Let's Decline
“Head Instructor, I’m telling you, I’m innocent!”
Kaiser wore an expression like he was about to burst into tears any second.
Orwen, watching him, added her piece.
“Have some shame, Kaiser. Looks like you tried to screw me over through Freight, but even that backfired and got exposed. How humiliating is that?”
“That bitch made it all up……”
“Capture that bastard!”
“Yes, sir!”
Valrock, unable to stand it anymore, bellowed.
The moment the order dropped, the instructors leveled their weapons at him.
As he was about to be dragged off kicking and screaming, Arthur struck up a conversation with Valrock.
Valrock furrowed his brow, then let out a deep sigh.
“……Hoo, fine. Do it.”
“Thank you.”
Arthur flashed a cheeky grin.
He strode toward Kaiser, one deliberate step at a time.
Kaiser still protested his innocence.
“Y-you bastard, apologize already! You and that slutty Orwen framed me……”
Before he could finish.
Arthur swung with all his might, smashing his fist into Kaiser’s face.
Crack!
“Guh?!”
An instructor had just punched an apprentice lord.
What greater humiliation could there be?
But Valrock had given the green light.
Arthur had told Valrock that Kaiser had cooked up this whole scheme to kill him.
He’d asked for just one free shot to the face.
Arthur was the type where one slap demanded a matching one on the other cheek to satisfy him.
“Instructor, act your age.”
With that, Arthur turned and walked away without a second glance.
Kaiser’s face flushed red. He finally snapped.
“You fucking bastard, you shit-eating motherfucker, get over here!”
Thud!
“Guh!”
Kaiser screamed bloody murder, but the winner was Arthur.
He smirked silently as Kaiser took a few gut punches and was hauled away.
Could this blood be……
Valrock eyed Arthur thoughtfully.
Freight. And that tough crew.
Was the blood on him for the reason he suspected?
“Kinda anticlimactic.”
“Our Arthur apprentice is just too damn unlucky.”
Valrock watched Arthur chatting and laughing with Orwen.
Lord Qualification Exam!
For two months, apprentices learned one-on-one from instructors. The Lord Qualification Exam tested everything they’d covered.
The exam had three parts.
First was the written test, second was lordly charisma, and third was commanding ten assigned NPC soldiers in a subjugation battle.
Written exam room.
Arthur’s pen flew across the page at his desk.
The problems were laughably easy.
He finished in just twenty minutes, then glanced around.
Unlike him, the other apprentices were racking their brains, sweating over every question.
The exam scores often decided the top three rankings, so they had no choice but to be cautious.
“Instructor.”
“What’s up? Need the bathroom?”
“I’m done.”
“Apprentice, take it slow and steady?”
The instructor scowled.
There were still forty minutes left.
“I did it slow and steady.”
But Arthur saw no reason to stick around.
Better to head back to the training room and swing his sword a few more times.
“Fine, whatever. Not my problem.”
It wasn’t even his assigned apprentice. Who cared if they bombed?
After Arthur left, the instructor picked up the answer sheet.
Let’s see how many he got wrong.
His face twisted as he checked.
Huh? This one’s right, and this…… Holy shit. Subjective questions……
Reading the essay answers, the instructor whipped his head toward where Arthur had sat.
They weren’t just perfect—they were masterful.
And as Arthur stepped outside, a chime rang in his ears.
Written Exam Perfect Score Quest Completed.
Intelligence +3
1,000 Cash
Arthur smirked and headed to the training room.
The head instructor and a few others stood nervously by the warp gate, waiting for someone.
A burst of blue light erupted from the gate, and a man stepped out.
“Hoo, wiped out.”
He immediately pinched the bridge of his nose.
The head instructor saluted as formally as possible.
Brock—one of the 101 lords.
Famous as the Tamer Lord, he built his territory with diverse races.
Brock had come to scout promising apprentices.
If none caught his eye, no big deal.
Why the hell am I doing this crap? Just a bunch of greenhorns.
The intent was noble enough.
Spot talents early, offer alliance spots ahead of time.
But only about 20% actually joined.
Most died before they could—territory wars claimed hordes daily.
Whatever, orders are orders.
Kyle, the Challenge Lord of the Valkyrie Grand Alliance that Brock served, was meticulous and valued every talent.
That’s how he’d risen.
Heard Railly snagged a sharp one for his alliance recently. Kid’s growing fast. Wouldn’t mind hooking one myself.
Jealousy stung—Railly had grabbed a tactics whiz and leveled to D-rank already.
Lord ranks ran from E to S.
Brock hoped for a similar catch on his turn.
Alliances were lord collectives.
Grand alliances held up to 160, led by a grand leader.
Divided into groups of 20, each sub-alliance under a lord—Brock led the Troll Alliance.
“Here you go.”
Head Instructor Valrock handed Brock profiles of top apprentices.
First up: Louis.
“From a grand ducal house. Sword, spear, bow—master of all. Tactics and strategy on point, quick thinker too.”
Brock nodded, flipping to the next.
He scowled at the top photo.
“This shrimp? Sixteen? For real?”
He stopped in his tracks.
The Monarch Game had age limits, sorta.
Sixteen and playing? Wild.
“Looks like he couldn’t squash an ant, and he’s top-tier?”
Still, curiosity piqued.
Valrock wouldn’t show it if he wasn’t elite.
“Yes. Outshines even Louis. Perfect scores across the board, nailed the written exam yesterday too.”
Brock nodded.
More amusing sideshow than real interest.
“Where’s he at?”
“Charisma exam.”
“Charisma, huh. Let’s check it out.”
Brock picked up the pace, boredom cured.
Arthur watched the four apprentices beside him take turns up front.
Charisma exam: Demonstrate a lord’s dignity.
Instructors presented scenarios; apprentices commanded imaginary subordinates accordingly.
Rally morale, soothe fear, inspire loyalty—all with words alone.
Not easy.
“Come on, comrades. Fight with me……”
“Stop.”
An instructor scowled.
“Apprentice, you joking?”
“Pardon?”
“Stuttering like that. Who’d follow a timid punk yelling ‘comrades’ all meek?”
“……”
The apprentice was speechless.
“Next.”
The instructors scored quickly and moved on.
All similar level.
Two months of crash course—what’d you expect?
Then the back door opened. Head instructor, a few others, and Brock entered.
Brock……
Arthur swallowed a bitter smile.
Long time, Brock.
A comrade who’d fought by his side.
The praised Tamer Lord.
In the final war, his hundreds of wyverns dominated the skies.
He slew the demon dragon alongside Brock—and closed his eyes.
May your death not be in vain.
Seeing him here stirred complex emotions.
Brock spotted him instantly.
That little lordling.
Frail boy amid burly bandit-like apprentices.
Decent muscle for his frame, but short and slight.
Brock slipped in among the instructors.
“Fight with me, win with me! Together, we’ll triumph……”
“Jesus Christ.”
Brock gawked at the apprentice.
“Huh?”
The kid looked baffled.
No one stopped Brock.
“Thought I was reading a history book. Who’d follow that? ‘Fight with me! Win!’ That it? No fire, no desperation. You’d get your troops slaughtered.”
Brock smirked, crossing a leg and shaking his head with a tsk.
“Listen up, rookies. Outside, killers itch for fresh apprentice blood. Not just humans—ogres, orcs, goblins, trolls. Command like that? Good luck. Who’d trust you? Head Instructor, this Broad Training Camp’s level? Back in my day, we were better.”
Funny part: Brock had graduated here.
Top marks, naturally.
“You were just too exceptional, Lord Brock.”
“Yeah? Fair enough.”
He shrugged.
Arthur thought: That self-love’s still there.
But he was cheerful too. A cherished comrade.
Another apprentice started.
Soon, Brock hurled his pen.
“You moron, that’d kill your whole squad. Ugh, seriously.”
Tsking away.
Arthur chuckled softly.
Playful vibe, but dead serious.
That style would tank morale.
Brock knew it best.
“Arthur apprentice. You’re up.”
Arthur stepped forward at the cue.
Finally, the kid’s turn. Bored to death—maybe some fun?
Brock looked expectant.
As the instructor started the scenario, Brock cut in.
“Mind if I set it?”
“Go ahead.”
The instructor nodded readily.
Brock grinned mischievously, pondering, then spoke.