30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 35

Hwoong! Hwoong!

“......”

The swordsmanship cadets, who were once again vigorously jumping rope today, watched as some of their fellow cadets either collapsed from being hit by the heavy iron ropes or struggled for breath due to exhaustion. They stared blankly at their instructor’s training routine.

No, calling it training seemed too kind—this was closer to torture. It was an unbelievable sight, almost surreal.

“...Hey, young master, is that really how knights are supposed to train?”

“Stop with the sarcasm and just call me by my name, mercenary.”

“Hmph, says the guy who’s always sarcastic himself.”

“You started it.”

The young man and the boy bickered. Though they were the same age, Garand, the mercenary apprentice, looked much older due to his rough upbringing, while Arno Offen, the noble’s son, had grown up in relatively gentler conditions. While Arno secretly envied Garand’s more masculine appearance, he kept that jealousy hidden and responded with a retort.

“...Don’t ask obvious questions. What knight in their right mind would train like that?”

“But he’s doing it right now.”

“That’s why it’s hard to believe even as I’m watching it.”

“...I see.”

Swinging a metal rod with an 80-kilogram steel bar attached to it, without hesitation—it was an unbelievable sight.

Even if they tried to tell someone, who would believe such a thing?

It was just that incredible.

Creak! Creak!

Every time the instructor swung the iron bar, ominous sounds echoed from his body. It sounded like bones breaking, but if you listened carefully, it wasn’t that.

It was the sound of muscles tearing.

The muscles were screaming in agony.

“Ugh!”

It wasn’t the instructor who groaned, but the cadets. Having experienced that pain themselves, their groans came out automatically.

This was one of the inevitable consequences of undergoing systematic training from a young age to become stronger—the pain of muscles tearing.

It was practically an injury, and the agony was unbearable.

“That must hurt. Kunta doesn’t like pain.”

The foreign-looking boy with a clumsy manner of speaking, Kunta, who was a full head taller than Garand, flinched at the sight. Though he seemed somewhat naïve, it wasn’t ignorance but rather untainted innocence that made Kunta's emotional expressions all the more genuine.

He understood that the tearing of muscles and the sound it made indicated an unimaginable level of pain.

‘It hurts like hell... No, pain alone can’t even begin to describe it.’

It felt like the inside of your body was burning, like your flesh was being slashed by knives. The more severe the tearing, the more unbearable the pain became.

...That’s what it should have been.

“Instructor, doesn’t that hurt?”

“It hurts. But it’s bearable.”

“...Instructor, you’re strange.”

“Strange? Any knight could do this.”

“...That’s a lie.”

“Hah, you’re not falling for it.”

Even the innocent barbarian didn’t believe such nonsense. Ihan had been hoping to trick him, but Kunta had wisely kept his distance. Though, even so, Kunta kept observing Ihan’s training.

Boom!

“Hoo!”

When Ihan finally set the metal rod down, the ground shook beneath him.

He casually leaned the iron rod somewhere and wiped his sweat-soaked body with a towel, before immediately picking up his personal jump rope.

It was a rope ‘slightly’ heavier than the 10-kilogram ones used by the cadets—this one weighed 50 kilograms, with each handle weighing 20 kilograms like a pair of dumbbells.

Ihan had wanted to make the rope even heavier, but if he did that, it would be too large to spin, so 10 kilograms was the limit.

A pity.

Still, as the saying goes, if you don’t have teeth, you make do with gums. Satisfied with the current weight, Ihan began to jump rope.

Whip, whip, whip, whip!

It was slow but steady. With each leap, his muscles bulged and moved.

Occasionally, the rope would whip against his bare skin, but Ihan ignored the pain and kept jumping.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

With each jump, the ground shook beneath him, making it difficult for anyone to stand still.

What on earth is that?

The cadets watched in stunned silence, unable to hide their shock.

“How long are you going to slack off? You’re not going to do anything?”

“Instructor, how do you even have the strength to talk in that condition?”

“Even if I don’t have the energy, I still have enough to scold slackers.”

“...We’re not slacking.”

“Everyone says that with their mouths.”

“Damn...”

And so, the young nobles resumed their jump rope training. Damn this crazy iron rope! One day, they swore, they’d break it for good.

Whip! Whip!

With newfound determination, they spun their ropes at a speed much slower than Ihan’s, but still far beyond their limits.

“...How much stronger are you trying to get?”

“Strong enough to always be ahead of you.”

“...”

It was even scarier because they knew he wasn’t lying.

Ihan didn’t feel embarrassed about training in front of others. If anything, he found it more uncomfortable to just stand around giving orders and watching others train.

At the very least, one should be able to do what they ask of others, and do it even harder and more intensely. That way, it would motivate others to push themselves as well.

‘After this, I should wrestle with Kunta.’

That boy was something else.

When it came to hand-to-hand combat, Kunta was more skilled than anyone else. He might be the strongest in hand-to-hand combat among the cadets.

That made it even better. Ihan needed a sparring partner for his martial arts practice, and Kunta was perfect. Though Ihan’s win rate was higher, that was because his strength surpassed Kunta’s. In terms of technique, Kunta was actually better.

For sword duels, there was Arno.

For spear training, there was Garand.

As for Roen...

‘That guy... he keeps avoiding me.’

Roen seemed to be avoiding sparring with Ihan, perhaps because he feared revealing his true abilities.

A strange fellow.

‘Well, I think I have an idea of what’s bothering him.’

More than anything, Ihan suspected something, which made it hard to push him too much.

A peculiar illness common among war veterans. Ihan sensed it from Roen.

‘...Regressors must have their own burdens to bear.’

She did exactly three jumps before breaking into a sweat like a waterfall and gasping for breath.