Unity (3)
The first week of the new term — Saturday.
Elprime Academy ran classes six days a week, and on Saturdays, the final day, only morning sessions were held. Of course, for the Martial Arts Department that meant practical training rather than theory. Which was why Class A of the Martial Arts Department was once again getting worked into the dirt on Training Ground One.
"Faster!"
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
"Whoa… that lunatic."
"Look at his eyes rolling back."
The cadets clicked their tongues as they watched Leon, still the last one left on the track. Having reached mid-Expert rank, his already solid stamina had only improved further. The other cadets couldn't even dream of keeping up with him anymore. It took him so long to tire that he'd started strapping sandbags to his wrists and ankles just to make the runs harder.
"Enough."
"Ugh!"
The moment Cheren's word dropped, Leon groaned and face-planted straight into the dirt. His body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds; he didn't have the strength left to so much as twitch a finger.
"One hundred overhead strikes — begin!"
"You've got to be kidding me."
At the inevitable next order, Leon pushed himself back up. Internally he was cursing up a storm, but he still followed Cheren's commands without complaint. Her training might have looked brutish at a glance, but the results were undeniable. Having achieved a breakthrough in a single day, Leon held an unshakable faith in her methods.
Back on the Earth of his previous life, this kind of excessive workload would have done nothing but wreck the body. But as far as Leon could tell, for someone whose body could channel mana, this kind of training hit differently. Besides — a swordsman who'd reached Master in her twenties was personally coaching him. Who was he to argue?
Honestly, Leon had half-doubted Carotin's claim that complaints had already started circulating. For the past five days the cadets had endured the grueling regimen without a peep.
Come on. This is Elprime Academy, the best on the continent. There's no way anyone here would…
What Leon failed to account for was that the cadets had been grinding through the training on the competitive fire he had lit under them. And that fuel was just about burned out.
A cadet's sharp, ringing voice cut through the air.
"Instructor!"
No way.
"No matter how I look at it, this isn't right!"
…Oh, you're done.
Leon quietly unstrapped the sandbags from his limbs.
"No matter how I look at it, this isn't right!"
"…"
Cheren's frigid gaze, arms still crossed, fixed on the speaker. Pierre Toarum — second son of the Toarum Count Family. He looked like he simply couldn't take it anymore, raising his voice with raw frustration.
"Even our family's Black Wolf Knights don't train at this intensity!"
Cheren's brow twitched. The Toarum family, like the Asconia family she belonged to, was a renowned house of swordsmanship; the two had been bitter rivals for generations simply by virtue of sitting on each other's doorstep. And the Black Wolf Knights were the Toarum family's strongest order — a company of seasoned warriors. For him to claim that even they didn't do conditioning like this…
"Don't tell me you're deliberately teaching us nonsense just because I'm from the Toarum family?"
Cheren exhaled a sigh and uncrossed her arms. That was far enough.
…He really doesn't know when to stop.
Come to think of it, he'd been like this on the first day too. There was a limit to how much she could overlook. And the funnier part was that none of the surrounding cadets were even pretending to rein him in. They must have shared the same grievances deep down.
I'll settle this properly this time.
Cheren's lips had just begun to part when a thick straight line carved itself through the air —
"You little son of a bitch!!!!!!"
— and slammed straight into Pierre's face.
CRAAACK!
"AAAAAAARGHHHHH!!!!"
Caught dead-on by Leon's flying side kick, Pierre shrieked as he went airborne.
Thud-crash-tumble!
Leon was on him before he'd even finished rolling. Mounting the sprawled Pierre in a full mount, he pinned the boy's torso and arms in a crushing hold.
"Ghhhk…!?"
"You're that same bastard from last time, aren't you?"
Leon's arms blurred into afterimages as they started swinging.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!!
"———!!!"
Fists hammered every inch of Pierre's face without missing a spot. In seconds his features were a bloody ruin, facial bones caving in under the barrage.
Crunch! Crack! Boom!
"Who the hell — do you think — you are — to complain?" (I'm putting up with this quietly, so why the hell are YOU throwing a fit?)
Leon spun around and switched targets to the abdomen.
Thud! Thud! THUUUD!!!
"GHHHHHAAAAARGH!!!!"
Pierre thrashed in the hideous agony of rupturing organs. He flailed his arms and legs with everything he had — for all the good it did. There was no escaping Leon.
"When you're told — to do something — you just — do it!" (I listen to the instructor just fine. If you start mouthing off, where does that leave me?)
Leon beat Pierre within an inch of his life for the most self-centered reasons imaginable. Types like this only got compliant when you pounded them right up to death's door. He'd also caught the undercurrent of quiet agreement with Pierre's little speech a moment ago. This was the perfect chance to make an example of him — a warning to every other cadet watching.
BOOM!
A mana-reinforced fist drove down without the slightest hesitation.
"Eek!"
The cadets recoiled on instinct, scrambling backward to put distance between themselves and the carnage. The way he methodically demolished every single part of a human body was a genuine shock to these young students.
"Hmm…"
Carotin stared awkwardly at the wooden sword he'd brought over, huffing, then eventually sank into a half-crouch where he stood.
Fast, I'll give him that.
After running that hard just moments ago, where was all this strength even coming from?
"What was that just now? 'This isn't right'? 'This isn't right'? 'Thisisn'tright'?"
Crunch! Boom! Boom! CRASH!!
Blood sprayed like a fountain. Teeth tore free and went flying in every direction.
"———!!!"
Pierre was discovering firsthand that when the pain got bad enough, you screamed without making a sound.
Snap! Crack! Crunch!
"…!"
The sound of bones shattering finally snapped Cheren out of her stunned silence. She bolted toward Leon.
"Leon! Stop! That's enough!"
He froze mid-swing. The raised fist halted on the spot.
"Ah, Instructor. Understood."
Leon rose slowly to his feet. Then he beamed — a bright, open smile — as he swept his blood-soaked hand back through his hair. In his mind, he was going for harmless.
He's insane.
Oh my god…
…What a complete psychopath.
The cadets who saw that smile could only tremble. Beating a person into that state and then smiling about it. Their survival instincts kicked in hard enough that hands drifted toward sword hilts of their own accord.
Leon casually hoisted the crumpled Pierre over his shoulder.
"Uurrgh…"
Both eyes were swollen shut into massive bruises. Blood seeped through the gaps where teeth used to be. However many bones were broken, his body hung in a grotesque, limp shape. He looked half undead. The fact that he hadn't even passed out in that condition was almost impressive — not because Pierre had a particularly tough constitution, but because Leon knew exactly how to keep someone conscious while beating them senseless.
"Well, looks like this guy just trained a little too hard. I'll take him to the infirmary."
As he said it, Leon shot Cheren a meaningful look.
"…Ahem."
Cheren raised a hand to her mouth to hide the twitch at the corner of her lips.
"Mm. Indeed — that cadet certainly has remarkable enthusiasm. Go ahead."
The other students stared at Cheren with looks of pure disbelief. Permission granted, Leon called out just before stepping off the training ground.
"Guys! I'll be right back!"
"""…!"""
Grasping exactly what he meant, the cadets shot to their feet and raised their swords as one.
Gyaaaaaaagh…!
Pierre's faint screams drifted in from beyond the training ground. Immediately, the cadets' blades began to move — overhead strikes, one after another.
Whoosh! Hiss! Swish!
Between the sounds of steel cutting air from high to low —
"…Hah."
— Cheren let out a heated breath through slightly parted lips. Her racing heart refused to settle.
The next morning — Sunday.
Even though it was a day off, the Martial Arts Department's Class A had assembled on Training Ground One. The one difference:
"Hey guys, good to see your faces even on a rest day."
"""…"""
— was that Instructor Cheren was nowhere to be found, and Leon had taken her place. The cadets' expressions soured so thoroughly they couldn't even hide it. The same bastard who'd gone door-to-door through the dorms at the crack of dawn dragging them all here was standing there saying that.
Still, after yesterday's vivid demonstration of what happened when you poked the lunatic, every mouth stayed firmly shut. They had a living witness right there beside them, after all.
"U-uhh…"
Pierre — fully healed in a single day thanks to the academy infirmary's excellent priests and high-grade potions — was curled into a corner, arms wrapped tight around himself. If Leon hadn't summoned him, he almost certainly wouldn't have taken a single step out of his room.
Leon tapped his scabbard lightly against his shoulder and opened his mouth.
"I've got some hot-off-the-press intel from yesterday."
Of course, it was content he remembered from the original story.
"The group portion of the midterm practical exam is going to be an inter-class tournament."
The semester had only been going for a week. The sudden talk of midterms set the cadets murmuring. Leon ignored their puzzled stares completely.
"And I fully intend to take first place."
Having zero interest in studying for the written exams, Leon at least needed to crush the practicals. Strong grades meant the academy handed out plenty of perks. As the Empire's finest institution, the rewards and support for proven talent were enormous. Leon had no intention of missing out — and even less intention of letting Billy or anyone else snatch those benefits instead.
And while I'm at it, I'll have something to brag about to the Duke.
Good grades at the academy would make life a lot easier when he went home. The Crucif Duchy had plenty worth extracting, so maintaining decent relations with the Duke and Duchess was just smart. The family already looked half-ruined, but still.
Plus I need to prepare for the episodes coming down the line.
Someday soon, there would be a moment when Class A's cohesion and combat strength would be desperately needed. With that in mind, a little suffering now was actually in their best interest. When that day came, Leon was certain none of them would regret this.
"If you just train the way I tell you, we'll win for sure."
Moreover, Leon was confident he could lock Class A into first place no matter what. He remembered the exam content. Knowing the questions in advance and preparing for them was basically a cheat code.
"So I figured we'd keep coming out for a bit of extra training among ourselves. Anyone have a problem with that?"
As he spoke, Leon swept a menacing look across the cadets.
"""…"""
The atmosphere made it clear that even if you did have a problem, you absolutely shouldn't. The cadets could only swallow hard.
Then one brave soul raised a hand.
"Um… maybe we should still rest a little on our days off…"
"Oh? Is that so?"
Leon stood up with a delighted smile, scabbard in hand — the exact same smile he'd worn yesterday after turning Pierre into hamburger.
"HYAAAAAH!"
From the corner, Pierre screamed, his face going deathly pale. The brave cadet's wits snapped back into place and he waved both hands frantically.
"N-no! No! On second thought, I don't think we need to rest at all!"
"Hmm… really?"
Leon smacked his lips with genuine disappointment. Fssst. He lit a cigarette he'd somehow produced and spoke through the smoke.
"Shall we get started, then?"