Chapter 41
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: 22. Sparring
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The next morning.
"..."
The back seat. The very corner one at that.
This spot, where no one seemed to care about, was now filled only with sighs and heavy silence.
It stung. Stung so badly it felt like my skin was burning.
"..."
"..."
Eyes that should have been fixed on the blackboard kept drifting toward me instead.
Class hadn't even started yet—the professor hadn't arrived.
Iris, seated right in front of me diagonally, was glaring at me with relentless intensity.
Narrowed eyes and tightly pressed lips.
Her expression screamed 'I'm angry right now' from every inch of her body.
"..."
What a pretty face, if only she wouldn't glare like that.
[My lord. Staring like that... isn't it lovesickness?]
Tundra. Can you shut your mouth?
'Stop looking. My face is gonna get drilled through.'
She'd sat in the front row for the first class, no problem.
Why move all the way to the back today?
And right in my line of sight, no less.
If I'd done something guilty, I'd understand. But this? Come on.
"..."
Oh, wait. Now that I think about it...
After yesterday's class ended, I'd bolted like hell to escape her chasing me down with that scary look...
Under her piercing gaze now, those forgotten memories were flooding back vividly.
'...Was running away that insulting?'
No, anyone could see she wasn't just casually approaching to chat.
I felt wronged, honestly.
Especially since she was the game's protagonist, coming at me—the guy fated to die if associated—with that terrifying face.
Who wouldn't run?
"Oppa. You okay?"
"...With what?"
"Th-that..."
Celine, sitting beside me, whispered worriedly while glancing around.
She must have felt Iris's persistent stare too.
Anyone not an idiot would notice such blatant staring.
"...Miss Liel keeps looking over. Did something happen?"
"Beats me."
I wasn't hiding anything—I genuinely had no clue. So I just shrugged.
No matter how I racked my brain, I couldn't figure out the real reason.
Even thinking back, I hadn't done anything wrong to her.
Not even the old Evan had any connection to her, let alone commit some offense.
In the game, Evan's downfall with her stemmed from harassing the heroine out of jealousy toward the protagonist, setting traps and interfering until his end.
In other words, future events that hadn't happened yet.
If there was a god, I'd beg for an explanation.
What's her deal?
'Haa.'
I turned my head toward the window to escape her gaze.
Blue sky, fluffy clouds. Peaceful academy scenery.
Just looking at it felt healing.
But thinking of what was coming soon turned my heart as uneasy as a merchant caravan spotting bandits.
Today was the sparring class I'd desperately avoided.
Opponents drawn by lots, sure—but I had a bad feeling anyway.
Creak.
"G-good m..."
"Ah. Skip greetings. Let's get to it."
Then the front door opened, and a figure strode in.
The opposite of frail Professor Aria.
Muscular giant covered in scars.
A man with a fierce face slowly took position at the podium, scanning the students.
Professor Zig Kail.
S Class instructor for swordsmanship and physical training. A powerhouse, former royal knight order commander.
"Ahem."
Ignoring the stares, he cleared his throat lightly and slowly spoke.
"Attention."
Being S Class students, no one was chatting anyway.
But his thick baritone made the already quiet room fall deathly silent, not even breaths audible.
"You probably heard from Professor Aria yesterday. Today is practical sparring. I hate theory lectures that just talk big."
'Straight to the heat from the start.'
For improving swordsmanship, nothing beat real combat.
With that, he turned and wrote huge letters on the blackboard.
His strokes so forceful the chalk nearly snapped.
Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap.
"Theory classes a hundred days can't match one real bout. You'll know your level only by clashing bodies."
Tap.
"Now, change quickly and assemble at the training grounds in under 10 minutes. Be late at your peril."
Clap!
Short, blunt, utterly selfish orders. No joke.
How far was S Class from the training grounds?
Changing alone would eat 5 minutes easy.
What a thug.
Guys could change fast, but girls...
"Um, ex-excuse me..."
Someone raised a slightly trembling hand.
"...What?"
"Eek?!"
Professor Zig Kail's curt reply made the student flinch like a scared animal.
Messy dark brown hair half-hid her face, thick horn-rimmed glasses showing terrified eyes.
Her worn, baggy uniform sleeve revealed bandaged fingers, tips faintly bruised purple.
"Th-that..."
'Burned herself with alchemy again.'
Obvious without looking.
Discoloration common from handling potions.
With all eyes on her, she ducked her head lower, voice barely audible.
"Can't hear you."
"...B-because..."
'Still the same, Hyera.'
Her timid personality clashed horribly with Zig Kail.
If she were noble, maybe. But as a commoner, his impatience made it worse.
Hyera Rain.
Commoner alchemy aspirant, one of The Glory's sub-heroines.
Bullied for her meekness, saved by the protagonist—classic Cinderella role.
"What is it? Can't speak properly?"
His irritated voice pressed, and now sweating profusely, she clasped her hands and mustered louder.
"P-Professor... For girls like us... ch-changing clothes... won't have enough t-time..."
Still tiny to listeners.
But valid point. I nodded slightly.
S Class to changing room was far.
Girls had more layers.
10 minutes to grounds? Near impossible.
'But that doesn't matter to that old-school guy.'
Watching dimly, sure enough.
Kail snorted at her words.
"You gonna tell the enemy on the battlefield, 'Hold on, need time to change'?"
"Eh? Th-that's..."
"Move instead of making excuses. That's S Class."
"Ugh... Y-yes."
He cut off further argument coldly.
No glance her way. Her face flushed beet red, head down.
'...Tch.'
I clicked my tongue.
Original fidelity spot-on here.
Zig Kail: skilled professor, but rigid as hell, zero flexibility.
A few extra minutes wouldn't kill anyone.
What a personality.
"What're you waiting for? Move!"
Seeing us still dawdling, he slammed the podium with a bang and bellowed.
Students finally rose one by one.
'Maybe take it slow changing.'
First class, rushed 10-minute change—but I stood leisurely.
No intent to sprint to changing room like those ahead.
'Wasted time to get there. Running and sweating? My loss.'
"..."
But no desire to irk that glaring old professor.
So I slyly pulled clothes from my bag.
"O-oppa, not going?"
"Y-Young master...? You'll be late."
Celine and Elysia tugged my sleeve timidly, puzzled stares.
Everyone rushing, me sitting calm—looked weird.
"Changing here. You two'll be late—go ahead."
"What? R-right here?"
"Oh... my, my."
Celine's eyes widened round.
Elysia covered her mouth in shock, then blushed and turned away.
Twitch twitch.
Wanna grab those twitching elf ears once.
Wonder what they feel like.
"St-still...!"
"No time. Late means I get chewed out."
I casually undid my shirt buttons.
Plus, I wasn't the only one changing here.
"Hahaha! Glorious steppe warrior needs no changing room!"
With booming laughter, the hulking barbarian guy by the window flung off his top.
His shirt fluttered slowly skyward.
Revealing a 2-meter frame, broad shoulders, rippling muscles.
'Barkan.'
Western plains exchange student. The Glory's tank.
Boisterous, simple-minded—more fans than haters in-game.
'Warrior doesn't flee!'
Minor issue: charges solo and dies if not controlled.
"You crazy barbarian bastard! Why strip outta nowhere?!"
A girl yet to exit screamed, hands over eyes.
Barkan ignored, puffing his chest proudly.
"Woman! No shame! Man baring body is natural! Enjoy my fine physique!"
Posing with glasses pushed up. Truly something else.
[Hoh. Not Frost Giant level, but decent build, my lord.]
Ah, loose screws connect, huh.
Elysia fidgeted, face red, avoiding his side.
"Young master! W-we'll... go first!"
I smirked watching Elysia and Celine flee.
Too stimulating for pure young ladies, that barbarian's half-nude show.
'Finally quiet.'
Empty classroom now.
I changed comfortably, no prying eyes.
'Why run to that distant changing room when I can do it easy here?'
Smart choice. Nodding to myself mid-change.
"Hm! Not my level, but fine body you got. Decent!"
Barkan thumbs-upped my muscles.
Thankfully, his eyes pure—not what I feared.
Like admiring fine art.
"Thanks. You look good too."
I replied lightly, donning training top.
Barkan's shoulders and muscles fit a warrior perfectly.
"Haha! Good eye! Name's Barkan. Pride of western steppes, future great chieftain!"
Yeah, yeah. Know all about you.
Your skills, strength—everything.
"...Evan. Evan Dreadnote."
"Dreadnote? Noble, I guess. Anyway, pleased, classmate!"
Smack smack!
Barkan laughed heartily, pounding my shoulder with pot-lid palms.
No malice, but this guy had no strength control.
...Stop. Hurts like hell.
"Classmate! Hurry and change—let's go!"
"I'm done. Just you left."
"Oh? Forgot—undressing's habit!"
'...Yeah. Simple's good.'
Straightforward guy—no schemes. Refreshing.
Plus, befriending wouldn't hurt. His skills were legit.
"Shall we?"
Fully changed, I left the classroom with Barkan.
10 minutes tight, but hurrying meant on time.