The heavy iron bar, usually used as a barbell shaft and as thick as a wrist, came smashing down toward his head.
If that blow had landed squarely, a bloodied, split scalp would have been the least of it. It could have splattered his brains right out.
In the instant before the iron bar touched his forehead, Altaïr suddenly raised his hand, bringing his wooden sword up horizontally. Using the blade as a fulcrum, his entire body acted like a spring, deflecting the iron bar, many times heavier than the wooden sword, away.
Immediately after, the wooden sword transformed the force into a flip and a forward chop, but stopped short of fully cleaving down. Just like during his usual basic swing practice, the sword stance halted midway, then he stepped back and sheathed the blade.
Setting the barbell shaft aside, Amos nodded and said, "That's about enough. The conditions at the home training area are limited. Being able to train to this level is already no small feat. You've grasped some of the essentials. Polish the rest through live combat from here on."
"Yes, thank you for the instruction." Altaïr placed the wooden sword back and bowed in salute.
"Silly boy, so stubborn. Honestly, if you'd just accepted my suggestion and let us borrow the training camp's steam mechanical beast for you to train your new moves, wouldn't that have been great? That thing might not fully replicate actual combat, but getting it six or seven-tenths of the way there is no problem at all. You can treat it as a 3★ Monster to fight. If you won't agree, what can I do?" Gael, watching from the sidelines, rambled on.
"Thank you for the kind intentions, Senior, but that won't be necessary." Altaïr replied expressionlessly, then bent down to tidy up the training equipment on the ground.
The Head Instructor made it sound nice, but bluntly speaking, she just wanted to use him as a teaching tool. The last demonstration had been a huge hit, and the trainees' enthusiasm for training had noticeably increased, so the Instructors were discussing inviting him back. This time, no more beating on dead targets. They'd use the mechanical beast to simulate actual combat!
But Altaïr had truly had enough of that feeling of being watched by hundreds, nearly a thousand people. Besides, if it was meant to be actual combat, the chances to genuinely practice the Tempered Spirit Blade would be few and far between. He would rather head to the hunting grounds himself later and find Monsters for live combat practice than be sweet-talked by Gael into dealing with some mechanical beast.
"Aren't you busy with your Instructor work? How did you find the time to drop by here?" Amos walked over. Such a question would have been far too discourteous coming from Altaïr, but for him, as an elder, it was fine.
"Oh, it's nothing really," Gael said, feigning nonchalance. "It's just that the promotion exam assignment for that young lady, Lambert, has come down. On my way home, I remembered it, so I stopped by to ask if you'd be interested in going to observe."
This was clearly directed at Altaïr, and Amos once again proactively intercepted the conversation. "You want Altaïr and Isis to be the girl's guides?"
Gael squeezed out an ingratiating smile. "Old man, truly nothing escapes you."
Altaïr, having finished organizing the training equipment, walked over. During casual chats, he had told Master Amos about matters concerning that trainee. As for the so-called "guide," it was a fairly common expression. Rookie Hunters fresh from the nest still had many immature aspects. Whether it was the traditional master-apprentice model or the now-mainstream training camp model, similar problems existed. Facts had also proven that having a senior to help guide them could greatly increase a Rookie Hunter's survival rate.
Under the traditional teaching model, mentors generally played that role, so the two concepts overlapped quite a bit.
But training camps had no such option. Take the Dundorma Training Camp, for example. Every year, over a hundred trainees graduated. Where could you find that many Old Hunters to guide them?
So nowadays, training camps kept promoting an ethos of mutual support.
Graduates who had come before, once they encountered fledgling juniors setting out on the road, would lend a hand as much as they could. When those juniors eventually matured, they in turn would make a habit of helping those who came after.
That was what a so-called guide meant. It was much the same idea as the Vanguard Hunting Party members taking Balina under their wing.
Altaïr himself had never had a fixed guide. Partly because his rookie period was so short, and partly because he was too restless, always running around all over the place.
Truth be told, the seniors of the Loc Lac Rangers, Serl, whom he'd befriended during the Desert Feast, and the two old friends, Jara and Naziya, he'd met in Val Habar had all served a similar role.
So whenever he truly ran into a rookie in need, he was perfectly willing to step in and help.
"You know as well as I do, that one is not a likable sort." Gael covered her face. "I can already picture the scene.
"A kind senior asks her, 'Need any help?' and she curls her lip and shoots back, 'No thanks, you seem like a pretty boring big sis.' I'd feel my blood pressure spike too."
"Heh heh heh." Amos suddenly let out a few soft chuckles.
Puzzled, Gael looked at him. "What are you laughing about?"
"Nothing. It's just, if this were you twenty or thirty years ago, you'd have said something like, 'Why should I care whether she lives or dies?'
"You would never have gone to all this fuss fretting over someone else's concerns."
"Well, I'm an Instructor now, after all." Gael forced a few dry laughs, then, as if to cover her embarrassment, raised her voice. "So, kid, yes or no? Give me a straight answer."
Altaïr sighed. "You really are dedicated, making a special trip all the way here just for this.
"Back when I asked you for her home address, when I met with her parents and even asked for permission to discipline her, didn't that mean I was already agreeing to take on this problem?"
A smile broke across Gael's face. She clapped Altaïr hard on the shoulder. "I knew you were the type to look cold on the outside but warm on the inside!
"It's mainly that the little brat only seems willing to listen to the two of you, even though you've only met her once.
"Anyway, I'll come call for you early tomorrow morning. It's at a nearby hunting ground; if all goes well, we'll be back the same day. It won't take much time.
"She might be a little flighty, but her skill is decent enough. Taking down a few Velociprey shouldn't be a problem."
Before Altaïr could open his mouth to refuse, Gael swung around and strode off with big steps.
"Your Tempered Spirit Blade training is about done anyway. Think of it as a chance to unwind," Amos said with a chuckle. "Gael probably wants to use this to deepen your bond with that child.
"The more contact you have, the less able you'll be to harden your heart and let go if real trouble comes. Isn't that so? And by the same token, once she grows stronger, your chances of recruiting her later will be much higher.
"If you truly don't want to go, that's fine. Chase after her and tell her I've still got some other training assigned to you."
"Forget it. I'll just go." Altaïr shook his head.
"I'm also a bit curious. What exactly did that girl do with a Hunting Horn, to make the Head Instructor call it 'a bit scary' and a high-rank Hunting Horn user offer to take her as a disciple?"
—--
The next day, before dawn.
As if afraid Altaïr would run off, Gael showed up at Amos's house early in the morning to nab him.
Luckily, Altaïr also had the habit of getting up early to train; otherwise, being hauled out of bed by this carefree elder would have been rather undignified.
Sajji had recently been wrapped up in researching some new gadget again, completely forgetting to eat or sleep. He'd gone to bed very late the night before, so Altaïr didn't wake him.
He changed into casual clothes, then thought it over. Since they were heading to the hunting grounds, even if it was a low-risk area not far from the city, with no Large Monster sightings, just in case, he still strapped the Khanga Rebellion onto his back.
"Casual clothes with a weapon on your back. That's quite the novel look, eh?" Gael teased.
She had come alone, too. According to her, Senior Francesca had also wanted to come, but was too groggy with sleep and couldn't manage to get up.
"Are we going to pick up Lambert as well?" Altaïr asked.
"No need. She'll set out on her own. I'm the examiner, and you're... the examiner's assistant? Anyway, we're not traveling together with her. We just watch from afar, where she won't notice us."
After this casual explanation, the two of them left the small courtyard of Amos's house.
"Speaking of which, where's that Tigrex coat of yours? Not wearing it?" Gael was a talkative person, and they chatted idly as they walked.
"How did you know about the coat?"
Gael lifted a foot. "Isis is a filial child; I received a pair of leather boots, too."
"Ah, I see." Altaïr scratched his head a little sheepishly. "I've been growing pretty fast these past two years, so that coat doesn't quite fit anymore. Plus, I don't wear it much day to day..."
"Hey, growing fast is no problem. A leather coat can be taken apart and altered. The real issue is you're not that fond of it anymore, right?"
Gael had the air of an expert. "Tigrex hide is too thick, too stiff. Even after being split into layers and tanned, it's not very suitable for making clothes. The shape holds up well enough, but it's uncomfortable to wear. It's barely passable for boots, hats, and bags."
"Yeah..." Altaïr let out a dry laugh.
Gael had hit the nail on the head with every point. He couldn't help but feel a bit curious. "You seem very knowledgeable about leather goods, Lady Gael?"
"You could say that." Gael's tone was vague. "When Francesca was traveling abroad in years past, she sent all sorts of random leather goods home."
"Your senior is very filial."
"..."
After a subtle silence, Gael changed the subject. "Anyway, if you want a leather coat made again in the future, don't always pick materials from powerful Monsters. It's everyday clothing, after all, not protective gear.
"Sometimes the residual scent can easily cause trouble for you. Aptonoth and Anteka hides are both good choices. Oh, right, Yian Kut-Ku hide is also very good.
"And remember, a mid-length coat is more practical than both short and long styles. For the design, look to the leather coats field scholars often wear, tough, durable, easy to move in, and easy to style with other clothes."
"Can Hyper Yian Kut-Ku hide be used?" Altaïr recalled he'd carved quite a bit of that before.
"...Damn it. You youngsters of the new generation use Hyper Monster materials just to make a piece of clothing?"
Chatting idly along the way, the two arrived at the city gate, where a nondescript middle-aged man who looked to be in his fifties stood waiting.
Altaïr hadn't paid him any mind at first, but then Gael walked right up to him. "Yo, you're here early. Still haven't given up, huh?"
The man smiled helplessly. "Just curious, that's all."
"Never seen you fuss this much over your own son." Gael let out a scoffing laugh, then turned and beckoned Altaïr over. "Come here, let me introduce you. This is Altaïr, one of those absurd new generation types, 4★ and not even twenty yet, about to hit 5★ any day now. Oh right, he's also Isis's partner.
"This here is Ferdie, a 7★ Hunting Horn user."
"Pleasure to meet you, Senior." Altaïr immediately bowed his head slightly in greeting.
"Hello." The mild-mannered man smiled and proactively offered his hand for a handshake.
Not a trace of arrogance about him. Not especially tall in stature, nor particularly burly. He came across like an ordinary uncle from next door.
If no one told you, who would ever guess he was actually a high-rank Hunter of formidable strength?
"Let's go." Gael tilted her head at the two of them. "I rented a cart, so we'll get there faster this way."
Altaïr couldn't fathom why Gael, whose household clearly owned so many carriages, would specifically walk all the way to the city gate to rent one. Perhaps that was just how rich people kept a low profile.
There weren't many carts waiting by the city gate, so they quickly found the Aptonoth cart Gael had rented and climbed aboard.
"One more guest should be along any moment now. Just a short wait, if you don't mind," the cart driver said with a touch of apology.
"Not a problem!" Gael waved a hand dismissively.
It was a shared ride, even?
They waited only a few minutes before the fourth guest arrived. The instant the cart door was pulled open, all three faces inside stiffened, and the newcomer froze in surprise as well.
"Ah, hello Instructor, hello Senior Altaïr, hello Uncle Ferdie."
Dressed in the standard-issue Hunter's Armor of a Rookie Hunter and carrying an Iron Horn, the ore-tree starter Hunting Horn, a fully geared-up Lambert spoke in a flat tone, though her greeting was still polite enough.
"...What the. What are you doing here?!" After a brief silence, Gael's eyebrows shot up.
Lambert seemed slightly puzzled. "Taking a cart to the hunting grounds?"
"The whole trip is barely over ten kilometers. Why do you need a cart? Shouldn't you be running there as a warm-up?"
Lambert was silent for a few seconds. "...Don't wanna."
Just as Gael looked about to explode, Lambert finally registered that this person was her examiner and hastily added, "Conserving precious stamina for the most critical moment. I believe taking a cart is a very necessary choice."
"You damn new generation!"
(Translated by yourtl.app)