Day 20.
It had already been 20 days since the Swordsmanship Department cadets climbed Vulkan.
It also meant that 20 days had passed since the cadets began their truly life-threatening training.
Risking their lives.
Anyone hearing it might think it an exaggerated expression, but those who had seen their training from beginning to end would not doubt those words.
Their training was exactly that harsh and desperate.
"Ughhhh!"
"Climb! I have to climb! If I fall here, I'll die...!"
When their training passed the one-week mark, they climbed a cliff for the first time in their lives.
They had wondered why the PT exercises unusually ended within two hours, but it turned out they finished early just to climb this.
They had to struggle to climb the cliff boasting a dizzying height, and they had to keep every sense in their body on high alert.
A height where a slight misstep would mean death or becoming crippled.
They did not want to die yet, so they gave it their all—no, they climbed the cliff desperately, shedding tears and blood.
In truth, only the three assistant instructors and Loen managed to climb this cliff to the very top.
The rest fell midway, only surviving unharmed thanks to the telekinesis of Irene Windler, who was waiting at the bottom of the cliff.
That was the result of their first cliff climbing, and it took another four days for everyone to succeed in climbing it.
However, after everyone had climbed it.
Thud.
"From now on, you will wear these bags on your backs when climbing the cliff."
"………."
...The instructor was surely a demon.
Otherwise, how could he tell them to climb the cliff wearing sandbags?
However, the reason they couldn't bring themselves to object was partly because they had been conditioned over time not to disobey his orders, but also...
"The instructor will demonstrate first. Make sure to follow along well."
Because when they wore 10kg sandbags, that guy was climbing the cliff wearing a 100kg sandbag.
And after climbing up in that state, he would come back down the cliff and repeat the climb with them, so how could they voice any complaints?
There was no one among the sprout cadets who hadn't received his help.
Like that, another 9 days.
Only then did they succeed in climbing on their own while wearing the sandbags.
"-You all did well. You can gradually stop doing the calisthenics now. It seems you've grasped how to squeeze out your muscle strength even without the exercises."
Hearing praise only now, after 20 days had passed like this, they felt like they might burst into tears.
It wasn't moving because they wouldn't hear that detestable, hateful whistle sound anymore.
It was because he had acknowledged them.
That alone was enough reason to shed tears, and anyone who had trained during this time would empathize.
It was only natural; the instructor had always trained with them.
No matter how terrible the training was, he had never just stood by.
He always stayed with them until the end. He always worked 10 times harder than them.
'He kept helping us, too.'
'He always went down the mountain to bring us food.'
'He even brought us substitute lecture reports..., wait, am I not grateful for this?'
'...There's no help we haven't received.'
They learned what a role model was, and why one could hold respect for another.
And he was indeed a great man worthy of respect.
At least to them.
Now, 20 days having passed like that.
Even if there was some dissatisfaction, at least no one harbored blame or hatred toward him.
How could they resent him when he ruled them not by oppressing them with violence, but by setting an example?
They were not beasts.
"From now on, except for the morning runs, you will all manage your basic physical training on your own. Even if the instructor doesn't tell you, you should all be able to do it yourselves now."
"I-Is that true?"
"Why would I lie? I've sufficiently trained you in the conditioning methods, so now you have to do it on your own. Whether you do it voluntarily or not will determine your future."
"……."
"I hope you won't become lazy. Don't make me feel ashamed that I taught you."
"……."
Stomp!
-Ahhh!!!
They shouted powerfully.
With all their hearts.
"Compared to 20 days ago, their physical specs have definitely developed incredibly."
"Even people who know those guys would have a hard time believing it, they'd wonder if they're even the same people?"
Those were the impressions voiced by Arno and Garand.
20 days ago, they were at best low-tier mercenary level.
They were living mayfly lives, not knowing when they would die.
But now.
They were no longer at the level of low-tier mercenaries.
"Mid-tier, no, if they do well, they seem like they could be upper-mid-tier mercenaries."
It wasn't just their physical level; their aura was extraordinary.
The level of veteran mercenaries.
And not compared to just any average mercenary, but to mercenaries belonging to the legendary mercenary band, the Wolves of the Wasteland, so one could tell how high Garand's evaluation was.
"It seems like they'd put up a good fight against the disciples of noble houses, too."
The young lord of the Oppen family, the swordsmanship house with the most disciples in the kingdom, shared the same impression.
Arno seriously considered introducing Ihan's lessons if he returned to his family.
At that moment.
"Still, they're not at the level where they can catch a bear barehanded yet."
"...Kunta's standards are a bit strange."
"Our tribe's kids have to catch a bear, an alligator, or a monster to be acknowledged as warriors. And if they reach warrior level, they aren't afraid of shamans. But the sprouts aren't at that level yet. If they fight a shaman now, they still can't win. The sprouts are still weak."
"......Umm."
Hearing his impression, which was clumsy but roughly understandable, both of them nodded their heads.
They understood that the 'shaman' he spoke of referred to mages, and it was also a declaration that 20 days of conditioning was still not enough.
However,
"We just need to fill in those shortcomings from now on."
That was the confident answer from Ihan, who had been listening to everything, and the people looked at him with expressions of peaked anticipation.
"Chick Number 2."
"Yes, sir!"
"Bring that over."
"Understood."
Irene Windler complied with Ihan's command as if familiar with it.
Perhaps because they had become completely in sync while working together as assistant instructors, she understood what to bring without him specifying it.
It was a point Irene Windler secretly took pride in.
Thud.
Instantly, the ground shook.
A considerable number of trees.
They were dead or rotting trees that had been uprooted or cut down and gathered together.
Thump.
"You'll know when you touch them later, but these trees are quite hard. They may be dead and rotting, but they grew enduring the harsh environment of Vulkan, so it would be strange if they weren't sturdy."
Even without touching them, the hardness of the trees could be guessed from their appearance.
Their immense size was one thing, but a peculiar energy could also be felt.
If they were this hard even as dead trees, how hard must the still-living trees of Vulkan be?
They couldn't help but feel awe once more at the mystery of the mana harbored by Vulkan.
"Well, don't be intimidated. I didn't show you this to dishearten you. But you need to know. The species called spellcasters is a species that can move even these heavy trees all by themselves."
"!!?!"
It wasn't just because he was lazy that he had Irene Windler move the trees.
He was showing them.
What those who possessed the mystery called mana, those who held the incomprehensible power of the Spell World, were capable of doing.
"It must weigh at least 1.5 tons. In that sense, Chick Number 2. Was it easy lifting this?"
"W-Well, it was a bit tricky, you know? Telekinesis is like, I have to wrap my mana around the entire tree itself to lift it."
"How many of these trees could you lift?"
"If I set my mind to it, around four trees?"
"Hmm, I see."
Irene speaking nonsense calmly, and Ihan accepting it as natural.
The cadets felt a chill down their spines at the nonchalant conversation between the two.
To be able to lift four trees at will.
Approximately 6 tons.
To be able to manipulate such a massive weight at will....
They reaffirmed that it wasn't for nothing that mages were called objects of fear.
A one-man army.
Even alone, they were people who could fully sway the tide of a battlefield.
However,
"Don't cower, you brats."
Ihan scolded them calmly.
A rebuke saying that their training so far would go to waste.
Only then did the cadets raise their heads, and they could take in the instructor's vivid and confident smile.
"Right, it must have felt more unreasonable than you thought. They can manipulate that much mass at will, and they wield unexpected mystical powers too. Chick Number 2, can you handle flames by any chance?"
"Umm, it's not my specialty. I built my Spell World around water and wind attributes, so..."
It was an astonishing statement.
If a mage had been present, they would have turned pale with shock.
Because most mages only possessed one attribute, and they wagered everything on that as their main focus.
Yet she claimed to possess both attributes.
Double.
An astonishing trait that only an Archmage might possess.
However, the magic-hater who had no interest in how great mages were, with a bored face,
"Enough with the trivia, can you handle it or not?"
He only asked for the conclusion.
"I-It'll take some time, but I can handle it, I suppose?"
"Then from now on, apply fire mana to that tree and throw it at me with all your might."
"...Excuse me?"
"Don't ask again. Hurry up."
"......Yes."
She still visibly hesitated, but she followed his orders.
Whoooosh!
Instantly, the levitating tree was engulfed in flames.
Irene Windler.
A mage known as the genius of the century.
It was evaluated that a talent like hers would not appear within the next 100 years.
It was a talent worthy of representing a century, and it was a passage that showed why she received so much attention.
And now, a mage with such talent poured her mana into chanting a fire magic spell.
It was threatening.
The hot firepower of the fire was like that too, but the flames blazing due to mana had a density unlike any other.
At this very moment, the burning log was no longer just a log on fire, but had become a giant spear harboring the mana of fire.
It was no exaggeration to call it a [Siege Weapon].
Yet, this weapon...
"Y-You really want me to throw it?"
"None of that nonsense, throw it with all your might."
"...Gulp."
Irene Windler swallowed dry saliva and ended up following those words.
With truly all her strength.
She activated her telekinesis containing all the mana she possessed, and its power was now so massive it was irreversible.
Whoooosh!!
Could seeing the wood grain be this terrifying?
It was a pressure as if it would pierce through a massive great bell, not a bell rung to ring in the New Year.
However, even against the giant spear of flames flying straight at him, Ihan did not show a single inch of retreat.
He only looked forward, and slowly.
"A trained human body is sturdy. But most people don't know how to use the strength their sturdy bodies possess."
Crunch!
Ihan's foot dug strongly into the ground and fixed itself.
As if declaring he wouldn't show the slightest retreat.
"However, depending on how the power flows, and how you control and apply that power, even this is possible."
Ihan fluidly rotated his body and unleashed a punch.
A straight punch.
Clean and organized, exemplary but more solid than any other posture.
Whoosh!
Rotation built from his body, and a vortex formed around him.
He extends his fist.
One might wonder how such a simple act could be so majestic, and the next moment.
Kwaaang!!
The straight punch and the giant spear collided.
Common sense dictated that a human body flying away or being torn apart would be in accordance with the laws of physics.
However.
Crrrack-!
...What broke was not the human made of flesh and blood, but the incredibly hard wood.
"I-It split in half?"
"……."
"Is this a dream..."
They were confident no one had blinked, yet they couldn't believe it.
They wondered if this was reality, an unbelievable scene.
Having performed such an unbelievable miracle, he dusted off his uninjured hand and turned to look at them.
"Using strength, throwing a punch, is like this. Well, I'm still clumsy at it, though."
"...Haha."
An absurd declaration that naturally made them laugh out loud.
"...Does that punch have a name?"
Loen's calm question.
But unlike usual, it contained a small expectation and tremor, and Ihan, putting in the goal he wanted to reach with this fist someday, breathed out the name.
"Baibu Shenquan."
It was the name of an endlessly lacking punch that couldn't even reach a hundred steps, but could only strike objects within a ten-step radius.