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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
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The club room was quiet. Five pairs of eyes focused on me in the brightly lit room.
“Is everyone here?”
It was the crown prince, or rather Idrian, who spoke.
I leaned against the wall. Crena hadn’t told me what we were doing on this ‘designated day’.
Idrian glanced at me, then spoke.
“Let’s start with introductions. As you know, I’m Idrian.”
“We met at the clothing store, right? I’m Bell.”
“Crena.”
“Just call me Iridun!”
“C-Crebiton.”
After hearing all five names, I introduced myself.
“I’m Deron Philasia.”
The club members’ gazes briefly lingered on me before shifting away. Idrian stepped forward and addressed me.
“Since you’re new here and haven’t heard the explanation, let me tell you that we’re only active during breaks.”
“During… breaks?”
“Yeah. We just do group dungeon runs in authorized dungeons.”
The entire club exploring dungeons together. Officially, first-year students weren’t allowed in dungeons, but with upperclassmen acting as guardians, it was a different story.
It provided a way to enter dungeons without resorting to sneaking in like I did in Lenox’s Cave.
“We need to do at least that much to keep the club going.”
Bell added. Even the Crown Prince couldn’t just slack off. They needed to show some results, some achievements, to justify the club’s existence.
The professors wouldn’t tolerate a club dedicated solely to relaxation.
“We’ve been authorized for two dungeons this time. One of them is intermediate level.”
“That’s quite a step up.”
“Our track record has been pretty good. The professors must have raised the difficulty level.”
Crena answered Iridun’s question. An intermediate-level dungeon… I hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t a bad thing. If we could clear it, an intermediate dungeon provided valuable combat experience.
‘The academy uses a couple of dungeons for practical training anyway.’
As mentioned in the original story, intermediate-level dungeons were beneficial. The sooner one adapted to the monsters’ killing intent and the dungeon’s unique environment, the better.
Of course, those who weren’t interested in combat roles had the right to refuse. There was no need for them to adapt to such environments. Ultimately, it was the beginners who needed combat experience who entered these dungeons. Those who possessed strength but lacked the knowledge to utilize it effectively.
In that sense, having early access to dungeons was a significant advantage. Other clubs also had access to dungeons, but not as frequently as we did, not every break.
The number of dungeons was limited, and the demand was high. There was a saying that the first party to enter a dungeon claimed ownership.
“First-years haven’t started the ranking matches yet, have you?”
“No.”
“No…”
I nodded at Idrian’s question.
“Considering the ranking matches… we should postpone the intermediate dungeon.”
“You’re planning to clear the beginner-level dungeon first?”
“Yeah. The experience of clearing an intermediate dungeon is valuable for first-years.”
We couldn’t immediately enter a dungeon after the ranking matches. We could, but we wouldn’t be in peak condition after exhausting ourselves in the competition.
That’s why Idrian decided to postpone the intermediate dungeon. He also seemed confident that the four of us could clear the beginner-level dungeon.
“I’ll let you know the exact dates later. For now, first-years should focus on the exams and the ranking matches.”
The club meeting ended sooner than expected. Idrian focused solely on the dungeon schedule, avoiding unnecessary chatter.
No one objected to the club president’s decisions. It was less of a meeting and more of a schedule announcement.
As I was about to leave the club room, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see Crebiton.
He was trembling as he held my hand. I looked down at him. He was slightly shorter than me.
‘Where have I seen him before?’
I didn’t remember at first, but I was certain I’d seen him somewhere. Trembling like that, saying something…
Ah.
The Morax subjugation. The student who had shouted at Professor Akdin, claiming that he was no different from someone choosing who dies first.
Looking closer, I recognized him.
“What is it?”
I didn’t harbor any ill will towards him. It was a natural reaction when faced with a high-ranking demon.
But my voice held a hint of annoyance. I couldn’t completely dislike him, but I still felt some resentment. He hadn’t participated in the fight, after all, even if he had an excuse.
“I-I’m really sorry about the demon subjugation!”
“…?”
Crebiton suddenly bowed his head, his voice loud. I looked at him, puzzled.
“Suddenly?”
“I just… felt like I had to.”
He replied, his head still bowed. He was an unusual one. No one had confronted him about it.
The Morax subjugation had become an unspoken taboo among the first-year students, regardless of class. Shame and embarrassment for those who hadn’t participated. Injuries for those who had. And a shared fear of demons.
‘I honestly thought everyone would just brush it under the rug.’
It could have been easily ignored. No one had died, after all. But Crebiton apologized.
He apologized for not participating in the subjugation.
“Heh.”
I smiled. I liked his sincerity.
“How long are you planning to keep your head down? Look up.”
“So… you accept my apology?”
“Apology? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The fact that he even felt the need to apologize was admirable.
Crebiton. A name worth remembering. I patted his shoulder and left the club room.
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“Spar.”
“What?”
“Spar with me.”
What a strange request. I stared at Lee Han, dumbfounded.
He had approached me the moment I left the club room. I didn’t know how he knew where I was, but…
He was suddenly asking for a spar.
“I’m sick. You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”
I raised my cane. I was mostly recovered, but still…
Lee Han frowned and stepped back at the sight of my cane. What had gotten into him? Why was he asking me for a spar?
When I asked, he mentioned Agnes.
“Agnes improved drastically after sparring with you.”
“Hmm.”
“I want to spar with you too.”
So that was it. I stroked my chin, looking at Lee Han.
Agnes had improved significantly. But that wasn’t because of my sparring butt because she was simply a genius.
Of course, Lenox’s Dungeon and the Morax fight must have contributed to her growth. Jeolyeong, having recognized her potential as a Magic Swordsman, must have also played a role.
“I’ll spar with you.”
“Then let’s go to the training grounds…”
“But only once. And no mana.”
Lee Han’s eyes widened. He seemed surprised by my condition.
“No mana?”
“Yes.”
He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. I could guess what he was worried about.
“Don’t worry. I won’t collapse from a single spar.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
He was underestimating me. Well, was he wrong, though? Being terminally ill was pretty pathetic.
I had consumed enough elixirs that I wouldn’t collapse from a single spar. The coughing fits had lessened as well.
The burning sensation in my lungs, the throbbing headaches… they were almost gone. As if my body was finally adapting.
I could finally enjoy a somewhat normal life at the academy.
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Lee Han led me to a small training grounds. A secluded area he often frequented. He always brought people here for spars.
It was a peculiar habit. I didn’t know why.
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
Lee Han stood in the center of the training grounds, sword in hand. The middle guard stance, the foundation of swordsmanship. He stood tall and straight, like an ancient tree.
I wondered how much time he’d spent perfecting that posture.
‘What do you think?’
Archxius clicked her tongue. He was the protagonist of the original story, after all. He had to be exceptional.
Lee Han had dedicated decades to his swordsmanship. He was wielding a sword even when he wasn’t holding one.
A unique ability possessed only by the hero, the protagonist. His time flowed differently from ours. He could compress decades into a single second.
‘The Training Room.’
Lee Han always went there when he needed time to think. He would repeat the same stance over and over in that empty space.
That explained his perfect form. I leaned my cane against the wall and stepped into the training grounds.
As I faced the protagonist, his aura washed over me. Emotions buried beneath decades, even centuries, of practice, yet still burning brightly. And the unwavering dedication that had sustained him.
It had transcended the pages of the novel and now stood before me in the flesh.
I clenched my fists and shifted my weight, my body instinctively assuming a fighting stance. Even without using mana, it flowed through me.
My talent sought the optimal position, driven by the need to maintain my physical form. And the optimal position was, ultimately, the most basic one.
I shifted my weight slightly and extended my right fist.
“Come at me.”
I opened my hand and beckoned him forward. A spar always began with a small provocation.
And I intended to win. Heroes always grew stronger through defeat and trials.
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