Does This Training Make Any Sense? (2)
The teaching assistant grumbled under his breath as he trudged toward the gymnasium.
"I swear, I should just quit."
Three years into his stint as a teaching assistant, he knew the harsh reality all too well: to secure a full professorship, absolute obedience to one's supervising professor was mandatory. Only then could one hope to receive a recommendation letter and gain an edge in the faculty appointments. What the professor said was law. It was dirty and humiliating, but while others had taken positions in high-noble knight orders or opened private martial academies, he had chosen the path of a teaching assistant. It was a cross he had to bear.
In any case, his errand at the gymnasium today was to meet Xiel Steelheart—and, per Professor Elcanto's orders, casually feel him out.
As if the Imperial Family is actually backing him.
Professor Elcanto was deeply, thoroughly mistaken. Did that make any sense whatsoever?
"Why on earth would someone backed by the Imperial Family take a job as an elective instructor?"
If someone had the imperial palace in their corner, they would have been appointed a tenured professor at the bare minimum, if not an administrative dean. That would have been far more realistic.
"Looks like I'm almost there..."
Checking the time, the assistant arrived at the gymnasium and swung the double doors open. The moment he stepped inside, words failed him.
Wh-what is going on in here?
A chorus of screams echoed through the cavernous hall.
"Ugh!"
"Guh!"
"Aack!"
Students collapsed one after another, only to scramble back to their feet in an endless, brutal cycle. Those getting up constantly darted their gazes around, but every time they did, they were ruthlessly swept off their feet and sent tumbling across the polished floorboards.
"What... what are they doing?"
This was supposed to be a self-defense class. Why were forty students lined up in five rows, taking a collective beating? And from the instructor, no less.
"What kind of madness is this...?"
Was this some novel form of corporal punishment? While the assistant stood dumbfounded, muttering to himself, yet another student hit the floor.
It was an unmissable face: Deleve Kundel.
Yet, despite taking a hit, Deleve wore a strangely exhilarated expression.
"I saw it that time...!" He swallowed his frustration, biting his lip as though he had barely missed seizing victory.
The other students were much the same. Even after being sent sprawling, they sprang back up, many lamenting how close they had been to blocking the blow.
"So it's not punishment?"
The assistant shook his head, utterly mystified. Even if it's class, these aren't the kind of students to just stand there and take a beating.
While some were from minor houses, several hailed from illustrious lineages. Families like Kundel and Rihardt were powers that even full professors walked on eggshells around. Yet all of them—including scions of Kundel and Rihardt—were participating in the lesson without a single word of complaint.
"Just what did he do to them...?"
Even while he watched, students continued to drop like flies. Amid the chaos, Xiel materialized at various points, offering terse critiques as he struck.
"Student Karen, that movement was premature. Anticipation is good, but you should only commit when you are certain. Next time, time your guard better before raising your arms."
"Y-yes! Understood, Teacher!"
"We will see shortly."
Immediately after, Xiel feinted toward Yulio Harmatan's back, only to appear right in front of him and lightly rap him on the chest.
"Hrk."
"An ambush does not discriminate between front, rear, left, or right. Remember that. Push your senses to their absolute limit."
Xiel continued to ambush students at random while dispensing rapid-fire feedback. And then, the assistant noticed an astonishing detail.
The students were smiling.
Particularly those who had almost blocked him before falling short.
"That was so close!"
"That attempt was commendable. However, you focused too heavily to your left. If you keep more of your peripheral vision to the right, you will be able to defend against this speed."
Was self-defense always like this? The assistant thought back to his own days as a student in the Sword School. His memories of elective classes consisted entirely of chatting, laughing, or secretly cramming for major exams. That was just how electives were: courses where attendance was all that mattered. People showed up because skipping meant a hole in their credit requirements, but neither the instructors nor the students had an ounce of motivation.
"Ha..."
Xiel Steelheart. Just what kind of man was he?
Does he really have imperial backing?
Otherwise, there was no explaining why these proud youths were listening so attentively. Normally, elective lecturers were lucky if students even bothered to call them 'Teacher.' Edelbein Academy's abysmal treatment of general lecturers meant the applicants were usually bottom-of-the-barrel.
"Student Celia. Raise your guard higher. If the assailant had been holding a blade, your forearm would have been lacerated."
Yet Xiel Steelheart was different. Backing aside, the man was fast. Ridiculously fast. So fast that the students could barely react, no matter how hard they focused. Even with surprise attacks, being targeted this many times usually meant someone would manage to parry at least once.
"...What did this guy do before coming here?"
Bang!
A smoke bomb detonated, snapping whatever composure the assistant had left. Thick grey smog billowed across the floorboards, and through the haze, bodies kept thudding down.
"What kind of class uses smoke bombs?!"
Just as the smog began to thin, Xiel called a halt.
"Fifty minutes have elapsed. We will take a ten-minute break before resuming."
As if waiting for those very words, students collapsed into heaps or slumped against the walls. Fifty minutes. Maintaining absolute, razor-sharp focus for that long was an ordeal. Doing so while coiled in tension, muscles primed to deflect an ambush at any split second, was even more draining.
It was a curriculum unlike anything the assistant had ever seen or heard of, yet strangely enough, it didn't look bad at all.
"Now, we resume."
Following the ten-minute respite, the assistant could see it clearly: bit by bit, the students were improving.
"Ah! I almost had it!"
"It grazed you, Student Celia."
"Do I still get a Praise Card?"
"No. It must be a complete deflection."
Whether they were adapting to the tempo or Xiel was adjusting his ambush speed, the students were visibly acclimating. The assistant watched the scene spellbound, completely forgetting his original errand.
The standout was unquestionably Deleve.
"Student Deleve Kundel. Your pivot on your right foot was sluggish."
"I practically blocked it that time!"
"No. You failed to block it. Would you be able to make that excuse with a blade through your ribs?"
Despite Xiel's blunt dismissal, the students were realizing it for themselves: something was clicking. Movements they hadn't been able to perceive at first were slowly entering their field of vision once they applied Xiel's advice.
It actually works when I do what Teacher said.
I think the timing is starting to make sense!
Of course, part of it was because Xiel wasn't moving anywhere near his full speed, but for the students, the tangible progress was exhilarating. Before anyone realized it, virtually no one was taking the class lightly anymore. They hadn't been rebellious students to begin with; they simply hadn't intended to expend effort on a mere elective. After all, the upperclassmen always said that nobody took general education courses seriously.
Yet experiencing this new instructor's curriculum was genuinely different. At first, it had been a shock, followed by grueling exhaustion. But beneath the soreness, there was a growing sensation of advancement. It wasn't just familiarity.
"Student Deleve Kundel, guard higher. And direct your focus toward the sound from your rear."
"Student Karen, your right leg is overly rigid. Release the tension faster."
Every time they applied Xiel's pinpoint feedback, their defensive reactions sharpened like magic. Besides, with the heirs of Kundel and Rihardt throwing themselves into the drills with such fervor, how could anyone else dare slack off?
Well, almost anyone.
"Tsk... what the hell is the point of this garbage?!"
Not everyone was pleased. Everyone had spent the entire session tumbling and failing to defend, but one student simply could not stomach the humiliation.
"All we're doing is getting beaten like dogs. What kind of class is this...?"
It was Maris Sophen, the student caught using mana during the previous endurance run. His grumbling wasn't deafening, but it was loud enough for everyone around him to hear.
"What are we even supposed to learn from this crap? Seriously."
The Sophen family was the eldest son's pride—a rising merchant house positioned just beneath the empire's Five Great Families. Maris felt his dignity had been trampled in the previous class. So what if I used a little mana? Did he really have to single me out like that?
Here he goes again, Karen thought with an inward sigh from the row beside him. He had been infamous since matriculation: an upstart who acted like he belonged to the Five Great Families despite not being one of them. He was the very definition of nouveau riche arrogance.
"Hey, don't you agree? Wait, what was your name again?"
When Maris tried to draw her into his griping, Karen deliberately ignored him. Maris's face instantly contorted in distaste.
"Hey, can't you hear me talking to you?"
It was right at that moment, as Xiel finished correcting another student and began heading toward Maris's section, that a voice cracked like a whip from behind.
"Hey. Shut your mouth. You're ruining everyone's concentration."
"What did you say?"
Maris scoffed and whipped his head around, only to let out a sharp gasp.
"You think you're the only one taking this class? Close your trap. You've been whining the entire time. If you don't like it, get out."
"D-Deleve... I didn't mean it like that—"
It was Deleve Kundel.
Wait, he wasn't behind me a second ago, was he? Maris thought, panicked. Deleve had definitely been several spaces over.
"You're distracting everyone. So shut up."
"Uh, well..."
"Are you deaf?"
"A-all right. Fine."
House Kundel was one of the founding pillars of the empire. No matter how rapidly the Sophen family had accumulated wealth in recent years, they couldn't hold a candle to Kundel's history, tradition, and prestige. Edelbein Academy maintained strict seniority hierarchies between academic years, but the sheer weight of a great family's name superseded all of it.
"..."
Maris clamped his mouth shut, casting wary glances over his shoulder. Watching him shrink back, Karen clicked her tongue inwardly. He looked utterly pathetic.
"Oof!"
The moment Maris glanced back, Xiel struck him squarely.
"Dammit!"
"Student Maris. One more disruption and you will receive an official warning."
"B-but Teacher!"
"And if you have complaints about my curriculum, address them directly to me."
"I..."
"Do you understand?"
"...Yes, sir."
Watching from the periphery, the teaching assistant shrugged. Well, it's always the same story. Nobody could stand tall before bloodlines like that, let alone one of the Five Great Families. Still, Deleve stepping forward was unexpected.
Wait, does Deleve not hate Instructor Xiel after all?
After being thoroughly humbled in the first class, the assistant had expected some form of retaliation from the proud noble, but the matter had blown over quietly. And just now, Deleve could have easily ignored the commotion, yet he had effectively stepped in to defend Xiel's authority.
What is going on here? Does Deleve know who's backing Instructor Xiel?
Imperial backing. Could it really be true?
Perhaps that was the keen insight of a tenured professor. Professor Elcanto was a full professor for a reason; his career wasn't something to sneeze at. He hadn't landed that position by playing darts. As the assistant's imagination spun grand theories out of thin air—
"Student Deleve Kundel. Your reaction was slower than before. Focus."
"Ghk!"
Caught distracted while looking toward Xiel, Deleve took an embarrassing blow to the ribs. A pang of indignation flared in his chest. He had just backed the instructor up; the man could have gone a little easier on him. Hoping to claim a bit of credit, Deleve subtly brought up his intervention.
"Ah, Teacher. You don't need to worry about what just happened. His attitude was disrupting the class's focus, so I just stepped in to say a few—"
"Breaking formation disrupts focus even further."
"..."
He had helped for nothing.
"Pfft."
A stifled snicker drifted over from the side. It was unmistakably Celia.
Dammit all.
"However, thanks to you, Student Karen seems to have regained her concentration. That was well done."
Leaving those words behind, Xiel vanished into the ranks again. Deleve was left standing frozen, plunged into profound confusion.
Was that... an actual compliment?