The Third Event
Heavy.
Mob tried to search his memory for the last time merely walking had caused him to break out in a cold sweat. It had certainly not happened once in the past five years. Ever since his childhood friend Zaku had departed with nothing but a promise that they would meet again, Mob had spent every single day—save for New Year's Day—training, hunting, and working odd jobs. His pride would never allow him to look pathetic before the friend he was destined to reunite with.
"Whoa, Mob, what the heck are you strapping to your body?"
"Training gear."
"You relentless psycho. We're in the dorms, man. Don't tell me you're wearing that stuff even inside our room?"
"I'd love to take it off too."
"Damn, that's hardcore. You wanna take it off, but you refuse to until you've pushed your body to total satisfaction, right?"
His three roommates in the four-man dorm churned his stomach with their exasperating misinterpretations.
"Wait, you're not keeping that on while taking a shower, are you?"
"...I got a free Clean Magic voucher from Professor Plato."
"No way. You're going that far just because you don't want to take them off?"
"By the way, who's Professor Plato?"
"I've never seen him in any of the Knight Department lectures."
"He's the professor for the Upper Class common lectures."
"Holy crap. You're so dead serious about training that you sought out a professor whose curriculum you're not even taking?"
"Man, it's guys who grind like him who claw their way out of failing."
"Respect. You're a real man, Mob."
"..."
A decade of stubborn pride made Mob puff out his chest despite himself.
What the hell are you doing? he screamed internally. Tell them to save you! Ask them to help you pry this damn stuff off!
An angel-winged version of himself whispered inside his head, urging him to abandon this foolish training and yell for rescue. But then a devil-winged version countered: Orknodi personally went out of her way to help you, though. Would it really be right to run to another professor and undo her work?
That felt just as true.
"Goddammit..."
Torn between both choices, Mob couldn't catch a wink of sleep. As he tossed and turned in agony on his bunk, muttering under his breath, his roommates listened and nodded in awe. Look at him. Even when he's suffering this much, he doesn't once consider taking off that training gear. What an absolute madman.
The following day, Mob stood during regular class hours gripping his bow with a thoroughly haggard expression.
Creak.
The arm drawing back the bowstring felt as heavy as a mountain. It was only natural; the burden his body bore was vastly higher than usual. The gloves and boots were five kilograms each across four pieces—a total load of twenty kilograms weighing him down and driving his stress through the roof.
Yet when Orknodi bumped into him in the lecture hall, she merely beamed with an innocent, sunny grin.
"How is it? Getting used to it yet?"
"In my own way, I suppose."
Having tossed and turned in discomfort all night, his eyes were sunken with dark circles, and a dazed, hollow look occasionally crossed his face. Seeing him like that, Orknodi offered a remarkably cheerful assessment.
"You look way better than yesterday!"
"Really? After just one day?"
"Well, pulling off bizarre stunts usually slaps a growth modifier on you! Thanks to the 'Unequippable' status, it looks like you scored a pretty high-tier growth multiplier!"
"...That's one growth acceleration I'm not particularly thrilled about."
"Still beats failing out of the academy, right?"
"...Well, yeah. Thanks to this, I think I might actually survive."
"Right? Aren't you super grateful?"
Mob chuckled faintly. Did she really want to hear him say thank you that badly? Or perhaps she had been worried—afraid that he wouldn't be able to keep up with her hardcore regimen and would end up resenting her. Honestly speaking, Mob suspected that if it had been almost any other student in his shoes, they would have thrown in the towel yesterday. It was only natural for Orknodi to be anxious.
"Of course I'm grateful. It's tough as hell, but as long as it bears fruit, enduring it is nothing. I'll make sure to repay this favor no matter what."
"Awesome! In that case, keep your evening open!"
"Oh? We doing some other training?"
"I ordered five-kilo guards for your shoulders and knees too! I had cloth lining padded in advance and straps attached so you can adjust their positions, so taking them on and off should be a breeze!"
"...You're adding more weight?"
"And I ordered a brand-new five-kilo spoon and set of chopsticks! They'll be ready right away, so you'll eat dinner with them starting tonight!"
"...Is that all?"
"Yep!"
"Haah... Chopsticks come in a pair of two, so with the spoon that's three pieces. Add four elbow and knee guards, and that's seven pieces... an extra thirty-five kilograms?"
What was this, full-plate armor acclimation conditioning? As he stood there dumbstruck, Orknodi clapped her hands together.
"Oh, right! Put all your daily necessities into this sack and bring them over!"
"...Why?"
"I'm gonna craft custom five-kilo versions of every single one of them!"
Please stop.
Someone save me.
Fighting back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, Mob tilted his head back toward the ceiling, trembling violently.
"Were you that touched? Hehe! Come on, we're friends, you don't have to get so choked up!"
Note to self: never, ever ask Orknodi for training help again. A tidal wave of belated regret crashed over him.
While the lower-class students plunged into desperate, last-minute preparations for Friday's exam, the Upper Class enjoyed a comparatively tranquil week.
"Did you see the notice? Professor Plato told us to bring both our standard uniforms and our gym clothes on Thursday."
"Is it swimming again?"
"If it were swimming, he wouldn't have told us to wear gym clothes."
A lingering sense of dread remained, but compared to the harrowing first three weeks, the students had adapted enough to academy life by the fourth week to afford a few smiles.
"Now, gather round!"
At the outdoor training ground, the living muscle sculpture arrived with his usual majestic bellow. Behind him, the very earth shook, kicking up a massive cloud of dust. When the dust cleared to reveal what he had brought, the students gasped at a menagerie of beasts—horses, cattle, donkeys, cheetahs, and everything in between.
"Gaaah! What is all this, nya?!"
"Scrub♡ Barbarian♡ Do backwater bumpkins not even know what those are~?"
The Mesugaki 2nd Imperial Princess snickered smugly.
"Every single one of those is edible meat. This is obviously culinary practical training♡"
"Wait, there's a golem bringing up the rear!"
"..."
"Then do you eat golems too, nya?"
Having been snubbed to her face, Jenya countered with a vindictive sneer, immediately cornering the bratty princess.
"The Imperial Family eats golems? How magnificent, nya! If I trip over a pebble later, I'll make sure to gift it to you as an afternoon snack, nya!"
"D-Don't talk nonsense! Why would a noble princess like me ever eat something like that?!"
"Then who eats it, nya~? Are you about to tuck your tail between your legs and admit you had no idea what you were talking about after acting so cocky, nya? Beastfolk call that being a defeated bitch, nya!"
"A d-defeated b-b-bitch?!"
The humiliation was unbearable. Unable to accept such a disgraceful slur, the princess was left stammering, incapable of walking back her claims. Pitying the small girl as she clutched her head in distress, Irene, daughter of the Northern Grand Duke, abruptly interjected.
"Perhaps Orknodi will eat it."
"...Nya?"
"Orknodi eats rocks."
Thanks to that oddly persuasive argument, the Mesugaki Princess breathed a sigh of relief and slunk back into the crowd.
"Did you hear that?" Son Ocheon grunted. "They say you're gonna eat it."
"Hmph. I don't eat big, crude boulders like that. Even I have standards."
"...So you do eat rocks after all."
Son Ocheon stared at her, flabbergasted.
"Whoa, whoa! Attention, everyone! These beasts were not brought here to assault you, nor were they brought so that I could release them in three minutes and have you flee before they catch you! That curriculum is reserved for your upperclassmen, so you may rest easy!"
"We have to do that kind of training in our second year?"
"I really, really don't want to advance..."
As the freshmen began buzzing and chattering in dismay, Professor Plato's face hardened sternly.
"SILENCE MAGIC!!"
With a booming roar, the professor placed a stone fragment onto his thumb and flicked it with his index finger. Crack! The projectile struck the forehead of a terrified, babbling student with pinpoint precision.
"Gah!"
"Ouch...!"
"If you fear the power of Physical Silence Magic, shut your mouths! Is this not a lecture?"
"..."
Once the students fell silent out of sheer terror of the professor's physical magic, Professor Plato softened his tone and explained the purpose of the menagerie.
"These creatures have been brought here for mounting."
"Mounting?"
"Have I not told you repeatedly? This professor remains in academia to forge true iron men through Iron Man Training and thereby save his homeland! An iron man must, first and foremost, possess a fortified physique."
"What does that have to do with animals?"
"You are slow to comprehend! What have you learned from me in previous lectures?"
"Running and swimming."
"As an extension of those fundamentals, today we shall hone your riding skills."
Running. Swimming. Riding. The holy trinity of Iron Man Training.
Hearing that sequence, Arcadia, who hailed from the very same kingdom as Professor Plato, turned as pale as a corpse.
"Professor... Don't tell me... for our midterm exam... we're doing that?"
"Hahaha! Truly, you live up to the proud lineage of the Florence Kingdom! Indeed! You shall compete in the legendary sport handed down through the Florence Kingdom—the Ironman Triathlon! Riding is the third and final event of that grand trial!"
"What's so scary about that to make everyone panic?"
To Son Ocheon's ignorant question, the sharp-witted Giselle replied quietly.
"Conquering them one at a time might be manageable."
"And?"
"An Ironman Triathlon conducts all three simultaneously, back to back, without pause."
The students, who had barely survived individual lectures without passing out, felt the strength drain from their legs at the revelation. Several staggered; others collapsed straight onto their butts.
"Don't be so frightened, everyone."
Even in the face of a brutal exam, there was always a way for newbies to survive. Orknodi leaned in and offered a quiet tip to the terrified Isabelle, Giselle, and Lotto, who lay half-dead nearby.
"Riding is simply the skill of handling a mount. If you pick a mount that suits you, you can practically coast through it. Choose wisely, and it'll actually be the easiest event of the three."
Giselle looked somewhat comforted, figuring that suffering through two events was marginally better than suffering through all three.
"I suppose someone accustomed to equestrian arts would have an easy time choosing a horse. But what happens if someone chooses something like a cheetah?"
"Well... you'd have to sort out the pecking order first, wouldn't you?"
"..."
"A carnivore's pride wouldn't let it carry an animal weaker than itself on its back, after all."
For context, there were forty-four students in the Upper Class. The professor had brought one hundred mounts. Among them, only ten were horses. The rest were cattle, donkeys, cheetahs, and similar beasts.
"Now then, select your desired mounts! These partners shall accompany you until the midterm exam, so choose with the utmost discretion!"
"Professor! What happens if multiple people want the same mount?"
"Why ask something so obvious? You brawl, and the strongest claims the prize!"
That was one minute before total pandemonium broke out.
"Why are they fighting so hard?" Orknodi wondered aloud, watching the brawl unfold from atop her chosen mount. "Things would be so peaceful if they just stopped being greedy for horses like me."
"...Plenty of people were eyeing the golem you're sitting on, you know."
Hestia, who was perched atop a different golem beside her, scolded her with an exasperated sigh.
"Aw, no way. Then why didn't anyone try to challenge me?"
"They muttered something about not wanting to fight a future Archdemon Lord or incur the wrath of a Demon King Candidate. Do you happen to know what they meant by that?"
"W-Well... who knows?"