Chapter 90: It’s Only Training if It’s Hard (1)
Chapter 90: It’s Only Training if It’s Hard (1)
The students of the Royal Academy’s Knight Department stared at the scene before them in utter shock.
In the corner of the training ground where Patrick and Matthew always practiced, a new person had joined them.
"Look at those legs shaking. If you’re not going to do it right, just quit."
"Ugh… Urgh…"
It was Isabella.
At Patrick’s words, she forced her trembling legs into position, as if refusing to give up.
Her thighs felt like they were on fire, and sweat poured from her entire body like rain. It was a level of physical agony she had never experienced in her life.
"Uh-oh? Trying to use Aura again, are we?"
"Aaaaaagh!"
Isabella, who usually maintained a cold and composed demeanor, let out a scream.
She looked at Patrick with pitiful eyes and gasped, "It’s… it’s too hard. This is…"
Tears welled in her eyes. Her gaze was pleading, and her voice was a faint, dying whisper.
This was the first time in Isabella’s life that she had ever looked at a man with such desperate, sorrowful eyes, begging for mercy. However…
"It’s only training if it’s hard. Why are you looking for an easy path? Do you think training is a joke?"
"……."
She was pleading with the wrong person.
Because his words were fundamentally correct, she felt even more miserable.
Beside her, Matthew was holding his own with a relatively stable expression, though he looked incredibly apologetic.
‘Princess, why are you putting yourself through this?’
He was doing this because he had no other choice, but why was the top student of the third year doing this?
"What’s going on over there?"
"I don’t know. Why is the Princess…?"
"Is she actually learning from Patrick right now?"
"Are you crazy? The Princess is a third-year!"
"I know, but still…"
The first-years still couldn't believe their eyes as they watched Matthew and Isabella being trained by Patrick.
It was understandable for Matthew to be trained by him. Even if the training was nothing more than crude physical conditioning, Matthew was undeniably the weakest among the first-years. It looked more like 99% bullying than actual training, but it wasn't unheard of for the weak to seek guidance from the strong.
But Isabella was a different story.
She was a third-year. Not just any third-year, but the top of her class.
The fact that she was receiving instruction from a first-year like Patrick carried a very different weight.
‘Does that mean… he’s stronger than the Princess?’
‘How can a first-year be that…?’
‘Then is it true that he took down Jordic Panola from the third year?’
‘Is he really that strong? Strong enough for the top of the third year to ask for lessons?’
In truth, it was a bit late to realize this, but the first-years didn't actually know exactly how strong Patrick was.
Of course, they suspected he was quite capable. As soon as he entered the academy, he had toyed with Royist—a notable talent among the freshmen—and later defeated the third-year Jordic Panola.
There were even absurd rumors that Jordic Panola had used his family heirloom, Aegis, and still lost. Since it sounded so ridiculous, most first-years didn't believe it.
However, the fact that such rumors existed at all suggested that Patrick was formidable. Some even thought he might be the strongest in the first year. But…
"If Princess Isabella, the top of the third year, is seeking instruction like that, just how strong is he?"
"Wait, does that even have anything to do with swordsmanship? It’s just physical conditioning."
"Exactly. What’s the point of physical training for those of us who use Aura?"
"This is wrong. If you could get that strong just by training your body, then common soldiers would be stronger than knights."
They were engaged in a heated debate about Patrick’s skill and the meaning behind the "crude" physical training they were witnessing.
Patrick heard every word.
‘Idiots….’
Physical training is meaningless? Just use Aura to reinforce the body?
‘That’s exactly why you lot are in the state you’re in.’
Patrick smiled bitterly.
Of course, Patrick didn't believe that physical training was the answer to everything. However, his purpose in making Matthew and Isabella perform the Horse Stance with weighted bags until their legs shook was simple.
Harmony.
Using Qi to reinforce the body allows one to exert physical capabilities far beyond mere muscle strength. That was an undeniable fact.
But to say physical training is meaningless is pure stupidity.
Using Qi to enhance physical ability is, at the end of the day, an enhancement. It doesn't create something from nothing; it reinforces the existing foundation—the physical body. Naturally, if the foundation is superior, one can exert greater power with less effort.
Neglecting that and believing that only Aura cultivation matters is extremely inefficient.
Actually, he could understand why they thought this way.
‘They’ve had it too easy.’
Patrick briefly opened his Energy Sense to feel the surrounding Qi.
The area was filled with pure, high-density natural Qi, several times more concentrated than in the Central Plains. In other words, everyone practicing Aura here was essentially cultivating under the effects of a "fated encounter" by Central Plains standards.
Because of this, it was relatively easy to cultivate Aura. Despite the fact that the Aura Blessing techniques of this world weren't very advanced and their understanding of pressure points was practically non-existent, the reason people occasionally reached the 7-Star realm was entirely due to this concentration of Qi.
Because they could accumulate Aura so easily in such a blessed environment, their overall pursuit of martial arts had stagnated.
‘Sigh. If I tried to explain how important the harmony of Essence, Qi, and Spirit is, would they even understand? It’d be easier to catch a passing troll and teach it the Hundred-Step Divine Fist.’
In the end, Patrick only had one choice.
[Just do as you're told!]
He simply forced them.
To align the harmony of Qi and Spirit, he would forge their lagging physical bodies to force that harmony into place. Of course, it would be less effective than if they understood the purpose themselves, but it would balance them out regardless.
"So, you see, there’s a reason I’m being so overbearing with this training."
"What… are you talking about?"
"Oh? Look at our Matthew, still having enough breath to talk. You’ve improved quite a bit, haven't you?"
"Hehehe…."
"Then let’s increase the weight."
"Nooooo!"
Patrick laughed casually as he added more sandbags to Matthew’s shoulders.
The results of whether Patrick’s training method was effective or not would be revealed soon.
The Grade Evaluation Exam was about to begin.
The Knight Department held exams twice a year.
The Midterm Evaluation, held just before the break.
And the Grade Evaluation at the end of the year, which determined whether a student would repeat a grade or advance.
Of the two, the Grade Evaluation was obviously more important. Failing it meant staying behind while others moved on.
But did that mean the Midterm Evaluation wasn't important?
Not at all.
Students who failed to meet a certain standard in the Midterm Evaluation were sent straight home. In other words, they were expelled.
In fact, about a third of the first-year class usually failed to overcome the wall of the Midterm Evaluation and returned home. Naturally, the students knew the importance of this exam and prepared with everything they had. And…
"Hey, you okay?"
"I-I-I-I’m… f-f-fine."
"You don’t look fine at all."
"……."
With a trembling voice, a restless expression, and a body shaking as if he were standing naked in the dead of winter—Matthew was displaying every classic symptom of extreme nerves.
Isabella approached him and spoke.
"Chin up."
"P-Princess."
"You can do it."
"Yes… Yes, ma'am."
Matthew nodded frantically, looking overwhelmed by her attention. Patrick turned to Isabella.
"Aren't you taking the exam, Senior?"
"The top of the class is exempt from the Midterm Evaluation."
"Ooh, such perks exist? Maybe I should take the top spot too."
Patrick spoke as if he could take the top rank of the Academy whenever he felt like it. In truth, it wasn't a lie. But…
‘How annoying.’
Isabella looked at Patrick with a flat expression. It was always irritating when the smart kid acted relaxed right before an exam.
Regardless, Patrick was fine. Even if he somehow failed the exam, he was the type of person who would grab a professor by the collar to force his way into the next grade.
The important one was Matthew.
For the sake of Matthew, who had endured Patrick’s harsh training alongside her for a short time, Isabella said, "I’ll be observing. That way, there won't be any unfairness."
"A-Ah… Yes. Thank you."
"The rest is up to your own skill."
"Yes… Thank you."
Isabella sighed. No matter how she looked at him, he was too nervous. Would he even be able to show his true skills like this?
"Will he be okay?"
"He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine."
"Really?"
"What are we going to do if he’s not fine at this point?"
"……."
She had to admit he had a point.
While they were chatting, the professors entered the training ground and announced, "All first-years, assemble!"
At the command, Patrick, Matthew, and the other first-years lined up before the professors, while Isabella moved to the spectator stands.
The professors addressed the gathered students. "We will now begin the Midterm Evaluation. The exam will consist of a ten-man sparring match."
The first-years stirred as the exam format was revealed. The professor continued.
"There will be a total of ten consecutive matches. Anyone with more losses than wins will be marked as a failure."
The students began whispering among themselves. To avoid expulsion, they had to win at least five out of ten matches. That meant…
‘Half the class might get cut.’
‘This year’s exam is even more brutal.’
‘Luck is going to be a huge factor.’
Holding ten matches in a row meant they were testing stamina alongside skill. If you encountered a strong opponent early on and exhausted yourself, the later matches would be difficult. Therefore, it was advantageous to be matched with weak opponents as much as possible.
In an instant, the eyes of every first-year student landed on one person.
"Ugh…."
Matthew instinctively hunched his shoulders under the weight of their gazes. He felt like a lone sheep thrown into a pack of wolves. He could clearly feel his classmates looking at him as a "free win."
"Shoulders back. Head up."
"Patrick…."
"Tsk. If you lose the battle of wills, the actual fight becomes harder. Acting tough is a skill in itself."
"How is that a skill…?"
Patrick sighed softly at Matthew’s grumbling.
‘Well, I suppose you need at least some foundation to pull off a bluff.’
Matthew’s most serious weakness was his lack of confidence. He had entered the Academy by paying a massive donation, and his skills were objectively the weakest among the first-years. It was only natural for him to lack confidence.
‘He’ll feel better once he achieves a result with his own strength.’
In the end, what he needed wasn't empty encouragement from others. He needed a victory won by his own hands.
The exam began.
The center of the training ground was cleared, and the first-years stepped up one by one to begin their matches.
"Haaah!"
"Yaaaah!"
Clack! Clack-clack-clack!
Wooden swords clashed violently as the two students fiercely sought out each other’s openings. Both had reached the 2-Star realm, so they displayed strength and speed beyond that of ordinary people by reinforcing their bodies. However…
"Their forms are a mess."
"Their lack of real combat experience is showing. The shifting of their center of gravity is too slow."
"Their entries are too passive. That’s not being cautious; that’s being afraid."
The professors could see all the flaws of the first-years. While these students were considered talents by common standards for reaching the 2-Star realm at such a young age, in the eyes of the professors who raised the Academy’s elites, they were nothing more than average.
"Chah!"
Thwack!
Finally, one student’s wooden sword was sent flying into the air after a powerful swing from their opponent. Once the winner and loser were decided, the victor left with a relieved smile while the loser retreated with a frustrated expression.
Then, the professor called out the next pair.
"Matthew, Butler Bering. Step forward."
"Yes!"
"Ye-e-es."
One voice was energetic, while the other sounded like a bleating goat. It was Matthew, his voice cracking from nerves.
"Whoa… lucky guy."
"He basically got a free win."
"Damn. I should have been the one to go up."
The other first-years looked at the student named Butler with envy. They all wanted to fight Matthew, the easiest opponent.
Butler himself had a wide grin on his face.
‘Heh, I guess living a good life pays off with luck like this. Thank you, Yupinel.’
The two faced each other and raised their wooden swords.
"Both of you, fight fairly according to the code of chivalry. Bow!"
Following the professor’s command, Butler and Matthew bowed to each other. And then…
"Begin!"
As soon as the signal was given, Butler charged forward aggressively.
‘Sorry, but let’s end this quickly.’
To survive ten matches, it was important to conserve stamina. He didn't have any ill will toward Matthew, but he thought it best to finish him off quickly.
Butler swung his sword in a sharp diagonal strike aimed at Matthew’s left shoulder. He was certain it would land. However…
Thwack!
‘Oh, he blocked it?’
Butler was slightly surprised to see Matthew parry his sword. Had he underestimated him too much? He hadn't expected Matthew to actually block the strike. But it was fine. Now that their swords were crossed, he could just overpower him with raw strength.
"Hyaaaaah!"
With a spirited shout, Butler’s Aura Hall expanded throughout his body, adding power to his frame. He intended to shove Matthew all the way to the corner of the training ground… or so he thought.
"Huh?"
It was strange.
Even though he was pushing with all his might, Matthew’s wooden sword didn't budge an inch. No, rather…
Creak, creeeak…
As Matthew gradually added more force, it was Butler’s wooden sword that was being pushed back.
"Urgh… You…!"
"…Eh?"
Butler, who was gritting his teeth and straining, suddenly saw it—the utterly bewildered expression on Matthew’s face, as if he were the one most shocked by what was happening.