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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: FusionX
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“Hmm…as expected…”
Harfon observed the scene and declared,
“You have no concept of moderation! Haha! That’s the fiery passion of youth!”
“Is that what you call youth?”
Egenir retorted, gesturing towards the students.
“You’re the one who caused this, so why are you lecturing me?”
“…”
Two hundred students stood in formation, twenty rows deep.
“Ugh!”
The boys, echoing the girls, roared, filling Harfon’s training grounds.
“These bastards…”
He’d tried to dissuade them. He’d even threatened them. Yet, the girls had stubbornly strapped on their wooden swords and marched to the training grounds.
The low-ranking boys, hearing the rumors, had also grabbed their wooden swords and joined the throng.
“And you…”
Harfon turned to the girls lined up on the left.
“What have you created?”
“…”
Egenir was speechless.
To ensure they passed the exam, he’d been forced to push these unskilled students to their limits, forging them into something…other than human.
“You’ve turned them into…sword demons…”
Their gazes were sharp, predatory. Normally, they behaved like ordinary girls, but the moment training began, or they held a wooden sword, their eyes changed.
They’d become relentless, their every response a guttural “Ugh!”.
“They don’t need me anymore. They can train on their own…”
“Ugh!”
“That’s not an answer! Use words!”
“Ugh!”
Ella, standing beside him, translated.
“He says, ‘This is the path you chose. Endure through sheer willpower.’”
Which Egenir heard as,
‘You took them in, now you’re responsible for them’.
“Ugh…”
He turned to the boys.
“Why are you here?”
“Ugh!”
“Don’t just copy their training method. Explain yourselves.”
“We don’t want to fall behind!” one boy shouted.
“What?”
“We heard they mastered all twenty forms of basic swordsmanship! Perfectly!”
“So?”
“The instructor told us to master the basics!”
“Hmm?”
“If the training continues, we’ll be weaker than the girls!”
The girls glared at them, murderous intent in their eyes.
“Those bastards think they’re better than us?!”
“Do they think having a dick makes them superior?! You little shits! Come here! I’ll teach you all twenty forms, one punch at a time!”
Egenir saw an opportunity.
“So…you’re here because you don’t want to be weaker than the girls I trained?”
“Ugh!”
“Right, the ‘Ugh!’ thing will come naturally with training…So? You want to learn?”
“Ugh!”
“One minute. Leave if you want. After that, I’ll train you all, even if you beg me to stop.”
“Ugh!”
No one left.
“Walking into hell willingly. You don’t want to be weaker than the girls? You want to show off, to be stronger than them?”
“Ugh!”
“And your ultimate goal is to…get with the girls?”
“Ugh!”
This “Ugh!” was filled with sincerity. The noble and royal factions held mixed-gender parties in the girls’ forbidden zone, but these broke bastards only had their sausage fests.
“I can’t promise everything, but I can help you with the…mingling.”
He looked at the girls.
“Training partners.”
“Ugh!”
The girls grinned.
“Each of you, pick a newbie.”
“Ugh!”
They eagerly approached the boys.
“Pick whoever you think is a good match. Someone you can…teach a lesson to.”
“Ugh!”
The girls, wooden swords in hand, stood beside their chosen partners.
“Basic swordsmanship. You’re confident in your mastery of the twenty forms?”
“Ugh!”
“Good. Maintain that confidence. Prepare for basic swordsmanship training!”
‘Swish!’
They drew their swords and took their stances. Their forms were far better than the girls’ had been before their training.
“No time to breathe. Begin!”
‘Whoosh!’
A chorus of flesh hitting flesh accompanied the first form.
“Your shoulder, you idiot! Relax your shoulder!”
“Use your wrist!”
“Lower your stance!”
The boys were beaten and thrown around.
“Get up with an ‘Ugh!’! Now!”
“Ugh!”
They scrambled to their feet, resuming their practice. The beatings continued.
“Are you here for a vacation?!”
“No, ma’am!”
“I said ‘Ugh!’! Do you think I’m a joke?!”
“Ugh!”
“Do you want me to carve a new hole with this wooden sword?!”
“Ugh!”
“Again! Begin!”
“Ugh!”
The boy, fueled by desperation and a colorful array of curses, swung his sword with renewed vigor. Even Egenir flinched at the viciousness of his insults.
‘Ah, right, they’re poison makers…’
“Hey…” Harfon asked.
“What?”
“Why are they…”
“I didn’t do anything. They have no foundation, no proper training. How were they supposed to pass The Sieve?”
Harfon knew what The Sieve meant.
“I see.”
There was no other way. To ensure they mastered the basic forms…they had to become sword demons.
“Did I make a mistake, telling him to teach them…” Harfon muttered.
“Well…you have a lot of disciples now.”
“I suppose…”
Afternoon training session number one. He drilled them relentlessly until they mastered all twenty forms.
“Number 1 through 5.”
“Yes!”
The five rushed over.
“Warm-up’s over. Teach them the Great Weight Style.”
“What?”
They were surprised by his sudden order.
“Do you want to be called ‘senpai’? I’m special, but…look.”
He gestured towards the girls and the boys who were improving rapidly.
“They’ll all be stronger than you. If you don’t prove yourselves as seniors, you won’t have a place here.”
“U-Understood!”
“We’ll teach them!”
“And when you teach…”
Egenir smiled wickedly.
“Remember my methods. We have plenty of healing potions.”
The five grinned, understanding his intentions.
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“I shall teach you the Great Weight Style!”
Being taught was vastly different from learning on one’s own. Someone teaching a high-level technique to low-ranking students? It was a miracle.
The five, looking down at the assembled students, drew their swords with a newfound sense of authority.
“It’s simple.”
Number 1 demonstrated the Great Weight Style.
“See that?”
“Front row, step forward.”
“Ugh!”
The boys, their eyes burning with determination, stepped forward eagerly.
“Simple. Learn by getting hit. That’s the essence of the Great Weight Style.”
Egenir had intentionally made their training brutal.
The Great Weight Style required a heavy sword, and a heavy sword required strength, but more importantly, experience.
In the heat of battle, a sword felt lighter, and the Great Weight Style became…useless.
‘They’ve improved.’
The five realized it, too. Egenir’s constant beatings had ingrained the technique into their bodies.
They wanted to hit him, to feel the weight of their swords, to unleash their power. And as that desire grew, their swords felt heavier, their strikes more powerful.
[Now that’s a heavy sword.]
Egenir’s praise.
Their progress had been fueled by pain.
A broken spirit led to resignation? Break it further, and it fostered resilience. Resilience bred a desire for revenge. And revenge was a powerful motivator.
“Simple. Attack using the Great Weight Style, even if your form is imperfect.”
“It’s okay to make mistakes. Your stance might crumble, but you’ve mastered the basics, so your attacks will still have some power.”
“Let’s see what you’ve learned, juniors.”
Five at a time. Two hundred students, their eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“Come at us, brats!”
The five engaged the low-ranking students in a series of intense sparring matches.
Second-years, high-ranking nobles, trained from a young age with the best resources, now further honed by Egenir’s brutal training.
Even the newly forged sword demons were no match for them.
“Your sword is too light! This is the Great Weight Style!”
“Ugh!”
“You call that a sword?! It’s lighter than a feather! You idiots!”
“Ugh!”
Their spirits should have been broken, but fueled by their collective determination, the students waiting their turn glared at the five, their eyes burning with intensity.
“Glaring at me?! If you were that good, you’d be Sword Masters by now!”
“You, with the crazy eyes! Step forward!”
“Ugh!”
They charged, they fought, they fell. Egenir watched and muttered,
“…I need to publish that paper and get paid…”
They were going through healing potions like water.
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“Who…did you say he was?”
A man sat on the sofa in the magic studies department, sipping tea.
“This tea is excellent.”
“Thank you.”
Spenny conversed with the well-groomed man.
He was clearly a swordsman, his muscular physique, even larger than Shelton’s, barely contained by his clothes. A large scar ran across one eye.
“Since we have a newcomer, let me introduce myself again. I’m Sherden Gainz, Ella’s father. And you are?”
“Egenir Talfon. Ella’s…father?”
“Father…?”
‘Crash!’
The teacup in his hand shattered.
“Father? Ha…Father?”
His eyes widened. Egenir sensed it. This guy…he was a mad dog, just like him.
“You little bastard!”
He roared.
“You dare touch my precious daughter?! You son of a bitch!”
He drew his sword and lunged.
“What the hell is going on?!”
Egenir hurriedly drew his wooden sword, blocking the attack. Facing a live blade, he couldn’t hold back.
“What the fuck is this?!”
“You little shit! Die!”
“What the hell are you?!”
‘Clang!’
Their swords clashed, shattering objects in the magic studies department. Idiots attracting more idiots. It was almost scientific.
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