Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Thud.
The shattered remnants of straw scattered belatedly.
Delam caught a piece on his shoulder as he stared down at his spear.
"What is this?"
By no means did it resemble some legendary weapon.
Just an ordinary training spear you could find anywhere.
The shaft was even slightly warped, likely made from poor quality wood.
Yet with this inferior spear, he'd sent an iron helmet flying.
Without even channeling mana!
'This is insane power.'
But rather than rejoice, Delam furrowed his brow.
For mediocre fighters, this wouldn't be an issue.
An unexpected thrust appearing mid-battle?
They'd just be grateful, bowing in thanks without understanding.
But for a master, it was different.
Combat was ultimately about whose calculations proved superior.
Every attack followed, entered, and transformed according to precise calculations.
But when techniques activated randomly?
The entire foundation of strategy collapsed.
'It's useless.'
The same applied to that earlier thrust.
A technique whose activation mechanism he didn't comprehend.
No matter how powerful, it was worthless.
No—worse than worthless.
Click.
Delam flicked open the locket around his neck with his thumb.
The leaf tucked behind his mother's portrait.
As its fragrance filled his lungs, his mind cleared.
What filled Delam's eyes now was deep fascination.
Since earning the title [Weapon Master]—
While he couldn't perfectly wield every weapon in existence, he'd prided himself on knowing them all.
Yet now, an entirely new frontier had appeared.
How could his blood not boil?
Before becoming Supreme Commander, he'd been a knight who lived for battle.
"Just because I don't know why it works?"
That makes it useless?
Nonsense.
Then I'll keep at it until I understand.
The sun still hung high.
Plenty of time remained to unravel this mystery.
The thought alone made his spear hand tingle.
Swish!
Delam's spear split the air again.
Dozens, hundreds, thousands of times.
"Thrust!"
"Haht!"
"Recover!"
"Hup!"
Five days had passed since spear training began.
The recruits' movements—thrusting and retrieving their spears—had shed much of their initial awkwardness.
Such was the power of repetition.
Even dullards could master simple motions through relentless drilling.
Conscripts needed nothing more.
Just stab whatever stood before you.
Of course, battlefields bred chaos.
But what could they realistically do?
In tightly packed formations, any fancy techniques would be useless before death claimed them.
Better to memorize prayers.
Begging the gods to spare them such fates.
Naturally, Delam trained just as hard.
He'd been receiving private lessons from an advanced instructor.
Just the two of them in the instructors' training ground.
"Swords excel in versatility. Effective for slashing, thrusting, and blocking."
Swish, slash, parry!
"But that versatility demands perfect execution of each function. Thus, while the Empire Sword has only seven forms, it's far more complex than the twelve-form spear technique..."
So began the second day's lesson.
Ten minutes later—Empire Sword 7 Forms mastered!
"Next are blunt weapons. Many varieties exist, but three dominate battlefields: maces, hammers, morning stars. Today we study the morning star. Its chain provides—"
Third day's lesson.
Ten minutes later—Empire Blunt 5 Forms mastered!
"...Next is archery. Only three forms exist: single shot, rapid fire, and arcing shot. But its fundamentals differ sharply from melee weapons, making mastery exceptionally—"
Fourth day's lesson.
Ten minutes later—Empire Bow 3 Forms mastered!
"If kn-knights and m-mages dominate battlefields, tactics are the foundation they stand upon. The methodology for securing victory in individual engagements, encompassing encirclement, ambush, luring, defense—"
Morning of the fifth day.
Pyorr Kingdom Military Tactics mastered!
"Sigh... The distinction between tactics and strategy is clear. If tactics concern winning battles, strategy concerns winning wars. Tactics without strategy are merely—"
Afternoon of the fifth day.
Pyorr Kingdom Military Strategy mastered!
"......"
The advanced instructor fell speechless.
What kind of monster was this?
Becoming an instructor was no simple feat.
First, veterans with battlefield experience were selected.
Then they underwent training in all disciplines Delam had just learned—spear, sword, bow, blunt weapons, strategy, tactics.
Only those demonstrating mastery in at least one field earned instructor status.
Countless soldiers washed out during this process.
Perhaps one in three candidates succeeded.
'It took me... ten years to learn these.'
The advanced instructor's requirements were stricter.
Mastery of all six disciplines was mandatory.
Clearly officer-tier qualifications.
Thus, aside from the camp commander, they held the highest rank.
Even with this request from Obern, the conscription officer and knight...
An advanced instructor needn't have personally intervened.
He'd volunteered out of personal obligation.
But this...
'Is this boy truly a monster?'
All men had limits, regardless of talent.
The time required for the mind to memorize.
The body's need to adapt to unfamiliar movements.
But Delam was different.
From spear to sword, blunt weapons to bow—all mastered in moments.
Not a year, nor a month, nor a week.
A single day.
Frankly, even that was an exaggeration.
Not even a full day.
After seeing a technique demonstrated two or three times, he'd analyze it, then reproduce it perfectly—often surpassing the instructor's own execution.
And that was just weapon skills.
Strategy and tactics followed suit.
Teach him one principle, and he'd deduce ten.
Even their improvised war game—
Using pebbles on the ground as pieces—
The advanced instructor had been practically toyed with before his defeat.
"Weapon Master......"
"Sir?"
Delam looked up at the instructor's muttering.
Then awkwardly smiled upon realizing he hadn't been addressed.
Clang-clang-clang—
The bell tolled.
Dinnertime.
Today's training had concluded.
"Instructor, until tomorrow then."
"No. I've nothing left to teach."
"Ah, what a shame. I was enjoying myself. Shall I join the regular recruits starting tomorrow?"
"For now... proceed as you are."
But was that truly appropriate?
It kept slipping his mind—this trainee was merely thirteen.
Yet he doubted any instructor could best him now.
To simply toss such talent onto the battlefield?
That would be the kingdom's loss!
'I must consult Sir Obern.'
The advanced instructor quickened his pace.
Recent intelligence troubled him.
The frontline situation seemed unstable.
Training might conclude prematurely.
Meaning Delam would be dragged to war as a common soldier.
Surely dying without showcasing his brilliance.
Unacceptable.
Yet his hurried steps gradually slowed.
Pausing near the exit, the instructor turned back.
One question burned too intensely to ignore.
"Recruit. Does... the wind still call to you?"
"No, not anymore. But—"
Delam grinned, continuing.
"I think I've learned how to become the wind."
The camp commander's office stood apart.
While the training grounds were austere and utilitarian, this room was an exception.
Didn't they say a noble's virtue was extravagance?
Three men conferred within its lavishly decorated confines.
"He perfectly mastered the Empire Spear Forms? In just five days?"
"Five days was the timeframe given. But actual mastery took merely one day, Commander."
"...Instructor, are you unwell? Even basic spear forms aren't so shallow as to be mastered in a day."
"Hence why I'm reporting a prodigy."
The commander remained skeptical, frustrating the advanced instructor.
Then Obern interceded.
Mid-rank knights weren't numerous.
Small fiefdoms might boast three or four at most.
Many had none at all.
Yet Obern was precisely such a mid-rank knight.
Unusual for one of his caliber to stagnate in this backwater.
Thus, the commander lent him ear.
"I find this plausible."
"How so?"
"I heard one ancestor was a knight. While family martial arts and mana techniques were lost, basic spear skills likely survived. And as you know, the Empire Spear 12 Forms are essentially systematized fundamentals?"
"You suggest overlapping fundamentals enabled rapid learning?"
"Precisely."
"That much seems reasonable."
The advanced instructor interjected:
"Did he also learn swordsmanship and other weapons?"
"What do you mean?"
"Recruit Delam mastered spear, sword, blunt weapons, and bow in one day each. Even strategy and tactics."
"...Not just mimicking movements?"
"No. I hesitated to mention this, but... he surpassed me in every discipline."
"Absurd."
The commander and Obern's expressions hardened.
Initially, they'd suspected exaggeration.
That the advanced instructor was prone to hyperbole.
But this changed matters.
Surpassed him?
What soldier would undermine their own skill before superiors?
Especially to praise a mere thirteen-year-old boy?
This spoke of genuine, profound admiration.
Obern synthesized their thoughts:
"Then the solution is simple."
"Administer a test, you mean?"
"Correct. Spar him against others. If truly exceptional, age differences become irrelevant."
"But is such drastic action warranted? We risk becoming laughingstocks."
"What if I sponsor the trial?"
"Well, if you insist..."
No loss for a baron.
Thus, somewhat abruptly, the spar was arranged.