Chapter 40
“Stop.”
The morning run that had begun at dawn didn’t end until the sun was high overhead.
“Ughk!”
“Haaahh!”
“Huff!”
Thud.
Almost every child collapsed onto the ground at Instructor Harken’s command, gasping for breath.
“H-how many laps was that?”
“Feels like more than yesterday.”
“Three hundred and fifty laps. Yeah, it’s more. Haaahk.”
Compared to the trial they had endured yesterday, today’s training was on a whole different level. The kids trembled as they shook their heads.
And then—
“Phew.”
Ruined only brushed away light sweat as if he had merely taken a casual walk. Though he had started at the very back, he had ended up running alongside Seron.
Of course…
“Khhuuk, huff, hhhkk…”
Seron had collapsed face-down, pale as paper, gasping raggedly. He had refused to slow down, determined not to lose to Ruin, and had pushed well beyond his stamina.
At that moment—
“Tsk. Doing that won’t change anything.”
Ruin’s quiet click of the tongue carried just loud enough for Seron to hear.
“…What? You bastard! Kkhuuk—urghhhk!”
Seron suddenly lurched to his feet, only to vomit immediately, unable to hold it in.
“Whoa, Seron! Why are you throwing up all of a sudden? Are you okay?”
Meirin’s voice rang out as she rushed over, frowning.
“No need to worry about me! Damn it!”
Seron snapped and stormed off, leaving Meirin bewildered. She glanced at Ruin and muttered softly.
“What’s with him?”
“Who knows.”
Ruin only shrugged, speaking lightly.
“Guess he just overdid it.”
“Tch, people like that aren’t worth worrying about anyway.”
Meirin shook her head in annoyance. Ruin simply smiled faintly, saying nothing more.
Meanwhile—
“…”
Sitting a little away from the group, Selena Marquis had heard the whole exchange. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but the distance had been too short.
He provoked him on purpose.
Whether she wanted to or not, she’d understood the entire situation.
…He might be a troublesome one.
She quietly reassessed Ruin.
And among the other trainees—
“How can they make us run more than the first test?”
“This is our first day of training, and it’s just running?”
“Phew… so we’re done for today, right?”
Just then—
“That concludes the morning session. Eat lunch, then we begin afternoon training immediately after. Eat well.”
Instructor Harken’s harsh voice rang out.
“No way.”
“That was just morning training? After all that running?!”
“Lunch? How are we supposed to eat after this?”
“I can’t. Nothing will go down.”
“Is this real life?!”
“Just kill me already!”
As the children wailed in despair, the instructors who had been driving them all morning left the grounds.
“They won’t keep this up every day… right?”
“Of course not. Today was just for discipline. Has to be.”
“So… you guys gonna eat? I really can’t—urgh!”
“We have to eat. Even if we puke it up later, we need the strength to keep going.”
The kids staggered toward the cafeteria, muttering as they went.
“L-let’s eat.”
“What’s this? This is our food?”
The trainees’ meals were simple but efficient: light soup and easily digestible vegetables, with no greasy or heavy foods.
“Ugh, there’s nothing to eat.”
“Tastes awful.”
“Even my servants wouldn’t eat this.”
They complained, flaunting their noble upbringings.
Ruin just stared blankly at the bowl in front of him.
Wait… an actual meal plan?
With the memories of Unit 1872 still fresh, he found this unbelievable. In his old training, even hunger was part of the discipline. Days could pass without a single drop of water. They had been forced to chew grass or hunt small animals to survive.
Here, balanced meals prepared to restore stamina were nothing short of heavenly.
At this rate, I could run a hundred, no, a thousand more laps.
He scooped a spoonful of soup and murmured with genuine delight.
“This is delicious.”
[What?! Delicious?! This tastes worse than jerky off the dirt! Filthy swill! Who in the world made this garbage?]
The sword spirit grumbled in his head.
“Ugh, Ruin, how can you eat this like it’s good? Here, take mine too. I can’t—urk!”
Meirin pushed her bowl toward him, grimacing.
Ruin only thought silently so even the sword spirit couldn’t hear:
All of them are spoiled rotten.
After lunch, they regrouped at the training yard. The instructors returned and handed out wooden swords.
“Everyone, take up your blades.”
Harken’s command instantly revived the trainees’ spirits.
“Finally!”
“Now we’ll learn something real.”
“Alright, let’s focus.”
They were exhausted and hadn’t eaten much, but the chance to learn swordsmanship made their eyes shine.
But then—
“Ten thousand.”
The sparkle vanished.
“This afternoon, your only task is to strike downward ten thousand times with perfect form!”
…
“Any who fail to complete ten thousand before sundown will skip dinner.”
The children’s faces turned ghostly pale at Harken’s merciless decree.
Then he added, with a faint smirk:
“But those who finish early may rest for the remainder.”
A carrot and stick approach. The mood shifted.
“Rest? If we finish first?”
“Good. Let’s just get it done fast.”
“Ten thousand’s not so bad. I swing thousands every day already.”
“Just a little more than usual!”
The trainees eagerly began, swinging their wooden swords.
The instructors only smiled darkly.
Soon after—
“Again!”
“That’s the wrong stance. Start over!”
“Swing properly! Didn’t you learn correct form?!”
They scrutinized every movement mercilessly.
“What? Why doesn’t it count?”
“What’s wrong with it?!”
They’d fallen into the trap: perfect form.
“Did you forget what the head instructor said? Perfect form! That sword tip bent. Start over.”
“Your stance is wrong. Bend your waist more. Straighten your back.”
“And don’t put your foot there!”
Not a single flaw escaped the instructors’ eyes. Only three trainees managed to avoid constant correction: Seron, Selena, and Meirin.
“Huuhhh—”
“…Haaah…”
The three concentrated fiercely, giving their utmost effort.
Smash!
Seron’s textbook-perfect downward strikes burned with focus.
But…
“Hhhuuuhh…”
By his second strike, his pace had already slowed. Even for a prodigy, ten thousand in one afternoon seemed impossible.
The others weren’t faring better.
“Haaaah…”
Sweat poured from Seron, Selena’s pale skin flushed red, and Meirin scowled with frustration.
All three, hailed as the academy’s brightest talents, were struggling through sheer grit.
Meanwhile—
“Hmmm.”
One boy hadn’t moved for an hour, just standing quietly.
“You! Why haven’t you swung once yet?!”
The instructor barked.
Ruin calmly raised his wooden sword and smiled.
“I was just watching for a bit.”
“…What?”
“Now I’ll start.”
Then—
Whoosh!
His blade cut the air in a flawless downward strike.
“…?!”
The instructor froze, stunned.
Thwack! Whoosh!
A second, then a third perfect strike followed.
“This… what…”
Even the instructor doubted he could perform a cleaner, more precise cut himself. Ruin’s movements were terrifyingly crisp, flawless in form.
Can this really be possible, even for a genius?
He had seen countless prodigies in his career. He knew just how much concentration and effort perfect form required. Yet this boy, who had been idling around, suddenly displayed this mastery.
…What is he?
But Ruin himself felt perfectly at ease.
Hmm, not that hard after all.
He wasn’t just relying on Unit 1872’s experience.
Observing paid off.
For the first hour, he hadn’t swung at all, only watching his peers. He had absorbed every breath, movement, and twitch of their muscles. One of his abilities, Heavenly Perfection, was at work.
I see everything. And I can apply it.
Seron’s near-perfect form in particular had been useful.
Thanks, but not really. Seron.
Ruin smirked inwardly, recalling their bitter rivalry.
Whoooosh!
Thanks to that, his strikes were even faster, sharper, and more precise than Seron’s.
And before long—
“…Ruin, finished. Ten thousand strikes completed.”
The instructor’s loud declaration echoed through the training yard.
Every eye turned toward him.
