Subjugating the NTR Scum Kent Garcia (6)
Of course. It had to be that way. This was an exact copy of your skill, after all.
"Haa, haa……."
Of course, what I'd stolen was only the technical perfection of her swordsmanship—my physical stamina and strength were still trash-tier. After fiercely exchanging a few blows with Leona, my lungs felt like they were about to burst, and my whole body was caked in dirt and sweat.
As I caught my ragged breath and lowered my wooden sword, the tense air in the training grounds, frozen from watching our spar, began to slowly thaw.
Clunk, clunk.
Right on cue, the large door on one side of the training grounds creaked open, and Lia appeared. She was huffing and puffing as she dragged a cart piled high with wooden barrels.
"Y-Young Master! I've bought everything as you ordered!"
The items I'd instructed her to get before leaving the Training Warehouse. Light liquors that wouldn't hinder tomorrow's training were stacked mountain-high, threatening to crush the cart. I swept back my sweat-matted bangs and shot a glance at the still-dazed Leona—a silent order for her to step up and distribute them to the knights.
Though I'd orchestrated it, having the vice-captain personally hand them out would perfectly preserve her authority as the one leading the training.
Leona hesitated for a moment, clearly baffled by my kindness, but soon cleared her throat with a cough and bellowed at the knights in the training grounds.
"Training break! We gotta at least grease the throats of the fools heading out beyond the walls to die in a week! It's a special gift from Young Master Werner himself. Drink up and rest short!"
Her booming declaration echoed across the training grounds.
The knights exchanged bewildered glances. They couldn't wrap their heads around the notorious wastrel young master suddenly handing out booze to them.
But after the brutal training, their throats burned with thirst, the barrels of liquor tempted them right before their eyes, and they'd just witnessed Werner matching their vice-captain blow-for-blow—at least technically.
"We'll gratefully accept, Young Master."
The first to creep forward were the knights loyal to Isabella's faction, who usually followed Leona.
They seemed genuinely impressed by the swordsmanship I'd just shown, cautiously showing their goodwill as they took their cups from me.
Once Leona's faction moved, the neutral knights—who'd been eyeing things—swarmed in like their weapons had been sheathed, grabbing and downing the booze.
"Kuh! Thank you, Young Master!" "Long live Young Master Werner!"
It was cheap, light liquor, but it worked like a charm. Knights were simple folk to begin with, and the Kraus family had always been poor, unable to pay lavish salaries.
Cheap but plentiful booze. A young master from the Kraus family who stepped onto the training grounds himself, training alongside the knights in place of the aloof, unapproachable Isabella, whom they respected as a master swordsman but found hard to like.
Those two effects turned the training grounds into a raucous celebration, as if they'd won a battle—save for the Eric faction knights sulking in the corner, arms crossed, refusing to touch a drop.
Leona, standing beside me, alternated glances between the cheering, drinking knights and my sweat-drenched self, biting her lip with a strange expression.
‘Trashy good-for-nothing wastrel. Horny beast cub who forces and tramples women. ……But that care for his subordinates might be genuine. Taking such meticulous care of the soldiers' morale after grueling training. I hate and resent him…… but gratitude is gratitude.’
The short break ended, and training resumed.
I stopped sparring with Leona—the skill gap was too wide for much gain—and quietly swung my wooden sword alone in a corner of the training grounds.
Basic training to drag up my pathetic stamina, even a little.
Seeing even the wastrel young master training diligently, the knights followed suit, getting serious.
One round of booze from me had ripened the training grounds' atmosphere into unprecedented camaraderie. The stiff wall between Isabella's and the neutral faction knights seemed to crumble.
Just as the knights' loyalty tilted perfectly my way.
Uninvited guests, jealous of the heartwarming scene, began slinking out.
At the training grounds entrance, Kent Garcia strutted in with his core Eric faction knights in tow.
The other knights sensed it too—the warm mood cooled slightly. Meanwhile, the few Eric faction holdouts, sidelined from the fun, perked up as their side gained ground.
What a clusterfuck. We all gotta band together to fight soon.
To be fair, even second-in-command Eric cared more about fleeing the monster war and swallowing the wrecked territory whole than defending it—so blaming the knights alone was unfair.
Kent Garcia, who'd been watching from afar, clicked his tongue. He shot a subtle glance at a burly knight training nearby.
A short, covert signal. To others, it looked like the knight captain just glancing at a subordinate. But the translucent system window floating before me broadcast his intentions crystal clear.
‘Arrogant little shit. Trying to boost morale by buttering up the soldiers. Gotta have Gareth scare the wastrel. Once he rolls pathetically on the ground, this nauseating mood ends.’
Whoosh—!
No sooner had I read Kent's mind than Gareth's wooden sword, mid-spar with another knight, sliced through the air toward me.
"Ahh, oops!"
Gareth's voice feigned a training mishap.
"Watch out…!"
Leona, correcting a nearby knight's form, drew her sword and shouted.
I lazily tilted my head, effortlessly dodging the wooden sword hurtling at my face.
With Mind Reading, I'd known the timing and trajectory a full second ahead—child's play.
But to onlookers, it looked like insane reaction speed.
Thud!
Dirt flew as the wooden sword embedded in the hard training grounds dirt behind me. No way it'd just sting if it hit.
Is it 'cause Isabella's away? These bastards are going all out.
No matter how I sliced it, killing off Eric's faction in the family while bolstering Isabella's was essential—not just for the upcoming monster war, but after.
But I played it cool, sweeping back my sweaty bangs and eyeing Gareth like nothing happened.
His smirk—expecting me to eat dirt—twisted in shock. But only briefly.
"S-Such rudeness! Forgive me, Young Master Werner!"
Gareth rushed over, dropping to one knee on the dirt before me.
"I was focused on sparring and swung hard—sweat made my hand slip. No injuries, I hope?"
His posture was impeccable, words apologetic. But his upturned eyes and lip sneered, 'Dodged by luck, huh?'
Even if I was a figurehead Kraus, openly picking a fight crossed the line—so he hid behind a "training accident."
"As you see."
I flicked the wooden sword on my shoulder, replying indifferently.
"Glad you're unhurt."
Gareth grinned slyly, then ignored me to glance at Kent Garcia.
As if receiving another order, he turned back with cocky confidence.
"Seeing your splendid form against the vice-captain got my knightly blood boiling—lost control of my strength. …How about it?"
‘This cowardly wastrel shit. Challenge him to a duel and he'll run scared. The second he makes excuses, that booze-bought popularity crashes. Even if he bluffs and accepts, I'll beat him for real—unlike that woman.’
"What?"
I'd already read his mind but played dumb.
"With real combat looming, how about a spar with me…?"
Polite veneer over blatant contempt.
His veiled provocation triggered the surrounding Eric faction knights, who slyly chimed in to fan the flames.
"Sir Gareth's right. The vice-captain's superb, but as a woman, she has limits awakening true combat sense."
"Tasting a rough man's preemptive strike will be fine experience for the young lord."
"Surely the proud heir won't dodge a loyal subordinate's request before the subjugation?"
Blocking my retreat with cheap appeals to family honor and loyalty.
Kent Garcia, hands behind back, smiled benevolently like a devoted superior.
"Sir Gareth's proposal is sudden and rude, but born of heartfelt loyalty for sending you to the front lines. Please graciously accept his apology-cum-training request."
Their scheme was obvious. In this rough, macho knights' world ruled by blood and sweat, dodging a "pre-combat training" challenge brands you an irredeemable coward, ripe for total scorn.
But for me? Perfect.
I needed to cement my rep and standing among the knights before the monster war anyway.
Time to flash a taste of the power stolen from non-virgins via Corruption Training.
"Fine. I accept."
My leisurely nod made Kent and Gareth's lips twitch in unison—faces brimming with unshakeable victory.
*
In the training grounds' center, knights cleared a circular space.
Gareth stood, massive two-handed wooden sword over his shoulder, exuding ferocious aura.
I lounged opposite, light one-handed training sword in hand.
Overwhelming physical disparity. Pure strength and stamina? Zero percent win chance against that bear. Our swords clashing would shatter my wrist first.
But I had weapons he didn't know: Mind Reading and Kraus Practical Swordsmanship at Leona's technical level.
Seemed a stretch, but if I couldn't beat Gareth here, how could I take down Lucian, the world's top talent?
"Then, Young Master. No holding back!"
Gareth kicked off, launching forward.
Massive frame's brutal pressure.
But clearer before my eyes: the translucent window.
‘Horizontal slash to seize his gaze, then smash his collarbone—down on his knees!’
Got it, Gareth.
I replied in my mind and moved nimbly. In the original, Werner only used this on women, but my duel with Leona enlightened me.
This power? Combat gold. No—exceptional.
Whoosh—!
Gareth's huge wooden sword cleaved air.
But 0.5 seconds before it reached, I'd already stepped back half a pace with Ravaging Footwork.
My shitty mana stat limited repeats, but I wasn't planning a marathon.
"……Kuh!"
Gareth, sure he'd drop me instantly, panicked—but instead of halting, he brute-forced the blade's path toward me again with terrifying arm strength.
Second, third slash.
Blocking rashly snaps my wrist; without prediction, un-dodgeable swordplay.
‘This rat bastard! Cut off right retreat and thrust!’
I predicted perfectly again, twisting feather-light to let his fourth slash whiff emptily.
"Th-This……!"
Four lethal strikes missing fueled Gareth's rage—eyes bloodshot, breath ragged, overcommitted weight crumbling his stance.
He noticed, freezing.
‘Stance broken……! Step back, reset…….’
"Where you running?"
Right as he tried retreating to recover, I Ravaging Footwork'ed close and thrust with stolen Kraus Practical Swordsmanship—aiming his body's weakest spot.
My wooden sword tip flew at Gareth's groin.
Dirty? Real combat ignores rules.
Thud—!
"Gaaahk!"
Dull impact and Gareth's scream tore the training grounds.
Groin smashed dead-on, he dropped his sword, clutched himself, and slammed his bulk to the dirt.
"Oof." "That’s gotta hurt." "Eeeesh."
Every Isabella faction knight watching—bar Leona—winced and turned away.
"……!"
The Eric faction sneering till seconds ago gaped.
Perfect evasion and counter negating the physique gap.
No one saw it coming. Hell, even I was surprised at the clean win—but I hid it, maintaining noble arrogance, and declared swiftly.
"This duel is my victory."
"Y-You cheating bastard!……"
Then Gareth, writhing on the ground, surged up—eyes bloodshot, unfitting for a groin-shot victim.
Weaponless bare hands, but charging like he could pummel me to death.
I peeked his mind, but no mana left for Ravaging Footwork, agility too low to dodge—eyes squeezed shut.
But.
Thud—!
Dull thump, and the giant crumpled to the sand again.
Peeking eyes saw Leona beside me.
Somehow, the shorter woman loomed huge now.
Leona half-drew her real sword, pressing Gareth's neck to the dirt, glaring coldly down.
"Don't disgrace yourself, Gareth. Charging with killing intent after defeat mocks the Kraus Knights' code?"
"Kuh, V-Vice-Captain! Invalid! That wastrel just dodged like a coward…!"
"Blame your lowly eyesight for missing the skill gap. The young master's footwork and thrust were flawless practical swordsmanship—no margin for error."
Gareth glared, but Leona—unlike last night yielding first in our stare-down—met his insolence unyieldingly.
Finally, he bowed under the smaller woman's blade.
Ooh, as expected of someone who rose to vice-captain in this dark fantasy world.
I stared blankly at Leona, like a loyal hound baring teeth for her master.
If I were a girl, I'd confess on the spot. Hot as hell.
But I'm a guy, she's non-virgin—no chance. I'd continue her Corruption Training tonight for better exploits.
Gareth rose warily under her gaze, venting injustice with a yell.
"Young Master! Rematch! We'll do it again—result'll differ!"
Obviously. Just caught you off-guard with mind-read path prediction for a counter.
So no rematch.
Hey, you. You're trash.
I swept his dirt-caked face with trash-can eyes, stretched lazily with arrogant nonchalance, and turned my back.
"Refused."
"Wh-What……! Scared?"
"Scared? The guy who dropped in one hit's delusions run wild. Real combat? You'd be dead then. And unlike a mere knight like you, I'm busy. No time wasting stamina playing with trash before real war."
I scoffed incredulously, jutting my chin at frozen Kent Garcia.
"Knight Captain. Train your men's swordplay properly. Unless you plan letting them roll in the dirt before monsters in a week. Wasn't preemptive strike your proposal?"
Kent's face flushed humiliation-red-purple.
I left the silent, shocked training grounds behind, whispering to Leona to come to the Training Warehouse tonight, and strolled into the castle.
Round the corner, I bolted—scared Gareth might challenge again.