I'll Feed You Opportunities. - (1)
Eventually, it was Mave of the Gallia Royal Knights' trainee knights who returned with the flag. She submitted it to the instructor before leaving the forest. Jacques, the leader of the Swordsmanship Department, looked over the academy cadets and grinned savagely, like a starving bear.
"Well then, three days of delightful camping from now on?"
"?!"
"?!"
"?!"
And so, hell began for the remaining twenty-nine Swordsmanship Department cadets. Training assistants who had been hiding among the forest shadows emerged. They barked orders at the twenty-nine cadets and herded them toward a wide clearing in the woods.
"Fall in! Single file, run!"
"Move! Run, damn it!"
"Keep the line straight—!"
Amid the assistants' shouts as they ran alongside, the academy freshmen sprinted until they reeked of sweat.
"Huff…! Hah!"
"Ugh, hah…!"
The ordeal was merciless. As the cadets dashed mindlessly up slopes and hills, their training uniforms became caked in dust. Yet whenever anyone tried to break formation, the assistants appeared like ghosts, kicking or yelling at them.
Finally, one of the female cadets snapped, "Stop, stop! Damn it, this place is insane! I'm done!"
"Unauthorized absence from class is grounds for expulsion from the academy. You know that, right?"
"Fine! See if I ever come back! I'm returning to the Republic—!"
Shockingly, a cadet had voluntarily withdrawn within thirty minutes of the session starting. The remaining cadets' eyes wavered. They sensed something had gone terribly wrong. They thought, 'If I return empty-handed, I'll be mocked back home. And losing face in front of the commoners…' 'I can't fall behind those pathetic nobles…! I'll survive here and rise up…!'
"…"
Arty thought, 'Still manageable so far.' He glanced behind him. Even covered in dust within the dim forest, one figure stood out immediately—Princess Lydia. Though her frame in the training uniform was the most slender among the Swordsmanship Department cadets, she followed steadily at the very back without faltering.
Arty tilted his head. "…?"
'Does Her Highness have more stamina than I thought…?'
But the other cadets, their minds half-shattered by the successive shocks, failed to notice the oddity. So Arty alone accepted it. 'As expected of the Gallian royalty, hailed as the country of knights even among the southern continental kingdoms.'
Regardless, the assistants continued their merciless training on the remaining cadets.
"Run from your assigned positions!"
"Why aren't you moving faster?"
"Kuhak?! H-How dare you kick me…? D-Do you even know who I am…?! I came here to learn swordsmanship, not to play in the dirt!"
One cadet whose pride had been wounded shouted out. But the assistants, elite soldiers who had served for decades in Gallia's northern patrol units, were not to be trifled with. The assistant who had kicked the cadet approached, his eyes radiating the killing intent of one who had fought countless imperial soldiers. He growled, "You can't even run, yet you think you can wield a sword?"
"…"
"Want to die?"
"…"
"…Run."
"…"
"It's a quiet forest. Can't you hear me?"
"…I-I'll run."
In the end, aside from the one dropout, twenty-eight cadets safely reached the forest clearing. What awaited them was endurance training that stretched from morning until night.
*
That night, Arty dragged his exhausted legs forward. His breath felt like it would burst from his throat. Yet compared to his rural life until now, this much was bearable.
'…I can't believe there's more after the physical training.'
The assistants had briefly taught the cadets how to find 'edible food' and 'how to camp' in the forest before vanishing back into the shadows once more.
-Did you think we'd let you sleep in the dormitory beds?
-Form pairs of two. Survive in the forest on your own—find your own food, make your own shelter. That is all.
"…"
He hadn't expected it to be this brutal. 'What are the others doing? Repeating this training for three days? Can nobles really endure this so calmly?'
Arty looked around with naive thoughts, only to realize he was wrong.
"…Mm."
In the dim forest, several noble cadets sat beneath trees with bowed heads, trembling. They had cast aside their pride and were sobbing.
"Hic… Sniff…"
"…Damn it."
But they couldn't simply sit and rest. After a full day of training, their stomachs growled fiercely. Cadets who still had energy left searched the surroundings for food.
"Hey! Those wild berries are mine."
"Shut up, I found them first."
"You commoner brat…!"
"Do as you like. There's no such thing as noble-insult charges here anyway. I can just report later that I got beaten up at the academy."
"Tch…!"
Commoners and nobles alike rolled in the dirt like dogs. It was a truly beautiful academy landscape.
Arty sighed. '…I was thinking of roasting some mushrooms, but if I stay around here, a fight will break out.'
He glanced toward the deeper forest behind the clearing. "…"
He had noticed it earlier. There were no traces of wolf-like beasts or the sour scent unique to goblin urine in this forest. It lacked the rich wild aroma typical of countryside woods.
'…It seems they've managed it safely for the academy cadets.'
The other cadets had apparently lost their composure in the situation itself and missed the chance to observe. "…"
Confident in its safety, Arty quietly slipped into the deeper forest. The cadets in the clearing paid no mind whether a commoner without backing disappeared or not. But they didn't know—one more cadet had vanished from that place.
*
Arty hastily gathered dry leaves and bark he had prepared earlier. He blew gently on the spark from his flint to kindle a fire. Once it grew, he skewered mushrooms and hard fruits on branches and began roasting them.
"Phew… Good thing I always carry flint."
He enjoyed the moment with a satisfied smile. Soon, a fragrant aroma rose.
"!"
Arty's hungry stomach rumbled. Just as his trembling hand reached for the skewer—
A sudden wind blew. Whoosh—!
And in an instant, the small campfire went out.
"?!"
Arty sprang to his feet and scanned his surroundings warily. 'A training assistant?! Or maybe a wild animal?'
But his eyes, not yet adjusted to the darkness, detected nothing unusual. At that moment, a woman's clear voice rang out.
"…Foolish boy. Lighting a fire at night? What will you do if enemies spot you? Even without enemies, you shouldn't approach training with such a mindset."
"Who's there?!"
"If you shout like that, enemies would gladly reveal themselves."
Emerging from the darkness was Lydia. Her golden hair shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
"…It is I."
"…?!"
Arty paled and prostrated himself. "Y-Your Highness the Princess—?! I have committed a grave discourtesy. P-Please have mercy…!"
"Mm, I shall forgive you."
"!"
Arty felt relief wash over him. The earlier scene of nobles and commoners fighting over wild berries had long since faded from his mind. Lydia's approaching figure was that striking.
'…No, somehow this feeling… is it pressure?'
As Arty observed her with an increasingly strange expression, Lydia spoke.
"And while at the academy, we are merely equal cadets. …Call me 'Lydia.'"
"S-Such rudeness?!"
"It is an order. Now state your name."
"Y-Yes… Commoner Arty, at your service."
"I see."
It was strange. He couldn't tell if she was emphasizing rank or telling him to speak casually. "…"
But Arty had no choice but to obey. Each of Lydia's words carried an irresistible force. She seemed to possess the air of an absolute ruler. Cold sweat ran down his back.
'So this is… the dignity of royalty.'
At that moment, Lydia tossed something from the darkness. It resembled a small bracelet.
"Take it."
"?!"
The moment Arty caught it, something strange happened. The small bracelet in his hand glowed blue. Flash!
Then it scattered into particles of light.
"Huh?!"
"What you just received is a 'sword.'"
"Y-Yes…?"
"Picture it. The form of a famed blade with a blue edge."
"W-What do you mean…?"
Yet when one says 'goblin,' a goblin naturally comes to mind. From Arty's subconscious emerged the image of a sword gleaming blue. Flash—!
"…?!"
Then… a sword materialized in his hand amid a faint glow. It was an elegant, graceful blade resembling the blue of a lake.
"…!"
Arty trembled. His fingertips gripping the sword tingled. It felt as though it were connected by fate. He couldn't help but feel that thrill.
*
Lydia was pleased. 'Arty skipped that tedious tutorial event where he gets chased by a monster on the final day of training, picks up the Holy Sword in a desperate situation, and awakens.'
Of course, Lydia had dealt with the relevant monster herself. Since it was a scene explained through one of the few high-quality animations, finding a similar location and monster hadn't been difficult.
At that moment, Arty's dismayed voice rang out. The blue sword he had been holding vanished like dandelion seeds.
"Huh?! The sword…!"
"…"
"H-How can this be…?!"
"…"
Arty's face twisted in frustration. Lydia watched him in silence. '…He looks as though he's lost a lover after their first night together. Well, since he hasn't met the other heroines yet, the Holy Sword Danan is indeed the heroine.'
To prevent further misunderstanding, she explained in a flat tone. "Do not misunderstand, Arty. That sword is an artifact. It disappeared naturally along with your concentration."
"R-Really?"
"Indeed. From now on, that sword will grow alongside you. The stronger you become, the longer it will manifest in this world."
"…Whoa, what an amazing sword."
"Of course. It is the Holy Sword Danan, the blade of the hero who saved the Gallia Kingdom."
"…"
Arty tilted his head. Any citizen of the Gallia Kingdom—or anyone who knew the legend of the hero who saved the southern continent—would have reacted the same way. "…?"
Then he spoke cautiously once more. "Y-Your Highness."
"Lydia."
"L-Lydia… You said this sword is the 'Holy Sword Danan'…"
"Correct."
"…I-Is that true? I heard the Holy Sword returned to the Sun God."
"It is a lie spread by the Theocracy to select a hero through divine oracle and bolster their authority. The Sun God has not 'yet' taken the Holy Sword. The sword was hidden by fate in the land the hero Arjen last surveyed—Arjen Academy—until a legitimate user, a descendant of the hero, appeared."
"Eh…?! Then, am I a descendant of Hero Arjen—?!"
"Do not speak of this matter openly. Otherwise, you will face attacks from the Holy Knights and the monotheistic fanatics who worship the Sun God."
"…"
Arty broke into a cold sweat. "H-How on earth did you obtain this?"
"I picked it up on the way."
"…Then why give it to me?"
"Because I cannot use it. And I thought perhaps you might be able to."
"…"
It was so straightforward that Arty had nothing to say. He muttered with a slightly dazed expression, "W-What should I do from now on…?"
"You must grow stronger. The Holy Sword has already come to you according to the flow it itself determined. That is your inescapable fate. If so, you must become strong enough to protect yourself from that fate."
"…How? What must I do to become stronger?"
"Hmm, do you wish to know?"
"…Yes!"
"Very well, then follow me."
"Y-Yes, understood!"
Arty answered resolutely. With this reply, at least two to three weeks' worth of events from the original work had been skipped. Lydia sighed inwardly. What a naive boy.
'Even so, I thought he would at least question once why I decided to take him in…. That innocence from the original isn't entirely a good thing.'
After all, every time he took a wrong route with the heroines, he suffered NTR…
*
A few days later, Saintess Aria shot to her feet during worship.
"!"
She could feel it. The Holy Sword had been guided to the hero. And he was nearby.
'You've done it… Hero!'
With a pounding heart, Aria ran toward the place she sensed. The academy grounds in the early morning seemed to bless her.
'What kind of person is the Hero…?'
And what Aria finally witnessed was…
A boy doing push-ups with the Princess riding on his back.
"How weak, how weak. Arty, is that truly all you amount to as a man?"
"Kuaaak! Your Highness! Please!"
"Oh dear, did I not tell you to call me Lydia? One hundred more."
"Ugyagyak—!"
Aria froze at the sight. 'Just… why is Her Highness the Princess… with the Hero…?'