Aln Knight Order Training (3)
The one small mercy for Arthur and the others was that Forsell was not, in fact, a man utterly devoid of common sense.
Having served as Knight Commander and trained countless recruits in his time, he needed only a single look at the three of them to gauge each of their levels and adjust the weight of their magic tools accordingly. The moment they strapped them on, groans escaped their lips of their own accord — yet not so heavy that running became impossible.
"Since this is your first taste of Aln Knight Order training, we shall begin by accustoming your bodies. Shall we loosen those muscles first?"
"...While wearing the magic tools?"
"Yes. While wearing the magic tools."
The stretches Forsell prescribed weren't all that different from what they usually did, but screams of protest never stopped pouring from the three of them the entire time.
Was this really right? Far from loosening their muscles, it felt like nothing but strain piled onto strain.
"Puhaha! We've only just started, and look at the state of you already?"
Lucy, drenched in sweat as though she'd just come back from a run herself, clutched her belly at the sight of the three of them writhing in pain. So this was all it took, right after walking in the door? And they thought they could last to the end like that?
"If you can't take it, say so now. I'll give you the chance to become a pathetic, filthy scrub even at this late stage."
Listening to her cackle, Arthur confirmed it in his heart: there was no escaping this hell. Running away because it was hard? And then what would Lucy Aln say to him afterward?
Rather than hand that girl an excuse to run her mouth, he'd sooner die right here. Arthur's resolve only hardened as the running began.
"Eh? Tired already? You haven't even finished one lap? I figured you'd be a scrub, but I didn't think you'd be this catastrophically scrubby. Pfft. Absolutely pathetic."
She had clearly been running with the knights mere moments ago, yet instead of resting, Lucy joined the three of them on their laps and never once shut up.
"Shut up."
In the early stretch, Arthur still had the leeway to fire back. His body might have grown heavier, but a physique honed through relentless training didn't simply vanish — it was burdensome, yes, but well within what he could manage.
It didn't take long to discover how wrong that assumption was. A body far heavier than usual piled on fatigue at a frightening pace.
"My dear Pitiful Prince, where did that early confidence of yours go? Have you finally accepted that you're a scrub?"
"...Hrk!"
Damn it. Why is Lucy Aln so damn relaxed?
She'd been running with the knights until just moments ago before joining them — so how could she be practically overflowing with strength!
Ah. Don't tell me her magic tool isn't even switched on?
That would explain the smugness.
"I can see exactly what you're thinking, Pitiful Prince. Stamina premature ejaculation and all."
Lucy casually slipped off her magic tool and held it out to Arthur like it was nothing.
"If you're confident you can handle the real thing, feel free to check. Not that a scrubby little Pitiful Prince would have the guts."
Falling hook, line, and sinker for the taunt, Arthur accepted the tool — and immediately lost his balance, tumbling forward.
This tool is real.
And that wasn't all. It was heavier than the ones they were wearing.
She's running longer than us with THIS strapped on, and she still has that much composure?
Staggering to his feet, Arthur had the tool snatched back out of his hand, and looking up at Lucy looming over him, he could only manage a hollow laugh. Lucy Aln. This girl, honestly.
"Stupid Forsell! The Pitiful Prince says his weight's too light and it's boring him!"
"Haha! A desire to improve is a wonderful thing!"
Thus did Arthur find himself transformed, against his will, into a student brimming with motivation — and by the time the run ended, he no longer had the strength to move his legs.
The other two fared no better. Frey, cursed with a superior physique, was saddled with a full horse's worth of weight like the knights and could only heave for breath, unable to speak a word. Joy, bearing the comparatively lightest load, counted as the least wrecked of the three, but she was just as incapable of moving her limbs.
Of everyone who had run with them, only two came through unscathed: Forsell, who endured this regimen as a matter of course, and Lucy.
"How fitting for the young lady's friends — such outstanding ability. Succeeding in running to the very end on your first day. I look forward to when the real training begins after lunch."
"...This isn't the end?!"
Startled by the words real training, Joy shot to her feet and raised her voice — and a slow, satisfied smile crept across the corners of Lucy's mouth.
"Duh. Don't advertise your stupidity quite so loudly, airhead. What did I say earlier? Warm-up?"
"This was a warm-up?!"
Half-dragged to their feet, the group made their way to the dining hall — where they ran into someone entirely unexpected.
"Jackal."
There, seated among the knights, was Jackal Burrow — second son of House Burrow, and now its only surviving child.
Head bowed, shoveling food into his mouth as if his life depended on it, Jackal slowly lifted his face at the sound of Arthur's voice.
"Your Highness, the Third Prince."
"It has been a while. I never imagined we'd reunite in a place like this."
Joy and Frey, who knew Jackal's face but could hardly be called close to him, drifted off with Lucy, and Arthur took a seat directly across from Jackal.
"Weren't you at home, attending to Duke Burrow?"
"I have already been relieved of that duty. In truth, I'm told the Duke is in better health now than before his illness."
"Hoh. That is indeed fortunate news. So why are you here?"
"My circumstances are... complicated, so I cannot go into detail. But I came here to grow stronger."
To grow stronger.
Hearing those words, Arthur noticed at once that something about Jackal had changed. Only months ago, Jackal's eyes had been full of venom. A man who knew his own inadequacy but refused to admit it, who schemed to claw his way upward by any means necessary yet constantly tripped over his own desperation — he had always been the type to spit poison at everyone around him.
But not anymore. Whatever he had been through, Jackal had shaken off that delusion and recovered the temperament he'd possessed before the bitterness took root.
"That, too, is good news."
Arthur felt a flicker of curiosity at the expression on the man's face, but instead of prying, he simply picked up his spoon.
"Um... may I ask why Your Highness has come to this place?"
"The same reason you did. To grow stronger."
"Then you've come to exactly the right place. There is no hell on this continent better suited to pushing past the limits of the human body."
At the ominous note Jackal let hang in the air, Arthur lowered one eyebrow.
"Jackal. How many days have you been here?"
"I have spent the longest week of my life."
"...What is that supposed to—"
"You will understand soon enough, Your Highness. You are about to live through days longer than any you have ever known."
It took precisely one hour that afternoon for Jackal's words to prove true. Unlike the morning, he and the others were now moving among the knights themselves, and they came to understand why Lucy had spoken of consideration while handing over that horrifying training schedule.
In an environment like this, I suppose that passes for mercy.
CLANG!
"Damn it all! Give me a moment to breathe!"
"Haha! I am being perfectly considerate!"
"Then be MORE considerate!"
"I refuse! That wouldn't be training at all! Look there! See how well Lady Kent and the young Lord Burrow are managing!"
"How exactly does THAT count as managing?! That's a dying man's final thrashing!"
Arthur's scream was a mistake. Forsell, his sparring partner, far from easing the intensity, only pressed him harder on the grounds that he clearly still had breath left to waste on complaining.
I pulled Joy aside as the others headed off to their next round of training, and stood before her fully armed — everything except my mace.
"Lady Aln. What manner of training is this?"
Combat training. You, Joy...
"Combat training. The Scatterbrained Young Lady makes more mistakes the more desperate she gets, doesn't she? I can't stand watching you fumble something airheaded in a dangerous moment and get clobbered for it. So your kind, sweet me is going to bully you first."
I do my best never to throw Joy or my other friends into danger. Better that I alone suffer than watch someone else in pain — better, when things get dangerous, that the danger be mine alone. It puts my mind at ease.
But the world doesn't arrange itself according to my wishes. My friends cannot live in peace forever just because I want them to, and Joy is no exception.
So long as she remains a student of Soul Academy. So long as she is a noble of this kingdom. And so long as this world is fated to slide deeper into chaos with every passing day —
Joy will face a crisis someday. If I or some other trustworthy soul happens to be beside her when that day comes, fine. But no one can count on luck always.
Just think of the first time Nakrad and I crossed paths. If circumstances had shifted only slightly, Joy, standing right there beside me, would have died helpless on the spot.
If only to prevent that, Joy needed real combat experience. So that she could carve her own way through, even with no one at her side. So that she could hold out long enough for someone's rescue to arrive.
"Hey, airhead♡"
"...Wha—?!"
"From now on, I'm coming at you for real♡ Let's see you survive it♡"
Ever since my fight with the skeleton imitating a hero, my style of combat had evolved toward endurance. My shield arts and holy magic as my mainstays — and the Mesugaki skill's taunting drew aggro perfectly, meshing naturally with that approach.
But that didn't mean I didn't know how to attack. Holding the line is merely a desperate gambit for winning when your opponent matches you or exceeds you. If your enemy stands there full of openings, exactly like Joy clutching her staff — there's no reason whatsoever to turtle up.
"If you can, that is♡"
With those words, I kicked off the ground.
In a world brimming with superhumans, a safe distance simply does not exist. The instant you trust the gap between you and show the smallest opening, a blade is already flying at your throat.
Joy, who had always stood behind someone else, knew none of this. And so she failed to react even as I closed the distance in the blink of an eye. Even with my fist arriving right before her eyes, she couldn't squeeze out a single spell. Only after the shockwave of the punch whipped her hair wildly about did she gasp and topple backward in shock.
"Utterly disappointing♡ Below even my expectations♡ You're SO scrubby it's not even funny♡"
I pressed on, watching her trembling eyes. She knew it too. That moments ago, she could have died. That if I hadn't pulled that punch, she'd have been obliterated on the spot.
"Scared?♡ Frightened?♡ Puhaha♡ Our little airhead can't do a thing without someone standing in front of her♡ Pathetic♡"
Even knowing Joy was shaken, I didn't let up on the taunts. I was certain that the Joy of today would grit her teeth and rise instead of crumbling — so I raised the intensity instead.
"If you plan on trembling behind someone's back for the rest~ of your life, by all means, keep at it♡ Even if you're a scrub, you're still a noble, airhead, so I'm sure somebody will protect you whether you like it or not♡"
At that, Joy bit her lip and rose unsteadily to her feet.
"Shut up. I don't want to hear that from the incompetent young lady who does nothing but cause problems up front and doesn't even know how to clean up after herself."
The moment I saw that icy glare — worthy of a true villainess — I smiled, delighted that I'd judged her right.
"Come at me again. I'll roast you for real this time."
"Puhaha♡ You sure about that?♡ Talk big and then lose, and it's going to be SO embarrassing for you♡"
"Are you alright with that, my lady? Losing to the very person you mocked as an airhead — I imagine that would feel rather good, wouldn't it?"
Facing Joy's ferocious grin, I smiled and lunged at her.
Until the day we left this territory for what I had planned, I was going to hammer the way a mage fights into Joy until it stuck.