Translator: CinderTL
"You must be... Roland?"
In the training grounds of the Knight Academy, Instructor Reggie slowly raised his gaze from the card in his hand, scrutinizing the young man before him.
"Yes, Instructor Reggie," Roland replied, sensing an unusual expression in the instructor's eyes. "Have you... heard of me?"
"Of course," Reggie said, handing back the card. "At the start of this term, Mr. Colin recommended fifty-six candidates to Mr. Nielsen. But you... were the only one Dean Graham approved."
Fifty-six candidates?
Roland's lips twitched involuntarily at the number.
He knew that while the Knight Academies of the River Domain Nations didn't have strict social status requirements, the assessment difficulty was correspondingly high. Each year, only a few hundred students managed to pass the entrance exams.
Fifty-six candidates...
That was nearly half the usual number of accepted students.
No wonder Dean Graham had reacted with such disdain and anger when he learned Roland was one of Colin's recommendations.
It seemed this wealthy merchant's method of recommending "talent" wasn't based on discerning merit, but rather on sheer quantity...
"But..."
Reggie's broad hand suddenly clapped Roland on the shoulder.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The dull thudding reverberated, the force behind each strike sending a jolt through Roland's chest.
He narrowed his eyes, finally taking a proper look at the man before him.
The man was powerfully built, but his exposed muscles weren't grotesquely bulging. His frame was far from towering, merely average for a human.
His features were equally unremarkable.
Only the prominent old scars etched across his face and shoulders hinted at a life weathered by hardship.
Yet this seemingly ordinary man had just casually displayed a strength that secretly alarmed Roland.
Without activating any special abilities, Roland estimated that his raw physical strength was still slightly inferior to the man's.
Just an instructor at the Knight Academy, yet his strength has reached an extraordinary level? His pure physical power even surpasses mine by a margin.
Realizing this, the last vestiges of Roland's pride in his own strength vanished without a trace.
Reggie, oblivious to Roland's furrowed brow, spoke in a voice as deep and rumbling as distant thunder.
"But even if you have Dean Graham's approval, you'll follow my rules in my class!"
"As for the combat techniques you want to learn, you'll follow my curriculum. And..."
He locked eyes with Roland, each word deliberate and forceful.
"Don't act like those fools who came before you, thinking that because they're buddy-buddy with Mr. Colin, they can run wild on my turf! Understand?"
"Understood!"
Facing the palpable pressure radiating from Reggie, Roland had no doubt that the man would throw a punch without hesitation if he dared to cross the line.
Though Roland might have the edge in overall combat ability, his purpose here was to learn skills, not to provoke pointless conflict.
"Good!"
Seeing Roland's compliant attitude, Reggie nodded in satisfaction and pointed to the shade of a nearby tree.
"Wait over there until the other trainees arrive. We'll start the lesson once everyone's here."
"Understood, Instructor Reggie."
After a brief inquiry about the lesson's key points, Roland strolled toward the shaded area.
Soon, a mix of hurried footsteps and hushed whispers grew louder as the trainees began arriving at the training grounds.
Humans formed the majority, but the group also included distinct races like elves, orcs, and dwarves.
The halfling Avril had mentioned was also present, standing alone.
Gazing at the halfling's small, frail figure, Roland couldn't help but wonder about the Knight Academy's assessment criteria.
How could a halfling with such a clear physical disadvantage compared to other races have passed the assessment?
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Just as Roland was pondering this, three crisp, resounding claps suddenly cut through the air, silencing all other sounds.
"Quiet, everyone!" Reggie's voice boomed like thunder rolling across the training ground.
The training ground instantly fell silent.
Many students glanced at him with a hint of fear in their eyes.
"Let's begin today's first lesson."
The unremarkable, burly man casually drew an unsharpened iron sword from the weapon rack.
Sunlight glinted off the blade, reflecting a cold, hard sheen.
"Basic longsword techniques!"
As soon as the words left his lips, Reggie sharply noticed several disappointed glances among the crowd.
He abruptly thrust the iron sword into the ground with a resounding thud!
"I know!" he roared, his voice echoing across the training ground. "Some of you may have learned a few sword techniques elsewhere! But here..."
His sharp gaze swept across the entire group.
"...you'll all start from scratch!"
"Want to skip this class? Want an exemption?" Reggie's voice suddenly rose, carrying an undeniable sense of authority.
"Same rules as always! Take me down first! Otherwise..."
He nearly bellowed.
"Everyone, practice diligently! Do you hear me?"
"Yes... yes!" the trainees responded in unison, many visibly trembling, having already experienced Reggie's methods firsthand.
"Excellent! Now, let's move on..."
Reggie nodded in satisfaction and began demonstrating the techniques with his iron sword, explaining each movement in detail.
Roland didn't slack off either, standing attentively among the crowd and listening intently.
Although his Short Blade Mastery had long since mastered everything Reggie was teaching, observing the instructor's clear and methodical teaching style prompted him to compare it with Peyton's methods and the training of the Blackwater Territory guards.
In contrast, Reggie's instruction was not only logically structured and easy to understand, but also progressed systematically from basic to advanced concepts.
At least in terms of teaching, it far surpassed the anecdotal advice of mercenaries and veterans.
If I had had someone like this to teach me from the start, my progress might have been much faster. No wonder he's an instructor at the Formal Knight Academy...
Just as Roland was musing, Reggie stopped demonstrating.
"Alright! As usual, pair up and spar! Winners will receive credit for class participation!"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the crowd dispersed like a receding tide.
Amidst the surging throng, Roland keenly noticed that everyone was deliberately avoiding a particular individual.
As students passed by this person, their gazes darted away, revealing clear fear, and their footsteps quickened involuntarily, as if fleeing a plague.
Sensing the anomaly, Roland looked up.
There stood an orc, utterly alone.
Yet he was unlike any other green-skinned orc.
His skin was a sinister blood-red, and the protruding tusks on his ferocious face gleamed with a chilling light.
When Roland's gaze fell upon him, the red-skinned orc slowly turned his head.
His eyes gave Roland an unsettling feeling.
Beneath their calm, gentle surface, an undisguised bloodlust and savagery churned.
In mere moments, the once-crowded arena was deserted, leaving only Roland, the solitary halfling, and the blood-red-skinned orc.
"Instructor Reggie..."
The halfling fidgeted nervously, twisting his fingers. He glanced anxiously at the terrifying red figure beside him before quickly averting his gaze and pointing cautiously at Roland.
"C-can I... can I choose him as my opponent?"
(End of the Chapter)
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