Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: Origin of Jin
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Please take good care of me.
The training grounds where knights and squires trained their bodies and honed their skills.
Arsen rode slowly on Jin, the mechanical beast that had originally belonged to Entir and had just been assigned to him.
Left, right, a light leap and landing—then a slight pain shot through his broken leg.
"Ugh."
"What’s this? You’re still not fully healed and you’re already training? You’re dedicated."
Arsen turned his head at the voice coming from beside him.
Zenovia was looking at him with a grin.
"It’s just my leg. The rest of me is mostly fine. Has Knight Zenovia recovered fully now?"
"For me, it was just a bit of blood loss. Something like this heals up quick with good food and rest."
Zenovia gave a hearty reply, then lifted her spear and spun it around a few times before beginning her training.
Each pass of the spear brought a chilling whoosh of wind, as if it could slice through or shatter anything in its path.
For about thirty seconds, she whirled the spear wildly like a dance, then thrust it straight forward to finish with a beautiful flourish.
Her breathing remained perfectly steady, undisturbed.
"You showed up at the perfect time. Want to be a witness? For a duel."
"A duel?"
"It’s not exactly grand enough to call it a duel."
At that moment, the door to the training grounds opened, and two more knights entered.
They were the young knights, Weble and Kamin, whom he had met at the dining hall before.
"Oh! Kid! Long time no see! Heard you went through hell on that expedition!"
Weble expressed his delight in a booming voice and patted Arsen on the shoulder.
This giant of a knight was so tall that even compared to Arsen mounted on Jin, he didn’t seem small.
"Yes, Knight Weble. I hope you’ve been well."
"Me? Always got something going on! Just this morning, I smashed a Jin while catching a magic beast..."
"Weble."
Kamin, standing beside him, tapped Weble’s arm to shut him up as he started chattering.
Just saying his name was enough—Weble seemed to understand, clearing his throat and stepping back.
"Anyway, enough chit-chat for now... We’ll start the whatever-number-it-is duel between Kamin and Zenovia! Witness: me, Knight Weble. And as a bonus... you wanna witness too?"
Weble asked Arsen, turning his head dramatically like a ring announcer.
"I should at least know what’s going on first."
"Zenovia and Kamin do these duel-style spars sometimes? Winner gets a wish granted. It’s basically a bet, a spar with stakes."
Zenovia set her spear aside and picked up a metal training staff, while Kamin drew a blunted sword.
For an ordinary person, getting hit with those would shatter bones, but knights in chainmail sparring gear could handle it safely enough.
Unless the weapon broke, that is.
"Who’s won more?"
"No idea. Nobody keeps track, and we’ve all forgotten. Zenovia’s got a few more, maybe?"
With Weble’s idiotic answer, the duel—no, the spar—began.
Zenovia, with the longer reach, thrust her staff first, slamming into Kamin’s shield.
The force made Kamin grunt and stagger back, but he pressed forward undeterred, shield out front.
The squires training nearby stared, mesmerized.
Arsen, watching in admiration beside him, caught Weble muttering under his breath.
"They should just date already. Seeing those two play around like that pisses me off."
"They’re not dating?"
Arsen couldn’t help but be surprised, remembering what Zenovia had said last time.
She’d even talked about proposing on the way back, so he’d assumed they were at least together. He never imagined it was one-sided.
Was she just getting ahead of herself?
Suddenly, Zenovia seemed pitiful.
"They like each other but won’t admit it. Everyone knows but them. Why else would they both still be single at their age?"
Childhood friends pining for each other—it was the kind of cliché even cheap romance novels wouldn’t touch.
Now that he knew, the intense, powerful spar just looked like lovers flirting.
Zenovia’s hearing was sharp enough to catch everything Weble was saying, too.
"...Then I’ll head out first."
"Huh? Training over already?"
"Yes. I was just out for some rehab."
"Stick around and watch a bit."
Arsen politely bowed and left the training grounds.
He’d trained enough. Time to head to the tower.
* * *
"Pey said. Will you truly become the bird that drinks poison..."
"Good, you read it well. Try the next part."
Arsen was borrowing the book Eloise was studying from and learning to read himself.
It made sense—this world had books too, of course.
Printing and paper tech weren’t advanced, so they were mostly hand-copied on beastskin parchment, but since copying spells weren’t hard, there were more than you’d think.
Unlike parchment that required slaughtering sheep, beastskin came easily from shedding the hides of most domesticated magic beasts, helping spread them.
There were books on magic, specialized knowledge, and even poetry and essays about Rha, the local god worshipped around Veluan territory.
Unfortunately, this world’s script wasn’t phonetic—you couldn’t just sound it out.
Like English words borrowed from French needing special rules.
When Eloise corrected his pronunciation or meaning in between, Arsen felt like a little kid.
"...It won’t come to that. There, done."
"Good work. Next time, read the next part, so prepare. Mark anything you don’t know!"
"Yes, Teacher Eli."
Arsen playfully replied and closed the book. Eloise quickly pulled out another sheet of beastskin.
She’d gotten hooked on the crossword puzzle he’d made as a joke a few days ago, and now she brought new ones every time they met.
"Alright, then..."
As she started the crossword, there was a knock at the door.
Opening it revealed a young squire who bowed politely to Arsen, hand to his collarbone.
Unlike before, when they’d ignored him like he didn’t exist, lately the squires greeted Arsen with proper respect whenever they crossed paths.
A few lucky breaks, sure, but in that last battle, Arsen had beheaded one of the two ma-in.
That had quietly swept away the jealousy and contempt among the squires—the vibe that he was just some lucky punk who’d awakened by chance.
Now they revered him as a young star with the talent to slay a ma-in despite his age.
Arsen made an effort not to seem arrogant, greeting the squires and building rapport.
Some of them would become knights someday—he couldn’t ignore that.
Truth be told, their jealousy wasn’t baseless, and their experience earned respect.
The grit and bravery the squires and soldiers showed against the ma-in demanded it.
"Greetings, Knight Arsen!"
"What is it?"
"Uh... One of the Jins broke, so we came to request repairs from Knight Luden."
Looking behind, Arsen saw soldiers carrying a cart with a Jin on it.
Its right leg was half-crushed.
Seeing it reminded him of Weble bragging that morning about smashing one.
"I think I know whose Jin this was."
"Ahem."
Not one to badmouth a knight lightly, the squire just cleared his throat.
"Eli, can you call Luden?"
"Sure, one sec."
The squire looked surprised at the casual nicknames but hid it.
Whether out of consideration or not wanting mage trouble, who knew.
Soon, Luden appeared from upstairs, scratching his back and yawning.
Consistent in every way.
"What... No way, just my guess, but Weble again?"
"...Yes."
Luden’s rage exploded at the squire instantly.
Smashing armor, then swords, now Jins—one by one in order? Shouts and curses poured out nonstop.
Already wary of Luden, the added maniacal yelling left the squire half-paralyzed, mumbling apologies on repeat.
Watching, Arsen was sure they’d sent the youngest because they expected this.
Feeling bad for the stammering kid, Arsen patted Luden’s back to intervene.
"What can you do, Knight Luden? Weble’s the one who broke it—yelling here won’t help. You’ll have to tell him yourself."
"I did last time, and it was useless! He said sorry, knew better—then this!"
"Still, what now? At least take the item while we hear him out and send him off."
Under Arsen’s restraint, Luden’s fury finally ebbed. The squire had soldiers haul the Jin to the second-floor workshop.
After handover, the squire saluted with eyes full of gratitude and vanished.
"Whew, was gonna check your sword today, but I’m stuck with this for a while. Sorry."
"It’s fine. Can’t do weapon training till my leg heals anyway. Mind if I watch the repair?"
"Sure. No big secret. Eloise, no slacking—head downstairs. Training time."
After seeing Eloise off with puffed cheeks, Arsen went upstairs to watch the Jin repair.
Arsen had long been interested in Jins—one of the few relics of the ancient magic civilization—but never seen one made or fixed.
With Luden’s okay, he was excited for new knowledge.
Unlike the first floor cluttered with junk, the second was tidy.
Just a bed in one corner, plus a dresser and bookshelf beside it—otherwise barren.
Luden pulled a book from the shelf, licked his finger, and flipped through.
"Let’s see... Jin repair manual, leg section... Found it."
Peeking over his shoulder, Arsen saw what looked like blueprints.
Insanely complex, like a pro model kit schematic.
Luden glanced between book and Jin a few times, fetched a ruler-like tool, and measured.
After a while, estimate done, he placed a hand on the broken leg.
"Might as well rip it off and remake it."
Red light flowed from Luden’s hands, and soon the Jin’s leg began slowly detaching.
Arsen, knowing Jins could take several hits from magic beasts, was shocked.
"Attack magic?"
"In a world where enemies let you stand still for five seconds? Sure."
Luden’s cryptic reply came as he grabbed a basket and disassembled the leg’s parts.
Dozens of different components spilled out from just one leg.
"Now it gets boring. Melt ’em all down, reforge, reassemble per blueprint."
Luden sighed at the parts, future looking bleak.
"At least the heart area’s intact. That’s a nightmare. Mess that up, and it’s weeks or months, not days."
Watching Luden flip pages, Arsen voiced a sudden question.
One he’d wondered since first learning about Jins.
"But every Jin I’ve seen looks identical. No variants? Bigger size, or different styles?"
More questions too—like what if it wasn’t a mental-link mount, but armor attached to the body.
Or arms and swords on the back for free control. Extra limbs would be huge.
Luden snorted at Arsen’s questions.
"You don’t know. Mages don’t make Jins—they copy ancient blueprints. I’m top-tier among mages, but even I barely grasp the drive principles. How could we?"
"Not even scaling up proportionally?"
"When cooking double the food, do you double the seasoning?"
Arsen, whose cooking past and present topped out at instant ramen or mushy porridge, shut up.
He didn’t get why double food didn’t mean double seasoning, but asking felt like begging to look dumb.
"Anyway, that’s it. Oh, not all Jins are lizard-shaped like ours. Tons of blueprint types. North Air territory’s are hoofed beasts."
Luden ended there, gripping one part tight.
Soon, it glowed red-hot, like when he’d fixed Arsen’s sword before.