Crack! Crack!
Climbing a cliff was commonly understood as an act of finding footholds and gripping with hands and feet. Given that climbing crevices with hands and feet alone was already a daunting task, this wasn't just common sense—it was simply natural.
But his method of climbing was different from others. No, it was a method completely divorced from common sense.
Thrust!
"Haa! Haaah!"
Jamming his hands and feet in by force.
It wasn't as if the cliff was some sand mountain, yet whenever he climbed, he would relentlessly kick the cliff to create footholds and drive his blade-hand into the rock to create handholds.
And that with bare feet and bare hands.
Without any equipment, he pushed forward in a brute manner, yet watching him, the term that came to mind wasn't "brutish" but "steadfast."
He simply looked upward with true steadfastness, and when he finally climbed the entire cliff.
"Haa...! Haaaa!"
He breathed roughly and sprawled out spread-eagle.
His entire body was drenched in sweat, and there were many scrape marks on his feet, hands, and skin.
This was evidence of how many times he had nearly slipped while climbing, and how perilous his cliff ascent had been.
But people probably didn't know. That he had climbed the cliff over five times, and even fell once.
It was practically miraculous he was alive, but the man's inexplicable recovery ability and the body he had worked to harden without resting a single day must have embraced him.
The man, Lee Han, had completely exhausted his stamina and didn't feel the slightest desire to move.
Climbing a cliff—he realized anew was a far more grueling training than expected.
With each ascent, not only were the muscles of his entire body engaged, but stamina and mental fortitude were consumed absurdly as well.
A single moment of carelessness invited disaster, and it wouldn't be strange to get injured at any time.
This wasn't for nothing that climbing cliffs required numerous equipment.
Therefore, Lee Han's actions were reckless bravado.
To others, it would be no different from a death-seeking frenzy.
But Lee Han believed that when he pushed past his limits like this, his body would grow a bit more.
Well, the effects weren't particularly visible yet. But if this was repeatedly honed, the results would surely emerge someday.
That's what effort was.
"...Let's do the next one."
He could have easily slept for a bit, but Lee Han chose to move instead of sleeping.
After lightly taking in some nutrients, immediately.
Thud! Thuuud!
He began practicing "techniques."
Simple techniques he had roughly learned by watching others in the knight order.
They were primarily joint-lock techniques similar to submissions.
He hadn't practiced them much normally, but at this moment, Lee Han dove into joint-lock practice.
The practice target was a human-shaped dummy filled with sand.
Using a person as a target would be the best practice method, but since there was none, he had to make do with this.
In this manner, he practiced joint locks and tackles, and also tied ropes to dead trees to practice sacrifice throws as in judo.
Judo he had learned during his previous life as a non-commissioned officer.
He hadn't used it much until now, but if he trained this too, it would come in handy someday.
Besides this, he also needed to practice sword and spear techniques, axe work, and throwing daggers.
Even if he couldn't freely wield over ten weapons like other knights, he had to practice everything he could.
'24 hours in a day isn't enough, seriously.'
Lee Han grumbled that the day was too short, but he silently and steadily went about doing what he could.
It wasn't quite a great awakening, but last night's events were enough to ignite a fire in the man's chest. And Lee Han harbored a deadly resolve in his heart.
Baltar—aside from that old man, the number of bastards he had to defeat had multiplied.
Whoosh!
The sound of his resolve cutting through the air grew ever thicker around his body.
*
...And Lee Han was late.
It was the first day of class.
*
"Did you hear? That person was late on the very first day and got called to the Dean's office again."
"He did that at the entrance ceremony too, but he's truly unprecedented in many ways."
"His skills looked impressive though."
"Skills can be impressive, but his behavior is poor and there are no signs he learned etiquette. He's not a knight but merely a mercenary, isn't he?"
"...It could be that he was demoted because of that. He wouldn't be pleasing in the eyes of his superiors."
"That makes sense."
The Academy was vast.
But at the same time, it was also narrow.
As they were still active students in many ways, they tended to move around in groups.
And what this meant was that rumors spread easily, and there were no secrets.
Even what happened this morning would spread within 10 minutes.
"...Is that instructor really going to be okay?"
"Who knows."
The students of the Swordsmanship Department sighed with evident worry.
Because the instructor who would teach them starting this year was deeply unsettling.
In the training ground where about 80 students had gathered, a commotion mixed with unease hung in the air.
There were 2nd and 3rd year students as well, but most of them didn't come to class.
From the 2nd and 3rd year onward, rather than attending the Swordsmanship Department, most tried to resolve everything through personal training at their family estates.
At most, they would only slip in and appear when a swordsmanship tournament was scheduled.
In other words, this also meant that even with only 1st year students gathered, there were as many as 80.
Among them, there were some at the level of trainee knights who had learned aura techniques, and there were also those who would be embarrassed to call themselves swordsmen.
This was especially true for those of commoner origin, who had only learned the basics roughly at places like local swordsmanship academies.
No, it was questionable whether even that could be called learning the basics.
But these people were the better ones; ironically, there were quite many who came not for swordsmanship or knighthood, but simply to build connections with those who might become future knights.
"But, I didn't expect him to come to class."
"Right? It would be better for him to spend his time on personal training."
However, this year was somewhat of a bumper crop.
No matter how many there were, unlike the usual case where most were empty husks, this year had some heavy hitters mixed in.
First, the overwhelming presence among this year's incoming students.
Young Lord Roen.
One of the likely candidates for the next Grand Duke, said to not lose even when fighting a formal knight.
But there were many other formidable figures as well.
The disciple of the great mercenary called the head of the Mercenary Federation, or the Mercenary King, or the eldest son of the Oppen family, a prestigious swordsmanship house.
Also, the descendant of barbarians called the mysterious races or savage warriors said to live in deserts, grasslands, and jungles.
And finally, those who used the mystical power called mana upon establishing a spell world.
......A magician, for instance.
"...Why is she here?"
"Most of the Magic Department's classes are voluntary, so she probably came here. Maybe to fill credits. Or she came to make acquaintances like the others."
"I-Is that so?"
"Unusual behavior for a magician."
"I agree."
The fairy-like beautiful genius sorceress.
People gave Irene Windler glances mixed with curiosity.
It was rare for a magician to be in a Swordsmanship Department class, after all.
"...Ugh."
And she, Irene Windler, seemed extremely uncomfortable with this attention, fidgeting nervously.
It appeared she too found this place quite awkward.
'D-Did I sign up for nothing?'
Irene Windler, even after registering herself, had wondered if this was right.
But this was unavoidable.
It wasn't because of the ghost chattering in her mind; this time, it was entirely because she had made a mistake during the course registration period.
'I didn't know there would be so few classes left...'
[Irin is an idiot. That's why I told you to do it early.]
'Shut up! If you think about it, I didn't have enough time because I was looking for a house!'
[It's because your视野 is narrow, idiot Irin.]
'Do you think I'll get shorter if you keep saying that!'
She fought with the ghost several times a day, and today was no different, but inwardly she felt relieved.
At least she'd be taking a class from an instructor she knew.
'H-He might unexpectedly take care of me.'
They were neighbors, and hadn't they even shared meals?
Irene harbored an inner expectation that things would go well.
At that moment.
"Ah, everyone was here."
He finally appeared in the training ground, and Irene was about to greet him with a delighted expression the moment she heard his voice...
"...Huh?"
—but upon seeing him, including Irene, the rest of the students blinked in confusion.
That was understandable.
"Chair."
"Y-Yes!"
"Lower your voice. It's loud."
"Y-Yes, understood."
"Don't tremble in your voice. Anyone seeing this would think I'm eating you alive."
"...Yes."
"That's a bit better. Huh? Why is this chair so low!!"
"Eek! I-I'm sorry!"
"If you're sorry, does your Academy life end?"
"......"
"Just kidding."
"......"
...Since when did the son of a Count's house transfer to being a servant?
Damian Pollet.
The immature young master who had sparked the incident at yesterday's entrance ceremony was attending to him.
...His face was puffed up like a bloated ravioli, looking quite unsightly.
The students blinked.
*
*
*
Lee Han had once again returned from being scolded by the Dean against his will today.
He had been late starting from the morning meeting time, so being scolded wasn't strange.
'...How many times has it been this time around?'
In his previous life, he had never even visited the principal's office, but strangely in this life, he kept going in and out of the Dean's office.
Well, he had brought it upon himself, so he couldn't feel wronged, but he did feel something like guilt, wondering if he was really such an irresponsible person.
Now when he saw the Dean's face, the first thing he felt was embarrassment.
However.
"A-Are you well, Sir..."
"......"
Not feeling sorry at all.
Seeing the bloated dumpling—no, ravioli guy—acknowledge him, Lee Han's first thought was that his morning was already ruined.
This bastard, appearing before me of all places!
"Did you come wanting to get slapped with a glove again?"
Lee Han half-closed his eyes and brushed his ungloved hand.
He thought about tossing a copper coin this time around.
But.
Thump!
"P-Please take me as your retainer! I-I will become your squire!"
"...What?"
This brazen fellow knelt down and started spouting insane nonsense about being accepted as a squire.
'A squire—as far as I know, that may be called a squire in name, but...'
...wasn't it essentially a declaration of giving up one's body to become a slave?
Sliide.
Lee Han quietly stepped back to slip away from the fellow.
Along with the contempt that this guy had truly garbage tastes.