Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Their Circumstances: The Trials of the Future Hero
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# 8
1. I didn't know it back then. (7)
"Is it that delicious?"
As I spoke while watching the three of them wolf down simple bread and soup, No. 1000 nodded without even taking the time to answer, No. 17 blushed slightly, and No. 1 declared confidently.
"It's just that we're hungry. It's not delicious."
But contrary to his bold words, he swiftly smacked away No. 1000's hand as it reached over from the side.
I could understand it. It had probably been ages since they'd last eaten proper human food.
For seven days, I'd subjected them to a full-course bombardment of every kind of artillery the battlefield had to offer, then handed them a single pouch of jerky and immediately dragged them off to the highlands.
By the time their altitude sickness had them groaning and their bodies recovered, I had them adrift on a raft smack in the middle of the ocean. And when they started whining about being sick of water, I slapped a magic-sealing bracelet meant for criminal mages on their wrists and dumped them in the middle of a desert.
In the midst of all that, No. 1000's survival skills really shone through.
An appetite that let her gobble down even poisonous mushrooms like they were a delicacy.
Was she some kind of body immune to all poisons straight out of a novel? She ate toxic mushrooms without a hint of poisoning.
I wondered if it was some rare mushroom I didn't know about, but when No. 1 tried one after her and promptly rolled his eyes back while foaming at the mouth, I had to use an emergency antidote to barely save his life.
On top of that, she caught and ate fish on her own in the ocean, and her skill at perfectly grilling them with basic magic was top-class.
Even No. 17, who had exceptional magical talent, sometimes burned her fish, but No. 1000 never charred a single one—her technique bordered on the divine.
Especially her actions in the desert at the end—they left even me stunned.
Without the slightest hesitation, the moment her drinking water ran out, she filled her canteen with her own urine and stored it!
The other two gawked at No. 1000 in horror, convinced we'd find an oasis, but I wasn't going to make it that easy.
I'd already scouted the area and confirmed there were no oases, so watching the two of them slowly dehydrate was endlessly entertaining.
Especially No. 17, who held out the longest—her humiliated expression as she drank her own urine, and then, toward the end, when I taught her how to collect dew using leather and extract water from cacti, the look on her face like her soul had fled her body. That was the best.
And so, roughly two months of training came to an end, and we returned to our dear old training camp.
After a simple meal, I decided to give them the rest of the day off.
I said it mercifully, but it seemed my merciful heart as a master went unappreciated by my disciples.
"Today off... so what happens tomorrow?"
"...Again?"
I bristled a bit at the three of them freaking out, but I held it in.
Yes, a true instructor's heart must be as vast as the sky and as deep as the ocean!
"You can rest until sunrise tomorrow morning."
But the suspicious glares hadn't faded.
Ah, in that case.
"Should we go now?"
"No, we're good!"
"Thank you for the rest!"
"I'll come out for dinner."
I let out a small sigh as they spun around and bolted for the barracks.
Why were all my disciples so distrustful of me, their instructor?
Lost in such thoughts as I stepped outside, a gasp of admiration escaped me unbidden.
Look at those barracks! Restored to perfect condition like that! Even though they look sturdy, those are specially made.
The higher up you go, the lighter they are, designed so that even if they collapse, no one dies.
They crumble two or three times a year anyway, so we made them easy to break and easy to fix—light and cheap.
The downsides? Occasionally a typhoon rips the roof off, or the kids fight and split the barracks in half.
Even so, getting them outside for survival training doubles as severe weather drills! Even in this fantasy world where magic is everyday life, the power of nature is terrifying here too.
Overcoming that environment builds unbreakable survival skills you can take anywhere.
Hm, maybe lock them in a collapsing cave like the barracks next time for training.
Survival experience in a pitch-black, sealed room! Ooh, that has a nice ring to it! Shall I sketch out a plan? I headed into my office for work.
"Huh, Master. You're back..."
Bam!
Something was off.
Yeah. Why the hell is she here? It's been ages since she graduated. Why is she here?
I opened the door again.
"Master! Why'd you close the..."
Bam!
I shut it again. Yep, that's her alright. When the local mad dog shows up, people should run.
Especially if it's rabid—flee immediately. Fighting it and getting bitten is a loss for me only.
"Master? Master? If the door doesn't lock from the outside, you're holding it shut, right? Your disciple came to see you, and you won't let me in... no, you're trapping me inside? Is that allowed?"
That was the problem. The doorknob rattled violently. I gripped it with all my strength, but the moment I let go, she'd catch me.
"Master? Can you hear me? Should I take this as the imprisonment play? To think you had tastes like that..."
She kept yapping, but I ignored her. The rattling grew more intense—the knob felt like it might snap any second.
"What are you doing, Instructor?"
But salvation arrived at the perfect moment in the form of a lifeline.
"What's up, No. 1."
"Oh, I came to replace some gear damaged in the desert ahead of time."
"Good. Hold this door for a bit, then."
I quietly called No. 1 over, had him grab the knob, and told him to hold tight.
"Instructor? What's this ab—"
"There's a demon sealed inside. Don't let go."
Leaving No. 1 gripping it in confusion, I bolted at full speed.
Run first.
Anyone else, maybe not, but that one is a pain.
She eerily resembles my old boss, even sharing the psycho bitch vibe, which makes her extra uncomfortable.
Going empty-handed is dangerous. I need at least some self-defense tools. Since the next training is coming up soon anyway, better grab those in advance.
#8 Their Circumstances: The Trials of the Future Hero
The burning resolve toward No. 1000 rapidly cooled.
We'd endured imperial magic bombardment, followed immediately by pure magical barrages. This time, it was definitely easier to hold out. If only my body were normal...
I'd pushed my body beyond its limits, so every part of me screamed in agony.
Most of the others were in similar shape, having squeezed out every last drop of mana to survive.
Only No. 1000 retained her usual nonchalance, but she showed no sign of helping anyone else.
One by one, people collapsed. To stay alive, we wrung out nonexistent mana to dig trenches, hide behind cover, dodge barrages, and occasionally intercept shells. Then someone shouted.
"There's something—sniper fire!"
I didn't grasp it right away. We'd already endured five days of shelling, so dropouts midway weren't unusual.
I realized what it meant purely by chance.
When No. 17 abandoned her nearly obliterated makeshift trench and tried to move elsewhere.
She sent the others with her in a different direction.
A terrain perfect for getting sniped, by all appearances.
"Gah?!"
And I saw it. Someone suddenly crumpling as if struck by something. No way! A magicless sniper shot with zero magical reaction!
Hiding with stealth magic amid the barrages! How do you even block that?!
"They block it fine."
But No. 17 and No. 1000 handled it well. Mostly, when the terrain shielding them from barrages got destroyed and they had to leap out, sniper shots came flying—but somehow they blocked and dodged perfectly.
Did they have some special way to counter it?
It took eating two sniper shots to figure it out.
Especially the first one—it nearly hit a very bad spot, and I barely blocked it by dumping all my mana.
Ah, and as for which spot... it's dangerous in various ways, so I'll skip it.
The method was fairly simple: spread a thin mana barrier in the air to detect it.
It consumed mana steadily, but once I started using it, I could cope somewhat. Now I could hold out much longer!
Or so I thought, right as the training ended. "Good work," he tossed us some jerky, and shoved us into the wild mountains.
That was my first taste of altitude sickness.
I'd never even heard of it before, honestly. The Empire has hardly any proper mountains—most "mountains" are low-altitude hills.
I couldn't even eat properly, but No. 1000 was thrilled, her mouth watering. Thanks to her, once I recovered, I snatched and ate some mushrooms she was roasting—and I saw my late mother's face, like in photos.
Not your time yet, I sent her back, or I'd have died following.
We started catching and roasting beasts easily in the mountains, and I thought, this isn't so bad...
Then training over.
It annoyed me how it always ended just as I got used to it, but finally, some rest...
Yeah, I thought that too.
I relaxed and closed my eyes briefly, only to wake adrift in the open ocean, clinging to a single raft.
All I had: one fishing rod, one small bowl, one oar. That's it.
I quenched my thirst with magic, but food? Zero.
That's when I realized how great mountains are for survival.
Hunt animals or forage grass!
But the ocean? No dice. With no bait, the hook snagged seaweed only occasionally.
Eventually I dove in to catch fish myself, but that was tough too.
And grilling the ones I caught? A problem.
Watching barely caught fish turn to charcoal lumps was tear-jerking.
As I stared at the blue horizon, my mind turning the same shade.
The instructor arrived on a gaudy cruise ship utterly unsuited to an evil organization symbolizing secrecy, and calmly asked our half-mad group.
"Where do you want to go next?"
No. 17 and I said we never wanted to see water again—anywhere dry would do. Worst choice ever.
"When does this end?"
"Dunno. Thirsty, so shut up."
Collapsed on the sandbar, I croaked in a near-death rasp, and No. 17—dried and twisted like salted fish beside me—replied in a voice thick with irritation.
The ocean had been paradise. Never imagined water could be so precious.
I glared hatefully at the prisoner magic-suppression shackle on my right wrist, but it showed no sign of coming off.
My throat had been dry of saliva forever. In an environment where sand crunched instead, occasional sandstorms were hellish.
Days scorching hot, nights freezing cold.
Digging a base? Sand collapsed with one gust. Barely kindled a fire on rocks and endured—but now even that exhausted me.
"Brought food."
"...Scorpions again today."
And the worst: nothing to eat.
Mountains were a food paradise. Ocean had plenty once you adapted. Desert? Nothing.
Scorpions. Lizards. Once.
Not sure if abandoned or lost, but a camel passed by, No. 1000 snagged it quick—after that, no proper meat.
I backed off ten steps seeing her drink its blood instead of water, but now I regret not chugging it myself.
After all that suffering, training finally ended, and he said rest till tomorrow. What went wrong?
Checking gear beforehand, expecting training to resume? Some items faulty? Or grabbing the door he said housed a demon?
Probably all of it.
The door I'd blocked desperately flew open—no, shattered. Out stepped a beautiful woman.
She grinned at me and said.
"Any last words?"
Then it began. Mystical hits. Refreshing hits. Something hit, it hurt. It didn't hurt.
"Guhk?"
My forward gaze suddenly faced the ceiling.
"Hm... Scars remain, so not perfect."
Struggling to lift my head, I saw a one-meter silver rod.
Did that hit me?
"Hmm... Could conquer the world if it works, but too hard."
"Gahk kahk?"
Weird. Hurts. Hurts so much. Feels good. What?
"Tried boosting pleasure threshold, but this just makes masochist training tools."
With a casual flick, the silver rod slammed my body.
The sensation was pure pain, yet by the time it reached my brain, it turned to pleasure.
"Hngh... Hnng?"
"Ah, failed. Scrap it."
Disappointed tone. With those words, the hand gripping the silver rod froze.
"Well, punishment for interrupting my reunion with Master ends here."
The woman who'd beaten me leaned into my ear as I trembled on the floor and whispered.
"And this is senior disciple advice. See something like this? Run, no question."
She dangled the silver rod before my eyes, her voice utterly serious unlike before.
"If you see it, you might not even die."
I didn't understand what she meant. Not then.