The moment Baltar Grace's name was mentioned, composure was entirely forgotten, and excitement was evident on everyone's faces.
An opportunity to be taught by the pinnacle of the kingdom's knights.
No, even if they couldn't receive his teachings, simply meeting him face-to-face would hold incalculable value.
That was how immense Baltar's presence was.
"…You're not lying, are you?"
It was a question from one of the cadets, and it couldn't help but be a discourteous one.
The knight had staked the honor of his own knight order on it, so common sense dictated he wouldn't violate this.
"Of course not."
And the instructor nodded without even a fraction of a second's hesitation.
Declaring that he had not spoken a lie.
At that, half of the swordsmanship department cadets awakened their greed along with a dry swallow.
'Could I win against an active-duty knight?'
'Winning properly is impossible. But if I just wear down their stamina first, then if I engage... maybe...!'
'I need to go strategically, strategically.'
The cadets racked their brains and devised strategies.
Well, honestly, it was dubious to even call them strategies—ideas that even children could easily come up with—but how could greenhorns who lacked the ability to even analyze their opponent's strategies conjure up extraordinary strategies to defeat an active-duty knight?
So they weren't particularly fools.
They were simply naive.
And the most naive among them was—
"Kunta, steps forward."
A man with clumsy pronunciation stepped forward.
A warrior from the jungle, grasslands, and desert who was not yet familiar with the continental common language revealed himself.
He was a warrior reminiscent of a handsome black panther, and he was none other than a valiant warrior of the Barbarians, renowned as a mystic tribe.
"I am Kunta, son of Urba, great warrior serving the white-feathered serpent."
Uung.
"I request... a duel!"
The S-shaped single-edged blade reflected the sunlight, flashing coldly.
Also known as a sickle-sword, it was a Kopesh, called by various names such as scythe sword.
It was a difficult weapon to use, but once mastered, it would undoubtedly be a tricky sword to face.
Yet that sword produced a resonance phenomenon.
It wasn't a sword cry. But it was the tremor that occurs right before the sword cry phenomenon happens.
It revealed how familiar he was with the sword, proving he was a considerable expert.
Seeing this, the cadets realized that this barbarian warrior was by no means beneath them.
No, he was infinitely above them.
Realizing this, the cadets laughed despite their frustration.
'With that level, the instructor would also find it troublesome to deal with him.'
'Good!'
The cadets envied the barbarian warrior while hoping he would hold back the instructor as much as possible.
Even if it was for their own purposes...!
Kwaaang!!
Thud—!
...The next moment, Kunta's body was flipped and slammed into the ground.
"???"
...Kunta blinked, not even recognizing the fact that he had lost.
"What? What happened!?"
"…I, I didn't see anything…."
It was such a series of events that occurred in the blink of an eye, so no one had seen it properly.
A commotion broke out, and the instructor picked up Kunta, who was still sprawled on the ground.
Huljuk!
…Could a person be lifted that lightly? And someone of such a large build at that?
"Your stance was good. Same with your swordsmanship, but because of your complacent stance, you lost without even having a chance to react. What are you doing being careless?"
"…Kunta, doesn't do such things as being careless."
"Sure you don't. You clearly let your guard down because I'm smaller than you at a glance."
"……I was told not to bully those smaller and frailer than me."
"That's what being careless means, idiot."
Ttak!
The instructor's finger lightly flicked and struck Kunta's forehead, and Kunta fell backward with a thud.
A simple flick had knocked down a 2-meter hulking figure.
"Ugh!"
"Don't be careless from now on. With that attitude, you'll definitely die someday."
"……I'll remember, instructor. But what's the name of the technique you used on me? It's a martial art I've never seen before."
"It's a shoulder throw."
"Hmm, I'll remember that."
Kunta accepted his defeat so obediently and trudged back to his spot.
It was a humiliating defeat, but he didn't seem to take it to heart.
And then—
"So, who's next?"
—…….
"Come out quickly. The sun's going to set."
…The cadets fell silent.
* * *
Honestly speaking, what Ihan had done wasn't much.
He simply slipped into the opponent's embrace, and in that state, struck the wrist with a palm heel (掌底).
The so-called palm strike.
Using a light wrist snap to deliver a shock, draining the wrist of strength and disarming the sword while simultaneously hoisting them over the shoulder and slamming them down.
It was truly a very simple principle.
Of course, he had imitated something similar to the Internal Heavy Hand Technique that Baltar had shown the previous day within the palm strike, but it was so embarrassingly and infinitely crude in its completion that it was merely a simple technique that could be blocked if one wanted to.
However, that simple technique—
"Kuhak!?"
"What good is a swordsman with such weak arm strength?"
The problem was that they were helplessly falling for it.
16 consecutive wins.
That was the win rate Ihan had achieved, and that many people were playing on the floor.
Rather than striking techniques, he achieved victory solely through throwing techniques and joint-locking methods.
Practicing this much against people, he could feel his skills gradually improving.
'But aren't these bastards too weak?'
Ihan looked at them with pathetic eyes.
Except for Kunta, his first opponent, there wasn't a single interesting challenger.
They were merely practice partners slightly better than ugly rag dolls.
If the cadets' level was only this much, Ihan had nothing but dissatisfaction.
'Only my standards have risen for nothing.'
While fighting that guy called拉克 or whatever yesterday, he had newly realized that there were many skilled knights besides Baltar, but looking at these academy cadets now, it was disappointing.
It wasn't because he was freakishly strong.
Rather—
'These bastards, most of them have poor foundations.'
How is it that so few of them have proper fundamentals?
Would you believe that among the sixteen he had faced so far, only two had proper foundations?
'Hmm, this is quite serious.'
He heard they were all supposed to be elites, so why are they all like this?
It was while he was having such thoughts.
"…Yes, this is it."
The moment another 'two people' stood before him, Ihan's expression finally relaxed.
"I am Arno, Arno de Offen."
"I'm called Garand, instructor."
"…The two of you."
"Is there a problem?"
"No, it doesn't matter. I'm rather glad that people who actually use their heads have finally appeared."
He had never said he wanted 1-on-1s.
He had told them all to come at him.
So these guys were smart.
Because they had understood his intent.
Sreong.
A boy wielding dual swords and a young man wielding a spear.
Both were considerable experts, around the same level as Kunta, his very first opponent.
However, if there was a difference from Kunta, it was that far from being careless, they showed signs of going all out from the very start, so there was no concern of them being caught off guard like fools.
'After weeding out the weak ones, the named ones finally come out.'
He knew who both of them were.
Even for someone like him who had no interest in cadets, they were famous enough that he had at least heard rumors about them.
The eldest son of the Offen family, that prestigious sword noble house famous for producing generals of the military for generations, and in addition, producing countless swordsmen (劍豪), and the disciple of a great mercenary who was the commander of the legendary mercenary group "Wolves of the Wasteland," also known by another name as the Mercenary King.
Honestly, both of them, just like Kunta, were not at a level to be entering the academy.
Rather, they should be taking the knight order entrance exam right away.
"Why did you enroll here? Did you come to play house?"
"I came because I wanted to duel Young Lord Rohen. Unexpectedly, I'm able to duel someone like you, instructor, so I'm quite satisfied."
"I came to try becoming a knight. Figured it'd be better than mercenary work. But rather than becoming a knight right away, I thought enjoying my youth a bit might not be bad, so I enrolled."
"…You're both weirdos."
"Are you one to talk, instructor?"
"That's not for you to say."
Now that somewhat satisfactory guys were starting to appear, Ihan smiled with pleasure and picked up a wooden sword for the first time instead of fighting bare-handed.
Even though he was facing people wielding a real sword and spear with a wooden sword, considering he had slammed weapon-wielding crowds to the dirt bare-handed so far, it showed he was being somewhat serious.
It also meant he highly evaluated their skills.
"Thank you, instructor."
" Aren't you going to use a real sword?"
"I'd like to, but I can't kill cadets, can I?"
"……."
"…He's as scary as our old man."
Huwook!
There was no further conversation.
Instead, Arno swung his sword.
In his left hand, a military greatsword that was short in length but wide in breadth, and in his right hand, a greatsword slightly longer than the one in his left.
Generally, wielding two swords was nothing more than a fool's errand, but he wielded dual swords freely, showing a level of mastery that made one imagine just how much blood-shedding practice he must have undergone.
Huwook! Huwoong—!
While unfolding swordsmanship with one hand, the other hand was watching for an opportunity like a scorpion's stinger.
And the other one, Garand's spear that approached without hesitation, was also no ordinary spear.
Kwajik!
It looked heavy just from its appearance, and it was a massive spear with a blade attached alongside the spearhead.
Pole arm. As the oddly shaped spear resembling the Eastern Fangtian Hua Ji was swung, it exuded an aura as if it would bisect a person.
The offense and defense unfolded in an instant.
Every time the sound of 'Chaeng' rang out, sparks flew, and bone-chilling cracking sounds erupted.
Every time the two blades flashed, trajectories were drawn, and Garand's strikes, effortlessly wielding the massive spear, contained a ferocity that would shatter even rocks.
Paaang!
Even if he was essentially an active-duty knight, receiving the attacks of two people wouldn't be easy.
That was why—
"Huuuuu…!"
It was also unbelievable that those two would tire first.
Drenched in sweat before they knew it, they looked at Ihan as if he were a creature other than human.
What is this weight?
Since when was breathing such a painful thing?
"…Instructor, I know it's a discourteous question, but are you perhaps human?"
"Ha, I'm at a loss for words."
Arno and Garand, the two cadets, were so dumbfounded that they even asked a foolish question.
And for good reason, look at this.
The two prideful individuals had swallowed their pride and displayed teamwork.
The son of a prestigious family and the disciple of a mercenary.
Two men who were practically opposites were struggling this hard trying to defeat him.
"I am human. I'm just a bit stronger than you guys."
…He had not retreated a single step.
Not only were each and every strike they put forth completely blocked, but when they tried to push with force, they were instead overpowered and forced to retreat as if they would fall backward.
Also, although the opponent was clearly fighting with a wooden sword, far from breaking, the wooden sword was ringing as if their weapons would shatter.
The screams vomited by their weapons made their wrists and arms tingle, and they looked at their instructor with dizzy eyes.
Ihan—
"Your spirit is a bit weak. Perhaps because you're not fully ripe yet, there are faint-hearted aspects. It'd be good to fix only that part."
"…Are you saying we're faint-hearted?"
"I'm saying your spirit is weak."
"I don't believe we're lacking in that regard."
"No. To say your spirit is strong—"
It needs to be at least this much.
Huuwooong!
As if to demonstrate rather than explain, he inhaled.
With all his might.
Gathering breath with full force as if testing the limits of his lung capacity.
"Hahp━!"
He let out a thunderous shout.
However, no one heard that shout properly.
Jjiritjjirit!
It was merely a shout.
It wasn't that loud of a voice.
He had simply let out a thunderous version of the shout anyone could do.
Yet those who heard that thunderous shout, especially the faint-hearted, collapsed to the ground.
"Kkeugh…!?"
"Kuhak!"
Their legs lost strength before the spirit he exuded.
Was that all? Some nearly soiled themselves.
A beast's roar.
Arno and Garand's bodies stiffened from the thunderous shout that such an expression was appropriate for.
Even though they tried to move, they couldn't.
"…Fear?"
Irene, who was somewhat of a mage, defined this phenomenon.
There were times when large magical beasts could knock people unconscious with their presence alone.
It was the same principle as a rabbit forcibly going into panic before a bear.
What Ihan was displaying now was the same.
"It's called Lion's Roar (獅子吼). If you translate it directly, it'd be something like a lion's roar."
"……."
"Understand? This is what spirit is. The resolve to definitely bite, overwhelm, and subdue the opponent must be properly established. And if you can overcome this level of spirit, you can make even me step back. But you guys lack this. It's probably because you've grown up in a greenhouse; if you experience more actual combat and accumulate experience, your spirit will ripen someday. In the end, time will solve it."
"…Are you really human?"
They voiced their doubts again even while receiving Ihan's teaching.
Because this spirit didn't seem like something that would come with effort and accumulated experience.
They just collapsed right there.
Thud!
Even though they tried to endure, it was too hard to endure.
Ihan smiled at them as they collapsed like that, making a refreshed expression.
As if his body had finally warmed up.
And then—
"Come out."
"……."
"It seems the others have no intention of coming at me anymore, but you seem different, so I'm saying this. Well, you don't have to."
Who was he saying this to?
It was a remark like a provocation, and fortunately, the target of his provocation responded as if they had been waiting.
Tobeok.
"—That won't do. I'm probably the one who was looking forward to this the most among everyone here."
A nobleman suited with black hair drew his sword and stood before him, and Ihan smiled, saying it seemed like it would finally be a bit fun.
Rohen.
His suspected regressor, his number one surveillance target, and someone Ihan inwardly—
'A big one has come.'
It was undoubtedly the biggest event he had most looked forward to today.