The Pendragon Royal Academy Reopens Its Gates

The oppressive heat from Mount Vulcan still hung heavy in the air, but soon even this sweltering warmth would fade.
The time of winter and the ice faeries was approaching.

With it would come cooler temperatures and the fiery green leaves of summer turning to crimson.

The second semester had begun at the Academy.

Whoosh!

“Mother, this is the Academy’s famous central fountain. Isn’t it enormous?”
“It’s incredible… but are you sure it’s alright for me to be here?”
“Wow, big brother, there are so many fancy people around!”
“Brother?”
“…One question at a time, please.”

Barry Cobbs.
Known among his peers as “Bear Number Eleven,” Barry’s family stood overwhelmed by the grandeur of the Academy.

He understood their feelings well.

"I was the same."

He vividly recalled how nervous and intimidated he’d been when he first stepped through the Academy’s gates.

For Barry, who had lived his entire life in the countryside, the Academy—and the royal capital itself—had seemed like an entirely different world.

His mother, who had spent her life farming, his younger sister, who matured early to help support the family through sewing, and his younger brother, who had only just begun to string sentences together—all of them were experiencing the same awe he once had.

Barry sympathized with them. He knew they would soon grow more comfortable, but for now, he wanted them to see this place.

He wanted them to witness the institution where he studied and trained.

"I wish I could’ve shown this to Father too."

His father had stayed home to care for the infant twins, who still needed constant attention.
While his father claimed he had seen enough of the capital in his youth, Barry knew the truth.

His father had held back so that his wife and children could experience this moment.

"Next time, I’ll bring him too. I’ll still be here next year, after all!"

On the first day after summer break, the Academy allowed families to visit and observe classes. It was meant to reassure them that their children were in good hands.

Barry’s family couldn’t tear their eyes away from the Academy’s towering spires and sprawling courtyards. Barry couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.

That was when his mother spoke.

"Barry, where’s your swordsmanship instructor?"
“Wha—!? Why do you ask all of a sudden?”

Barry was flustered by the unexpected question.

His mother, however, was resolute.

"Why? Because he’s the one who’s taken you under his wing and trained you. From what I’ve heard, it’s thanks to his dedication that you’ve been able to stay at the Academy. Even someone like me, who doesn’t know much, understands how precious and rare such teaching is. He’s not just your mentor, but a benefactor to the entire Cobbs family."
“Well, I mean, I guess…”
"I wanted to thank him in person at least once. Let’s go meet him."
“Uh… okay…”

Barry knew there was no arguing with his mother. Her stubbornness was legendary.
Resigned, he led his family toward the Swordsmanship Department.

"This is going to be awkward…"

Barry respected his instructor deeply—so much so that he ranked him second only to his father in esteem.

The man wasn’t just strong; he was someone who lived up to his word and taught students skills that rivaled those of Aura Techniques.

To Barry, his instructor embodied the ideal knight.

But—

"As much as I respect him… he’s not exactly easy to introduce to others."

Just thinking about the instructor’s overwhelming presence sent a shiver down Barry’s spine.

Even imagining his mother meeting such a figure made him nervous.

"I hope Mom’s heart is strong enough to handle this."

“Big brother? Why are you sweating so much?”
“Brother?”
“It’s nothing…”

As Barry swallowed his unease, he noticed familiar faces heading toward the Swordsmanship Department.

"Mother, do we really have to go?"
"Father, I’m telling you, it’s fine!"
"Grandma? Are you sure about this?"

It seemed Barry wasn’t alone. His peers, accompanied by their families, were also making their way to the Swordsmanship Department.

On the first day back, the Academy’s ranks of “Young Masters,” “Chicks,” and “Bear Cubs” were all gathering.

Their eyes met briefly, and despite their differences in status, they shared a moment of mutual understanding.

Parents, it seemed, were all the same.

A Grand Scene

Soon, they reached the Swordsmanship Department training grounds, where the air reverberated with ominous, thunderous sounds.

"Wow, big brother! That’s bigger than a bull!"
"It really is."

The innocent younger siblings spoke what they saw, while the students and their families gaped in stunned silence.

There, in the middle of the training grounds, was a man casually lifting and moving sandbags the size of bulls—no, bigger than bulls.
Hundreds of them.

Despite the effort, not a single drop of sweat fell from his brow.

"Hm? What are you all doing here?"

The man turned to them, his expression calm and composed.

The families wanted to ask:

"Why do you always seem so inhuman?"

+++++

 

"I was in the middle of some work, so I must look a bit disheveled. Are you Barry Cobbs' mother? Or should I say, the mother of Number Eleven?"

“Yes, yes, I am…”

“Welcome. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the wonderful mother of such a fine young man.”

“Oh my…”
“Mom?”

The instructor addressed the parents with a practiced ease that seemed almost second nature.

"Barry is adjusting well, so you have nothing to worry about."

Contrary to his intimidating appearance, he was polite and adept at putting the parents at ease.
While the initial impression was undoubtedly overwhelming, there was little to fault beyond that.

But…

"Do you think my child can really become a knight?"
"I was nearly fainting the other day! My son was suddenly made to do jump rope exercises—of all things! I was horrified! What if he ends up with unsightly muscles? Why would anyone make him do such things?"
"A White Lion, you say? How far you must have fallen to end up here."

Everywhere, overzealous parents voiced their concerns. The cadets grew pale, fearing the worst.

Unsurprisingly, the instructor responded.

"Your son has the potential to become an outstanding knight. By the time he graduates, he’ll be impressive indeed. Trust me, ma’am, and leave him in my care."

"And as for you—muscles from jump rope? That’s nonsense. Besides, maybe you should be worrying about your own health instead. Your body looks like it’s falling apart just from looking at it. Let me guess, back pain? Tired all the time? That’s because you don’t exercise enough! Instead of fretting over your child, you should be taking care of yourself."

"Are… are you picking a fight with me?"

The instructor didn’t hold back. He treated the considerate with kindness and the rude with equal bluntness.

It was a personality that had nearly earned him more than a few corpses to deal with in the past.

"Hold it, Instructor! I’ll apologize on his behalf!"
"Father, apologize quickly! You’re going to ruin the entire family!"
"I… I’m sorry…"

Thanks to the cadets’ frantic intervention, the situation didn’t escalate further.

The instructor, as always, switched effortlessly between fiery anger and calm politeness.
The unfortunate noble parent, cowed by the sheer intensity of his presence, nearly collapsed.

"Still the same as always," the cadets thought.

Oddly enough, seeing their instructor unchanged gave them a sense of comfort. It finally felt like the semester had truly begun.

But then—

"Instructor, what are those sandbags for?"
"These? They’re for your next training session."
"What!?"
"I’m thinking of having you climb cliffs with these. Don’t worry—they’re only 30 kilograms each."
“……”
"Oh, and there are 50-kilogram and 100-kilogram ones too. We’ll gradually increase the weight as you adapt, so no need to fret."
"That’s… not reassuring at all…"

On one hand, they were relieved that the instructor hadn’t changed. On the other, they were struck with a sinking realization:

This semester would be anything but ordinary.

+++++

 

The Ceremony Ends, and Cadets Gather

After the opening ceremony concluded and most parents had departed, the cadets of the Swordsmanship Department began to assemble.

Eighty in total.

This number reflected that not a single first-year cadet had been expelled or dropped out—a remarkable achievement in itself.
In other departments, it was common for students to fail their exams or realize their limitations and withdraw.

The Swordsmanship Department stood apart, with every cadet excelling in their tests and confident they could continue to thrive at the Academy.

Even among nobles, where expulsion might be rare but voluntary withdrawal was not uncommon, the first-year class of the Swordsmanship Department proved exceptional.

But the cadets themselves would disagree.
They would say their survival wasn’t thanks to their efforts.

It was solely due to him.

"So, why are you all still here? Isn’t it the course registration period this week? You didn’t have to show up."

The instructor, whose rigorous methods had ensured all eighty cadets made it through, addressed them with his usual brusqueness.

"We just… ended up here somehow."
"We came to say hello, and everyone else just happened to do the same, haha."

A few offered sheepish replies.

The instructor, whose relentless training had forged their resilience, clicked his tongue in exasperation.

"You lot are unnecessarily diligent, aren’t you?"

Still, the cadets couldn’t help but feel a strange comfort in his gruff words.
It seemed they had, at least, grown accustomed to him.

"Well, since you’re here, grab a sword and get some practice in. If anyone wants to spar with me, I’ll allow it."

"No, thank you. We respectfully decline."

“……”

They had come only to greet him, not to risk their lives by fighting him.
Humans fought humans, not monsters.

They intended to return to their dorms after the simple greeting, but then—

"Master, I’ve handed over the assignments to them as you instructed."
"Good work. But Bear Girl…"
"Yes?"
"‘Them’? That’s not the correct term, is it?"
"Oh, um… Do you really call people that?"
"No, of course not. Did I not say before? Those things aren’t people."
“……”

The cadets froze, unsure if they could believe their eyes.

Dragging their chains, nine figures shuffled into view.
Collars around their necks and shackles on their ankles, they looked more like slaves than anything else.

"Ah, don’t misunderstand. These aren’t slaves. They’re ‘external recruits.’ Let’s call them ‘intern instructors.’"

“……”

"Isn’t that right, Intern One?"
“……”
"Well? No answer?"
"Th-that’s correct!"
"Your answer was too slow."
"I’ll do better next time!"
"Tsk, don’t get cheeky in front of the cadets."
"Yes, sir!"

The instructor sighed in exasperation.

"Damned prisoners. When will they ever become people? Trainee."
"Yes, Instructor!"
"You’re their senior now. Manage them well. Not ‘beat them to a pulp,’ but keep them in line. Understood?"
"Leave it to me! I’ll make sure their total weekly sleep doesn’t exceed an hour!"
"You’ve got the right idea."
"Thank you, sir!"

The scene was nothing short of surreal.

But one thing was clear:

"That damned Damien looks absolutely ecstatic."

The cadets couldn’t help but notice how genuinely delighted Damien seemed.

"Stand up straight, you scum! Didn’t you hear the instructor? Starting today, don’t even think about sleeping! Your evaluation scores depend on me, so you’d better remember that! You useless interns!"

Damien, once the lowest-ranking member of the Swordsmanship Department, was overjoyed to finally have someone below him in the hierarchy.

Ironically, those beneath him were the Heretic Inquisitors.

Whether Damien could handle the aftermath was uncertain, but for now—

"Screw it! Future Damien can deal with that. I’m enjoying this!"

Damien, the ever-resourceful assistant, left all his problems to his future self.