Chapter 2: A Master Doesn't Blame His Tools (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 2: A Master Doesn't Blame His Tools (2)
Joaquin Academy. On the surface, the school’s motto was the cultivation of heroes.
Why were heroes necessary? The answer was simple.
Because the Demon King existed.
The academy was founded by the Hero of the Origin, Balor Joaquin. While it claimed the noble purpose of producing heroes to carry on his legacy, in reality, it was a social club for the children of the corrupt elite.
Nevertheless, its reputation wasn't entirely hollow. Its prestige as an educational institution was world-class, and countless aspiring special-class students dreamed of crossing its threshold. Naturally, the competition was fierce.
Kang Geomma’s achievement in getting into the academy on his own merit was worthy of praise. However, I couldn't help but wonder why I, someone who just wanted to live a quiet life, had to be the one to inhabit this body.
So, I skipped the entrance ceremony. Since it would only be a waste of time listening to tedious speeches, I decided to spend that time efficiently by scouting the school I’d be attending for the next three years. I had an hour left until the class placement test anyway. I had plenty of time.
“…It is impressive, I’ll give it that.”
I expected as much from a school for the upper class, but the scale was absurd.
For starters, the grounds felt less like a school and more like a small city.
The buildings filling the area were a feast for the eyes. Victorian-style annexes were lined up elegantly, and the landscaping was perfectly manicured, likely the work of very dedicated gardeners.
Most notably, the top of the main building—which required craning my neck back just to see—pierced the clouds like the Tower of Babel.
I sat down on a bench shaded by a tree.
Watching the fluffy clouds drift by, I found myself craving a hit of nicotine to ease the tension in my stiff neck.
Setting aside my status as a student, the concept of cigarettes didn't even exist in this world. Then again, if teenagers were puffing away in a game set in an academy, it would probably be a bit of an eyesore.
I leaned back against the bench, propping my head up with my arm. The scent of spring wafted on the cool breeze. My nose tickled at the thought that I was currently living out a scene from a youth drama.
As the spring breeze made my eyelids heavy, I closed my eyes for a moment.
Come to think of it, I didn't have any real memories of my teenage years in my past life. My family had been doing well enough until my father made the mistake of co-signing a bad loan, and everything went under.
When I was faced with a plot twist straight out of a TV show or a manga, I was only seventeen, forced to confront a reality as cold and sharp as a blade.
I dropped out of high school and started working at a sashimi restaurant. It wasn't because I had some grand vision; it was simply because the shop was in my neighborhood and close to home.
At an age when I should have been holding a pencil, I held a knife. I think I might have been envious of my peers back then, but it turned out my constitution was better suited for the smell of raw fish than the smell of ink.
Eventually, I even earned the title of the nation’s best swordsman. Heh.
I squinted one eye open to check the time.
Thirty minutes left until the class placement test. It felt like I’d only closed my eyes for a second, but time had flown by.
I wanted to take a nap using the sunlight as a lullaby, but the thought of my parents, who had paid the astronomical tuition fees without a single complaint, flashed through my mind, forcing me to stand up.
Leaving my regrets behind, I adjusted the bundle-like bag I was carrying.
I’d already dropped off my suitcase with my clothes and daily necessities at the dormitory as soon as I arrived.
Inside this bag were a few five-kilogram dumbbells and a bundle of sashimi knives I’d bought in a hurry.
A test is a test. I should get used to the feel of them.
Now that I thought about it, I hadn't even touched water, let alone a knife, since coming here.
I’d spent nearly twenty years living by the blade; surely my skills hadn't rusted after just a year of rest?
My first master’s other favorite saying crossed my mind.
‘You must never let go of your knife, even for a day. Hold it even when you sleep. Do you understand?’
Of course, I never actually held it while sleeping. What if I accidentally stabbed myself?
Well, I’m sure it was just a figure of speech.
I unwrapped the bundle inside and pulled out a single sashimi knife.
Holding the hilt after so long, the restless feeling I’d been harboring seemed to dissipate.
I tilted it back and forth, inspecting the angle. I ran my index and middle fingers along the handle, then partially unsheathed it, bringing the blade close to my ear and flicking it with my fingernail to hear the ring of the steel.
Ting—
The clear, pure sound chased away my drowsiness. Considering the price, the finish wasn't bad, and I quite liked the wooden scabbard.
This is better than I thought.
I was satisfied, especially since I’d bought it on sale. The edge would probably dull quickly if it hit something hard like bone, but for the price, it was excellent.
A smile spread across my face, fueled by a sense of pride. On a whim, I decided to try slicing a leaf, so I drew the blue-tinted blade from its sheath.
Suddenly—flash!—messages began to pop up.
[Armament Rank meets the requirements.]
[Blessing of the Sword God is manifesting.]
“What? So suddenly, without even a warning?”
[Body Rank is too low.]
[Armament Rank is too low.]
[Starting synchronization using Counterforce to match the user.]
Whirring—
[Synchronization complete.]
Following the final message...
++++++++++++++++++++++
《May the Blessing of God be with you.》
++++++++++++++++++++++
A sweet female voice whispered in my ear.
Immediately after, a searing sensation, as if my brain were being branded with red-hot iron, made my body convulse.
“Aaaaaaaagh!”
The act of perception itself was infinitely repeated, reflected, and inverted. It felt as if an amount of information far exceeding human capacity was being forcibly crammed into my head.
The smell of burning protein wafted to my nose, and the heat ravaging my brain spread down to my forehead. The pain was unlike anything I’d ever experienced, cutting off even my screams.
Thinking I might actually die at this rate, I forced my eyelids open, though they felt as heavy as lead weights.
“!?”
My vision was tinted blue, as if ink had seeped into my eyes. The world was a landscape shattered into fragments like a broken mirror, with red cracks running through it like chains. Shards of fragmented space floated in the air.
An overwhelming sense of exhaustion, unlike anything I’d ever felt, washed over me, and I dropped the knife. Instantly, the shattered world reassembled itself as if nothing had happened.
After a few seconds, my ragged breathing slowed, and my thinning blood flow returned to normal.
I slumped down, clutching my throbbing head. It still felt like someone had split my skull open. My trembling limbs twitched at odd angles.
“…Fuck, what was that?”
It was an agonizing pain that transcended the very concept of suffering—something I never wanted to experience again. The after-effects of my previous ‘Blessing of Painlessness’ were like mild muscle aches in comparison.
The ‘Blessing of the Sword God’ seemed to have its own unique properties, but...
If this happened every time I manifested the blessing, there was no way I could use it.
Just holding the knife for a moment had done this; if I’d held it any longer, I wouldn't have just fainted.
I thought a blessing with such a grand name would be a special perk, but this was worse than getting nothing at all.
In the first place, I had no idea what the ability even was. How was seeing the world split into tiny pieces supposed to be the Blessing of the Sword God?
Just as I was trying to steady my trembling, pale body...
Static— Static— Ah, ah. Mic test.
A voice laced with static hit my eardrums.
In exactly ten minutes, the class placement test will be held at the training grounds in front of the main building. All students, please assemble.
When I snapped out of it, I realized twenty minutes had already passed. I scrambled to shove the items scattered on the ground from my struggle back into my bag.
I hesitated for a long time over whether or not to pick up the one unsheathed knife.
Maybe... just maybe, it was only like that the first time?
I hesitated, then cautiously reached out my hand.
“Aaaaaaaaagh! Fuuuuuuuuuck!”
It wasn't just the first time.
* * *
The circular training grounds, which embraced a hollow center, were reminiscent of the Roman Colosseum. The spectator seats were packed with crowds gathered to watch the class placement test—the first official event of the world’s greatest hero training institution.
Among them, the upper tiers were reserved for the VIPs of noble blood.
A plump, middle-aged man approached a white-haired man with a hesitant air.
“Ho, ho. The Sword Emperor has graced us with his presence despite his busy schedule.”
There was no reply.
Sword Emperor Siegfried von Nibelung.
He was a descendant of Aaron Nibelung, the top disciple of the Hero of the Origin, Balor Joaquin, and the current head of the Nibelung family. He was a man blessed by the heavens, currently hailed as the strongest human alive.
“…….”
When his piercing golden eyes flicked toward the plump man, beads of sweat formed on the man’s forehead.
“Ha, ha. Well then, please enjoy your time.”
The man’s belly jiggled as he hurried back to his seat.
“…Haa.”
A sigh escaped Siegfried’s lips. He had come because it was his only granddaughter’s entrance ceremony, but the crowd of people steeped in elitism made his stomach turn. His white eyebrows furrowed as he watched them cower, bringing shame to the glory of their ancestors.
Someone approached him from the other side.
A beautiful woman with long green hair reaching down to her waist and mint-green eyes, wearing a dark robe that looked like a bathrobe over her bare skin. Her deep cleavage was striking enough to command everyone's attention.
“Oh my, Zieg. It’s been a while.”
“Hmph, Medea, it’s you. I believe I told you not to call me that. And what is with that outfit for someone who is the Academy Principal? It seems you’ve learned nothing in your seventy years.”
As the Sword Emperor frowned and clicked his tongue, Medea let out a seductive laugh and nudged his side.
“Isn't it a woman’s heart to want to stay young and beautiful until the day she dies? Just say the word, Zieg. I can make you ten years younger with my blessing.”
“The outer shell is of no importance to me. A human’s character is what matters.”
“Ugh, you old fogey. How are you exactly the same as you were half a century ago?”
“Even after half a century, you are still as immature as ever.”
“Hmph, fine. What’s the point of talking to an old man whose ink has all dried up?”
“…Is that something for someone who’s turning seventy the day after tomorrow to say?”
She snorted in response and sat down next to Siegfried.
“Anyway, Zieg, you’ve changed a lot.”
“In what way?”
“You never used to come to places like this. You never had an ounce of flexibility. You used to say you didn't want to mingle with people like that.”
Medea gestured with her chin toward the pot-bellied man idling in the distance.
The Sword Emperor merely replied with silence.
“I guess your granddaughter must be quite precious to you. Maybe I should get married too. You know, start a cozy family, have some kids.”
“You?”
“Oh my, look at him. Why not me? Is it my looks? My body? Plus, I’m the principal of the prestigious Joaquin Academy! Where else would you find a woman like me? Hmph.”
She slightly pulled back her black robe, flaunting her smooth, white skin.
“…I’m saying this as a comrade who has faced life and death with you.”
The Sword Emperor groaned.
“Geriatric pregnancy is bad for the body.”
“You son of a bitch! You want to die?!”
As Medea turned red and grabbed him by the collar, the Sword Emperor let out a dry, mocking laugh.
Their petty bickering continued for several minutes until Medea, exhausted, slumped back into her seat.
“What’s the format for this year’s class placement test?”
“What? You came here without even knowing that?”
Medea raised her voice at the Sword Emperor’s question. Siegfried’s brow furrowed.
“Did you think I would be like those trash who bribe their way in? This is a place of equal education; it’s only natural not to know the details until the day of the exam.”
“Ha—you stubborn fool. Well, fine, you’re right. It’s become a custom for rumors to spread among hero families, but I should fix that during my tenure.”
Medea tapped her fingernails against the armrest.
“This year, it’s a Battle Royale. They’ll be divided into groups of ten, and their grades will be determined by how long they survive.”
“…….”
“Don’t tell me… you don’t know what a Battle Royale is?”
A brief silence followed. Medea smirked and crossed her legs.
“I know.”
“Then what is it? Tell me. If you don’t know, I’m calling you a boomer for the foreseeable future.”
At her taunt, the Sword Emperor lowered his voice.
He added a few fake coughs for good measure.
“Battle and Royal. It refers to that ‘King’s Game’ that is popular among college students.”
“…You idiot.”
While the two giants were busy arguing...
[The test is about to begin. Students, please prepare your armaments.]
The announcement signaling the start of the exam rang out.