Chapter 18: Chapter 18

When he first lifted the rock, Shan could not help but marvel, thinking that this was indeed how such training was done.

For he knew from experience that a body grew stronger the more it was used.

Although he did not quite understand what becoming better at lifting rocks had to do with combat ability.

Yet for some reason, Sir Darkal did not order Shan to lower the rock back down even long after he had lifted it above his head.

He merely scanned Shan, or more accurately, his scar-covered body wearing nothing but underwear… with eyes that bordered on harshness.

“Not yet…”

“If you still have the breath to speak, it’s not time to lower it yet! Keep going!”

Shan bit his teeth tight against the agony that felt like his arms were tearing off, yet he did not put the rock down.

The muscles of his entire body writhed and coordinated in unison, repeatedly resting overloaded parts while shifting the force onto other areas.

I can’t do this anymore; should I put it down?

If I stay like this, I might no longer be able to move my body freely like before.

Perhaps I might lose the use of my arms altogether…

Torn by the inner temptation, Shan hesitated for a moment before gritting his teeth.

Roden had said that man was a good master.

So even if he didn’t fully understand his instructions, they were bound to be necessary to become a splendid knight.

As he repeated that to himself, he felt his body, which had reached its limit, squeeze out strength once more.

Whether fortunate or unfortunate, enduring unreasonable pain was one of the things Shan did best.

How much time had passed?

As sweat poured down like rain and stung his eyes, forcing him to keep them tightly shut, strength finally gave out in his fully extended arms.

At that moment, Sir Darkal, as if waiting for it, reached out both hands, caught the rock falling toward Shan’s head, and tossed it to the side.

“Good. You didn’t take your first step too badly.”

This was just the first step?

Having literally squeezed out every drop of strength in his body, Shan could barely muster the energy to retort like that.

A short while later, Sir Darkal, deciding that Shan had rested enough, kicked Shan as he lay sprawled on the ground.

“Get up! That’s enough resting!”

Though his body screamed that it wasn’t enough at all, Shan staggered to his feet and stood before him.

Clad in nothing but underwear, his body was a complete mess, covered in dirt and dust stuck to the heaps of pouring sweat.

“Stand right where you are! Spread your legs a bit wider… yeah, right about there! From there, squat down until your knees bend at a right angle! Right angle! I said a right angle! Don’t you know what a right angle is?!”

“I don’t… know…”

“Damn it! Looks like I’ve suddenly ended up having to be a math teacher too!”

Sir Darkal shouted like a madman, yet he still explained with hand gestures what a right angle meant.

Following the instructions, Shan realized that the posture he described was meant to place a strain on muscles different from those before.

If lifting the rock had thoroughly pounded the arms, shoulders, and upper body muscles, this posture was attacking the muscles of his lower body.

Realizing this, Shan closed his eyes, tracked the subtle shifts in his body, and slightly adjusted his posture.

Spreading his legs and knees slightly wider, leaning his waist a bit further back, supporting himself by tensing his glutes.

As the strain on his knee joints lightened, a correspondingly greater pain throbbed through his thighs and calves.

Instead of scolding him to return to the original position, Sir Darkal watched him with an intrigued expression.

This time, too, the end arrived only after he was completely exhausted and could no longer maintain the stance.

Gazing intently at Shan, who had collapsed with trembling legs, Sir Darkal looked up at the sky as if measuring the time, then kicked him up with a loud thump.

“You’re done resting! Next, place both hands here and lie face down!”

After holding all sorts of postures for a long time (whether tens of minutes or several hours, he could not tell) Shan finally reached a state where he could barely wiggle a finger.

A sweet, sickly odor wafted from his mouth, and his vision spun so wildly that he could barely distinguish objects before him.

Looking down quietly at Shan squirming like a bug, Sir Darkal gave an order to Roden, who had been watching from the side for quite some time.

“Roden!”

“Yes, Master.”

“Take care of him!”

The moment the order fell, Roden immediately scooped up Shan, who lay sprawled on the ground.

He did not mind in the slightest that the dripping sweat and dirt rubbed off onto his clothes.

“You worked hard. Let’s rest now.”

Truly, even back when he lived under persecution as an Altoan, he had never felt pain to this extent.

His entire body was worked beyond its limit, feeling as though his muscles had all melted into mush…

So meticulously had he been pushed that it felt like not a single muscle was functioning properly.

On top of that, the intensity was so excessively harsh that Shan was certain that far from being trained, even after recovering with time, his physical capabilities would regress rather than grow.

‘Roden, you thought wrong. It really seems like that crazy old coot isn’t a proper master.’

He wanted to say that, but because he didn’t even have the strength left to part his lips, all that escaped Shan’s mouth was a groan like a dying beast’s last gasp.

Hearing this, Roden spoke with a proud expression.

“Yeah, it’s tough, isn’t it? I was the same way. On the first day, I cried my eyes out and tried to run away saying I couldn’t do it, only to get beaten black and blue… I didn’t expect you to endure it so well to the end.”

Was he supposed to say he couldn’t do it midway through?

While he was feeling bewildered, the two of them arrived at the bathhouse.

Yet for some reason, instead of the hot bath usually filled with warm water, a small tub just big enough for one person was filled to the brim with pitch-black water giving off a foul stench.

“Getting in here will make you feel a bit better.”

Saying so, Roden carefully adjusted Shan’s posture so that his whole body submerged in the tub, while at the same time keeping his head from sinking inside.

Shan, who was quietly closing his eyes, soon realized an astonishing change beginning throughout his body.

‘Ah…’

He felt something conveyed from this unidentified liquid rapidly healing his body.

The muscles that had been damaged by overload to the point of beginning to melt regained their proper shape, and the joint areas worn down by friction were likewise restored.

He also felt his bones, which hadn’t broken but had been damaged by continuous pressure, growing thicker and denser.

“What is… this…?”

“A training medicine. You saw it at the alchemy shop, right?”

There had indeed been such an item.

When he had asked what effect the training medicine for knights had, hadn’t Roden told him he didn’t need to pay attention to it right away?

He hadn’t paid much mind to it back then, but to think it was meant for a purpose like this.

After a considerable amount of time passed, Shan realized his body was no longer recovering any further and staggered out of the tub.

The water, which had been pitch-black when he stepped in, had turned gray as though its color had been drained away for some reason.

“Sigh…”

“How’s your body feeling?”

“I thought I was going to die, seriously.”

Because Shan knew his own body better than anyone else, he could be certain.

If he repeated the same training as earlier without the aid of medicine, he would end up unable to walk on his own two feet or die long before becoming a splendid knight.

“In Pendia, they originally do it like this.”

“What about other countries?”

“They rely on the healing miracles of priests. After all, sourcing the ingredients needed for bath preparations isn’t easy…”

He said that the water ghoul teeth Shan and Roden had first hunted upon entering Pendia were one of those ingredients.

Using medicine instead of priests was due to Sir Darkal’s belief that this had a better training effect than healing miracles.

“Can I go back to training now?”

In truth, even though his muscles had recovered, the sensation of his entire body being torn apart remained just the same.

Watching Shan’s limbs tremble violently from the overload to his nervous system, Roden shook his head.

“We’re done for today. Drink this and rest well.”

Saying so, he handed over a glass containing a bright yellow liquid, and Shan gulped it down like a baby bird taking food.

It had a thick texture with a somewhat sickeningly sweet taste.

“It’s medicine that prevents you from urinating blood after training.”

As if anticipating the question, ‘What is this?’, Roden beat him to the punch and informed him of its identity.

*

After a day passed amidst terrible pain, Shan felt that his body had noticeably improved.

His muscles had grown denser, his damaged joints became smooth again as cartilage replenished, and his skeletal frame strengthened, allowing him to exert and endure great force.

Contrary to expectations, on the second day he did not train completely naked like the first time.

According to Sir Darkal, it seemed recovery time was needed for the grown body to set in place.

“Today is combat theory education. Pick up your sword.”

In the courtyard garden, training longswords with dulled edges and rolled tips were prepared.

Sir Darkal and Shan each grabbed one and sparred with slow movements.

Strictly speaking, rather than a spar, it should be called guiding specific movements and explaining their principles and methods of application.

Had they truly fought, Shan would have smashed the old man’s bald head about ten times with all the resentment from yesterday.

In that process, Sir Darkal unpacked into theory various techniques that Shan had acquired merely by instinct.

What advantages and disadvantages came from lowering the sword into a defensive stance, and why one should catch an opponent’s attack with the portion closer to the hilt rather than the blade’s edge.

He also learned how to respond by looking two or three moves ahead as if playing chess, rather than simply executing the most appropriate reaction in that moment.

It was truly the essence of martial arts honed by humanity over hundreds and thousands of years of fighting.

The beast, who had known nothing beyond moving faster to strike vital spots, now held a new weapon called psychological warfare and theory-based prediction.

The next day, instead of combat theory, they had a general education theory class.

It was the basic culture a knight ought to know: starting from reading and writing, to history, etiquette, and religious instruction.

“Have you ever studied the teachings of the Goddess?”

“Yes.”

Shan nodded at Sir Darkal’s question.

Since Priest Ador was one of the few people who had treated him well, Shan possessed a fair amount of religious knowledge compared to other common sense.

After exchanging a few questions and answers, Sir Darkal spoke as if finding it peculiar.

“What’s this? Are you a follower of the Old Faith believers? Why are all your prayer methods and doctrines like…”

“Huh? Probably so.”

Since Libert was a representative Old Faith nation, Priest Ador’s teachings were naturally an extension of that.

Hearing the answer, he scowled in disbelief.

“Believing in a religion that teaches you are a child of the devil, you really are a strange fellow! Well, I am a follower of the Old Faith believers myself, though.”

“Then shouldn’t you not be teaching me, Master?”

“Even though I follow the old teachings, I have no particular ill will toward you Altoan folk. I even had an Altoan among my old friends. I only believe because I can’t split apart from my family!”

The Cordo family, to which Sir Darkal belonged, held a baronial title in western Pendia.

As most of the western nobles culturally close to Libert were followers of the Old Faith believers, most of his relatives were likewise followers of the Old Faith believers.

“Then later, after I become a knight, if I say I learned from Sir Darkal, they’ll get really angry.”

“That might be so! Well, in life, one can’t have everything all the time! To gain something, one must abandon something else!”

Even after that, Sir Darkal launched into a long harangue about the country’s religious situation.

In Pendia, commoners and nobles alike were divided in their faith between the Old Faith and the New Faith.

Strictly speaking, the noble class had a higher ratio of Old Faith believers while the commoner class had a higher ratio of New Faith believers, but it was much easier to divide them between east and west.

“The redeeming grace is that the royal family puts forward a policy of compromising between the teachings of the Old Faith believers and New Faith believers. His Majesty the current king is tentatively closer to the New Faith believers side as well. Had it not been for that, an Altoan knight would be something you couldn’t even dream of.”

“Was that how it was?”

“Otherwise, how could a mage princess have emerged?”

Before long, the topic of chatter transitioned from the current king of Pendia, Gizel III, to the character of his children.

That the first prince was overly absorbed in traditional Old Faith teachings, that the second prince was dissolute in character perhaps because he was from Ruman, that the Old Faith believers followed the Pope rather than the King, and that the New Faith believers had shallow faith.

Naturally, the political talk characteristic of old men was utterly boring for young people to hear, so while Shan bobbed his head in front of him, his mind feigned innocence.

After prattling on to his heart’s content for a long while, Sir Darkal called a passing servant to bring Roden over.

“Did you call for me, Master?”

“Take over this brat’s theory education for me.”

“Pardon?”

“Isn’t it ridiculous to instill Old Faith believers religion into an Altoan anyway? Most of the people who’ll treat this brat like a human being will be New Faith believers. Your family is New Faith believers too!”

“Wait, Master. I’m a bit busy these days as well…”

The reason Roden had been constantly busy since returning home was that he had begun receiving training in earnest to succeed the Weavers Merchant Firm.

For if Callion, who was entering his old age, should pass away or suffer mishap, he would have to take over the firm and continue supporting Shan.

Having squandered several years of his youth on knight training to begin with, he also had a lot to master.

“Quiet! Do as I say!”

At the stubborn old man’s shout, Roden ultimately let out a sigh and nodded.

After Sir Darkal, having dumped Shan onto Roden, went out claiming he was taking a walk, what followed was an extension of the lessons they had sporadically learned while traveling together in the past.

Teaching, failing to understand well, teaching again.

Even so, compared to when they were constantly walking and moving, learning while sitting down properly now seemed to yield better results.

Though of course, it was just as sleepy as ever…

Thwack! Roden struck the head of the nodding-off Shan with a stick to wake him up.

“Ah.”

“Don’t doze off. Did you hear what I just said?”

“Sorry, I was just so sleepy.”

“I understand you’re tired since you used your body so much, but you still have to learn. Here, try reading this.”

“Ram.”

“I said Ran!”

Once the days of culture so tedious that his whole body felt like twisting came to an end, it was time for hellish training once more.

In the second training session, rather than squeezing his muscles to the point of melting as before, he underwent training to expand his body’s range of motion and build cardiopulmonary function and endurance.

“Run! Run! Faster! Don’t dawdle!”

Matching Sir Darkal’s shouts, Shan ran and ran around the courtyard of the Weavers estate.

Until he felt as though his heart was not just bursting but about to pop out of his mouth.

After the strength left his legs so he could run no longer, he had to move even by crawling on both hands.

It was Sir Darkal’s philosophy that training unconditionally continued until every last drop of body strength was drained.

The day after abusing his body and healing with the bath preparation, it was combat theory education yet again.

This time, he learned all sorts of cowardly fight techniques.

“Use every available means in a fight. Tell chivalry to go eat shit! Nobody listens to the words of a bastard who lost and died! Make your excuses only after winning!”

Along with such words, what he taught were dirty tricks ranging from reflecting sunlight into the eyes with the polished flat of a blade to cut off vision, to scooping up dirt with the top of one’s foot to throw at the face, or spitting to provoke.

Of course Shan, who possessed no such moral code, absorbed those teachings in their entirety.

After that, he learned how to write cursive, lifted larger rocks, learned how to deal with different weapons using various arms, learned how to handle meeting a lady, ran while wearing custom-ordered chainmail, and learned the behavior patterns and countermeasures for all kinds of monsters…

The cycle completed in this way flowed ceaselessly, like a squirrel spinning on a wheel.

Days of repeating the cycle of overworking his body, mastering various skills needed as a knight, and overworking his mind with tiresome cultural knowledge.

As time went on, his body grew steadily larger and sturdier, and his mind was filled with diverse knowledge, but his face grew haggard.

Since training grew harsher in step as his body grew stronger, fatigue and pain did not diminish in the slightest.

A schedule where he had to endure pain that felt like his whole body was being torn apart once every three days.

Only the material abundance he could enjoy after the grueling training ended and the sense of achievement that he was improving a little more became the anesthetic allowing him to endure it.

From some point onward, Shan found himself asking why he was spending such harsh times.

Did he want to become a knight? Why? For what purpose?

Here in Hasra, there were plenty of Altoans just living their lives, so couldn’t he make a living moderately acting as a mercenary?

When he asked himself like that, an answer returned.

Because he wanted to become stronger, so that other people could not boss him around at will or threaten his dignity.

Because he wanted to amass wealth and honor to receive respect and praise.

The faces of several people flashed across his mind.

The villagers of Willow Village who persecuted him, the villagers of Leaf Village who feared him, and Roden, who was the first to tell him to go together and dream of the future.

The people of the Altoan Troupe, who had treated him kindly like family despite the short time they met.

Even the people of Obilos City, who looked up to him calling him a troll hunter.

Contempt and fear, friendliness, admiration.

All these emotions were changes brought about by him gaining greater strength and achieving more things.

Since a genius warrior received better treatment than an ordinary Altoan kid, a powerful knight would naturally receive even better treatment.

Whenever it was so exhausting that he wanted to give up, Shan recalled this and took another step forward.

Until the heat passed, left fell, and the first snow arrived.

*

In the courtyard of the Weavers estate where snow piled up deeply, Shan stood quietly and glared at the scarecrow before his eyes.

Held in both his hands was a longsword deliberately made with a thick edge for training, several times heavier.

This training was to swing it just once over several tens of minutes so that it touched the scarecrow.

Thanks to the grueling training over the past half year, his arms had grown long and thick, supporting the heavy lump of iron even as they trembled violently.

One minute, five minutes, ten minutes…

The sword, moving as slowly as a crawling snail over a long time, finally touched the thick torso.

The blunt longsword, which normally should have merely pressed down against the straw, sliced through the straw and wooden post smoothly as if razor-sharp.

Standing blankly and gazing at that scene for a long while, Shan burst into laughter before he realized it.

The past days, grueling beyond measure, flashed through his mind in an instant.

“Haha…”

Even though he had merely lightly drawn the dull blade across, the scarecrow was cut down just as he desperately wished.

It was the result of a powerful will being added to forcibly rewrite reality.

Shan realized that he was finally able to wield the power of knights… Fighting Spirit.