Chapter 69: Sorry for Teasing You About Being Ugly (3)
Chapter 69: Sorry for Teasing You About Being Ugly (3)
‘Ho ho ho, he hasn’t changed a bit.’
Professor Late’s expression suggested that while he acknowledged the merit of capturing a Dark Mage, he considered it more a stroke of luck than a display of actual skill.
In truth, Justin Late was a man famous for rising from commoner roots to the rank of knight solely through his own abilities. In his youth, he had competed in Arcana, achieving the unprecedented feat for the Atronia Kingdom of reaching the Round of 16. Though he fell just short of advancing further, the fiery passion he displayed earned him the title of the "Indomitable Knight."
After reaching adulthood, it seemed he was on the fast track to success within the Royal Knight Order, but…
‘The problem was that the man was too upright.’
He had blown the whistle on a fellow knight’s involvement in corruption. Afterward, he was ostracized within the order. He eventually tried to resign and leave, but the Former Duke Cardios, who was the Chancellor at the time, stopped him and appointed him as a professor at the Academy. Cardios couldn't bear to lose such talent, so he placed Late where he could keep an eye on him to ensure he stayed in the service of the country.
Naturally, Justin Late understood the Former Duke’s intentions and treated him with the utmost respect. However…
‘That’s one thing, but I have absolutely no reason to look favorably upon this brat.’
He looked at Patrick and spoke flatly.
“I will judge your admission after a test of your skills.”
“Do as you wish.”
“If you fail my test, please transfer to another department.”
That way, the honor of the Eastern Margrave, Count Parmas, will be preserved, he didn't bother to add. For a man who loathed corruption and shortcuts, this was already a massive compromise. However…
“Geez, you’re being awfully prickly.”
From Patrick’s perspective, he didn't give a damn about the professor's internal struggle. Patrick was naturally sensitive to any atmosphere that subtly pushed him away or excluded him. He had dealt with people like that until he was sick of it.
Patrick spoke bluntly.
“Why don't you just say it? Tell the trash who got in through connections to get lost.”
“Ho? If I say it, will you leave?”
“No, I’ve got my own circumstances, so that’s a bit…”
“What exactly are you trying to do?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing?”
Patrick smirked.
“In the end, all I have to do is win, right?”
“What did you say your name was?”
“It’s Patrick Schneider.”
“……”
“What?”
If one were to gather all the crookedness and delinquency in the world and knead it into a single shape, wouldn't it look like this? Professor Late was momentarily speechless at the thuggish air that oozed from Patrick so naturally he could have passed for a ten-year veteran of the back alleys.
‘Did our Academy open a Delinquency Department when I wasn't looking?’
This was the first time he’d met someone who would openly snark at a professor upon their first meeting.
“You seem confident in your skills?”
“It’s the only thing I can rely on.”
That was the truth.
“Fine. If you have the skill, you are more than welcome. Prove that you aren't just all talk.”
“Understood. So, who am I fighting? You, old man? Or those greenhorns over there?”
At Patrick’s words, Professor Late let out a short, dry laugh.
“Everyone, halt!”
At that command, the freshmen who had been training all stopped. Professor Late gathered them in front and spoke.
“This wasn't on the schedule, but we will have a special sparring session today. First, let me introduce him. This is Patrick Schneider. He’s a country bumpkin who just came up from the sticks in the East.”
“Hey, that’s offensive to us country folk.”
Hearing Patrick’s snark, the lined-up freshmen wore expressions that were half-absurdity and half-shock.
What is that guy?
Is he insane? Completely nuts?
He just talked back to the professor, didn't he?
But Professor Late didn't seem to care and continued.
“He has come to join the Knight Department with a letter of recommendation from the Eastern Margrave, Count Parmas. Without taking a single entrance exam.”
At that, the freshmen’s expressions turned grim. Most of the students here had passed through grueling competition and harsh testing to earn their spots. To have some unknown brat waltz in through the back door? There was no way they would accept that gracefully.
Professor Late poured fuel on the fire.
“For the record, after watching you train, he called you all unskilled brats.”
Patrick hadn't actually said the words "unskilled," but he didn't deny it. Instead, he nodded as if to say, Well, that is the objective truth.
That gesture was enough to turn the freshmen’s glares from hostile to murderous. Feeling their intense gazes, Patrick smirked.
‘The little chicks are glaring pretty hard. I feel like I’ve seen this somewhere before… Ah! The eyes of those "young elites" from the Nine Great Sects looked just like this when I first entered the Murim Alliance.’
To put it nicely, it was hazing; to put it bluntly, it was a fight for the pecking order. People who lived by the sword were a breed that felt the need to determine who was stronger even if they were on the same side.
He was used to it. Both the way those eyes watched him and exactly how to handle them.
“Today, we will test this country bumpkin who doesn't know how high the sky is. Who among you will kick this fool’s ass and send him back to the Eastern sticks?”
As soon as Professor Late finished speaking, over a dozen freshmen quickly raised their hands. Professor Late pointed to one of them.
“Roist, step forward.”
“Yes, Professor.”
Then, he looked at Patrick.
“Will you use a real sword or a wooden sword?”
“Let’s go with wooden.”
“As you wish. Pick one from over there.”
“Yes, sir.”
Patrick walked over to the designated area and picked out two suitable wooden swords.
‘Even at a glance, they keep the equipment well-maintained. Hm? What’s that? It looks like a magical tool; do they have things like that too?’
He saw many curious tools, but he could figure out how to use them later. For now, he would stick to what he knew.
‘If I lose here, I’ll fail the Academy and can go back to the territory, right?’
To be honest, Patrick preferred that. He didn't really need or care about an Academy diploma. He had a mountain of work to do back home; the thought of being stuck here for five years made him sigh in frustration. However…
[Actually, your father also took the Academy entrance exam when I was young.]
[It was impossible for our family’s finances to support a son studying in the capital for twenty years. So, even though I passed the exam, I had to refuse admission myself.]
If he returned after only stepping foot on the Academy’s threshold, his father would surely be disappointed. No, even if he was disappointed, he wouldn't show it. He would try to act nonchalant while comforting and soothing Patrick instead.
And Patrick absolutely did not want to see that.
‘What can I do? I have to be a good son. This is all because of my Master, who kept preaching Confucian values to me.’
Grumbling to himself, Patrick gripped the twin swords and faced his opponent.
“You use twin swords?”
“Yeah. Is that not allowed?”
“No, do as you please.”
Professor Late muttered something under his breath like, “All style and no substance. Kids these days…” Then…
“Salute each other.”
“Patrick Schneider.”
“Roist Panola.”
Immediately after the introductions ended.
“Begin!”
The moment Professor Late’s voice dropped, the opponent named Roist charged fiercely toward Patrick.
Clack!
The two wooden swords collided.
Skreeee!
The two engaged in a contest of strength, both hands gripping their swords. Roist tried to push Patrick back in one go, but surprisingly, the opponent’s strength was so great that he didn't budge an inch.
“Not bad.”
“……”
“But this is just the beginning!”
Then, a very faint aura began to shimmer on Roist’s wooden sword. For a young man still in his teens to manifest aura—even if it was incomplete—meant he had one foot in the 3-Star Realm. Because of the monsters back in the Schneider territory, it didn't seem like much, but this was actually an incredible feat. Without both talent and effort, one could not manifest aura at this age.
And then…
“Haaah!”
Roist’s wooden sword seemed to split into a dozen as it rained down toward Patrick’s body.
Bam! Pow! Crack!
With the sound of aura bursting, Roist’s strikes poured over Patrick. The fluid, unbroken chain of attacks clearly showed the traces of long, diligent training.
However…
“Ugh…”
The problem was that these attacks, delivered with his soul, weren't working on Patrick at all. Patrick hadn't moved a single step from his spot. Although he held wooden swords in both hands, his right hand hung loosely like an ornament, while he blocked Roist’s onslaught with only his left.
Despite that…
Why… why can't I break through?
Roist’s fierce assault couldn't even graze a single hair on Patrick’s head. No matter where he attacked or how he moved, the opponent’s sword was always waiting exactly where his blade aimed. It was a defense so perfect it felt like hammering against an iron wall.
“Ugh… Aaaaaah!”
Frustrated, he poured more power into his sword and swung harder. It was as if he intended to break through with raw strength since technique wasn't working. But…
“You think that’ll work?”
Patrick spoke listlessly and gave his wooden sword a light flick.
Clack!
There was no flashy aura, nor was it Patrick’s usual blindingly fast swordplay. He moved with only the necessary amount of strength and speed. However, the timing and trajectory were chillingly precise.
That clean strike accurately hit the wrist of the overextended Roist, and as a result…
Clatter.
The wooden sword Roist had been swinging recklessly with all his might fell to the floor. Patrick looked at him with an incredulous expression.
“Whoa? You dropped your sword?”
“Ugh…”
“Wow, this is a new one. You dropped your sword?”
“It… it was a mistake.”
“A miiiistaaaake?”
“……”
“You brat. A swordsman is someone who should die with his sword in his hand. You drop your sword and call it a mistake? A mistaaaake? If the kids back in my territory did this, I would… Ugh, I shouldn't even talk, I shouldn't even talk…”
Patrick clutched his chest and lamented as if he were truly frustrated.
“……”
Watching Patrick, Roist’s face turned bright red. Even though he had a mouth, he had no words to offer in rebuttal. Just as Patrick said, losing one’s sword was a disgrace. And to make excuses about it being a mistake was a blunder he would regret for the rest of his life.
“Do you at least know how embarrassing that is?”
“……”
“Fine. You’re not one of my kids, so what’s the point of me saying anything? Go. Get out of here.”
Patrick left Roist alone and looked toward the professor.
“What now? Should I keep going with a different opponent?”
“……”
“Professor?”
Patrick spoke to Professor Late, whose jaw was hanging open. Only then did Professor Late snap back to his senses.
“You… you, you…”
“Me… me, me… what?”
“…What star level are you?”
“What do you need to know that for?”
“……”
“Just tell me if I passed or failed. Do I go home? Or do I stay?”
Professor Late spoke urgently.
“Pass. Of course you pass.”
“…Huh?”
“Congratulations. As a professor of the Knight Department, I heartily welcome you to our faculty.”
“……”
‘Why the sudden change of heart?’
Patrick was a bit taken aback. His attitude was just as rude and delinquent as before, but Professor Late’s reaction had completely flipped. Just moments ago, Late had thought of him as a disrespectful thug, a product of nepotism, a rude brat, and a social misfit with serious mental issues. However…
‘He had a reason to be arrogant. Plenty of reason. With this level of skill, it would be stranger if he wasn't arrogant.’
In a single spar, his evaluation of Patrick had skyrocketed. Roist was one of the top talents among the freshmen. He had already surpassed the 2-Star level and was looking toward the 3-Star Realm; he was a talent expected to reach the 4-Star Realm before graduation.
And Patrick had beaten Roist. No, calling it a "win" wasn't quite right. Subdued? No. The accurate way to describe it was that he had played with him.
‘I can't see the bottom of his skill.’
It was impossible to gauge Patrick’s true strength through Roist. Should he pit him against the second-years currently in the training hall? No. They were slightly better than the freshmen, but to that monster, there probably wouldn't be much difference. In that case…
‘Should I?’
A competitive urge rose within him. Not as a professor, but as a swordsman who lived by the blade. As Justin Late, one of the top five "Indomitable Knights" in the kingdom, he wanted to test Patrick’s skill himself. But…
“Don't do it.”
“Huh?”
“You’re a professor; would it be right to lose face in front of the kids?”
At those words, Professor Late flinched. When he realized what he was doing, he found his hand had unconsciously moved toward his sword.
“Ahem, cough…”
“So, if I passed, what do I do? Do I join the class starting now?”
“No, go back for today. If you go to the Administrative Office, they will assign you a dormitory. You can hear the detailed rules there as well.”
“Understood.”
Patrick sauntered away. Beside him, the Handsome Butler, who was beautiful enough that the word "handsome" felt insufficient, followed behind.
Professor Late went over to the fallen Roist.
“Roist, are you alright?”
“Yes… yes. I’m fine. I’m sorry, Professor.”
“There is nothing to be sorry for. That wasn't someone you could have beaten in the first place.”
“……”
“Today’s class will be self-study. Second-years, please guide the freshmen.”
With that, Late left the training hall.