First Lesson (2)
‘Have the other classes already started?’
As the class moved from the classroom to the training grounds, the crisp clash of swords mingled with shouts of kiai echoing down the hallway from other groups.
Realizing the other classes were already underway, the teacher and students quickened their pace, a hint of impatience in their steps.
A moment later, they arrived at the training grounds—the very same one where I'd practiced non-lethal Battōjutsu draws yesterday.
A quick scan of the floor showed the bloodstains from before had been scrubbed clean.
“Before we begin sparring, allow me to explain the rules.”
The teacher lined up the students in rows, cleared his throat, and continued.
First, no strikes to vital areas that could cause serious injury.
Second, if your opponent surrenders, you must immediately sheath your weapon.
Third, no cowardly acts unbecoming of a knight, such as feigning surrender.
Fourth, regardless of the judge's decision, you must accept the outcome without protest—even in defeat.
These were the core rules, but any infractions within those bounds would be handled at the teacher's discretion.
The students nodded in understanding, and the teacher scanned their faces before adding,
“If anyone breaks these rules, they'll be disqualified on the spot and receive demerit points. Remember, this is sparring, not real combat.”
Safety came first since it wasn't life-or-death.
That meant only edgeless, relatively safe weapons for sparring.
“Assuming you've all understood, go fetch your preferred weapon from over there.”
The students headed to the weapon rack, hesitated briefly, then picked swords, spears, and the like.
As heirs to knightly or noble houses, they naturally had their go-to weapons already decided.
I already had my non-lethal Reverse Blade Sword (Yoroi-doshi) at my hip, so I leaned against the wall, watching them choose.
The teacher, unaware of my situation, eyed me curiously.
“Hm? Not picking one, Ian?”
“I've already got my sparring sword commissioned.”
“Prepared, I see. As long as you're not just standing around idle, outside gear is fine.”
Soon, everyone returned with their favored weapons, and the teacher addressed them.
“We'll proceed in numerical order, ten at a time, alternating rounds. Students 1 through 10, step forward.”
With about thirty in our class, it'd take three rounds.
‘I'm number 27, so dead last.’
Still a ways off, I sat at a distance to watch the matches.
A few students had warmed up to each other since yesterday, chatting in clusters, but no one came near me.
Not that I minded the solitude. I had the Reverse Blade Sword (Yoroi-doshi)—the one truer companion who understood me than anyone.
Clap!
A sharp clap drew my eyes to the grounds, where five glowing circles now shimmered on the floor.
‘This came up in the original story too.’
Those were special magic circles: once entered, you couldn't leave until victory or surrender.
Sparring happened inside, and when it ended, partners rotated clockwise for the next round.
After explaining, the teacher turned to students 1 through 10 in line.
“These circles also recover stamina and cushion impacts, but don't get reckless. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!!”
“Such enthusiasm gladdens me. Pair with the next number and enter.”
The spars began, everyone—including the teacher—watching intently. But honestly? Boring as hell.
They had decent form from family training, sure, but nothing special stood out.
A few used aura, but it was basic basics. Disappointing.
Yet the teacher and other students seemed impressed by their skills.
The original didn't detail nameless students' prowess, but was this normal?
‘This is the kingdom's future?’
The protagonist fixed everything in the end, but still—this was pathetic.
When demons attacked the academy, the fallout alone killed tons of regular students and civilians.
To prevent that, I needed to spread Battōjutsu here ASAP and boost their levels a notch.
‘When's my turn already?’
Once they saw my glorious Battōjutsu, they'd all be hooked.
That's why I'd desperately practiced visible-speed draws against Hawkins and his thugs yesterday.
‘Might cause a little accident, but...’
A cracked rib or two, some semi-permanent organ damage—minor stuff!
A true Battōjutsu man sacrifices a few pawns for the greater good.
‘Hurry up!! Come on!!’
Hours felt like eternity as I soothed the Reverse Blade Sword (Yoroi-doshi) itching to snap bones at my hip.
“Finally, 21 through 30! Step forward!!”
The teacher's call had me grinning ear-to-ear as I strode up.
I entered a circle with my partner, number 28.
“Hoo...”
His gear: shield and short spear. He thrust the shield forward before we even started.
‘Lucky bastard.’
He'd be the academy's first official Battōjutsu victim—honored prey.
Sure, he might end up crippled, but scars are a man's medals. He'd bear it.
Hand on hilt, ready to draw at any moment, I awaited the teacher's signal...
“Everyone's in position, so let's begin. Take your stances...! I-Ian?”
He called my name right before the start, so I turned.
“Something wrong...?”
Not just him—everyone stared.
As if by prior agreement, their eyes trembled with fear.
‘What? Zipper down or something?’
Clueless, I stood there as icy silence blanketed the grounds.
“Teacher, is there a problem?”
Unable to bear the weird vibe, I asked, snapping him out of it.
“N-no... nothing. But before we start, one more thing: surrender immediately if it's too much! Got it!!”
“Yes, sir!!!”
A thunderous roar erupted from those in the circles—louder than before.
Me alone baffled, the teacher suddenly signaled like a surprise attack.
‘Fuck yeah, shatter those ribs!!’
Hand back on hilt, dialing to visible speed...
“I surrender!!!”
“...The fuck?”
My opponent hurled his spear and shield to the ground and bolted from the circle.
“Hey, what bullshit is this?! Get back here!”
“I surrender! I'm not fighting!!”
Absurd. I tried dragging him back for Battōjutsu fodder, but the teacher blocked me.
“Ian! Attacking a surrendering opponent is a foul! Step back now!!”
“B-but still...!!”
Tempted to force a draw anyway, but rebelling might get me ejected.
That'd doom my grand mission to spread Battōjutsu.
‘Endure it here!’
Plenty more students left. I'd wait in the circle for the next...
“Surrennnnder!!”
Every single one tossed their weapons and surrendered at the start.
‘What the hell? Why so scared...’
Pondering the cause, I scanned the surrounding students' faces—and realized.
‘...Ah, my killing intent leaked.’
No intent to kill, but excitement over debuting Battōjutsu made it slip.
Bad form.
How could I wield Battōjutsu without mastering my own emotions?
Calming my mind, suppressing the intent fully, I eyed my final opponent in the circle.
He trembled violently.
This grown man my height, quaking in terror—it stirred unexpected pity. I spoke softer than usual.
“Calm down.”
“...Huh?”
Surprised by my tone, he blinked.
“Relax and come in. I won't kill you.”
“Y-yeah, right...? It's just sparring...”
“Exactly. I'll just crush your ribs to pulp, not kill y—.”
“Surrender!! Surrender!!!”
His sword clattered to the floor mid-sentence.
Sighing inwardly at the blade, I turned to the watching teacher.
“Teacher, why don't you take his place.”
“......Ian Bar Tow, one demerit point.”