Rumble!
The sky was thick with dark clouds, so dense it wouldn’t be surprising if a downpour began at any moment. But even if the clouds unleashed rain, the coliseum wouldn’t be affected.
“There’s no issue with continuing, it seems.”
“With the amount of money invested, a few raindrops won’t make a difference.”
As long as the sacred magic remained active, no foreign substances could penetrate its domain.
Thunder and lightning might cause trouble if they struck directly, but without that, all would remain secure.
Thus, under the ominous weather, the battles with the Stone Trolls continued. Though none of the other students displayed anything as impressive as the young lion of the North, the crowd was still captivated.
“Everyone’s doing well.”
“This year seems to have a lot of talent.”
Among the spectators were many retired knights who watched the first-years’ impressive efforts with satisfaction. While the students’ abilities were still developing, they showed clear potential, like golden eggs with promising futures.
“Hmm, is that a special technique different from the usual fighting styles?”
“It’s a one-off move, but the power is undeniable.”
The general consensus was that the ‘Bears’ showed respectable capabilities, proving their success in the war game wasn’t just luck. Some performed better than Barry Copps, while others didn’t, but all fought with commendable determination.
Their unbreakable resolve was impressive.
Then, the next group entered—those cadets who had received the title “Young Masters” from Ihan.
The response they garnered was—
Crash!
—an instinctive murmur of admiration.
They had clearly mastered advanced fighting techniques, impressive for their age. In fact, they were exceptionally skilled, enough to be immediately considered for knight orders of mid-sized territories and likely securing middle-rank positions.
“They’re outstanding. For their generation, they’ve truly learned the basics.”
“Indeed. Training isn’t just about learning fighting techniques. Diligently mastering each part step by step is crucial.”
Compared to the Bears, who were still a bit rough but displayed mercenary-level abilities, these young noble cadets showed a pure dedication not typically associated with nobles. They didn’t rely on shortcuts and practiced straightforward, hard-earned skills.
“Wonderful!”
The old knights who had lived through the previous king’s era were pleased, sure that these young ones would soon make a name for themselves. After all, with such dedication, they would inevitably become renowned—even if they didn’t want to.
While the elderly knights enjoyed watching the pure talent of these trainees, they assumed that surprises were over. However, the next group to appear left them in awe.
Crack!
Thud!
“What...who are they?”
“They’re far beyond the first-year level. They could join any knight order right now.”
“So, it wasn’t only Lord Roen who was exceptional? My, my...”
They witnessed three students overwhelming, even playing with, a Stone Troll. The retired knights were struck with both admiration and silence, as even in their prime, they’d have struggled against these three.
“Kunta, wasn’t it? Now I see why barbarian warriors once terrorized the continent.”
“Is that the grandson of Marquis Offen? A true bloodline of the Sword Duke family.”
“The Mercenary King’s young protégé—he’s raised a prodigy just like himself.”
These students had far surpassed the level of cadets and should be knights in their own right.
While the young might envy and feel downcast at the brilliance of these three, the elders nodded in admiration, pleased by the sight of youthful vitality. Having seen the standard of young knights in the capital decline for years, the old knights were heartened to see so many fine seeds in the next generation.
“Who taught these young ones?”
Even as they felt hopeful, they faced reality. It was rare to find instructors among the younger generation who were so dedicated to teaching the fundamentals and used a style “unlike that of the nobility.”
They could hardly believe a single instructor from the swordsmanship faculty could have cultivated such skills. This wasn’t due to narrow-mindedness, but a lingering doubt from the previous lazy teaching methods that had become common.
While the old knights were lost in thought—
“Hmm?”
“...A cute child has entered the stage?”
“Haha, could she really be planning to fight?”
They believed all the first-year participants had finished. While some noble ladies were enrolled, most opted out of this final event, relying on their grades in other areas instead.
But, surprisingly—
“Bold one.”
“Yes, she reminds me of the young Marquis Offen in his day.”
The young lady on the stage.
With her slender figure, Levy Fort unsheathed her sword and faced the stone creature with calm confidence.
Hoo!
Levy Fort’s heart pounded.
Her senior classmates had gained hunting experience by capturing wild boars and mutated bears during field marches, but young and inexperienced Levy had been excluded from those hunts.
Even during the previous day’s war game, she had merely issued commands, benefiting from others’ efforts and simply adding the finishing touches.
Yet now, the many eyes watching her with anticipation made her feel nervous and burdened.
But still—
‘I chose to stand here.’
She couldn’t run away, even if she was afraid.
Everyone had tried to dissuade her.
“You’ve already secured your grades with the other subjects,” they said, “There will be other chances.”
Despite the many voices of caution, Levy Fort had accepted her shortcomings and stepped onto this stage.
‘I must prove myself!’
Levy steadied herself, focusing solely on the cold grip of her rapier.
Clad in light leather armor, she moved her left hand behind her, extended her right foot forward, turned her body to the side, and fixed her gaze forward.
It was the standard fencing stance, a style taught to noble children as a matter of course, and she gripped the rapier firmly.
GRR?
The Stone Troll, sensing an opponent far weaker than anticipated, lowered its posture, confusing her with a small animal like a rabbit.
However, Levy thought—
“Thank you for underestimating me.”
With a sudden burst of movement, she drove her rapier through the air.
Utilizing momentary shifts in her center of gravity and strengthening her sword with energy.
And with precise aim—
Pooch!
GRR!?
She struck the Stone Troll directly in its small eye.
The creature reeled in pain, just as it was about to thrash wildly, but Levy withdrew her rapier swiftly and moved to its left side.
Her fluid movement was a testament to her dedication to basic footwork training, practiced until her feet had nearly blistered.
Hoo, hoo.
She took this moment to catch her breath.
Luckily, moving to the injured side of the creature made her harder to spot.
The Stone Troll’s only weakness was its limited vision and dulled senses.
Levy exploited the creature’s design flaws with precision.
However, she didn’t let her guard down.
Bang!
‘As expected, it’s regenerating.’
The creature’s eye restored itself rapidly, and it focused on Levy with anger. Yet, she maintained her composure, recalling Sir Arno’s advice.
‘Sir Arno said that we monks must remain calm and patient, seeking every opportunity for a strategic strike.’
He was right.
Keeping calm allowed her to see clearly.
The creature was artificial, more like a model than a wild beast.
But she still wasn’t sure if her meager strength and clumsy strikes would be enough to defeat it.
Her chest tightened with anxiety, but—
—Focus!
She was jolted back to clarity by her instructor’s voice echoing in her mind.
—The best defense is offense, and the best offense is to stay a step ahead, with your sword always at the ready. That fencing style you nobles learn as etiquette? It’s derived from a war technique. As long as a swordsman has skill, it can be a powerful weapon.
‘Yes. I understand.’
Though it was just a memory, Levy followed her instructor’s words sincerely.
Fencing, the origin of the fighting style she practiced, had roots in the martial art escrime, a technique that embodied both offense and defense.
—The basics of any sword technique are to thrust, cut, parry, and strike. So remember one thing: aim to leave your opponent in ruins.
‘Yes, Master.’
With a fierce determination, Levy adhered to her instructor’s teachings.
The young student repeatedly used the same tactics to strike her opponent.
Sometimes, she stabbed the eyes, and other times, she attacked the jaw, neck, or ankles whenever there was an opening, retreating and defending herself as needed.
The key was to conserve her strength, only using energy to amplify her attacks but never expending it during evasive movements or other actions.
‘I must preserve my stamina!’
Levy carefully monitored her energy levels and the creature’s movements, attacking whenever an opportunity arose.
After all, it was a creature of instinct, an artificial construct.
Toying with it wasn’t difficult.
All she needed was the courage to face it and the determination to keep going.
And for Levy, she had—
‘I can do this!’
She had courage, determination, and grit—qualities her master had drilled into her through repetitive training, instilling them deeply.
Even if it meant collapsing or becoming utterly exhausted, Levy Fort continued to press on, and finally—
Thud...
“Haa, haa...”
39 minutes and 59 seconds.
That was the time it took her, alone, to bring down the creature.
Whoosh!
Shiver!
Rumble...
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