Chapter 4
Chapter 4
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Extra Strategist's Royal Road
-----------------------------------------------------------------
It's been a full month since I entered Als's body.
I was learning about this world through books.
'As expected, there are a ton of things not explained in the game.'
Most notably, legends and history.
The verbose backstory that the game skipped over. I was memorizing it all and piecing together the timeline.
It boiled down to something simple.
Long ago, this continent was ruled by a unified empire called Pensilon. That empire fell about thirty years ago.
The current kingdoms were all founded by local warlords who broke away from that empire.
The protagonist was the last bloodline of the Pensilon imperial family, fighting to revive the empire and unify the continent. That was the core of Athena War Tales' story.
'Come to think of it…'
My exclusive maid, Ymir, was from Pensilon.
When I asked her about it, Ymir smiled warmly.
"Yes, that's right. I'm from the Pensilon revivalist faction."
"Revivalist faction?"
"Yes, it was a group formed in the imperial capital Platon to restore the Pensilon Empire. It's gone now, though. I was in their debt as a child."
"Could you tell me more?"
"If the young master wants to hear it."
Ymir had quite the turbulent life.
Born to a beastman gladiator and a human slave, she had fought for survival in the arenas until joining the Pensilon revivalists.
"That's why life in the Ilrain household feels like salvation to me."
The game had trashed her as 'just a maid, how could she be this competent?' but she wasn't some cliché side character.
'Maybe that's how it all connects.'
She was just a supporting character, but the shocking incident she caused pushed the first act to its climax.
The incident that led to Als's downfall.
Players had wondered why she did it, but no clear explanation had ever been given.
'It was probably a trap set by the traitor. Unless… Ymir herself is the traitor.'
It was just a possibility, but the odds of Ymir being the traitor were slim.
"Ymir. If you ever have any worries or troubles, make sure to tell me."
"Why the sudden concern?"
"Just… It's not a hard promise to make."
"Heehee, yes. I promise."
If Ymir was the traitor, it wouldn't mean much, but this would have to do for now.
Either way, exposing the traitor first would solve everything.
"More importantly, young master? Shouldn't you get ready soon?"
"Oh, right."
It was the appointed time: 2 p.m.
The spear arts instructor who would teach me spearsmanship was due to arrive.
On this continent, renowned spear arts fell into two main schools.
Garand Style, created and developed in the west. And Chester Style spear-sword arts, independently developed by the mercenary Guderian.
Each had distinct traits. Garand Style was so formal—with its emphasis on etiquette and perfect form—that it had been adopted as a courtly martial art. Chester Style, on the other hand, was defined by its boundless freedom.
As the name implied, Chester Style wasn't pure spear arts.
It was a highly practical art built around the unique grip of sword in the left hand, spear in the right.
Wielding two weapons of different lengths at once made it brutally difficult to master.
That's why masters of Chester Style spear-sword arts were treated like rare mythical beasts.
Father had initially wanted to hire a Garand Style instructor, but they were haughty—unwilling to teach the fourth son of a baron's house for any price.
"Greetings. I'm Ilya Anpei. I'm Rank A-2 in Chester Style."
"…Ah."
The spear arts instructor who showed up was a burly woman.
Around 180 cm tall. Not especially big for a man, but her build put her on par with any.
Her muscle-bound frame was thick and sturdy, like an ancient tree with deep roots, and the scars covering her body spoke to her grueling training.
But that wasn't why I was surprised.
'No way Ilya Anpei is here!'
I felt something fateful.
Ilya was a game character, ranked SSR—the second tier out of six.
She commanded the spearmen and shredded cavalry like a blender, earning her the nickname Cavalry Blender.
Her tier wasn't top-tier, though, because her personal combat power was only 82—not high for an SSR.
That's why she was a favorite of mine, always posting no-spend guides.
'The lore says her power dropped because she lost an arm…'
Her backstory: In some past incident, she lost her left arm to one of the Ten Heroes, slashing her combat power.
'With both arms now, she must be pushing 90 at least.'
This was seven years before the game, so maybe not yet, but she was still the perfect instructor.
"Come in. The parlor is ready."
"I'd rather meet the child I'm supposed to teach first. I don't like wasting time."
"Hmm, you're in a hurry."
"I hate pointless ceremony."
"It might be nosy of me, but that's not a great attitude toward nobles. It could cause misunderstandings, so be careful."
"If I've offended you, I apologize."
"No, I don't mind. Als! Come here."
As I stepped forward, her appraising gaze bore down like pressure.
It felt like her eyes carried some kind of killing intent or hostility—my nape prickled.
But then.
"What…!?"
Ilya flinched back.
She dropped into a guard stance, glaring at Ymir, who had silently positioned herself protectively behind me.
"You…! What are you!?"
"…"
Ymir kept her killing intent up but bowed politely.
"I'm Ymir, the young master's exclusive maid. I look forward to your guidance for him."
"For a welcome, you sure don't act like it. Stop threatening me."
"I'm sorry. You were threatening the young master, so I reacted without thinking."
"…Hmph."
The two exchanged glares.
As expected, clashes between high-rank rare characters were brutal.
Father must have anticipated this, because he explained Ymir's situation to Ilya.
"A master like this working as a mere servant in a baron's house…? No offense, but you're being duped."
"Hmm, that's my burden to bear, not yours. Anyway, what do you think of my son?"
"Well…"
Ilya eyed me warily, still on guard against Ymir.
"I need to teach him first to know."
"I see. Then I'll leave him in your hands. We can talk details during the lessons."
Ilya nodded and headed to the training grounds inside the estate.
I grabbed a practice wooden spear and followed.
***
Chester Style spear-sword arts combined separate sword and spear training into a unique synthesis.
Sword arts and spear arts could be practiced independently.
That made Ilya the ideal teacher.
She could teach both.
Father respected my wish to learn spear arts but figured a kid's mind could change, so he hired Ilya, who could handle sword arts too.
"Before diving into proper training, I'll test your aptitude for martial arts."
"How?"
"Simple."
Swoosh! Ilya drew a spear from its sheath and tossed it to me.
A razor-sharp spearhead on a heavy iron shaft. I had no choice but to drop the wooden practice spear to catch it.
"Attack me with it. For real—like you mean to kill me."
"…"
I wasn't about to flinch at such an obvious test.
Grip! I seized the spear and aimed it at Ilya.
"Oh ho…"
Her eyes lit up with interest.
Most kids would shrink holding a real battlefield weapon.
Not just kids. Even adults feel psychological pressure wielding something that can easily kill.
But I'd been through that pressure before and kept calm.
'It felt just like getting my first gun.'
Back in basic training, my first live-fire exercise had me tense until I pulled the trigger.
But it was no big deal in the end.
Not like I was actually killing anyone.
This felt the same.
"Haat!"
Whoosh! Whoosh! The spearhead thrust for her throat.
"Hmm."
Ilya dodged lightly and muttered.
"Not bad instincts… but you're overlooking one thing."
Then—thunk! Her knee slammed into my exposed solar plexus from my thrust.
"Guhak!?"
My vision spun. I dropped to my knees, dry-heaving.
Ilya loomed over me.
"Why assume you won't get hit? An attacker must always account for counterattacks."
It was fundamentally different from shooting at stationary targets.
"Get up. Try again."
"Urgh…!"
That one hit buckled my legs.
I staggered up and reset my stance.
'This time, protect my solar plexus…!'
Guarding my body slowed my swings—I couldn't target vitals directly like before.
I had to gauge distance like throwing jabs, watching her every move.
Ilya nodded approvingly.
"Remember this: Flow with your opponent. That's the foundation of martial arts. Swinging blindly is suicide."
After that, dust flew as training dragged on. I rolled around taking hits everywhere.
Finally, my legs gave out completely, and that's when it ended.
As I lay sprawled, Ilya gave Father the thumbs-up.
"Excellent potential. Great mental fortitude, and a good feel for the spear. I'll take him on."
"Good. He's yours from now on."
"Before that, one request."
"What?"
"During training, keep that woman away. Her killing intent every time wears me down."
Apparently, Ymir leaked hostility every time Ilya hit me.
Wary of Ymir to the extreme, Ilya even turned down Father's offer of a room in the estate and took lodgings in the territory.
And so my spear arts training truly began.