The Horse Stance
Raon finished breakfast and headed back into the training ground.
This food is disgustingly terrible. If garbage like this had been served when This King was in the Demon Realm, I would have crushed the chef's skull.
Huh? You could taste it?
Indirectly, but This King can share your senses. Taste especially. This King was renowned as a gourmet even in the Demon Realm, so—
You talk too damn much. You could taste it because our senses are shared. That's all you needed to say.
Silence! This King is famous for being taciturn—ugh!
It's not sitting well. Be quiet.
Raon tapped the bracelet to shut Wrath up and looked toward the platform.
Rimer was sprawled across it as if taking a nap, unmoving as a statue.
What an utterly repulsive creature. I want to rip those pointed ears right off.
Wrath exhaled a puff of cold air the moment he laid eyes on Rimer, as if rage boiled up just looking at him.
The Light Sword of Zieghart, huh…
Rimer possessed such formidable martial prowess that he was called the Light Sword of Zieghart, but rumor had it his personality was so light it bordered on frivolous.
Raon had dismissed that as empty gossip. Seeing Rimer now, the information was terrifyingly accurate.
But there are no openings.
Even sprawled out sleeping like that, no weakness showed. Even if he had retired from a serious injury, it seemed the martial power of a former Master had not vanished completely.
The moment This King consumes your body, those ears come off first.
Go ahead.
Not that it would ever happen.
"Yaaawn!"
Rimer only got up long after all the temporary trainees had gathered, stretching with languid slowness.
"Did you eat well?"
"Yes."
The children's answers sagged more than they had at dawn. Their stamina still had not recovered.
"Then we start the next training immediately."
Rimer grinned. When his gaze drifted toward the wooden swords stacked at one side of the training ground, the children's faces brightened.
"Forget the swords. Copy the stance I take."
But as if teasing them, he did not pick up a wooden sword. He spread his feet shoulder-width apart and bent his knees.
"Aren't we supposed to be learning the sword?"
One of the collaterals raised a hand and called out.
"No?"
"We thought we were going to learn swordsmanship…"
"That's right. The Light Sword is famous for his blade, so why…"
"The sword? The sword is good. But can you run before you've even learned to walk?"
The corner of Rimer's mouth twisted upward. He was laughing easily, but it felt as if a chill wind had swept through the yard.
"Can you lot—who have neither stamina, nor mental fortitude, nor even a proper stance—learn real swordsmanship?"
"Ah…"
"I keep saying this, but you don't have to follow my instructions. You can take the responsibility yourselves."
His voice was playful, but silence settled over the training ground.
"Those who will follow, follow. Anyone who wants to do other training, step off to the right."
Of course, not a single person stepped away. Everyone stood in place and looked at Rimer.
"Then let's start again. Spread your feet shoulder-width apart, then bend your knees until your thighs are parallel to the ground."
"Yes!"
The children followed the stance without difficulty.
"This stance is called the Horse Stance. It means the posture of riding a horse, and it is the foundational stance of all martial study—sword, saber, spear, and fist. From now on, hold the Horse Stance until I tell you to stop."
"Yes!"
The children shouted vigorously and raised their arms. It was one of the basic stances, and not a single child failed to follow it.
To train the body with such an undignified posture. Humans truly are pathetic.
You couldn't even steal a human body like this.
Kugh—that's a different case…
I need to concentrate. Quiet.
Raon tapped the flower bracelet and closed his eyes.
This is important time.
Using the Ring of Fire, he could gain a great deal even from this kind of basic training. Even training for the same amount of time, what he obtained was different from the other children.
"Then I'll get some sleep."
Rimer lay down again and started dozing, and the Horse Stance went on without end.
"Ugh…"
"Urgh!"
"H-how long are we doing this?!"
The children trembled in all four limbs as if an earthquake had struck. Even if the Horse Stance was a basic posture, they had never held it this long before.
The children of the upper group, including Runaan and Burren, as well as Raon, kept the proper stance.
"W-what the hell is that guy."
"How can he endure this?!"
"H-his constitution is supposed to be the worst!"
"I definitely heard he was a patient…"
Cold sweat ran down Raon in sheets, but he did not break his form. In terms of precise posture, he was superior to anyone else in the training ground.
"Gyaaaaah!"
"I-I can't lose."
"How am I supposed to stop when that guy is holding on like that?!"
The children who had been about to give up the Horse Stance gritted their teeth and held on when they saw Raon from the lower group still enduring.
But once again, contrary to what they thought, Raon was in a leisurely state.
This much is easy.
In his previous life, he had held the Horse Stance at an even younger age with stones tied to his thighs and back. Compared to those days, this training was a breeze.
Of course, the pain of the cold energy spreading through his exhausted body was vicious. It felt as if his flesh were splitting and his bones were freezing solid—but this was an opportunity to grow stronger.
A low hum resonated through him. While holding the Horse Stance, Raon rotated the Ring of Fire and drew the spreading cold energy into his body.
As much pain as it inflicted, a considerable amount of frost was absorbed, and the Ring of Fire's achievement rose once more.
At this rate, winning the inner energy struggle against Wrath would not be difficult. Of course, that guy wouldn't know.
A deep rumble of power rolled through him. Raon had forgotten it was Horse Stance training at all and sunk into a world of his own when applause rang out from the platform.
"Stop!"
When he came back to himself, Rimer was on his feet and nodding, and the children had collapsed, kneading their thighs as if they were lumps of dough.
How long are you going to ignore This King's words!
Sorry. I didn't hear you.
T-this insignificant creature really…
Wrath spat curses, seeing that Raon was only now reacting, as if he had been muttering the whole time.
"Hoo…"
Regardless of what Wrath did, Raon drew a refreshing breath and loosened the muscles bunched in his thighs and waist.
You have completed extreme training that exceeded your physical limits.
Stamina has increased.
A message appeared this time as well, saying his stamina had risen. Feeling vitality return to his trembling thighs, he straightened his back.
"Same as yesterday. There are those who endured to the end with everything they had, and those who gave up."
Rimer looked at the children still on their feet and flicked his fingers.
"I'll say it again. I only give instructions. I don't involve myself directly in your training. Surpass your own limits. You have to endure even if it means beating down the part of you that says you've done enough. That's the only way you'll pass the exam in six months."
He kept that sly smile as he went on.
"And this is the last time I'll say even that. From now on, I won't care whether you give up or go all the way."
Rimer told them to loosen their thighs for tomorrow's training, then vanished.
A pointy-ear who believes in the god of nature, preaching about mental fortitude. Ridiculous. Mental fortitude crumbles before overwhelming power.
That's not true.
What isn't true?
Mental fortitude is important.
Raon shook his head as he worked the knots from his legs.
That's because you're a pup who's never felt true power. If you felt This King's power, you would immediately bow in worship—
I endured your attacks with mental fortitude, though?
T-This King has not yet recovered his original power!
I'm just a child, though?
Th-that's…
Wrath's voice sagged like a wet towel.
There's no way mental fortitude is meaningless.
Mental fortitude and stamina were like muscle. They had limits, but the more you used them, the stronger they became.
In his previous life he had faced countless crises, and more than once he had survived by wringing out extreme stamina and mental fortitude.
All right. Let's go.
Raon loosened the muscles in his thighs and hips, then stepped into the indoor training hall.
Inside, equipment for building strength and agility stood in rows.
More training?
Yeah.
He nodded. He had to wring his body and mind to the limit, like squeezing a dried squid dry, if he wanted his stats to rise.
For him, extra training was not boring or hard. It was a moment full of anticipation.
Raon started with the basics of bodyweight work—push-ups, planks, and the rest.
Truly frustrating. It's like watching a caterpillar hanging from a tree.
Even a caterpillar crawling along a branch will someday become a butterfly and take flight.
The only way you'll become a butterfly is by handing your body over to This King.
That's not a butterfly. That's a poisonous moth. Dream on.
He waved the comment off and bent his arms again. Not simply for high repetitions—he lowered and pressed up slowly, so the muscle took the stimulus.
His chest ached as if the muscle would tear, but the pain was welcome. Today's pain would become tomorrow's stats and stamina.
He had moved on to abdominal work after the push-ups when children began filing into the training hall.
They glanced at him, then spread out and started training on their own.
Runaan and Burren came in as well and looked over the equipment.
Runaan went off by herself and took hold of a machine. Burren stared hard at Raon, then walked back outside.
He went to where the wooden swords were laid out, picked one up, and started swinging.
A heavy whoosh cut the air.
The collaterals who usually followed Burren grabbed wooden swords as well and began performing the swordsmanship each of them had learned.
That one grabbed a sword.
Yeah.
You're not grabbing one?
I don't need it right now.
What he needed now was not a sword, but basic stamina, strength, and agility.
Moreover, the children's swordsmanship—Burren's included—had not even reached the crawling stage. Practicing swordsmanship with clumsy skill and no instructor was nothing but a waste of time.
Raon paid no mind to what anyone else was doing and continued the boring, grueling work, hoping to make even more progress tomorrow.
Runaan Sullion had no interest in other people.
It was not because her own talent was outstanding and she looked down on everyone else. It was because, on the day someone she had trusted disappointed her too deeply, she had locked the door to her heart.
Lately, though, someone had begun to draw her gaze.
It was not the elf Rimer, who had been called the Light Sword of Zieghart. It was not Burren Zieghart, whom others named her rival.
It was Raon Zieghart.
Sylvia's son—driven from the direct line, now a collateral—kept catching her eye.
Why do I keep looking at him?
It was the first time. The first time her interest had gone to someone. The first time anyone had felt familiar.
Is it the cold energy?
They said a vicious frost lingered in Raon's mana circuits. Perhaps her own frost simply felt a kinship with that cold.
That must be it.
Having found a reason, Runaan tried to take her interest off him.
But the more she tried, the less she could look away.
His growth is fast.
Raon's rate of growth sat outside the ordinary range.
A month ago, when she had seen him in the Audience Chamber, he had been skin and bone, without a scrap of muscle. Now a little muscle had begun to settle on him.
And besides.
Yesterday he had been at the very bottom. Today he had caught up to the pace of the lower-middle group.
Even she, born with a talent said to be heaven-sent, could not grow that fast. By any common sense, it did not add up.
"Hup!"
Runaan lifted a sixty-kilogram weight with ease, glancing at Raon again and again.
"It's really strange."