Iris the Magic Swordsman

"......That's right, apprentice. Well done?"

The first question Orwen posed was essentially straight from the books, but it was a tough subjective one.

The reason was that everyone had different opinions on it.

Yet Arthur had pinpointed exactly five precise answers.

This went beyond excellent—it was astounding.

After all, it had only been two days since he arrived at the training camp.

"Next question. After graduating as an apprentice lord and becoming a full lord, what building should you construct first?"

"A castle. The castle represents the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lord themselves, and its level determines the maximum level of all other buildings. After the castle, typically the walls, barracks......"

"Next. What is the Plaza of War?"

"The Plaza of War is a structure prepared for events. Unlike other buildings, you only need to build it to level 1, and......"

"In Asgard, what's the best wood for construction?"

"Black Proth wood. The most basic is Broad wood, but it's so weak that if the enemy attacks......"

"Name the 53 races."

"Dwarves, ogres, celestials, demons, dragons, half-dragons, Kerbs, Bullaks, Muards......"

"......"

Orwen was at a loss for words.

'A, a genius?'

She could accept him reading the other six books outside. Sure, he might just love books or have an interest in lords and soldiers.

But Arthur answered every detail about the things inside the Lord Game without missing a beat.

"Ho, ho ho. You're pretty smart, huh."

Arthur smiled faintly.

His expression seemed to say not "pretty smart," but rather 'Who the hell are you?'

"Then, may I now state my request?"

"Go ahead."

"Please refrain from reporting about me to the best of your ability from now on."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just... don't go around calling me a genius."

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

Arthur, casually calling himself a "genius" with his own mouth.

His sheepish smile was obnoxious enough to make anyone say it.

But Orwen didn't feel that way.

She was simply wondering how far this kid would climb if she raised him properly.

'Doesn't matter anyway. I'm not even a real instructor.'

Orwen nodded, thinking of her own situation.

She had a secret that set her apart from the other instructors at Broad Training Camp.

"Fine. I'll say the little brat I'm raising, Arthur, is not a ge.ni.us. And I'm not the type to blab anyway."

"Thank you."

There was one reason Arthur was doing this.

Over the next few days, his body would grow steadily.

Much faster than the other apprentice lords.

Orwen would surely notice.

He just didn't want her spreading it around.

Anyway, the total score from his training camp period would be tallied by the Lord Nurturing Device and spit out rewards automatically.

In the midst of it, Arthur suddenly saw a hologram pop up.

The Important Information View item blinked before his eyes.

It had been a while since Loris.

Arthur purchased it without hesitation.

'Ma, magic swordsman Iris......?'

Arthur's eyes widened.

He realized why she looked familiar.

Iris, the one and only genius magic swordsman on the Asgard Continent.

She was right there—his instructor.

Magic Swordsman Iris.

They said she was a genius from birth.

There was even a silly tale that as a newborn, she reached for the hilt of her father's sword at his waist.

Trained in the sword from childhood, she later began learning magic as well.

Combining sword and magic is incredibly difficult.

In truth, even focusing on one is hard enough to manifest aura or become a classed mage.

But raised by a mage mother and knight father, she had innate talent in both.

There had been magic swordsmen on Asgard before.

But Orwen was famous among them as the genius who caught both rabbits.

She was a 4th-class mage.

4th-class mages on Asgard numbered only about 300—a tiny elite.

And her swordsmanship could hold its own against Iphillis Empire knights.

Arthur had seen her fight enemies once.

He couldn't forget the awe.

Charging into the enemy lines at tremendous speed, flames erupted from her left hand, devouring foes.

Then she cut down those who survived the blaze.

'Her face is different.'

Arthur realized why he hadn't recognized her.

Her face was different.

He first saw Iris three years from now.

At nineteen, he'd glimpsed her from afar on the battlefield and never again.

Half her face had been covered in severe burns then.

The incident that scarred her face was the "Orbis Spy Massacre."

Orbis Empire and Iphillis Empire had never gotten along.

They maintained a cold war, watching each other warily.

Then, in Pras—the booming megacity of Iphillis—a sudden massacre erupted.

The perpetrator: 4th-class mage Krok.

Krok was originally from Orbis but a mage tower mage in Iphillis.

He slaughtered innocents indiscriminately.

Over 3,000 died.

A 4th-class mage among the powerless was like an ogre in an ant colony.

One spell incinerated hundreds without trace; fleeing victims were pierced by magic arrows from his hand.

Standing against him was Iris, then a 3rd-class mage and knight.

She struggled fiercely, they said.

She felt the limits of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠3rd-class acutely.

Still, blocking Krok was incredible.

Half her body burned, she was half-conscious when reinforcements arrived.

Krok's body exploded as if planned.

Iphillis suffered setbacks.

Orbis's involvement was clear.

Orbis had far more mages—over five times as many.

It was famed as the empire of mages.

Yet sacrificing a 4th-class? Unthinkable.

A year later, Orbis's atrocities were exposed.

Krok had faced clan extermination if he disobeyed the empire.

And Iris? She overcame her limits post-battle, training to 4th-class.

Losing beauty as a woman is horrific.

But she pressed on undeterred.

'She's a Connected NPC.'

Connected NPC.

Unlike apprentice lords, they could quit anytime.

But they gained massive benefits from the Lord Game.

Perhaps it fueled her rapid growth.

The "+Quest" item.

Seemed linked from the info view.

He checked without hesitation.

'Sage's Ring?'

First time hearing of it.

But clearly no ordinary artifact.

"Immediate issuance"—likely from the Lord Nurturing Device.

Arthur's deliberation was brief.

'Making Iris favorable to me opens many doors.'

Iris was favored by the empire.

A chance for deep ties with her.

'Specialized Lord Nurturing Device. Impressive.'

"Apprentice?"

"Yes."

At Iris's call, Arthur smiled brightly.

"What are you thinking? Daring to zone out in front of me?"

"I was thinking Instructor looks even more beautiful today than yesterday."

"You're so annoying."

Unaware of his thoughts, she looked at him and mused.

'You little punk, I'm gonna raise you right!'

The theory lessons were over—Orwen had nothing left to teach.

He'd absorbed all Broad Training Camp theory.

Further knowledge would come after shedding the apprentice shell.

Orwen trembled watching Arthur.

'What kind of monster is this?'

Arthur was a monster among monsters.

Orwen quickly judged it time for physical training, telling him to pick a weapon.

Arthur chose a spear slightly heavier than the comfortable 3kg one.

Orwen summoned wooden dummies.

These dummies tore like real flesh when slashed.

Not mere wood—they mimicked humans closely.

Thrusts felt real too.

Dummies healed stabs and cuts every minute.

Arthur had been swinging for 20 minutes already.

Puk!

Thrust again.

Slaaash!

Slash again.

Puk!

Thrust again.

His body was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drenched in sweat.

'His form improves with each rep. It's like......'

A sturdy knight in a frail boy's body gradually regaining his feel.

Only at 30 minutes did Arthur stop thrusting.

He earned Strength +1, Agility +2, 500 Cash.

But his hands were wrecked beyond words.

Thrusting into real flesh pushes the palms back.

Gripping forcefully tears the skin.

Arthur's palms were bright red.

"It stings."

Orwen watched him smile innocently and thought again.

What is this kid?

Physical training continued from there.

Orwen felt less like caretaking, more like just following and observing.

She asked several times a day, "What are you?"

Arthur would grin obnoxiously: "Arthur, ma'am?"

And the most shocking fact.

'His body grows at an insane rate. Too exponential.'

Orwen started understanding.

Why he'd asked her not to tout his "genius."

He'd anticipated it.

That she'd notice his explosive growth.

What was he hiding?

But Orwen stopped prying into his identity.

As he said, just "Arthur."

Persistent apprentice, promising one, truly smart.

No need to dig deeper.

Just.

'Having a kid like that would be nice.'

So clever—he'd turn out great.

Even the celibate Orwen thought so.

Thus, 50 days passed at the training camp.