The Veteran's Training Method (3)
"Scared out of your wits, Airhead Lady? Legs won't move? What a coward~"
Lucy flashed a mean little smile as she spotted Joy frozen in the corridor leading down to the dungeon.
It was a scene Joy had witnessed before.
Luce in her armor, shield gripped in one hand, striding ahead with total confidence.
Back then, Joy had tried to follow her, only to collapse in a heap the moment she laid eyes on the dungeon door.
The only difference from that day was that this meeting was no coincidence.
That morning, the moment Joy finished getting ready and stepped out of her room, Lucy had been standing right there, waiting for her.
'Figured a spineless little lady wouldn't show up, but I guess you're not the type to hide in your room trembling after all?'
That was what she said, but why Lucy had waited for Joy was obvious enough.
She'd come looking for her because she was worried about Joy being too terrified to enter the dungeon.
That was the kind of person Lucy was these days. Someone who bickered and needled all day long, yet brimmed over with consideration.
Someone who would throw away her own life for another person's sake.
And someone who, once everything was over, would never boast about her own deeds—just flash that infuriating grin and say, 'I only did what a loser couldn't. So what?'
Right up until she woke that morning, Joy had still been wondering whether she could actually bring herself to enter the dungeon at all. But the instant she saw Lucy waiting at her door, that question simply evaporated.
It wasn't a matter of whether she could or couldn't anymore.
If she wanted to be of any use to Lucy, she had to go.
Even now, standing before the dungeon's entrance, Joy thought of her.
A deep breath. Steadying her heart. Whispering to herself that it would be all right.
Over and over, she resolved that if for nothing else, then at least to repay her debt, she had to walk inside.
"Airhead Lady."
Just then, Lucy thumped Joy on the back with her gauntleted hand.
"Hyaaak?!"
Joy, who had been busy steeling herself, shrieked in surprise.
Something the old Joy would never, ever have done.
Her face flushed scarlet at the sound that had just escaped her own mouth, and as she frantically checked whether anyone was nearby, a sense of dread crept over her. She turned her gaze toward Lucy.
There stood Lucy, covering her mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking.
"PFFHAHAHA! Airhead Lady! Oh wow~ that was a total airhead move! Hyaaak! Pfft. Heh."
"That's because of you, Lady Alrn!"
"Me? You're the one who went airhead—how is that my fault? Being a scatterbrained, loser coward is your problem, isn't it?"
"Ugh..."
Joy wanted to argue back, but she couldn't.
The debt she owed Lucy was simply far, far too great.
While Joy stood there trembling, red-faced, Lucy finally stopped laughing, stepped in front of her, and thumped her own chest with both fists.
"Airhead Lady. Don't put your faith in a pathetic weakling like yourself—put it in me. Got it?"
Believe in me.
Come to think of it, not once had Lucy ever broken that promise.
Not during the entrance exam.
Not when they ran into those thugs.
Not even when they'd been driven to the very brink of death.
Every time, Lucy had boldly told her to trust her—and every time, she had pulled Joy out of the fire.
The moment that realization struck, Joy felt all the cluttered doubts in her head scatter to the winds.
Lucy met Joy's gaze for a moment, smiled, and turned to lead the way forward.
Then she pushed open the door to the Academy dungeon entrance.
The dungeon's maw revealed itself.
The instant Joy saw that entrance—still holding its reserved seat in her nightmares—her head drooped.
Her hands were shaking.
Her teeth were chattering.
The nightmare from that day still pressed down on her shoulders, and there was nothing she could do about it.
But the moment she caught sight of the small back standing guard in front of her, Joy found the courage to lift her head again.
Facing the dungeon entrance head-on once more, Joy realized something.
It was just a door.
Nothing more—certainly not some menacing thing out to devour her.
And even if something did go wrong in there, the small but dependable back in front of her would protect her.
Joy let her breath out slowly, took one careful step,
then a second,
and managed to make her way to Lucy's side, where she'd been waiting far ahead.
"You all right, Airhead Lady? If you feel like you're gonna cry from fear, you can still turn back."
"I'm fine, Lady Alrn."
As long as I'm by your side... I think I'll be fine.
Those words felt far too embarrassing to say aloud, so she buried them and simply smiled instead—and Lucy smiled right back at her.
"Oh, right. Airhead Lady. You've never actually been in a dungeon, have you?"
"No, I haven't."
"Then we'll have to start over from Floor 1. Hang on a sec."
While Lucy stood before the dungeon entrance fiddling with something, Frey Kent—who had arrived earlier and been waiting—came over to Joy's side.
"Hey."
Having built a quiet camaraderie with Frey through their shared endurance training, Joy accepted the greeting with a smile.
"Yes, Lady Kent?"
"You gonna be okay?"
"Okay with what?"
"With Airhead Lady's stamina? It's gonna be rough."
But at the words Airhead Lady, Joy's eyebrows twitched slightly.
Right. Lady Kent was also a massive creature of her own world.
Since she never appeared at official functions outside of sparring matches, it had slipped Joy's mind for a moment.
This person, like Lady Alrn, isn't the type to change just because you ask nicely—so I suppose I'm the one who has to understand.
"Will it be that hard?"
"Yeah. It was hard for me too. Almost died."
"You, Lady Kent?"
Impossible.
Lady Kent, who every single morning sprinted for two full hours at a pace rivaling Lady Alrn's—nearly died of exhaustion?
But Frey Kent's expression was far too serious to dismiss as a joke.
If what she said was true...
...I might develop a fresh trauma for dungeons all over again.
There wasn't a single shred of exaggeration in Frey Kent's words.
The forced march began with Lucy Aln's announcement that, since they were starting from Floor 1 anyway, they might as well push through to Floor 50 in advance. It kicked off around lunchtime and lasted a grueling four hours.
In the beginning, Joy was still marveling—so this is the Academy dungeon—absorbed in the wonder of it all,
and gasping in admiration whenever Lucy barked out an instruction.
But past the halfway point, she no longer had room in her head for anything except the thought of how exhausted she was.
There was no help for it; merely keeping up with Lucy as she sprinted ahead calling out orders was the limit of her ability.
Right up until they reached around Floor 30, Joy did her absolute best to cling to Lucy's back.
Alas, that was simply her ceiling for now.
Once she was utterly spent, Joy had no choice but to dangle off Lucy's shoulders like a piece of luggage for the rest of the way.
'Hahh. The Airhead Lady has evolved into the Luggage Lady. Loser stamina AND loser skills. Is there anything you're actually good at?'
For the daughter of House Patran, it was mortifying—but there was nothing to be done.
When even walking was a struggle, what room was there for pride?
On the way back after wrapping up the push to Floor 50 and dismissing the party,
Joy dragged her wobbly legs toward the dormitory by sheer force of will.
She said we'd be repeating training of roughly this intensity every weekend from now on.
Can I actually survive that?
So Lady Alrn didn't get strong for nothing.
She got strong because she was put through the wringer until she could do this without even blinking.
If I grit my teeth and hold on, maybe I can become someone that strong too.
Let's do this!
Just as she clenched her fist inwardly with that resolve, Joy raised her head at the voice calling from up ahead.
Arthur was standing there.
Did he come back from some training of his own? He's absolutely drenched in sweat.
"So are you, Your Highness."
"Haha. I've been... thoroughly inspired lately. Can't say the same for you?"
"You'd be right."
Perhaps because they'd both been inspired by the very same person,
the two of them nodded along together and then burst out laughing.
"How was it? The dungeon, with Lady Alrn."
"It was hell. Lady Alrn judges everything by her own standards. Hardly anyone alive could keep up with them."
"I agree. She simply cannot comprehend her own singularity. Perhaps she's been blessed with talent so far above everyone else's that she can't even see it."
"She grew this much in a single year, so she probably just assumes everyone else can obviously do the same."
"Infuriating, isn't it."
"Downright envious, isn't it."
Both of them had been complaining about Lucy, but neither of them wore the face of someone complaining.
For one, the object of her wariness had become her benefactor.
And for the other, the object of her resentment had become a rival she had to surpass.
"Keep at it. I intend to give everything I have until the day I can beat Lucy Aln."
"You won't manage it, Prince Arthur. By the time you've grown, Lady Alrn will have grown even faster."
"We'll see about that."
"Yes. I'll be watching closely."
And with that, the two of them laughed and headed off toward their respective dormitories.
A few days after Joy joined the party, word came from Alsaetin.
He'd secured the shield I'd requested.
Having waited for this day and this day alone, I headed straight for the back alleys of Academy Street the moment class ended.
A shield.
A new shield.
I'd been making do with mass-produced starter shields this whole time,
and every time I started to grow attached to one, it would shatter and I'd have to hunt down a replacement.
But now I'd finally gotten a shield I could love and use for the long haul!
A dwarven-forged shield should easily hold me over until I can get my hands on an endgame shield!
Humming a giddy little tune, I strolled into the tavern in the back alley—and the moment I laid eyes on the shield, I fell into rapture.
Clean, crisp lines where the shield curved.
A perfectly smooth face, without a single lumpy imperfection.
And the leather grip anchored firmly exactly where your hand naturally falls.
It's perfect.
Dwarven craftsmanship really is the pinnacle of armory!
The quality alone is on a completely different level from the mass-produced trash!
Haaa. What am I going to do?
Could I ever go back to a starter shield after using this one?
Absolutely not.
I'd sooner just keep wielding a divinity-forged shield forever.
Take good care of it, then.
From the moment I get an endgame shield, I won't have to worry about it breaking anymore, so I just need to be careful until then.
There's no way this dwarven shield breaks during my first year, but still—gotta treasure it.
After ogling the new shield for a good long while—strapping it on, swinging it around, lifting it with both hands—I smiled and slung it onto my back.
Ahhh. Bliss.
Maybe it's just because I've been stuck hauling garbage-tier shields until now, but I love this thing so, so much.
<Good heavens, child. I had no idea you were this kind of person.>
'Excuse me?'
<Well, I suppose it stands to reason—you've never once shown me this side of yourself.>
'Grandpa. Do you have no shame at all?'
Of course I don't get giddy over him—he's committed far too many sins against me for that!
I almost DIED because of him, you know!
Thinking about it now just makes my blood boil.
Sure, I gave him a taste of being House Alrn's lowest of the low, but I never gave him a taste of the Academy's bottom rung, did I?
Maybe it's time I showed him, just once, exactly what the difference is between the Academy and House Alrn?
"Um. Lady Alrn?"
I was busy plotting Grandpa's punishment in my head when Alsaetin's voice made me look up.
'What is it?'
"Well. It's about the intel job."
'There's more than one reason you called me here?'
"There is."
'Go on.'
"It concerns the Burrow Family's Necklace. There's been... a complication in acquiring it."
Huh?
Why?
This never happened in the game.
The Burrow Family's Necklace was something Alsaetin secured on his own, before I even had to ask.
'What kind of problem?'
"An intel broker. Is that really all you can manage? Loser~ Useless~ Even the title of information broker is wasted on you~"
"...The Newman family has gotten involved."
The Newman family is one of the countly houses of the Soladin Kingdom, isn't it?
Why on earth would they care about the Burrow Family's Necklace?
Right now there shouldn't be more than a handful of parties who've grasped the thing's true value.
"From what I've been able to determine, they appear to have moved preemptively—having learned that you, Lady Alrn, have taken an interest in it."