Swish! Thump—!
"……."
The swordsmanship department cadets, who were today as well energetically doing iron rope jumping, either fell after being struck by the rope or were gasping for breath from lack of stamina, and they stared blankly at the training their instructor was performing.
No, wasn't that closer to torture than training?
It was an unrealistic sight, hard to believe even as they watched.
"…Hey, young master. Is it normal for knights to train like that?"
"Don't be sarcastic and just call me by my name, mercenary."
"Hmph, you're being sarcastic too, 'young master.'"
"You started it first."
A young man and a boy bickered.
Both were the same age, but with the mercenary disciple who had grown up rough and the noble descendant who had grown up relatively refined, the mercenary disciple Galand looked relatively older.
However, the noble descendant Arno Offen—though he envied Galand's manly appearance unlike his own childlike looks—tried not to show it and rebutted.
"…Don't ask the obvious. What knight would do such crazy training?"
"He's doing it right now."
"That's why I'm finding it hard to believe the entire time I'm watching."
"…I see."
The sight of him wedging an 80kg steel rebar into an iron club and swinging it without hesitation.
If he told others about it, no one would believe him.
It was that unbelievable of a sight.
Crack! Crrrack!
Every time the instructor swung the bar with the steel rebar wedged in, an ominous grotesque sound rose from his body.
It sounded like bones breaking, but listening closely, it wasn't that.
It was the sound of muscles tearing.
The scream of muscles.
"Ugh!"
Not from the instructor's mouth, but from theirs, groans emerged.
They had experienced that pain, so it came automatically.
One of the phenomena experienced while building systematic training to become strong from childhood.
The pain of muscles tearing.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it an injury, and it was absolutely horrific.
"That hurts. Kunta, Kunta hates pain."
The boy with an exotic appearance and awkward speech.
Kunta, who was a full head taller than the considerably tall Galand, shuddered.
Somehow clumsy-looking, but rather than clumsy, Kunta had an untainted purity, so his emotional expressions were all the more sincere.
He knew that the tearing sound right now, the act of muscles tearing, was pain beyond imagination.
'It's insanely painful… No, it can't be explained by just saying it hurts.'
It felt like the inside of his body was burning away, like his flesh was being minced with a knife.
When the tearing was severe, the intensity became even more extreme, and the pain was utterly unbearable.
…It definitely should be.
"Instructor, doesn't that hurt?"
"It hurts. But it's bearable."
"…Instructor, you're weird."
"Weird my foot. Any knight should be able to do this much."
"…That's a lie."
"Oh, you didn't fall for that."
A lie that even a clueless barbarian wouldn't fall for.
He was going to have him try it once, but unfortunately, Kunta distanced himself from him.
Of course, even so, he was still observing his training to the end.
Boom.
"Huu!"
The ground vibrating as he set down the iron club.
Setting the iron club down roughly somewhere, he lightly wiped his sweat-soaked body with a towel and immediately picked up his personal jump rope.
A 50kg iron rope that was 'slightly' heavier than the 10kg ones the cadets held.
The handles were dumbbells weighing 20kg each.
He wanted to make the rope heavier, but if he did, it would become too heavy to spin, so 10kg was the limit.
It was unfortunate.
However, just as one must use their gums if they lack teeth, he made do with a different weight sensation, and Ihan jumped the iron rope as it was.
Swish swish swish swish!
Slow but steady.
Filling the count one by one, his muscles rippled.
Sometimes, due to mistakes, it would smack his flesh with a snap, but Ihan ignored the pain and continued jumping.
Thud! Thuump! Thump—!
Every time he jumped, the floor shook, and people could barely even stand properly.
What is that?
As they stared blankly, unable to hide their shock.
"Are you not doing it? How long are you going to slack off?"
"I-Instructor, do you even have the leisure to talk in that state?"
"Even if I don't, I have to make the leisure to nag slackers."
"…We're not slacking."
"Anyone can say that with their mouth."
"Da…!"
The young master group thus started jumping rope again.
This damn iron rope!
Someday I'll definitely break it.
Swish! Swish!
With renewed hostility, they spun the iron rope at a much slower pace than Ihan.
At his easily spinning a rope far heavier than theirs, it was an endlessly distant speed.
"…How much stronger are you trying to get?"
"At least stronger than you, always."
"……."
The entire group of cadets found it even more terrifying because those words didn't seem like a lie.
* * *
Ihan wasn't embarrassed to train in front of others.
Rather, only making others do it and just watching was more uncomfortable than anything.
At the very least, one should be able to do what one makes others do, and wouldn't doing it more diligently, more extremely, serve as motivation for others?
'After this is over, I should wrestle with that guy Kunta.'
That guy is something else.
At least in barehanded fighting, he was more skilled than anyone.
Probably the strongest in barehanded combat among the cadets.
That's why it's even better.
He becomes a practice partner for the martial arts skills he needed anyway.
Although Ihan's win rate was higher, this was because he surpassed him in raw strength; the completion level of techniques was actually higher for Kunta.
Besides this, there was Arno for swordsmanship sparring.
Galand for spear techniques.
He also wanted to clash with that guy Roen, but.
'That guy, he's strangely avoiding me.'
Probably avoiding him because he'd reveal his true heart if they clashed.
Strange guy.
'Well, I roughly understand what he's worried about.'
More than anything, there was a [guess], so it was hard to force the issue.
An incurable disease unique to war returnees.
He could feel that from the guy.
'…A returner must have their own hardships as a returner.'
Ihan didn't want to forcibly touch upon that.
Because it was a disease that wasn't someone else's problem.
Then.
"I-Instructor."
"…Hm? Do you have something to say, 2nd chick cadet?"
"It's Irene, Instructor. No, more than that, why am I 2nd? Not 1st!"
She argued about why she wasn't 1st, even though they were next-door neighbors and she was the first among the cadets to become acquainted with him.
He couldn't say he naturally called her 2nd because she was surveillance target number 2, so he needed a proper excuse.
"That's because who told you to fail physical fitness so often? Originally you should be the youngest chick, but since we have a prior relationship, I made you 2nd. So be grateful."
He decided to be brazen about it.
"…Fact violence is wrong, Instructor."
"What's wrong and too much is your stamina, Cadet Irene."
"Hing…."
Irene Windler.
The only mage cadet in the swordsmanship department.
When he first saw her, countless male cadets were too busy blushing and avoiding her.
She had beauty like that of a fairy.
Long hair like spun gold and eyes like embedded sapphires.
Skin as white and flawless as white porcelain.
It could be compared to the beauty of the mystical race of fairies.
Also, she was a mage possessing a special mystique.
It was enough to steal the hearts of the male cadets in one fell swoop.
…But now that things had come to this.
'It's not easy for motor nerves to be that poor.'
Everyone now looked at her with worry rather than blushing.
Like looking at a sunfish that might die at any moment.
'It was shocking, indeed.'
Even noble ladies with limbs as thin as twigs did a hundred when they first jumped rope and gasped for breath, but Irene was different.
'Is it human to collapse after doing 3?'
She jumped rope a whole '3 times,' sweated like rain, and gasped for breath.
It wasn't even a heavy jump rope.
It was a really light rope.
Yet she jumped rope like a marionette.
How could arms and legs all move separately?
At that level, the first doubt was whether there was some defect in her body.
So, wondering if she might have a hidden illness, he showed her to the recovery room priest, and the priest spoke with an expression hard to believe.
-Um, it just seems like she's seriously lacking stamina? What on earth? How did you live your daily life to have so little stamina? Even for a mage, you should have basic muscle strength, but how could this be….
…When he listened later, he heard that Irene used magic in all her daily life.
Because her talent was so overflowing, she could use the basic magic [Telekinesis] as naturally as her own hands and feet.
-Since when did you live like that?
-W-Well, since I could use magic?
-Since when is that?
-…Twelve.
-…….
Having lived like a patient lying in bed for a full 7 years, it was natural for her stamina to be weaker than a 3-month-old baby.
She was literally a chick cadet who was only a joke, and her body was as weak as an actual chick.
She was truly number 1.
…From the bottom.
"Huu, Cadet Irene, who is weaker than our chicks. Is your dietary improvement going well lately?"
"J-Just like you said, I'm eating a lot of meat and vegetables."
"Right, a cadet shouldn't be picky about health right now and should just eat everything. You have to gain weight first before you can do anything. Make sure to eat at least five meals a day."
"…Yees."
"Understand? It's the realm of survival. Survival! If you want to live, eat more!"
"……Yees."
Unconfident answers.
Anxious, so anxious.
Sure enough.
"Are you living while refraining from magic as much as possible?"
"T-That's…"
"…At least when coming to school, please don't use magic. I'm saying this for your sake."
"……Yees."
…When will this chick become stronger than a chicken?
No, before that, will a day come when she even reaches human-level stamina?
'It wasn't for nothing that the heroine of Ropan novels would fall over at the slightest touch; with a body this feeble, of course they'd get injured all the time.'
A characteristic of Ropan heroines.
Falling over at the slightest touch, getting injured at the slightest touch, and ultimately being sickly and bedridden.
But there's always a reason for being weak.
Ihan cast a pitying gaze, and Irene felt a prickle of shame.
Just out of sheer embarrassment.
[It's a relief you know shame, Arin. I'm still ashamed of you though.]
'Please shut up, you bitch! I know I'm embarrassed too!'
She only used magic because it was so convenient, but who would have known she'd weaken to patient level?
In a way, choosing the swordsmanship department lecture was a godsend.
If she hadn't, she would have become a sunfish that would die just from stepping on gravel someday.
'Right now I can at least do 10 jump ropes!'
[…How proud.]
The ghost girl's fierce nagging.
Irene was feeling such shame and trying to shake her head while desperately keeping her flushed face when he asked.
"But why did you speak to me? Do you have something to say?"
"Ah, right!"
She hastily opened her mouth, startled, saying she had lost her original purpose because of the trivial chatter.
"I-It's nothing much, Instructor. It seems like a disruptor will come to today's class. That's why I wanted to apologize in advance…."
"A disruptor, hmm, are you perhaps talking about 'that'?"
"…Yes?"
"I mean that, that."
"……."
Irene casually turned her head.
There was the person Ihan had called like some trivial scrap, and Irene, without realizing it.
"Ah! Right, that."
Ended up calling the magic department professor, Odwal Bernard, 'that.'