The Transmigrator Doesn’t Dream of Being the Protagonist – Chapter 9

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Since that day, I had been receiving swordsmanship lessons from Sylvia.

The training sessions were held in the secluded northern forest, far from prying eyes.

And now, we stood facing each other, wooden swords in hand.

“Ethan, do you know what your biggest flaw is?”

“My biggest flaw, ma’am?”

How would I know?

I didn’t even know who this “Ethan” guy was.

My frustration simmered beneath the surface.

“There’s that look again. Anger is a double-edged sword for a swordsman.”

“…Ah.”

My stomach churned at the thought of the author who had dragged me into this world.

He was the one at fault.

Why was I the one suffering?

“…Anger will consume your soul.”

Her words left me speechless.

Disillusionment threatened to engulf me.

What was she even talking about?

I knew she had a tendency to spout philosophical nonsense.

What was the word for it?

Right. Idealistic.

Sylvia was the embodiment of a virtuous knight.

But in my experience, overly virtuous superiors were always a pain in the ass.

That’s exactly how I felt right now.

Saddled with a morally righteous mentor.

I had definitely chosen the wrong path.

Why were all the power-ups I wanted so difficult to obtain?

“Ethan!”

Her sharp voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Let go of your anger! At least when you’re wielding a sword. A sword should never be guided by emotions.”

I had heard those words before.

She had said the same thing to Lorenz during his training.

Lorenz, consumed by resentment after his defeat at Arthur’s hands, had been repeatedly reprimanded by Sylvia for his emotional outbursts. He had eventually been dismissed as her disciple.

And then he had left the academy, his dreams shattered.

All because of Arthur’s ridiculous status window.

But I wouldn’t be expelled. Not me.

“I’ll try my best, ma’am,” I replied obediently.

“You have two weeks. Correct your flaws within that timeframe, or I will expel you from the academy.”

Her tone was calm, but her words were a clear threat.

A deadline.

Two weeks?

I had spent days running laps around the training grounds for this opportunity.

Even Lorenz, destined to become a villain, had been accepted as her disciple.

Surely I, a decent and upstanding individual, was a more worthy candidate.

“Very well. I accept your challenge,” I said, my voice firm.

“Good. From now on, you will address me as Master.”

“Yes, Master.”

Finally, the training began in earnest.

It started with correcting my posture.

According to Sylvia, my form was riddled with unnecessary movements. Instinctive habits that I wasn’t even aware of.

“Again!”

Every time I made a mistake, a wooden rod would come flying towards me.

Thwack!

At first, I instinctively blocked her attacks.

My survival instincts kicked in.

“Blocking…?”

“I-I apologize, Master!”

My apology was met with another swift strike.

This time, it came from an unpredictable angle, catching me off guard.

Smack!

The rod connected with my head, sending a jolt of pain through my skull.

Sylvia tapped my shoulder with the rod, a smug smile on her face.

She called it her “Rod of Discipline.”

It was just an ordinary branch she had picked up from the forest floor, but it felt as solid as steel.

There was no doubt about it.

This woman enjoyed inflicting pain.

She tried to maintain a neutral expression, but I could see the amusement dancing in her eyes.

Damn it.

My master was a sadist.

“Does it anger you?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm.

“No, Master.”

“This is to teach you patience. How long will you cling to your street-fighting ways? Again!”

I corrected my stance, gritting my teeth as I endured her relentless critiques.

The beatings continued.

Head, shoulders, knees, toes, knees, toes…

I was starting to worry that I might actually become brain-damaged.

And like that, the day of the entrance ceremony arrived.

Neydia Hero Academy.

A training ground for heroes, tasked with protecting the continent from the seventy-two Demon Generals and the Seven Demon Kings.

And for some reason, the number of individuals who had spontaneously manifested the Hero Candidate’s Mark had doubled in the year of Arthur’s enrollment.

Rumors circulated that the surge in marked individuals was a sign of an impending war, a harbinger of a great battle against the Demon King.

And here I was, attending the entrance ceremony.

It was boring.

Why were headmaster speeches always so long and tedious?

And… so… in conclusion…

That three-part combo always drained my mental and physical energy.

I had been assigned to Class 1-1.

Out of the five first-year classes, it was known as both the strongest and the worst.

The reason it was considered the strongest was simple.

It was filled with talented individuals.

Why? You’d have to ask that damn author.

The reason it was considered the worst was also quite simple.

It was a breeding ground for cutthroat competition, a nightmare for anyone who wasn’t naturally gifted.

It was a class that crushed the hopes and dreams of countless freshmen.

And it was easy to see why.

The blond-haired boy standing at the front of the class radiated an aura of destiny.

Arthur Pendragon.

Kind, righteous, and destined for greatness.

The living legend who would one day draw the legendary blade, Excalibur.

Standing beside him was a tall, muscular young man with curly brown hair. His physique screamed “heroic potential.” His name was…

Reus.

His real name was Achilles.

Yes, that Achilles, from Greek mythology.

He was a reincarnator, according to the novel’s lore.

Destined to become the second strongest hero.

A highly competitive individual, driven by a fierce desire to be the best.

And lounging near Reus, a mischievous-looking boy with brown hair stifled a yawn.

Sonny.

He always had a smile on his face, but it was impossible to discern his true thoughts and intentions. He was known for his speed and agility, a master of daggers. His true identity? Sun Wukong, the Monkey King from the classic Chinese novel Journey to the West. Or, to be more precise, a reincarnation of Sun Wukong.

Arthur, Achilles, Sun Wukong.

An unusual trio, to say the least.

The faculty had dubbed them the “Three Musketeers” of Class 1-1.

And the female equivalent?

They weren’t visible from where I was standing, which meant they were probably part of the group huddled in the back.

Tesha, the princess who had concealed her identity to enroll in the academy.

Sepia, the daughter of the Logness family.

And Anya Kargon, the barbarian warrior.

Class 1-1 was a gathering of legendary figures, individuals whose names would be etched into the annals of history.

Seven of the ten strongest graduates that year would come from this class.

I was already contemplating dropping out.

The headmaster’s speech seemed to drag on forever. I was starting to get sleepy.

“And so, you are all candidates to become heroes. After graduation, I hope you will all dedicate yourselves to the noble task of vanquishing the demons. That concludes my speech.”

Finally!

He had just spent an eternity lecturing us about our responsibilities as future graduates, even though we hadn’t even officially started classes yet.

“Those who have yet to receive the mark, please gather over here!”

Before we were dismissed, the academy staff called out to the new students.

It was time for the official marking ceremony.

Reus, along with a handful of other students, stepped forward.

“Come over here and receive the mark.”

I joined the line, waiting patiently for my turn.

The Hero Candidate’s Mark was etched onto the back of my right hand.

It glowed a faint orange.

A different color from the red marks that had spontaneously manifested on some individuals. And it came with a handy on/off switch, allowing me to conceal it if I wished.

“Skill window.”

I muttered the words under my breath, and a transparent window appeared before me, displaying my skills.

A rather unimpressive list of skills.

But at least my resistance to fire and cold was maxed out.

A gift from the Heart of Winter, no doubt.

It was a small consolation.

Other students were also checking their skill windows, their gazes fixed on the invisible screens before them.

I couldn’t see their windows, of course.

But judging from their expressions, they were definitely interacting with their skill screens.

I closed my window and turned to leave.

My eyes met Sepia’s.

She stood there, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on me.

I bowed my head slightly, attempting to slip past her unnoticed.

“Stop.”

I froze.

My body obeyed her command instinctively, like Pavlov’s dog.

One wrong move, and I’d be on the receiving end of her telekinetic wrath.

“D-did you need something, my lady?”

“Follow me.”

With those words, she turned and exited the auditorium.

I followed her to a secluded courtyard within the academy grounds.

Her expression was stormy.

“Where have you been?”

“…”

“Answer me. You arrived at the academy early. Where were you hiding?”

I wracked my brain for a plausible excuse.

I scaled a ridiculously tall mountain to acquire a power-up.

Obviously, I couldn’t tell her that.

“I took a short trip to Herbeiravan, my lady.”

“Why?”

My hometown? Should I say it was my hometown?

But what if Ethan’s hometown was somewhere else?

Why were her questions so difficult?

“I needed some time for myself, my lady. I wanted to clear my head before the semester started.”

“A trip? You took a trip?”

Sepia let out an exasperated sigh.

She didn’t know whether to believe me or not.

“Yes, my lady. I figured I wouldn’t have much free time once classes began.”

“Why didn’t you ask for my permission?” she snapped.

Because I knew you wouldn’t have given it to me.

I had decided it was better to be scolded after acquiring a power-up than to miss out entirely.

I had been living a comfortable life in the 21st century. And then, suddenly, I was a servant.

Resentment simmered within me.

“You are a servant of the Logness family. Remember that.”

“Yes… I haven’t forgotten, my lady.”

“And you’re my bodyguard. My servant.”

Honestly, Sepia didn’t even need a bodyguard.

Why choose Ethan, of all people?

What kind of history did they have?

I was burning with curiosity.

But I couldn’t just ask her outright.

“Answer me, Ethan.”

“I apologize, my lady. I am tasked with protecting you.”

“And yet you decided to abandon your post and go on a trip? Have you lost your mind?”

“No, my lady.”

I felt like I was being reprimanded by a senior officer in the military.

Bracing myself for the inevitable physical punishment.

Slap!

My premonition proved to be correct.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

But the pain was bearable.

Thanks to the “Physical Resistance” skill.

“Does it hurt?” she asked mockingly.

“…”

“It should. I slapped you because you deserved it.”

I clenched my jaw, suppressing the urge to talk back.

If she wasn’t so infuriating, I would have applauded her acting skills.

“Did I ever stop you from taking a break?”

How would I know?

But all I had to do was give the right answer.

“No, my lady.”

“Have I ever withheld your wages?”

“No, my lady.”

“Then why… why must you disappoint me?”

Sepia’s hand trembled.

Just then, Anya approached us, a cheerful smile on her face.

“You should have asked me if I needed anything. Offered to help.”

“I apologize, my lady.”

“Must you make me spell it out for you?”

“No, my lady.”

My eyes met Anya’s.

“Ethan! Look at me! Look at me when I’m talking to you! Where were you? I was so…”

“Hey, Ethan!”

Anya, bless her oblivious heart, had completely missed the tension.

She should have just pretended she hadn’t seen us.

Instead, she marched over and joined us, her smile unwavering.

“And Sepia, what are you doing here?”

What am I doing? Getting reprimanded, of course.

Had they exchanged names at some point?

Sepia glared at Anya, her eyes narrowed.

It wouldn’t be surprising if they started a catfight right here in the courtyard.

“We were just having a conversation,” Sepia said stiffly.

Anya tilted her head, her expression curious.

“What kind of conversation?”

“Anya, this is between Ethan and me.”

Sepia sighed, her patience wearing thin.

“So please, don’t interfere.”

The air crackled with tension.

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