Chapter 6
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: The Spark
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Whoosh!
Demian charged toward the instructors, who were running ahead and forming a wall.
They were clearly far more skilled than the applicants. But...
‘At the end of the day, they're just training camp instructors.’
Besides, they looked like rookie instructors, probably only two or three years on the job.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
“Huh?”
As Demian ran, a large instructor at the front grinned and moved to intercept him.
“...Nothing personal, but you're going to have to fall back!”
And just as the man tried to shoulder-check him, as expected...
Swoosh.
“Wha-?”
Demian effortlessly sidestepped the body check and darted into the open space.
Whoosh!
Having instantly overtaken the instructors, Demian looked back at their stunned faces and said,
“Pardon me.”
He smirked.
Giving them a single, mocking smile was the key to this whole gambit.
As the very young-looking Demian took the lead, the instructors couldn't hide their bewildered expressions.
Did a brat like that really just pass them?
“What are you doing? Stop him!”
“Ye-yes, sir!”
At the senior-looking instructor's command, two others broke away and charged after Demian. But...
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
Instead, Demian picked up his pace and began to pull away even faster.
Seeing this, the applicants following behind watched with wide eyes.
Apel, in particular, couldn't hold back and burst out laughing.
“Puhahahaha! What's with that guy?”
But after his laugh, Apel grinned and said,
“I can't be outdone.”
If it had been anyone else, he would have just scoffed, but how could he stand by while someone his own age shot ahead like that?
As Apel surged forward to join him, the other applicants' eyes widened, and they shouted.
“Let's go, too!”
“Just break through their wall!”
As the entire group of applicants picked up speed and charged the instructors, the instructors couldn't hide their panic.
“Wh-what the!”
“Aaaaargh!”
The atmosphere changed in an instant.
The instructors observing the second training ground, where Demian was, looked a bit taken aback.
“...The second training ground seems to have a different atmosphere.”
“Looks like a strange one got in.”
“...Should we send in more instructors?”
At this rate, every applicant at the second training ground might pass.
But just then...
“Kekekekekekekek.”
Raymond, who was observing the situation, shook his shoulders as he burst out laughing.
He really couldn't hold back his amusement.
“...Instructor Raymond?”
“Leave them be. Sending in more instructors is like advertising that we're rigging the test. What's wrong with that? This is part of their skill, too.”
Hindering the applicants in the long-distance run was a kind of obstacle.
In a real war, things far more absurd than this happen all the time.
Compared to that, the instructors' interference was a trivial matter.
While it might seem unfair, Raymond believed they had to handle variables like this on their own.
However...
“The reverse is also true, I suppose.”
The instructors, too, can face 'variables' from the applicants' unexpected actions.
Learning how to handle those variables and perform their duties is something they need to learn as well.
“Still, my eyes didn't deceive me.”
To think he's the type to create such a variable.
Of course, the mood only changed because the others responded to his actions.
If the others had just watched, it would have been nothing more than a lone struggle.
‘But...’
Raymond knew that lighting that small spark was no easy feat.
The ones who always led the charge on the battlefield were the ones who knew how to light such a spark.
Raymond chuckled and looked at the second training ground.
The test had devolved into chaos, all sense of pacing thrown to the wind. But there was one thing they had forgotten.
“...Can they really keep running fifteen kilometers at that speed?”
Kekekek.
Without realizing it, the boys had begun their second test.
* * *
“Huff... huff... huff...”
What? How many laps have I run?
The world felt like it was spinning, and the urge to vomit rose in his throat.
Barely suppressing the nausea, the applicant turned his head to check the lap count.
Twenty laps now.
One lap of the training ground was 500 meters, meaning he'd run 10 kilometers.
But still...
“Blech!”
Why am I so exhausted after only 10 kilometers?
The applicant finally gave in, leaning over the side of the track and emptying the contents of his stomach.
“Huff... huff... huff...”
“Ugh... I'm gonna die...!”
More than half the applicants running on the second training ground were groaning, their faces looking like death.
A few had already collapsed, their trembling legs giving out from under them.
“Hoo... hoo... Everyone, control your pace.”
“...Yes!”
“Hah... hah...”
Even the instructors were struggling to catch their breath, slowing their pace.
They had long since abandoned any thought of hindering the applicants.
A glance.
The senior instructor glanced at the running applicants.
Most of the applicants who had gone all out from the start were now too exhausted to run.
There were a few who had started pacing themselves midway, but even they looked to be in considerable pain.
“Leave the applicants. They won't make it in time anyway. At best, maybe a dozen will barely finish. So you guys focus on controlling your breathing.”
“Yes... understood. Hah... hah...”
“Hah... hah... There's nothing more embarrassing... than an instructor failing to pass...!”
The large instructor bit his lip and pushed strength into his legs.
Getting caught up in that young kid's trick and wasting so much energy at the start was a mistake.
But compared to them...
‘...Is he a monster?’
The senior instructor watched Demian running up ahead.
When he first broke past them, he'd thought the boy was just a thoughtless idiot.
But after three or four laps, perhaps?
From that point on, contrary to the frenzied atmosphere, his lone figure pacing himself was quite impressive.
‘Still, his pace was faster than the others...’
Suddenly, the senior instructor's expression hardened.
No way, did he plan this entire situation?
‘Nonsense.’
The senior instructor shook his head.
At most, he was a boy in his mid-teens.
How could a kid that young devise such a plan?
No, in the first place, it's impossible to predict that the others would even respond.
‘...It must have been a fluke.’
Otherwise, it was difficult to explain the situation.
The senior instructor could only stare blankly at Demian running ahead.
“Hoo... hoo...”
Demian, running while slowly controlling his breathing, glanced at the other applicants.
Most of them were already more than a lap behind him.
The gap was as wide as three laps for some.
‘Those guys... they're all going to fail.’
About half of them were barely walking, let alone running.
Demian looked away from them and back to the path ahead. But just then...
“Hey, Demian.”
Apel suddenly came up beside him and called out. Demian looked at him.
“You look fresh.”
“Don't tell me you planned it?”
“Planned what?”
At Demian's question, Apel's lips curled into a slight smile as he said,
“Don't play dumb. Kekekek! You can't fool my eyes.”
Apel glanced back at a few of the collapsed applicants.
“They're all going to fail here. And that guy stumbling along over there won't make it in time either.”
Roughly half of them were guaranteed to fail.
It was all because of the fiery mood Demian had created right at the start.
‘It was an atmosphere that made it seem like... you could pass the test just by getting past the instructors.’
Apel had originally planned to maintain his pace and then overtake the instructors at the very end.
But he'd been swept up in the mood Demian created and joined in without thinking.
“If we couldn't use mana, we'd be in the same state.”
“Why wouldn't you play a card you have in your hand? I consider this part of the competition, too.”
“...So you did plan it.”
Apel muttered. But then...
“Demian, why are you trying to enlist?”
“Hm?”
“If you can use mana, you don't seem like an ordinary guy.”
Demian chuckled at Apel's words.
“Is that you bragging that you're not ordinary?”
“Haha, I guess it is?”
In response to Demian's question, Apel just laughed good-naturedly. To that, Demian replied.
“Because this is the only place for me.”
“...?”
That's his reason for enlisting?
Apel looked at Demian with an uncomprehending expression. But soon, a strange, unreadable smile formed on his face.
“I see.”
He had a feeling that this guy, too... had a reason he couldn't readily share with others.
Apel said to Demian.
“You're a really interesting guy.”
“You seem pretty interesting yourself.”
The two, who were grinning at each other, finally completed the long-distance run and stood before the instructor.
Seeing the two who were the first to complete all thirty laps, the instructor said with a slightly surprised look,
“Y-you both... pass!”
* * *
“An interesting kid joined the third training camp, you say?”
“Yes, we received a message from Instructor Raymond at the third training camp. He says the boy is only thirteen years old.”
A black patch over one eye.
A rather shaggy beard covered his chin and the area below his nose.
The man, sitting in what looked like an untidy room, slowly rose from his seat upon hearing his subordinate's report.
His skin was cracked like a drought-stricken land.
But the calluses on his palms seemed to show the marks of a long life spent wielding weapons.
Despite his gaunt frame, a sharp aura emanated from the middle-aged man as he stood.
“A kid that the picky Raymond calls interesting. I'm a little curious.”
The middle-aged man's lip twitched. He then turned to the subordinate who had come to report and asked,
“So, what's so interesting about him?”
The subordinate began to explain the details of the test at the third training camp, as relayed by Raymond.
From his use of the Kingdom's First Spearmanship at the very beginning, to the long-distance run that applicants find most challenging.
The middle-aged man burst out laughing, especially at what the boy had done during the long-distance run.
“Hehehehe, what a little rascal. So, did he pass?”
“He passed in first place, even overtaking the instructors.”
“A thirteen-year-old kid's got guts.”
Soon, his eyes glinted with a peculiar light. Finally, the middle-aged man asked his subordinate.
“What's the kid's name?”
“His name is Demian.”