Chapter 123
Chapter 123
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: Sparring #03
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“...I’m sorry, Saintess. I failed to carry out your orders.”
Right after Kaiyen dashed out of the special training room, Sergei limped over. Thomas, who had been standing beside the Saintess, hurriedly ran out to support him.
“Are you alright, Sir Sergei? I’ll heal you right away!”
To Thomas’s eyes, Sergei’s body was covered in bruises and far from unscathed.
After his first defeat, Sergei had challenged Kaiyen multiple times to follow the Saintess’s orders, but each time, he only ended up with more bruises all over his body from Kaiyen’s strikes.
“It’s my failing. I never imagined I’d lose so completely to a boy who’s only just turned seventeen.”
But Sergei refused Thomas’s support and approached Olga before kneeling on one knee.
For the devout Sergei, failing to carry out the words of the Saintess—goddess’s proxy—was a greater shame than death itself.
“Please stand, Sir Sergei. You don’t need to blame yourself so much.”
“But...”
“If we’re assigning blame, it’s mine. As expected of the Hero—he possesses a strength that surpasses even my predictions.”
Olga inwardly clicked her tongue at how Kaiyen was already this strong at this point in time but kept her composure on the surface as she slowly helped Sergei to his feet.
“Besides, the goddess’s arrangements for welcoming the Hero and her destined husband haven’t fallen apart yet.”
“You mean what you said to Kaiyen earlier? But will that really make a difference...?”
As Sergei accepted the healing at Olga’s words, Thomas healed his body while gazing at Olga with a worried expression.
Thomas couldn’t help but worry that they needed to take a more proactive role in the goddess’s grand plan.
“Don’t worry too much, Priest Thomas. When you can’t subdue a dog with force, you tempt it with food.”
Olga smiled as she recalled memories from the past.
She knew how relentlessly Kaiyen would push once he had justification on his side. That infuriating guy would surely drag Arthin onto her stage.
“Let’s go prepare for the next plan.”
With a sinister smile, Olga bowed her head slightly to Sergei and Thomas before slowly exiting the special training room.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Thwack—!
The heavy impact echoed once more after several repetitions, causing Lena—from an imperial knight family watching the spar—to furrow her brow.
“Lena, isn’t that the twelfth time already...?”
“At first, I thought it was just natural, but... he’s doing it on purpose, right?”
The less experienced students around her had also noticed the anomaly and asked her, but Lena couldn’t answer rashly.
‘If I say something weird and it turns into a bad rumor...’
Lena swallowed dryly, intimidated by Arthin Ludwig’s relentless persistence right before her eyes.
Thwack—!
“Gaaah! Arthin! Fight fair!”
“Shut your trap and come at me, you gum-chewing orc bastard.”
Judging purely by size, Arthin Ludwig should have been smashed by Orbot in less than two exchanges.
Lena had heard the rumors about Arthin and even witnessed his astonishing swordsmanship in class occasionally.
Even accounting for that, Orbot’s physique was on the level of a troll or ogre—comparable to giant sub-races, not an orc.
No matter how skilled he was with the sword, in a bout using training wooden swords instead of real blades—and considering the reach of their weapons—it wasn’t strange to predict Arthin’s defeat...
Thwack—!
“Gaaah!!”
Another impact rang out, forcing Orbot’s massive frame back.
The fourteenth already. Right after deflecting Orbot’s ferocious heavy swing, Arthin targeted the gap with a precise low kick to the thigh bone instead of swinging wildly, starting to crumble Orbot’s stance.
“Did you see that? He blocked Orbot’s greatsword with one hand and landed another low kick?”
“Whoa, look at that left leg swollen up...! Think it’s broken?”
Of course it’s cracked, you idiot, Lena swallowed a groan inwardly.
‘Diving inside just before the swing gains momentum, dispersing the centrifugal force and weight in reverse...’
No sane swordsman would make the same judgment as Arthin.
First off, the problem was that Orbot’s greatsword speed and footwork surpassed the top speeds of most peers.
Even understanding the principle, mistiming it meant your ribs would shatter under that wooden sword. Overcoming that fear to seize the perfect timing required the skill of a first-rate duelist.
Moreover, closing in on an orc? Even someone confident in their punches wouldn’t survive those boulder-like fists without magic—a normal human would crumple in one hit.
But Arthin showed no fear. No, in the clinches right after closing distance, he always gained the upper hand, delivering low kicks to Orbot’s legs as he tried to create space.
And those watching this scene with pale faces weren’t just the students.
“Professor, is this allowed in a swordsmanship spar?”
The assistant, who had planned to intervene the moment the match ended, wore a troubled expression as he watched the two.
Thwack—!
“Gaaah!! Kicking the legs again! Are you toying with Orbot, Arthin!!”
The match was effectively decided long ago. It was nothing short of Arthin’s overwhelming victory.
Arthin’s skill was undeniably superb—deflecting Orbot’s heavy swings with purely defensive counters and creating multiple openings to behead him.
But Arthin didn’t claim victory. Instead, whenever a gap appeared in Orbot’s attacks, he relentlessly struck to disrupt his stance before retreating.
The situation was clear. Orbot hadn’t lost his will to fight, and Arthin didn’t want to end the spar. Knowing it stemmed from Orbot’s pre-spar insults, no one could intervene lightly.
“Hmm... Y-yes, disrupting stance with pushes or strikes is... p-part of swordsmanship. Y-you may continue.”
Besides, Professor Urdan Helik, judging the situation, showed no intent to stop it. To a professor who’d seen rough action on the frontlines against the Demon King’s Army, this level of sparring was fine to continue.
“Y-yes...! Understood.”
Thwack—!
The flustered assistant could only flinch at the sound of flesh being kicked again.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ “Gaaah!! You damn bastard! That’s cheating! Swing your sword properly!! Pretty boy acting like a girl!”
“What’re you yapping about, you punk? Wanna keep going? Or give up?”
Orbot bellowed in rage, but Arthin mocked him with a stoic expression.
‘Damn, Arthin Ludwig—small frame but insanely strong...!’
The spar appeared to be led calmly by Arthin, dragging Orbot along.
However, that description would feel deeply unjust to Orbot if he heard it.
In truth, though Arthin kept a cold face, he fell for Orbot’s taunts every time, losing the psychological battle and creating openings.
‘What good are all those gaps if he’s ghost-fast and hard to catch!’
But every time Orbot aimed for a gap, Arthin blocked with ghostly speed, lunged like a tiger, and hammered Orbot’s gut from a blind spot with his fist.
“Guhk! You coward! Hitting where I can’t see again!”
Moreover, retreating rashly invited leg kicks, leaving Orbot—unaware due to adrenaline—with cracks in three spots on his legs, ruining his footwork.
Frustrating. If he’d gone down in one clean hit, Orbot would have acknowledged Arthin with a satisfied smile, but this pretty boy refused a clean defeat.
Attacks, defenses, spacing—everything controlled by Arthin. This sense of helplessness was utterly foreign to Orbot, who’d walked on two legs since a week after birth.
Arthin hadn’t said it, but Orbot understood his intent: keep tormenting until he admitted defeat and bowed his head.
The proud black plains warrior Orbot couldn’t accept that. Per steppe law, better to fight to the death than declare surrender yourself.
“...Raaargh!!!”
Orbot swung his greatsword wide again, and Arthin moved familiarly to deflect it. But Orbot’s aim wasn’t just repeating failed attacks.
“O-Orbot threw his sword!”
Lena cried out in shock as Orbot’s greatsword sliced through the air. Throwing in a sword spar? Faint mana even swirled around that massive blade.
Krunch!!
Arthin’s wooden sword blocked it but shattered under the impact. Meanwhile, Orbot charged barehanded.
“I’ll smash you flat, Arthin!!”
Dropping a sword in sword sparring equaled surrender, but Orbot’s mind was filled only with pounding Arthin down.
Students squeezed their eyes shut, imagining the brutality as Orbot’s mana-charged fist swung.
Thwack—!
‘Wh-what happened! Ludwig’s down!’
‘That heavy thud... h-he’s not dead, right?’
Tension filled the silence after the heavy impact.
“...Guh-uhk.”
But the silence broke with Orbot’s groan.
Thud—!
“...Huh? Orbot’s down?”
Opening their eyes, students saw Orbot sprawled face-first, completely pulped.
Did the assistant, professor, or Arthin knock him out? But none had moved.
“...Hah, who knocked him out on their own? I was gonna teach him manners barehanded.”
Then Arthin irritably muttered toward the students’ rear, and one slowly stepped forward.
“No need to play with that idiot, Arthin. You’ve been taking elixirs lately—gotta manage your body, right?”
“Guys like that don’t even make the group. No need to meddle.”
The black-haired young man everyone remembered gazed at Arthin with a fond, relieved look contrasting Arthin’s annoyance.
“Kaiyen~!”
Only Claire waved happily at the newcomer.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Kaiyen had subdued Orbot with a stone projectile from an earth spirit and moved on without so much as a warning.
“O-Orbot will get points deducted in evaluation. Charging barehanded like that.”
Professor Urdan Helik declared penalties sternly while Orbot was carried out.
It was only natural. Unable to contain himself, pulling mana and charging barehanded not only endangered the spar but defied the professor’s guidance.
“Ahem! Isn’t it thanks to someone that Big Brother’s brawling skills improved so much?”
“Yeah, all thanks to our Shaomei. Learning martial arts definitely pays off.”
I stroked Shaomei’s head appreciatively, but inside, I wasn’t at ease.
I’d expected Orbot to charge me. No, I’d even baited him.
Most orcs had strong competitive spirits and even fiercer combat instincts.
Orbot was the epitome of an orc warrior in that regard. Unable to surrender, he’d go for a desperate gamble as predicted—and when he did charge, I’d planned to shatter his jaw with a mana-charged roundhouse...
“They said a week, but why’re you out already?”
“Said I was stronger than expected, so physical training was pointless.”
Kaiyen, who’d ruined my plan, just grinned at me.
Why’s he been smirking like that since earlier?
“Here to show off? Bad timing if so.”
“Nah, came to pick you up, Arthin.”
“...Pick me up? To go where?”
As if waiting for that, Kaiyen pulled a document from his pocket.
“The Church is humbly appointing me Hero in three days. I’m doing a three-day camp for mental training.”
“...And? Why’s my name on this paper?”
The content was simple: stay at the northern Church lodge for a three-day camp.
The issue was Arthin Ludwig’s name boldly listed next to Kaiyen Silversword.
“‘Cause you’re joining me for training, Arthin.”
Kaiyen smiled warmly with crinkled eyes. Claire, watching from afar, gasped audibly.
“...Me? Why?”
I naturally looked puzzled. The Hero was Kaiyen, not me.
Then, Kaiyen whispered via telepathy for my ears only.
[Because Olga Idris decided it that way.]
“...What?”
He didn’t answer this time.
The usually curt guy just smiled with crinkled eyes, clearly enjoying the moment.
“Looking forward to the next three days, Arthin?”