground center. Sword's wooden sword and mine locked in an X in midair, trembling in a balance of power.
This was leagues beyond student play-fights. The ground under our feet was already cracked like a spiderweb, cratered deep.
Sword furrowed his brow so hard his hidden eye socket nearly showed.
"Kuhaha! Excellent! Perfect! If I'd met you on the battlefield in my active days, my head would've been gone ages ago—I wouldn't be standing here!"
His torn grin filled my eyes.
"Earlier, no first-year chickadees dared step up 'cause they were cowed by you."
Thick veins bulged on Sword's forearms.
Sword instructor through and through...!
Even with this size gap, he wasn't budging.
But it's not unbeatable!
"But remember this, barbarian chickadee! Hone your swordsmanship to the bone, perfect your footwork to the extreme, and you can clash blades evenly with a beast like you! Of course..."
Even before he finished.
Crack-!
A ominous sound echoed between our grips.
These were blackwood swords, specially sourced by the Imperial Academy—supposedly as tough as steel.
But those two couldn't withstand the freakish tension and friction from me and Sword. Fine cracks spiderwebbed from the centers.
"......!"
And then.
Puuuung-!!
With an explosion, both wooden swords shattered simultaneously, spraying shards into the air.
Hundreds of sharp wooden fragments flew everywhere. I raised my arm to block the barrage aimed at my eyes.
Damn! If professor system's like this, does every class end in chaos?
Sword dropped the handle of his broken sword. It spun through the air and embedded in a corner of the Training Ground.
Dropped it?
I narrowed my eyes. My hand still gripped the splintered base solidly.
But Sword's was empty.
"Whew."
He shook out his stinging right wrist with a light sigh, putting distance between us.
"See? If you stubbornly keep gripping your sword head-on against brute force like that... you end up like Northgard over there on the bench, wrist snapped or flying off. Right?"
Sword grinned and nodded toward Kairun clutching his wrist on the distant bench.
"......!"
Kairun, catching his breath on the benches, jolted up in surprise.
"I-I'm fine."
His face burned red from the professor's verbal jab out of nowhere. Sword hadn't missed how Kairun nearly lost his wrist trying to block Kara's onslaught head-on earlier.
"Hey, instructors! Fresh wooden swords—two of 'em!"
At Sword's bellow, the dazed instructors scrambled to the armory, grabbing two new ones and tossing them over.
"That's your problem. Too much damn power. Swords aren't clubs. Don't try to smash the opponent's force—flow it, twist it, make it yours."
Chin.
He tested the new wooden sword lightly, then leveled the tip at me.
"You keep this up without breaking these for ten exchanges of attack and defense... and today's spar ends. Got it?"
"Hah."
I grumbled at the new blackwood sword already creaking in my grip.
"Forget control—this academy's wooden swords are just weak as hell. Empire's finest, my ass. Budget cuts or what? Like fighting with cornstalks."
"Shut it! It's weird they break! You're the one bear-mushing all that stupid strength into 'em! Feel the blade's grain! Alley!"
The professor's excuse-like roar kicked off another round.
Kwang! Puck! Creak!
But against Sword's hopes, the wooden swords kept screaming and snapping amid the fierce exchanges. Even pulling my strength, blocking his sharp strikes made my muscles clench instinctively—and boom, another one wrecked. Infuriating.
Damn it! Pissing me off! Stomach's growling, I'm starving and cranky!
Crack!
"Ah."
"Third one already! Kuhaha! Principal's face'll be priceless!"
"Good lord..."
Kairun watching from the benches clicked his tongue in awe.
His red eyes fixed on Barg's back, smashing the ground in clashes with Sword at the Training Ground center.
This is... Barg's real power...?
Kairun forgot to wet his dry lips.
He'd felt something similar watching Kara beat him in the prelims.
But Barg's movements now were on another plane.
Kara's swordplay—whom he'd clashed with directly—felt like a pride of lions ready to pounce on your throat anytime. Flexible. Lethal. Peak speed from irregular angles, like a lone wolf pack.
But Barg's style was different.
No tricks or feints—just crude mass. Speed that outpaced Terna, if not quite Kara. Like an avalanche crashing down.
No matter the technique or trajectory, it demolished space itself with sheer violence and weight.
The pinnacle of a totally different style.
The true might of Winterclaw's next chief, heir to berserker blood—warrior Barg von Wintersword.
Even Kara was going easy on me big time...
Kairun felt thick admiration swell again. Having such an overwhelmingly strong ally was just... overwhelming.
Then, lost in Barg's fight, Kairun's gaze drifted to Elysia right beside him.
And he froze in shock.
"......"
The empire's bastard princess had her hands clasped to her chest, staring entranced at Barg rampaging in the center.
The problem was her expression.
Under those dazzling golden eyes, Elysia's cheeks burned scarlet like a fever patient.
Her golden gaze obsessively tracked Barg's bulging back muscles and sweat-slicked profile, scars stark, eyes glazed dreamily.
Kairun first thought she was looking at Barg with the same admiration he felt—for a powerhouse.
But.
Uh...?
That flushed face and ragged breathing... no way was that just appreciating fine swordplay.