Chapter 6
Chapter 6
"Stand over there."
The senior instructor led Delam to the training grounds—a high-quality area reserved exclusively for instructors.
Delam moved to the designated spot but didn't just stand there blankly. He nudged away loose pebbles scattered around with his feet, clearing potential obstacles.
The instructors weren't anything special. They were just veteran soldiers pulled from the ranks and given training duties. Like most soldiers, they despised personal training, which explained the sorry state of the grounds.
The senior instructor's eyes flickered with interest. Checking the ground before training was standard, but this was a conscript. There was no way he'd have prior experience with such things.
"Do you know why I called you here separately?"
"No, sir."
"Starting today, I'll teach you spear techniques."
"Thank you, sir."
The instructor studied Delam again. Normally, recruits would bombard him with questions—Why me? How do I do this?—but the boy showed none of that. No nervousness, no hesitation, just precise answers.
The essential attitude of a soldier.
As a superior officer, he couldn't help but be pleased.
"Good! For the next five days, you'll learn spear techniques from me. It's simple—you watch, then mimic."
"Understood."
"The technique is called Empire Spear 12 Forms. It's not high-level, but regular soldiers need fourth-class merits to learn it. Consider it an honor and pay attention."
"I'll remember that."
And so, the lesson began.
The instructor demonstrated first, then Delam followed.
The senior instructor watched like a hawk.
Despite his rank, he was still an instructor—which meant that, like every other instructor Delam had seen in the past week, mistakes would be met with a cudgel before words.
Pain motivates learning.
That was the training camp's philosophy.
"..."
"Hah! Haah!"
The problem?
There was no need for the cudgel.
Empire Spear 12 Forms was, admittedly, inferior to the secret techniques of nobles. But it wasn't carelessly made—it was the result of mana-trained knights researching how to encapsulate the essence of spear combat.
In short, mastering it in a day or two was impossible.
Hence the five-day estimate.
But Delam wasn't normal.
A single demonstration.
That was all it took for him to perfectly replicate it.
The first six forms were understandable—basic thrusts and strikes.
But the latter six?
Defense, evasion, parries, and counters.
Executing these with a long spear required deep comprehension of each form's principles... yet he did it flawlessly.
'Incredible talent!'
The instructor broke into a cold sweat.
This was just a conscript.
Still, when Knight Obern had ordered him to teach the boy separately, he'd expected something unusual.
But this was absurd!
Thirty minutes into training.
The initially awkward movements of Empire Spear 12 Forms now flowed seamlessly, tearing through the air with fluid precision.
'Is this even possible?'
Though not a knight, the instructor was a mana user. He'd trained countless recruits over the years and seen many prodigies.
But none like this.
A genius among geniuses!
For the first time, he was witnessing the real deal.
"Halt! Stop for a moment."
"Yes, sir."
"You're... picking this up faster than expected. Do you know that Empire Spear 12 Forms is meant to flow from the first to the twelfth form as one continuous sequence?"
"Ah, I had a vague sense of that."
"...Then show me."
Delam raised his spear and unleashed the forms again.
This time, there were no pauses.
From the first to the twelfth, his movements cascaded like water—smooth, unbroken, transforming into a single, cohesive technique.
The true essence of Empire Spear 12 Forms!
But then—
During the seventh form, Rapid Thrust—
A chilling sound tore through the training grounds.
Swoosh!
"W-What was that?!"
The instructor jolted back, startled.
The sound had come from Delam's spear tip.
But it wasn't just the noise that shocked him.
Without realizing it, the instructor had stumbled backward—instinctive retreat.
For a split second, he'd felt as if his heart had been pierced.
"How did you do that just now?"
"Uh..."
Delam hesitated, uncharacteristically uncertain.
He looked conflicted, as if debating whether to explain.
"It's... going to sound insane. Should I still say it?"
"Go ahead."
"The wind... told me."
"The wind? Hah!"
The instructor let out a dry laugh.
He'd lost count of how many times he'd been shocked today.
Delam asked curiously,
"Do you know what it means, sir?"
"No. But every genius I've met spouts nonsense like this after pulling off impossible techniques."
"The wind told me?"
"Impossible! But yours takes the cake."
"My apologies."
"We'll end training here today. Go rest—"
The instructor turned away, his posture stiff but his back oddly small.
"Ah, sir."
"What?"
"May I stay and practice more? Something's on the verge of clicking."
"...Do as you please."
"Thank you."
Delam grinned and raised his spear—like a child who'd discovered a fascinating toy.
For the rest of the day, the sound of tearing wind echoed through the training grounds.
He skipped lunch.
He didn't stop until dusk.
'What the hell was that?!'
When executing the thrust from Empire Spear 12 Forms, even Delam was more shocked than the instructor.
In his past life, many knights had surpassed Delam in swordsmanship.
Many had wielded spears more skillfully.
The same went for maces, strikes, bows, shields, and whips.
But mastering every weapon at a grandmaster level?
In the entire empire—no, the entire continent—only one person fit that description.
Himself.
That was why people called him—
Master of All Arms... [Weapon Master]!
Spears were no exception.
So Empire Spear 12 Forms? He could perform it blindfolded.
His initial clumsiness was just rust from disuse. A few swings later, it all came back.
'But that thrust...'
This was different.
No mana was used. It was just a basic spear technique executed for formality's sake.
Yet the power behind it was unimaginable.
The spear shot forward at a speed almost too fast to track.
'No, it wasn't just speed.'
It felt... weightless.
As if friction had vanished, leaving no resistance against his fingertips.
No wonder he'd said the wind told him.
'This is insane!'
Delam clicked his tongue inwardly.
If he channeled mana into this, who could possibly dodge?
A lethal strike—both overwhelmingly strong and impossibly fast.
But the most shocking part?
He had no idea what had happened.
As the Empire's Supreme Commander—as the Weapon Master—he had mastered every combat art known to man.
Yet he'd never even heard of a technique like this.
A completely unknown power.
Those who reached the pinnacle knew one truth:
The unknown was fear.
That was why knights didn't flaunt their [Secret Techniques].
They only used them when certain of killing their opponent.
Because once a technique was known, it could be countered.
And what could be countered was no longer feared.
'But this... how do I do it again?'
That was the problem.
He'd done it once, but couldn't replicate it.
So now, he'd figure it out.
Repetition. Experimentation.
Two things he excelled at.
Swish!
Thud-thud-thud!
Alone in the training grounds, Delam swung his spear.
Not just the 12 Forms—every spear technique he knew.
From mercenary styles to noble arts, they unraveled like threads.
Thrusting, slashing, blocking, dodging.
Powerful. Stealthy. Bizarre. Mesmerizing.
The vast grounds were soon engulfed in a storm of spear shadows.
His mana was still lacking, but his knowledge and experience remained intact.
A breathtaking spectacle.
All for one goal—
Recreating that thrust!
'Huh?'
How much time had passed?
Suddenly, Delam felt his body open up.
A gust of wind swirled from his head to his toes, unblocking everything in its path.
Simultaneously, an infinite sense of freedom washed over him.
Was this how it felt to fly like a bird?
-This way.
The strangeness didn't end there.
A whisper reached him.
Not a physical voice.
Not telepathy, either.
More like an inner voice—as if something deep within his body had connected to another existence.
And that existence was speaking.
This is where your spear should go.
Delam willingly followed its guidance.
Swoosh.
Crunch.
The spear pierced the training dummy with absurd ease.
Success.
But the sound that followed was disappointing.
Just a crunch?
"...Unbelievable."
Still, Delam muttered as he stared at the dummy.
The dummy, clad in an iron helmet like a real enemy, had lost its head—without a single sound.