*Kwa-jik! Kwa-jik!*
Typically, the act of climbing a cliff requires one to search for footholds and use their hands and feet, as if that were the sensible thing to do.
Honestly, given how exhausting it is just to find a way up, it’s not just sensible—it’s expected.
However, the way he climbed the cliff was different from that of others.
No, it was downright bizarre.
*Pooook!*
“Hoo! Hoo!”
He forced his hands and feet into the rock face.
Climbing a cliff isn’t remotely like climbing a sand dune; every time he ascended, he kicked the wall with his feet to create a foothold and used the edge of his hand to dig in as a grip.
And he did all this barefoot and with bare hands.
With no gear whatsoever, he bulldozed ahead. Yet, as one watched him, it felt less like foolishness and more like determination.
He simply gazed upward, and when he finally reached the top…
“Hah…! Hah!”
He lay sprawled out, breathing heavily.
His body was drenched in sweat, and there were many abrasions on his feet, hands, and skin.
These marks were proof of how many times he nearly slipped and just how perilous that climb had been.
Yet, perhaps people wouldn’t realize the extent of his effort.
He had climbed the cliff over five times, and on one occasion, he even fell.
In fact, it was miraculous that he was still alive, but it was likely due to the man’s mysterious recovery ability and the relentless training he’d endured without a single day off.
The man, Lee Han, was completely spent and had no desire to move even a little.
He realized that climbing cliffs was a far more grueling training regimen than he had initially thought.
Each ascent taxed not just his muscles but also his stamina and mental fortitude.
A single lapse in focus could lead to severe consequences, and getting hurt wouldn’t be surprising at all.
All those fancy climbing gears weren’t just there for show.
Thus, what Lee Han was doing was sheer audacity.
To an outsider, it looked no different from someone recklessly trying to get themselves killed.
Yet, he believed that every time he pushed his limits, his body grew stronger.
Well, although he hadn’t seen much result yet, if mastery was achieved through repetition, someday, he would surely reap the rewards.
That’s what effort was all about.
“…Let’s move on to the next thing.”
Although he felt like taking a nap, Lee Han chose to keep moving instead.
After having a light snack for nutrients, he immediately—
*Ddak! Taaak!*
He began to practice ‘techniques.’
Simple skills he had hastily learned by watching others in the Knight Order.
Basically, they were joint locks reminiscent of submissions.
He hadn’t practiced them much before, but at this moment, Lee Han dove into joint lock training.
His training partner was a mannequin shaped like a human, stuffed full of sand.
Training on a real person would be the ideal way, but since he had nobody, this would have to do.
In this way, he practiced joint locks, tackles, and even threw his makeshift partner onto an old tree he had tied up.
He had learned the throwing technique during his previous life as a non-commissioned officer.
Though he hadn’t used it much till now, it was something that could come in handy with enough training.
He also needed to practice swordplay and spear techniques, as well as axe throwing and dagger tossing.
Even if he couldn’t master more than ten weapons like other knights could, he needed to train with whatever he could handle.
*“A day of 24 hours is simply not enough.”*
He grumbled that a day was too short, yet he quietly tackled all the tasks at hand one step at a time.
Though he wasn’t having a grand awakening, the events from last night had stoked a fire within his heart. Lee Han harbored a fixed determination inside.
Baltar, aside from that inspiration, had brought forth even more rivals he had to overcome.
*Hooong!*
The determination radiating from his body grew thicker like an intense aura.
*…And Lee Han realized he was late.*
It was the first day of class.
“Did you hear? That guy was late on the very first day and got called in by the principal again.”
“He was like that during the entrance ceremony too. Truly a one-of-a-kind person for better or worse.”
“He sure looks like he has skills.”
“Even if his skills are impressive, his behavior is reckless, and he shows no signs of having learned manners. Isn’t he just a mercenary and not a real knight?”
“…That might be why he got sidelined. He probably doesn’t sit well with the higher-ups.”
“Good point.”
The academy is vast.
But at the same time, it feels small.
Since the first-years are still an active bunch, they often stick together in groups.
And that means rumors spread quickly, as there are practically no secrets.
What happened just this morning could be all over the place in ten minutes.
“…I hope that instructor is alright.”
“Who knows?”
Students from the Swordsmanship Department sighed heavily, their worry evident on their faces.
This year, their new instructor felt quite unsettling.
In the training hall where about 80 students had gathered, a mix of worry and chatter hung in the air.
There were some second and third-year students present, but most were absent from class.
From the second and third years onward, most students opted for personal training within their families, avoiding regular attendance.
Only when a swordsmanship tournament was about to take place would they sneak in.
In other words, it meant that roughly 80 first-year students—even if sparsely filled—had gathered.
Among them were those who were at the level of training knights who learned fighting techniques, as well as a few who would probably be embarrassed to call themselves knights.
Especially those from commoner backgrounds, who had only received a basic training at local swordsmanship academies.
Frankly, one would hesitate to call that ‘training.’
Yet, these students were noble in spirit, as quite a few had come not to sharpen their sword skills or knightly conduct, but rather to mingle with those who might become future knights.
“By the way, I didn’t expect that person to show up for class.”
“Right? It would’ve been better for them to focus on personal training instead.”
However, this year was somewhat bountiful.
No matter how many students there were, unlike previous years filled with weeds, this year had a mix of notable characters.
First off, among the new students, there was one standout.
Prince Roen.
He was one of the influential candidates for the next Grand Duke who could hold his own even against formally recognized knights.
But besides him, there were many formidable students.
Students from the Great Mercenary Union, or disciples of the legendary Mercenary King, and the eldest son from the renowned Ophen family.
There were even descendants of the barbarian warriors, referred to as savages who are said to dwell in deserts, savannahs, and jungles.
Finally, there were those who wielded the mysterious powers typical of mages in the world of spells.
“…Why is that person here?”
“Perhaps the classes in the Magic Department are mostly self-paced, and they came here to fill credits. Or maybe just to socialize like everyone else.”
“Is that so?”
“That’s a rather peculiar choice for a mage.”
“I agree.”
With their gazes set on the beautiful genius mage, Irene Windler, people viewed her with varied interest.
It’s not every day that a mage finds their way into a swordsmanship class.
“…Ugh.”
And there she was, Irene Windler, fidgeting awkwardly in the spotlight.
It seemed she felt quite out of place here.
*“Did I make a mistake signing up?”*
Irene Windler couldn’t help but doubt her choice, even after applying.
However, this was unavoidable.
It wasn’t due to the ghost nagging at him, but rather entirely her own mistake made during the course registration period.
*“I didn’t expect there to be so few remaining classes…”*
[“Arin is such a fool. I told you to plan ahead!”]
*“Shut up! To be fair, I was short on time because I was busy with moving houses!”*
[“That’s just narrow-mindedness. Silly Arin.”]
*“Do you think I just let excuses slide?”*
Today, like many other days, she found herself bickering with the ghost, yet deep inside, she felt somewhat relieved.
At least she would be attending a class taught by someone familiar.
*“W-Who knows? Maybe he’ll actually look out for me.”*
He was a neighbor, and they had even shared some meals together.
Arin secretly hoped things would go well.
At that moment…
“Oh, everyone is here!”
He finally made his appearance in the training hall, and as soon as Arin heard his voice, she smiled eagerly to greet him…
*“…Huh?”*
But both Arin and the other students blinked in confusion.
Well, naturally.
“Chair!”
“Yes!”
“Tone it down a bit. You’re being too loud.”
“Oh, yes sir.”
“Don’t tremble your voice. Anyone would think I’m about to eat you.”
“…Yes!”
“Better. Huh? Why is the chair so low!!?”
“Yikes! I-I’m sorry!”
“You think saying sorry ends your academy life?”
“……”
“Just kidding.”
“……”
…When exactly did the count’s son become a servant?
Damian Pollet.
The naive young master who had triggered the accident at the entrance ceremony yesterday had come to wait on him.
…His face was puffed up like some overcooked ravioli, making it quite the sight.
The students blinked in disbelief.
*
Lee Han was on his way back after getting scolded by the principal once again.
Having arrived late even for the morning meeting, it wasn’t surprising he’d face reprimand.
*“…How many times has it been this time?”*
In his past life, he had never even set foot in the principal’s office, but for some bizarre reason, he found himself going there frequently in this life.
Well, he couldn’t feel wronged since it was his own fault, yet he felt a hint of guilt as he questioned if he had always been this irresponsible.
Now, seeing the principal’s face made him feel a touch of remorse.
However—
“Ah, good day, Count….”
“……”
He felt absolutely no remorse.
Seeing that puffed-up dumpling, or rather ravioli, acknowledge him only soured Lee Han’s mood further from the morning.
How dare this guy show his face in front of me!
“Did you come here because you want to get your glove smacked again?”
Lee Han narrowed his eyes and fiddled with his ungloved hands, contemplating whether to throw a copper coin at him this time.
But then,
Thud!
“P-Please make me your vassal! I-I will become a serf knight!”
“……What?”
Suddenly, the guy kneeled down and started spouting some insane nonsense about wanting to be accepted as a serf knight.
*“Serf knight? I think I remember that just means you’re saying you want to be a…slave?”*
Gently,
Lee Han took a step back, thinking he’d avoid this bizarre fellow.
What a pathetic taste, he thought with contempt.
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