The Rod Has Always Been Medicine - 5
“T-Teacher! Please cancel the bet right this second!”
“Hm?”
That was the first thing I heard the moment I took charge of Class C for the hour.
The petite class president of Class C stood ramrod straight and shouted it at me, demanding I take back the wager then and there.
“Let’s hear your reason first.”
“The opponents are Class A! They’re a class full of kids who’ve been called geniuses since they were little, while we’re just a bunch of average nobodies. How are we supposed to win?”
“So you’re giving up?”
“I-I’m not thinking of giving up, but I still think canceling the bet would be better! We’re already tense enough facing such a powerhouse, and now you’ve gone and put a wager on it—the pressure is crushing!”
“You’ve got a point.”
“Then…!”
“No. I still don’t have the slightest intention of canceling the bet.”
“Why not?”
The class president narrowed her eyes and glared at me. Unlike the other students, she had a bold streak that I rather liked. Leadership enough to be class president, I supposed.
“Because the odds of me losing are basically zero.”
“Basically zero? They’re the prodigies of Class A!”
“I already crushed every last one of those brats. No matter how much they thrash around, they’re still just greenhorns.”
“That was only possible because you’re strong, Teacher! We’re…!”
“Right. You’re not me, so you can’t just steamroll them one-sidedly. But that doesn’t mean you can’t win.”
I glanced over toward Class A. Professor Bradley was passionately coaching them, trying to boost their morale. The Class A students, however, were letting his words go in one ear and out the other. Whenever that happened he would bark at the problem student and call out their attitude, which only made their resentment toward him grow until they stopped listening entirely.
A clash born of mutual pride. Even if the professor came up with a solid plan, they would clearly just do whatever they wanted. That friction was the first condition for victory.
“I know it’s hard to believe even when I say it like this. But trust me and follow my lead. I’ll give you a taste of the sweet victory you’ve never experienced before.”
“Do you really think it’s possible?”
“If it was impossible I never would’ve brought it up in the first place.”
In this world, fighting someone a full weight class above you was common. Sometimes you even faced people whose swordsmanship or magic stood on a higher plane than your own. Did that mean the weak just had to sit there and take it every time?
Absolutely not.
Just as David took down Goliath, if you fought with strategy, even the weak could win. I said it with full confidence, but the reaction was lukewarm at best.
The students looked cowed. Proof that the belief they could never win no matter what had been drilled into their bones. To win, we first had to fix that fundamental problem.
“Let me make one thing crystal clear beforehand. No matter what result this mock battle produces, if any Class A student lays a hand on you afterward, I’ll kill that bastard myself.”
Crack—!
I released a faint killing intent while casually cracking my knuckles. To the Class C students it must have been pure terror; they all gulped and nodded in unison. The class president standing closest to me was trembling, pupils contracted. Feeling a little sorry for her, I quickly reined the killing intent back in.
“Ahem! The point is, even if you win, don’t fear any aftermath. I’ll protect you, so fight with confidence.”
“Y-Yes, sir…….”
“Good. Next up is strategy—just follow what I teach you. You’ll find it more fun than you expect.”
I myself had started out as a secondary protagonist doomed to fall short of the main character in raw potential. Yet through countless hardships and setbacks I had surpassed him. In that sense I saw the Class C students as sharing a similar fate. That was exactly why I wanted to teach them, and why I wanted to watch.
The sight of ordinary people defeating geniuses.
Two students faced each other in a standoff.
One was a male student wearing a monocle—Martin. The other was a slim female student—Azel. Class A’s mage versus Class C’s swordswoman, and the difference in their expressions could not have been starker.
Martin arrogantly lifted only the right corner of his mouth; Azel loosened up with a look like she had just bitten into something foul. One already certain of victory, the other lamenting that she had been shoved to the front of misfortune. From the outside it looked like the match was already decided.
Ugh…! If I’m going to lose anyway, I might as well try what the teacher advised.
Azel shook off the messy thoughts and cast her mind back. Before the match, Bern had taught Class C a variety of strategies. Among them was one he said to use only when you were the vanguard.
“Honestly, you’re just unlucky. Having to fight me as the opening act—at least let me offer my condolen—”
“Shut up.”
“Y-You bitch?!”
Azel kicked off the ground and charged straight at Martin, aiming to catch the still-chattering opponent off-guard with a surprise attack.
Listen carefully. Given Class A’s personalities, everyone except the student council president will definitely start running their mouths. When that happens, don’t hesitate—just jump them.
Just as Bern had predicted, Martin had been looking down on his opponent and making small talk even after the match started, and now he was paying the price. Azel, however, was no first-rate swordswoman; even with the surprise attack she still left him room to react.
Doesn’t matter if you’re not fast. Just drive straight at him with the intent to kill.
Azel sprinted the shortest possible path toward Martin. She wasn’t particularly quick, but the sheer ferocity of her charge made Martin flinch.
“Y-You dare launch a cowardly sneak attack on me?”
Martin thrust both hands toward Azel. A red magic circle formed in front of his palms and a seething fireball took shape.
A surprise attack makes the opponent panicky. Even if they have plenty of time, the mindset that they have to respond fast means they’ll throw out a relatively weak attack. Dodging is fine, but that’ll break your stance, so just take it head-on and make it count.
The fireball shot from the magic circle. Even as it raced toward her, Azel did not slow down.
“Have you lost your mind?!”
“Hup…!”
Azel raised her arm and blocked the incoming fireball. The skin of her forearm seared bright red, but she clenched her teeth and endured. In the end that fleeting pain failed to stop her advance.
Just tough it out once like your life depends on it. Believe that sweet victory is waiting on the other side of the pain.
Instead of dodging or countering, Azel took the hit with her whole body. Her eyes were those of a hunting tiger, locked solely on her prey.
“Y-You brainless bitch…!”
“Too late!”
Martin leapt backward, trying to cast his next spell, but he was already inside Azel’s reach. No matter how much of a Class A student he was, a pure mage who had only ever trained magic could never outrun a trained swordswoman’s body. He froze on the spot, face twisted in shock.
“It’s over!”
“Guhk!”
Crack—!
Azel’s training wooden sword dropped straight onto the crown of Martin’s head. With an impact that felt like his skull was splitting, Martin’s face contorted. His eyes rolled back from the single blow and he collapsed flat on the ground.
Finish it with flair.
Azel looked at the result she had produced by following Bern’s advice. Doing exactly as he said had handed her the victory—against a Class A student who normally looked down on them, no less. An indescribable joy surged up and she clenched her fist without realizing it.
“I-I won!”
“Did she really win? Azel?”
“It was real! We actually beat Class A!”
Waaaaaah—!!
A thunderous cheer erupted from Class C. Something that should never have happened had just happened. Even if the opponent had been careless, a win was still a win.
Meanwhile the Class A students were glaring at Class C with open displeasure……
“Hey, you lot—eyes down. You lost, so what the hell are you staring at?”
Bern, having finished his crash course, strode over to Class A and forced their heads down. All except one person: the student council president and former mentor of Kang Junhyuk—Irem.
“Teacher, we did not lose. That idiot lost because he got careless.”
“Oh? So as long as you don’t get careless, you can win?”
“Of course.”
“And if you still lose?”
“That will never happen, so the hypothetical is meaningless.”
Hearing Irem’s words, Bern let out a short snort of laughter. He pressed his index finger firmly against her forehead and shoved her back.
“Ugh!”
“That kind of thinking is exactly what we call carelessness, you idiot. In combat we have to squeeze out every possibility of defeat and plan for it. That’s how you prevent the unexpected. Even in a fight you’re sure of, keep a 0.1 percent chance of losing in mind. Otherwise you’ll die on the battlefield later.”
Even generals renowned for both might and intellect met empty deaths. Korea’s pride, Admiral Yi Sun-sin, had fallen to an enemy bullet. In a fantasy world it was just as easy to die to some random soldier’s stray magic on the battlefield. Bern knew that, which was why he scolded Irem so harshly.
“You’re so damn cheeky I can’t let it slide. I’m going to give you a special punishment.”
“P-Punishment?”
“Yeah. If you lose, I’ll make you tear your own hymen with your own sword.”
Leaving those words behind, Bern rose and strolled leisurely toward the Class C students. Irem stared after him, appalled that he could spit out something so terrifying so casually.
There’s no way I’ll lose.
Irem was one of those who would later become famous as a Sword Master.