Chapter 73: You’d Best Keep That in Mind for Your Own Sake (1)
Chapter 73: You’d Best Keep That in Mind for Your Own Sake (1)
Patrick grabbed Professor Late’s shoulder and said with a bright smile, “Understood. I’ll be in your care from now on, then.”
“Ah… yes. Well, of course…”
“Don’t look so worried. It’s not like I’m going to make any unreasonable demands, right? I’ll just provide appropriate opportunities for you to repay your debt to me, all within the bounds of my conscience.”
“Um… ah… that is…”
“Just so you know.”
“……”
“Pretending nothing happened after promising to repay a favor is the twenty-first thing I hate most in this world.”
“……”
“You’d best keep that in mind for your own sake.”
“……”
While being threatened by Patrick, Professor Late couldn’t help but think, ‘How can one person hate so many things?’
On his very first day at the Academy, Patrick had successfully turned a professor into his personal connection.
* * *
“Is it true? Are you sure?”
“Yeah. No mistake.”
“A country bumpkin Baron from the backwaters of the Eastern Region? That’s really it?”
“Exactly. I paid off the kids in the Administration Department to scour the noble registry. That’s what they found.”
Hearing this, Royist ground his teeth.
Grit.
‘A nobody, a country bumpkin noble brat, dared to do that to me?’
As Royist struggled to contain his humiliation, his subordinate—who went by the title of 'friend'—asked, “What are you going to do?”
“What do you think?”
“……”
“I’m going to wreck that bastard.”
“He seemed to have some skill, though…”
“Skill doesn’t matter against numbers.”
“Well, that’s true…”
“Don’t worry about it and just call the guys. We’re going to crush him.”
“Got it. I’ll get on it.”
Royist’s eyes were bloodshot as he spoke.
“Patrick Schneider. You’re dead meat.”
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
He really shouldn't have.
* * *
“All finished, Young Master.”
“You could’ve just thrown it on. Why put so much effort into it?”
“The Madam would be so proud if she could see you now.”
“But she can’t, can she?”
Patrick let out a short laugh as he looked at himself in the mirror.
Reflected there was his image wearing the first-year uniform of the Academy’s Knight Department. Decorated with high-quality fabric and the emblem of his affiliation, this uniform was the most coveted attire for young men Patrick’s age.
‘Well, it’s not bad.’
April, who had helped him dress, saw him off with a final reminder.
“Attendants are not allowed to follow you during classes, so you must go alone.”
“I know.”
“You remember your class schedule, right? And you know where the classrooms are?”
“I said I know.”
“If you happen to get lost, don’t just wander around. Find a staff member and ask for directions.”
“Ugh, I get it! Do you think I’m a child?”
“You have not yet had your Coming-of-age Ceremony.”
“Urgh… If you count the years I’ve actually lived… never mind.”
If he added the years from his past life, he was practically sixty years old. Yet, in reality, he was a brat who had to look over his shoulder just to have a drink.
‘It’s miserable. Truly miserable. I need to get that Coming-of-age Ceremony or whatever over with as soon as possible.’
With that, Patrick left April behind and headed out.
Truthfully, while he felt it was a hassle, he also felt a sense of novelty.
‘To think I’d end up attending a school in this life. And at this age, too.’
To the Patrick of his previous life, a school was a place that had absolutely nothing to do with him.
What was a school, after all? Wasn't it a place where the children of well-to-do families gathered to study so they could enter government service and live even better lives?
For poor people busy just trying to survive, going to school was an impossible dream. Though there were stories of determined people who practiced "Work by Day, Study by Night," Patrick had never actually seen such a person in his life.
‘It was probably a lie.’
Regardless, he was now attending such a school—no, an Academy. And a very prestigious one at that.
As an institution designed to cultivate the finest talents selected from across the kingdom, the grounds were vast and filled with state-of-the-art facilities. The social status and perception of its students were also excellent.
Since it was his first day at such an Academy, even the great Patrick Schneider couldn't help but feel a bit of excitement.
Yes. That was certainly the case until just a minute ago.
“Hey, country bumpkin. Let’s have a word.”
“…Elite cultivation institution, my ass. People are the same everywhere.”
That was before he saw the group of people blocking his path.
The way they appeared out of nowhere and surrounded him from front and back as if they’d been waiting suggested they were quite experienced at this.
Looking at the boys wearing the same first-year Knight Department uniforms as himself, Patrick pondered.
‘Should I wreck them now? Or should we move to a different spot first?’
As Patrick deliberated, one of them gave a sleazy smile and said, “Let’s go somewhere nice. Somewhere real nice.”
“A nice place?”
“Yeah. A place where no one will notice, no matter how loud you scream.”
“Oho, such a prime spot exists?”
That was useful geographical information he could use for a long time.
‘Let’s go there and wreck them.’
“Fine. Lead the way.”
When Patrick followed obediently, the group surrounding him nodded and moved with him, sticking close to his front and back.
The place they eventually arrived at was…
“Is this the 'nice place'?”
It was the Knight Department’s training grounds.
He wondered where they were going, but they had ended up at a place he was visiting for the third time already.
One of them spoke up. “No one cares how much you scream here, and if anything happens, we can just use the excuse that it was a sparring match.”
“Ahhh. I see.”
Patrick nodded as if he’d learned something valuable and clapped his fist into his palm.
“……”
“……”
“……”
At this point, even those who had brought Patrick here couldn't help but think the same thing.
‘What is up with this guy?’
It was a perfectly natural question that most people asked after dealing with Patrick Schneider.
Just then, a man appeared as if on cue.
He was covered from head to toe in plate mail, armed with a shield and a longsword, and even wore a full-face helmet.
“You actually showed up without running away, you country bumpkin.”
“……”
“It’s too late to crawl on the floor and beg for forgiveness now.”
“Hmm…”
Patrick’s brow furrowed.
Seeing Patrick seemingly deep in thought, the man continued, “Actually, if you crawl like a dog between my legs and bark three times, I might beat you a little less painfully. Hehehe… Well? Want to try?”
“Excuse me… I have one question.”
“…What?”
“Who… are you?”
“……”
“I don’t think we’ve met?”
At Patrick’s words, the man flipped up the visor of his full-face helmet.
“It’s me! Who else would it be, you idiot?!”
“Ahhh… You’re the one from yesterday…”
“That’s right. I am the one who—”
“The Pants-shitter.”
“Gasp…!”
Royist clutched the back of his neck and looked up at the sky.
In his nearly twenty years of life, he was experiencing the sensation of "true rage" for the first time.
Patrick continued, “You were running so hard yesterday, so maybe… ah…”
Patrick looked at Royist with pitying eyes.
Your social reputation has been severely damaged. I see.
At that expression, which was filled with such sentiment, Royist roared at the top of his lungs.
“I didn’t! It wasn’t like that, you bastard!”
“Sure, sure. I’ll pretend it wasn’t.”
“It’s not 'pretending,' it really wasn't! I told you it wasn't!”
“I get it, I get it.”
Patrick nodded with a warm, understanding smile.
“Urgh… Argh…!”
Royist felt like he was going insane.
He hadn't even been hit once, yet he felt more pain than if he had been. Born as the son of a Marquis, he had never experienced such humiliation.
Even as Royist looked like he was about to collapse from high blood pressure, Patrick looked around at the others and said, “You guys should pretend you don't know either. Think about how embarrassing it would be if you were in his shoes, right?”
‘I’ll… I’ll kill him. I’m going to kill him.’
For the first time in his life, Royist sincerely thought about murdering someone.
He gritted his teeth and spoke. “We begin the sparring now, country bumpkin.”
“Why?”
“……”
Normally, is "Why?" the response you give in this situation?
Even for those who had participated in many gang beatings, hearing "Why?" at this stage was a new experience.
Royist spoke again. “No more words. I will repay yesterday’s humiliation.”
“But it’s not my fault you pooped your pants, is it?”
“I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T!”
Royist charged, clearly unwilling to exchange another word.
Patrick was unarmed, wearing only his light school uniform. Royist, on the other hand, was encased in full plate armor and held a real sword and shield.
This couldn't even be called a sparring match. However…
Clang!
“Gack…!”
Royist’s eyes widened.
By the time he felt like something had flown at him, his head had already been snapped to the side.
And then…
“Over here. Right here.”
Before he knew it, Patrick was standing in front of him, casually waving his fist.
“You little bastard!”
The moment Royist tried to swing his sword…
Crack! Thud! Boom!
A lightning-fast barrage of strikes pummeled Royist’s entire body.
Despite being encased in plate mail with chain mail underneath…
“Guh… Argh!”
The pain of the impact was transmitted directly to him.
‘H-How?’
He didn't even know where or how he was being hit.
When he finally regained his senses, every inch of his body was screaming in pain.
It was a level of agony as if he had been struck by a massive battle hammer swung with full force, not a bare fist.
He couldn't understand how this was possible.
Especially since Patrick’s hands were clearly empty.
Patrick looked at Royist and spoke with a look of disdain. “Tsk, tsk. Did you think wrapping yourself in those scraps of iron would make a difference?”
“You… how can you, with bare hands…”
“Are you asking why it hurts even though I’m hitting your armor with my bare hands?”
“…Y-Yeah.”
It made no sense.
Patrick was clearly hitting the outside of the armor.
And the armor was perfectly fine, without a single dent.
Yet, Royist’s body inside was absorbing the full impact of Patrick’s strikes. The armor was failing to serve its purpose entirely.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. What a novice, not even knowing the Heavy Hand Technique.”
“The… what technique?”
“Well, I suppose because you don’t know it, you wrap yourself in these uselessly heavy iron plates, don’t you?”
“…What are you talking about?”
“You still don’t get it? You don’t understand?”
“I… I don’t.”
“Fine. Then…”
Patrick smirked and said, “Just take the beating, you bastard!”
Then, Patrick’s kick swept from low to high, launching Royist into the air.
Crack!
“Cough!”
With a kick delivered accurately to his solar plexus, Royist floated into the air, gasping from the suffocating pain.
What awaited him there was the pinnacle of merciless violence.
Infinite Hell Chain Fist
Adaptive Style — Armor only increases the number of hits.
“Adadadadadadadadada!”
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
If lightning were to strike a pile of beans, would it look like this?
Royist, whose weight easily exceeded 100 kilograms in full gear, did not come down from the air.
Countless fists and feet tenderized Royist’s entire body, and every single strike contained a surge of Force that neutralized the armor.
Beyond the metal, Royist experienced the sensation of his entire body being pulverized while he was still alive.
“Hah!”
BAM!
Finally, a powerful downward heel drop slammed Royist straight into the ground.
“Uh… uh…”
“Gurgle…”
The others watched the scene in utter horror.
They had known Patrick was strong. Royist was actually quite skilled among the first years, yet Patrick had played with him like a toy.
But what on earth was this?
They had surrounded him, pressured him, and ambushed an unarmed opponent while fully geared.
And yet, this was the result…
“M-Monster.”
“We have to… run away?”
At that moment, Patrick’s head turned toward them with a slow, mechanical creak.
And then…
“Ruuuun?”
The moment they heard that word, their hearts felt like they had dropped into their stomachs.
Patrick took a step toward them and said, “Ahhh… You all gathered to gang up on me, but now that things look bad, you’re going to bolt?”
“…U-Uh…”
“That is… well…”
“We weren’t really trying to gang up on you…”
To those making pathetic excuses, Patrick barked, “Are you bastards kidding me right now?”
“Eek!”
“Ugh…”
A thick, dense killing intent now coiled around the greenhorns of the first-year Knight Department.
In that moment, they finally understood exactly how a prey caught in a spider’s web felt.