The Knight and the Training Plan

The knight held a wooden sword and a single-handed shield.

“-Let me start by saying that I’ve never been formally trained in swordsmanship. In other words, I lack any proper foundation.”

As he stretched his body in a languid manner, there was no discernible aura of energy around him.
His worn-out wooden sword and shield were unimpressive, but it seemed as if he was suppressing his presence deliberately.

“So, I don’t follow any specific school or style. All I have are methods I refined through experience in real battles. And so…”

Whoosh!

“The only swordsmanship I can teach you is something like this.”

The wooden sword, which seemed to move sluggishly, suddenly darted forward like a wasp’s stinger, striking the scarecrow with blinding speed.
It was a move executed so swiftly that the eye could barely follow.

Crack!

The wooden sword pierced cleanly through the scarecrow’s eye.
It was a move of sheer precision, ruthless yet audacious, and undeniably effective.

“This is the most I can teach you: how to strike at your opponent’s weaknesses, how to lure them into a false sense of security, and how to survive—even if it means being dishonorable. Honestly, this isn’t a knight’s way.”

He spoke with self-deprecation about the skills he had mastered.
But there was no trace of shame or regret on his face.

“When I learned this, I wasn’t a knight. Back then, I had to be good at even these dirty tactics to survive. I didn’t have any other choice.”

Swoosh!

This time, he demonstrated with the shield, swinging it with surprising agility.
His movements with the shield were fluid, almost as if it were an extension of his body.
He also displayed how the wooden sword could be utilized in versatile ways—such as striking with the hilt or using the flat of the blade to crush a skull.

It was nothing short of brutal.

Huff.

At some point, the scarecrow had been reduced to a tattered heap.
It was completely obliterated, and if it had been a real person, the result would have been too horrific to describe.

The cadets could only shudder at the sight.

“Of course, I’m not telling you to adopt these dishonorable methods. I’m simply showing you that there are those who fight like this. My goal is to train you so that you can respond effectively, even to underhanded tactics.”
“…Respond?”
“In the end, what I demonstrated were shortcuts—methods to exploit an opponent’s carelessness. They work well on weaker opponents. But you’d be surprised how many people, even those trained in martial arts, can’t deal with such tactics. Even someone who knows how to channel aura isn’t immune to a well-placed stab. That’s why I think it’s good to train in countering these methods in advance.”

Thud.

“From now on, you will be the scarecrows. Your job will be to block my ‘shortcuts.’ This will be one of the essential tasks you must master by the second semester. And yes, your exams will be based on this as well.”
“……”
“I know—it’s too easy, right? Don’t worry. Because it’s easy, there will also be some special training planned. No need to be disappointed! I’ve already prepared countless ways to help you grow, haha!”
“…You might as well throw us into a pen with wild beasts instead.”
“Oh? How did you know? That’s also in the plan.”
“……”
“As expected of young, sharp minds! Predicting the instructor’s tests in advance—excellent!”
“……”

…The cadets couldn’t bring themselves to feel happy about his compliments.

After all, even if they predicted his plans…

‘Wow, is he trying to kill us all?’

The cadets glanced again at the shattered scarecrow, gaining an almost prophetic certainty that they would soon look like that.

Truly…

“This… this is moving too fast!”

They just wanted to survive.

A Dangerous but Calculated Plan

The knight wasn’t oblivious to the dangers of this training.
Even if he held back his strength, a single mistake could result in death—or, at the very least, a lifelong injury.
And he had no intention of turning his cadets into invalids.

“Don’t worry. There’s a safety measure in place.”

There was no way he’d propose such reckless training without preparation.

“Interns, step forward.”

“……”

“Don’t just move—answer me when I speak. If you don’t, I might decide your mouths are useless and cut out your tongues.”

“S-Sorry!”

“Why are you apologizing if you haven’t done anything wrong?”

“……”

“Ugh, never mind. Talking to you is exhausting. Now, quickly do what I mentioned yesterday.”

“Th-That….”

“What? Not doing it? Fine. In that case, how about a week-long session of bone-breaking therapy—”

“I’ll do it immediately!!”

“…You should’ve said that from the start.”

Even the Heretic Inquisitors, trained to endure torture, could not grow accustomed to the agony of having their bones intentionally fractured.
Though the knight had held back, the experience had left a lasting trauma on the interns.

Obediently, the former inquisitors—or rather, the interns—began to chant.

[Grand Sacred Art: Sacrificial Barrier].

As elite inquisitors, they demonstrated their prowess by deploying a holy barrier—a feat that would typically require a hundred priests, achieved on a smaller scale by just a handful of them.

Gradually…

“Oh? Why does it suddenly feel so cool?”
“It was so humid just a moment ago….”
“Oh my, my skin suddenly feels so smooth!”
“This is amazing!”

The cadets were briefly awestruck by the divine energy radiating from the barrier.
Within the holy zone, a soothing and sacred atmosphere enveloped the training grounds, evoking a different kind of awe.

Minor injuries, muscle fatigue, and even accumulated exhaustion vanished in an instant.

“C-Could this be… the Sacrificial Barrier?!”

A few cadets from noble families, including Arno, recognized what it was and gasped in disbelief.
They had never expected to witness such a legendary sacred art firsthand.

“Arno? What is it?”
“…[Sacrificial Barrier]. Within this barrier, no one can be injured, and no harm can come to those inside. It also ensures everyone remains in peak condition without needing food or water. That’s why it’s called the Sacrificial Barrier.”
“Kunta, I don’t understand all of that, but it sounds amazing!”
“It’s more than amazing. It’s one of the top three barrier-type sacred arts used by the temple. According to legend, holy knights used this barrier to fight demons continuously for a thousand days without rest.”
“Wow! If it’s so great, why isn’t it used more often?”
“…Because the priests who maintain the barrier bear all the risks and burdens of those within it.”
“…What?”
“Those who cast this barrier take on all the exhaustion, injuries, and strain that would otherwise befall those inside. That’s why it’s called a sacrificial art.”
“…Kunta, I suddenly feel like we don’t need this barrier….”

The kind-hearted barbarian boy immediately retracted his admiration, unwilling to use a barrier that required such a cost from others.

However…

"Don’t Worry About It, Big Guy."

“Don’t worry about it, big guy,” Ihan said, trying to quell the growing concern. “What he mentioned was just an extreme example. In reality, deploying it for just a day doesn’t cause much trouble. On top of that, the pain they bear amounts to less than 5% depending on the priest’s abilities.”

“So…”
“Our interns are pretty exceptional. That means they’ll barely feel any pain or fatigue. And since we’ll only be using the barrier during lessons, it won’t cause major problems.”
“Oh!”
“Feeling reassured now?”
“Absolutely, Instructor! I love this barrier again!”
“Good. It’s great to see you motivated. Now work hard during training, got it?”
“Yes, sir!”
“…‘Yes’ is informal, you punk!”
“Ahhh! Don’t come near me, Instructor! Your flick can even crack Kunta’s skull!”

Kunta tried to flee, but Ihan’s uncharacteristically swift movements allowed him to land a finger flick squarely on Kunta’s forehead.

“Ah! It hurts—wait… it doesn’t?”

The effect of the Sacrificial Barrier was demonstrated firsthand by Kunta, proving its proper functionality.

“So that’s how it works.”
“As expected of the Instructor—what a phenomenal preparation.”
“…Thank goodness I don’t need to write a will anymore.”

Relief spread among the cadets, but Arno still harbored doubts.

‘Even if it’s only 5% of the damage, wouldn’t the accumulated pain from 80 people still feel unbearable?’

Hmm…

“Well, it’s not really my problem, is it?”

He forced himself to let go of his concerns.

Though he was curious about what kind of people these priests were…

“For now, it’s best to make good use of this opportunity.”

It would be foolish to miss this chance to practice techniques he’d never dared attempt for fear of injury.

Even if he was worried about potential consequences for the priests later…

“Ugh!”
“Does it hurt? If it’s too much, you can stop now. Although I can’t guarantee the Instructor will let you off the hook if you quit.”
“Grrr!”
“Why are you glaring at me? Do you have a problem with me?”
“N-No, sir.”
“‘No,’ my ass! If you’re upset, hit me! Though I doubt you could manage it.”
“!!?!”

With Damien Pollet’s fearless (or reckless) attitude of enduring grudges and living purely in the present, Arno thought perhaps the situation wasn’t as dire as it seemed.

‘…Maybe the Instructor is right. That, too, might be a talent.’

The talent of living without fear of the future, enjoying the moment.

‘They say those who live in the present are the scariest. That man will grow stronger.’

“Go on, hit me if you’re upset!”

…Assuming he survived, of course.

For the first time, Arno felt a sliver of admiration and respect for Damien Pollet, who thrived with the spirit of a mayfly.

+++++

 

"They’re Having the Time of Their Lives."

“Those kids are having the time of their lives.”

Was it because the sacred art was a force so rare that even the upper echelons of society rarely experienced it?
Even the noble cadets couldn’t hide their excitement as they marveled at the barrier’s effects.
Watching them was oddly satisfying.

“Now this is what you call flexing.”
“…In what way?”
“Think about it. We’re using a training facility enhanced with the lives of bastards who deserved to be ground up. Even the royal family can’t pull off something like this, can they? That’s definitely flexing.”
“W-Well, when you put it like that…”

Somehow convinced, Derek awkwardly nodded in agreement.

And then…

“Instructor, could I have a moment? I’d like to discuss something.”

“……”

It was Loen, a regressor who knew the future, and unlike Derek, his urgency showed.

“What’s this? You’re actually talking to me in the academy?”
“I’m in a bit of a hurry right now. Instructor, I have a request to make.”
“A request?”
“Yes, a request.”
“Hm. Is it about that redhead?”
“…As expected, you’ve noticed. Then I’ll be direct. Instructor, I beg of you—”

"—Please give her to me!"

“……….”

For a brief moment, the air froze.

Even Ihan was left speechless, his expression blank as he stared for five full seconds before regaining his composure.

“…Loen. Don’t you think there’s something fundamentally wrong with what you just said?”
“What do you mean?”
“Go over the line you just uttered in your head.”
“...What was wrong with it?”
“This guy… seriously?”

Now that he looked at him, Loen’s eyes had clearly gone wild—those of someone about to make a terrible mistake.

Had he completely lost his grip on reason?

Loen seemed entirely unaware of how wrong his statement was.

‘…If making death threats sound sweet is a skill, he’s got it mastered.’

But Ihan, who could sense the pent-up resentment in Loen’s words, felt utterly perplexed.
If he handed her over now, it would definitely end in bloodshed.

‘Sigh, they say grown-ups shouldn’t meddle in marital disputes….’

Ihan found himself in a truly awkward position.