A Talent Worth Watching
“That student is worthy of special admission.”
The golem Eugene was tearing apart was one born from nature itself—a level far beyond what the current freshmen could handle.
Sure, if you dragged out the fight since its movements were slow, it would eventually revert to its original state. Stalling was all it took.
But capturing it? Impossible.
That was the consensus.
“Not fully formed, but growing in real time...”
Yet there was always an exception.
Eugene wasn’t just overwhelming it—he was refining its wild, uncontrolled movements bit by bit.
It wasn’t at a completed level. It was growing right then and there.
Eroy, the first-year swordsmanship professor who hadn’t witnessed it firsthand due to her closed-door training over break, smacked her lips in regret.
If I’d discovered him first, I would’ve built a rapport ages ago.
Unfortunately, she’d been in seclusion and missed him.
If she, not the magic professor Nipella Aoman, had found him... she would’ve taken him as a disciple by now.
...He fights so fiercely.
Eugene’s combat was overwhelming, evolving in real time.
Bats clinging to him left wounds, but he ignored them, slashing through the bats and shattering the golem.
Until it could no longer regenerate.
...Like gazing upon the War God himself.
Eroy fiddled with the eye she’d lost in battle. The old swordsman who’d lived through wars before the era of peace sensed the War God’s aura in Eugene.
There seemed to be a connection, but...
-Hey! Get lost! Why do you keep coming back?!
-S-sorry!
-Sorry my ass! Fuck! You goddamn bastards! You don’t listen for shit!
Seeing him spew every curse in the book while saving and helping others made it seem unlikely.
And he’s too young.
The War God had only one priest. An unchanging law for ages.
Even in the great war centuries ago, the War God’s priest had been just one.
Time had passed, but she didn’t believe that monster was dead.
Her mother—one of the continent’s powerhouses—had trembled in fear of her.
And that wasn’t all. The monster who’d stormed the imperial palace alone to deliver a warning.
Who else could live eternally if not such a being?
Eroy spoke up.
“We need to watch him even more closely than Ashy.”
“I don’t think so, Professor Eroy.”
“?”
Immediate pushback made her turn with a puzzled look.
The challenger was Professor Iyeon, who handled the second-year knight aspirants.
A noble herself, her skills were lacking, but she’d entered via connections and stood in opposition to Eroy, a fellow female knight.
Besides, she had her eye on Ashy, not Eugene.
“He’s showing impressive skill, true. But Ashy Blue could do the same. She’s top in practicals and a famous mercenary. Why watch her less? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Professor Iyeon, you must not understand.”
“What?”
With a snort, she pointed at Eugene beyond the screen with her scarred hand.
“We should focus on students with growth potential, not the already complete ones. I acknowledge Ashy Blue’s excellence. At her age, reaching that realm? Rare even here.”
“Ahem!”
The other professors coughed uncomfortably, but facts were facts.
Who reached mid-knight level at just 17?
Not just realm—her weapon mastery and technique rivaled high knights.
A genius unseen among nobles or royals.
“But look. That student was brought by the principal and Professor Nipella themselves. He’s on par with Ashy. No—weird, even.”
Eroy manipulated a corner screen, displaying a recorded clip.
Eugene, Adria, and Ashy gathered in a cave, discussing.
Ashy explained, but Eugene decided and led.
“What do you see there?”
“...Ashy seems to be leading.”
Iyeon denied reality.
Eroy snorted.
“Your eyes are off. What about the rest of you? Does Ashy look like she’s leading?”
“...”
“Not to me. It looks like she’s following Eugene.”
“Ha!”
Iyeon scoffed.
“You think a contradictory student—a knight in priest robes—deserves the most attention just because he stands out now?”
“Contradictory? What’s the problem?”
“It’s obviously a problem! We want exceptional, capable students, not contradictions...!”
“If they’re exceptional and capable, a little contradiction is fine. Better than those with murderous tastes or physical defects, no?”
This was why nobles were trouble. Humans, really.
Discriminating against any difference...
She just hated someone else stealing her pick’s spotlight.
“And if we’re talking contradictions, I’m one too.”
Eroy pointed to her eye and leg. One was a prosthetic eye, the other a prosthetic limb.
Neglected too long—even miracles couldn’t heal them.
“Most swordsmen with eye and leg injuries retire. I’m the opposite.”
“...He’ll become a holy knight eventually! He won’t help us! So...!”
“Judging that way is where you’re wrong.”
Eroy sneered.
“You’re weaker than me because of that boomer mindset. Wake up and face reality.”
“Think words make it so?”
“Hardly. I say it knowing you’re weaker. If you’re unhappy, surpass me.”
A tense atmosphere hung in the control room.
Amid it, a professor sipping coffee while keeping a poker face muttered softly.
“...I like that student.”
He’d spotted him early, pretending to be an assistant or clerk while scouting. The unexpected charm(?) was endearing.
He glanced at Professor Nipella.
How did he feel seeing the control room in chaos over his recruit?
Surprisingly, he watched the screen calmly.
Not quite calm—more resigned.
Fine... as long as he doesn’t cause trouble.
He had no interest in why his associates stirred drama...
Nearly 30 minutes of relentless slaughter later, the golem finally collapsed.
Boom!
“Ugh, gross. How much can it regenerate?”
Normal golems died with a shattered core, but nature golems had theirs fused with the environment.
You had to pulverize it all at once or keep dismantling endlessly.
I kicked a bat corpse at my feet and glared at the battered thugs.
“Hey, you fuckers. Didn’t I say stay put?”
“Y-you did...”
“Then why jump in and drag it out? Huh? You wanna die?”
I’d usually watch my mouth, but their bullshit made it impossible.
Not rebels, but doing exactly what I forbade. I genuinely wanted to kill them.
“Hey. Can’t you control your friends?”
“W-well...”
“Whatever. Anyone who jumps in next time pays an extra 20 gold, fees included.”
“T-that’s...”
“What? Wanna die? Or lose your mana?”
I raised my dirt-caked sword, and they frantically shook their heads.
“No no! We’ll pay!”
“Yeah! Definitely!”
“Good. Slack off, and I’ll show you what happens when I snap. Scram!”
“R-run!”
They fled my sight, and I sighed.
How did trash like that get into the continent’s top academy...?
Well, every place has its bottom rung.
This world resembled Earth but lagged in basics like shelter, knowledge, concepts.
Inevitable. Education sucked, gaps everywhere.
“Eodukshini.”
-Yeah?
“Let’s head back. Anything nearby?”
-Nope. Probably spooked by you fighting...
“...”
-And Ashy took out the fearless ones approaching.
Monsters get scared too?
I shook my head and approached Ashy. She was slicing incoming monsters.
She sheathed her sword, her cold face brightening as she came over.
“All done?”
“Yeah.”
“How was it? My advice helped, right?”
She looked like a wagging puppy. I nodded awkwardly.
“See? Told you I’d be useful!”
“Let’s go back first. Why’d you come? What about Adria?”
“Oh, uh... I gave her a protective artifact just in case, confirmed the doll on guard, then came!”
Still, disobeying and leaving was bad.
“Thanks for just now. Next time, tell me first before moving. We’ll figure out comms.”
“Got it!”
We returned to the cave. All good.
Adria, sipping warmed holy water with a melting expression, straightened up at our return.
“Y-you’re back?”
“...You could’ve kept drinking.”
“W-what? I was just warming it in case you came back cold.”
I chuckled at her casual handoff and sat.
“Fucking sucked.”
“Pretty tough, huh?”
“Nah. The brats wouldn’t listen.”
Somehow cruder than usual.
She muttered softly, sipping her holy water.
Then she glanced, spotted wounds on my wrist and hands, and freaked.
“What are those wounds?!”
“Oh, took ’em so my precious cash cow wouldn’t.”
“Need healing...”
Too lazy to move, I channeled divine power. Skin soaked in it smoothly reverted.
Shhh...
“...Right, you’re a priest.”
Adria muttered, realizing late.
“So...”
Longsword at his waist, stiffly combed hair, disheveled uniform.
Without his handsome face, he’d look like a thug. The male student peered curiously at the beaten ones.
“There’s a guy who handles swords amazingly, huh?”
“Y-yeah!”
Yahan Horain, Sword Saint’s grandson, stroked his blade with interest.
Handles swords well, does he?
Could he surpass me?