Chapter 57
Ceres watched him quietly for a moment before a cold dose of reality slipped out of her mouth.
“You have no talent for the sword.”
“…I know.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“I said I know.”
“No, really. You’re incredibly, horribly, unbelievably bad.”
“I said I know already!”
You don’t have to emphasize it that much!
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
Why keep learning swordsmanship when he knew he had no skill for it—why put himself through all this humiliation?
Ceres was genuinely curious.
Antonian had excellent grades in his general studies. There was no need to cling to something he clearly had no aptitude for. Why, then, did he look so resentful, so frustrated, so desperate? Ceres couldn’t understand.
Antonian bit his lip until it bled. Only when she scolded him to stop did he finally speak.
“…Because I like it.”
“What?”
“I like it!”
“……”
“Even if I’m bad at it—if I like it, then I can still do it, right?!”
The boy shouted, his voice trembling with anger and grief.
It was something he’d heard countless times before—from professors, classmates, even friends in the swordsmanship department—everyone telling him maybe he should just switch majors.
But he never wanted to.
“I’m going to be like him.”
“‘Him’?”
“The founder of our family.”
“…You mean, the Mercenary King?”
Ceres blinked, looking utterly dumbfounded.
Wait. Did he just say he wants to be a mercenary? Not even a knight?
“You… like swearing or something?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“No reason. Just asking.”
Ceres sighed briefly, recalling all the mercenaries who often came to her shop.
Antonian, misunderstanding her silence as disapproval, lowered his voice.
“Just because I don’t have talent doesn’t mean I can’t have a dream.”
“…A dream?”
He nodded firmly.
His earliest memory was of his father’s voice, telling him stories before bed—stories about the founder of the Drow family, the great Mercenary King, Tom.
Every time he heard about that man, he would shout that he, too, would one day become a mercenary just as great.
“You know, not everyone fulfills their childhood dream,” Ceres muttered, scratching her cheek.
This was unexpected.
She had always thought of Antonian as a rational, level-headed kid for his age. She never imagined he had such a sentimental dream.
Wait… is it even allowed for his character to just change like this all of a sudden?
“…Still, I like it.”
“The sword?”
He nodded—vigorously, even though he was completely exhausted.
Seeing that, Ceres couldn’t help but smile faintly.
Her gaze shifted toward the B-group students, all sprawled out and panting on the ground like worn-out puppies.
Sensing her look, Antonian spoke weakly.
“They all… like the sword too.”
That’s why they kept enduring it.
Even after being mocked and humiliated, they still stood in the training yard day after day—because they loved the sword.
“Hmmm.”
Ceres stared at the group, eyes full of anger, resentment, and wounded pride.
“You kids want to beat them?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, don’t you want to make those brats who treat you like dirt clean your floors for once?”
“Well, of course…”
Of course they did!
They’d been treated like garbage for so long.
‘Give it up. You losers can’t even swing a sword properly.’
‘You look best crawling on the ground.’
‘What? Want another round? You untalented clowns should stop embarrassing yourselves.’
The kids slowly began standing up, one by one, gritting their teeth.
All the humiliation they’d swallowed came rushing back.
If they could just land one good hit on those arrogant faces—it would be worth everything.
They’d dreamed a thousand times about fighting back, biting and clawing if they had to.
‘But still…’
Why was she asking this?
They might be angry, but they weren’t delusional.
They knew the truth.
No matter how much they practiced, there was no way they could beat A-group students who’d been professionally trained since childhood and still received top-level instruction.
“You guys…”
Ceres stayed crouched where she was, looking up at the students surrounding her.
Then the corners of her lips lifted slightly.
These little ones have quite the fire in their eyes.
“Wanna learn the sword from me?”
Later that day
“What the—where did all those losers go?”
“No clue. As soon as class ended, they bolted out of the room like something good was waiting for them.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah, every one of them.”
When the A-group students entered the training yard as usual, they frowned in confusion. The B-group was nowhere to be seen.
“Finally gave up, huh? Took them long enough to figure out their place.”
Iron, the son of Count Belgial, chuckled under his breath.
His friends joined in the laughter.
“It’s hilarious that it took them half a year to realize how useless they are.”
“Well, thanks to you, Iron, we got our own class anyway.”
Iron Belgial was the one who petitioned the academy to split swordsmanship classes by skill level.
Of course, his father’s influence as Count Belgial had helped. He hated sharing lessons with talentless, lowborn kids.
He could tolerate them in normal classes—but in swordsmanship? The sight of them swinging blades was just ridiculous.
They’d told them every day to know their place. Maybe they’d finally listened.
“Boring. Let’s go.”
“Yeah.”
With nothing left to do, Iron and the rest of A-group strolled out of the training grounds, laughing.
“U-uh… Sister?”
“What?”
“Are we really… supposed to climb that?”
“Yep.”
“For real?”
“Yup. Really.”
“Us?”
“Uh-huh. You guys.”
“……”
Antonian and his friends stood speechless before a massive stone mountain towering before them.
When Ceres had first offered to teach them swordsmanship, they’d all been skeptical. None of them had ever heard that Antonian’s older sister even knew how to wield a sword.
Naturally, Antonian was the most baffled of all.
What the hell is she talking about? My sister teaching swordsmanship?
Just try it once. You won’t regret it, she had said.
…When did my sister learn how to scam people?
Her sly smile, the way she spoke like a con artist luring them in—it made Antonian and the others instinctively step back.
Well… we’ve got nothing to lose, right?
In the end, her reasoning convinced them. Whatever happened, it couldn’t be worse than their current situation.
But then…
“Where are we?”
His voice was filled with suspicion.
Ceres smirked.
“Training grounds.”
More precisely—the personal training grounds once used by Grace Ellucia herself.
“Why the hell is this inside a cave?”
“Good question. Why is it?”
“Stop playing around!”
Antonian stomped his foot in frustration.
When they’d first followed Ceres into the mountains, they assumed it was for endurance training. They knew their physical strength was far below A-group’s, so they followed without complaint.
But she led them deep into a mountain cave.
And before they could even ask why, their jaws dropped.
Because beyond the heavy iron gate inside the cave… was an entire world.
“A mountain… that’s a real mountain, right? Why is there a whole mountain inside a cave?!”
“I-I don’t know! What about that waterfall? And that river? And that snow-covered mountain over there—wait, WHAT?!”
“Holy crap, that’s real snow! In this season? Am I going crazy?”
They pinched each other’s cheeks, stomped each other’s feet—just to check if they were dreaming.
Why they didn’t test themselves instead of others, who knows.
But even in the chaos, Antonian managed to point the only sensible question at Ceres.
“Sis! What is this place?! How do you even know about somewhere like this?!”
“I found it while taking a walk. It’s only about twenty minutes from home.”
“You expect me to believe that?!”
Ceres smiled proudly at the only one still managing to think straight among the trembling kids.
Yelling at your big sister, huh? How bold you’ve gotten.
She was tempted to put him in his place—but decided to hold off for now.
“Don’t worry. You won’t die.”
“Stop joking! That’s not what I’m worried about!”
“I’m not joking.”
No matter what happened here—no one would die, no one would even be crippled.
Because…
This place is a magical domain.
A training space created by Artia.
The mountain, the snow, the entire landscape—all illusions, crafted by magic.
And the best part—
The training effects are exponentially enhanced.
