Doggone Academy-Chapter 10: Training (2)

I hadn’t wielded a sword for a full ten days.

In all that time, all I had done was cut trees, chop them into pieces, roll them, and pile them up.

It hadn’t been for naught, though. I had gained precious calluses and my weight had increased. While muscles weren’t visibly bulging, there was a newfound sense of balance in my physique, and my endurance had definitely improved from before.

The hideous potion played a significant role. It allowed me to recover overnight from what should have been a week of bedrest due to the hard labor, and to handle even heavier workloads the next day.

On the ninth day, I managed to finish the assigned work a little after midday, my skills improving to where I even had spare stamina.

This was precisely the reason I had grown interested in alchemy. Alchemy and potion-making were as powerful as magic itself. After finishing the day’s training and when nighttime came, I would take an alchemy book from Silveryn’s library and read it until bedtime.

On the eleventh day, Silveryn had me fashion poles from the trees and plant them in the clearing.

There were six poles, set a step apart in a row, with a total of four rows amounting to 24 poles in all.

Since the tree logs weren’t cut very large initially, the poles were only about as high as my thighs. After creating these poles, which I didn’t know the purpose of, Silveryn said,

“This will be your training ground.”

I looked at Silveryn, then back at the poles, and then back to her again.

She nodded as if confirming what I saw was correct.

“Get on top of the pole.”

“……?”

“Step on it and stand atop.”

Although several questions arose in my mind, I did as Silveryn said and climbed onto a pole. The surface area was enough for one foot but too small for both.

“You will train in swordsmanship up there.”

I doubted my ears. Swordsmanship training here, where even maintaining balance was difficult?

One wrong step would send me tumbling down. Breath seemingly caught in my chest.

As I wondered if knights trained like this, Silveryn, as if reading my thoughts, said,

“If you’re going to spend your life having friendly matches and tournaments with knights, then you don’t need this training. But even if you were to collect trophies from such pastimes, they wouldn’t assure your life.”

“…”

“Enemies won’t kindly come out to flat ground to fight you according to your convenience. Adapting where there’s hardly foothold is first.”

I immediately began training.

The start was getting used to stepping on the wooden poles. Not only moving forward but also practicing side and back steps.

Silveryn watched and corrected my posture one step at a time.

“Don’t look down, look ahead. Move as if you have an enemy in front of you. Will you keep looking at the ground even when a sword is coming at you?”

“You need to feel the ground with your sense of touch, not look at it while stepping.”

Since I had to find footing based solely on feel, there were countless times I misstepped and fell.

Each time I fell and gathered more bruises, my abilities grew little by little.

This training continued until the next day.

As I grew adept at stepping, Silveryn increased the difficulty a little more.

At her gesture, the maids placed a basket next to her, filled with pebbles.

“It’s simple. Catch the stones I throw.”

The task felt easy when I first heard it, but in practice, it was a whole different level.

Silveryn tossed the pebbles in a parabola and I had to step and move to the expected landing spot to catch them.

But it wasn’t as easy as it sounds. If I focused on where to step, the stones would have hit the ground, and if I focused on the stones, I’d misstep and tumble down.

It was a training that demanded coordination between the arms and legs, as well as high levels of concentration.

The number of times I fell doubled when I started this training.

On the first day, I could catch three out of ten thrown pebbles, by the third day, seven, and by the fifth day, I was catching every single stone with ease.

Silveryn didn’t stop there, though.

“It looks like you’re getting used to it.”

Saying so, she randomly picked out three poles and threw them away.

She effectively disrupted my comfort zone and thrust me into a new environment every time.

Furthermore, Silveryn had the housekeepers modify my training ground daily.

Changing the height of some poles or replacing them with thin stakes and so on.

And so, I gradually adapted to these changes. Eventually, standing on the poles felt as comfortable as standing on solid ground.

Even when Silveryn threw the stones faster, I could catch every one without fail.

Finally, she put down the stones and spoke.

“That’s enough.”

“Enough…?”

“Congratulations. You’ve passed the first phase of Zeldan Hart’s test.”

She took out an old parchment from within her cloak and stretched out her arm towards me as if to hand it over.

I descended and took the paper Silveryn offered, reading it.

It listed the same training instructions I had been following up to this point, and at the very bottom was Zeldan Hart’s signature.

“Since you finished faster than the time Zeldan Hart mentioned, you’re pretty useful, at least by human standards. It’s just the first phase, but still.”

“…But who is this person?”

“…”

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t know who Zeldan Hart is…?”

“Yes.”

Silveryn looked at me with a face of regret and shook her head silently.

“Teacher?”

Silveryn left without me.

“Enough, I’m going ahead.”

***

That night, I scoured the books in Silveryn’s library to appease my curiosity.

And there, I found the name Zeldan Hart without much difficulty.

Upon seeing his name, I sighed and smacked my forehead.

If one wields a sword… it’s a name that should not be unknown.

A Swordmaster, one of only ten in the entire world.

Among those ten, he reached the summit,

And finally attained the absolute domain of the sword.

Zeldan Hart was the name of that legendary ‘Sword God’.

***

The opponent’s sword clatters to the ground.

The second-year student Nash, who had agreed to be my sparring partner, bit his lip. Nash was a prodigy good enough to be in the advanced combat class, but he was no match for Flynn in terms of swordsmanship.

From footwork, strength, sensibility, to finesse, Flynn was flawless. His swordsmanship skills far exceeded the level typical of a second-year. After all, there were rumors that the Imperial Royal Knights had been in contact with Flynn several times.

If it had been a real sword fight and not a wooden sword duel, he would have been decimated by Flynn’s sword aura before taking a few hits.

Only Flynn and Elliot knew how to emit sword aura among all first- and second-year students. Both were geniuses among geniuses, possessing overwhelming skills.

“Damn it.”

Flynn reached out to the fallen Nash and said,

“There’s no need to be frustrated. I’ve been wielding a sword since I could walk. By experience alone, this outcome is to be expected.”

Nash grasped Flynn’s hand to stand up and retorted,

“Were you always this annoying since you were little?”

Flynn chuckled and turned away. That’s when Nash grabbed him again.

“Let’s go again. This time with real swords.”

Flynn shook his head.

“Professor Gael has called for me. I must go.”

Nash provocatively baited him,

“I’ll just spread the word that you chickened out from fighting me, right?”

“…”

“If it’s Professor Gael, I’ll fetch her myself. You’re almost on the verge of collapse here, anyway.”

Hearing the transparent taunt, Flynn just shook his head as if weary.

Then he drew his sword at his waist and said,

“I can’t entertain you for long.”

“Good, come then.”

Nash inwardly admired Flynn’s sword as he held it.

The sword of Occam. A legendary sword passed down through generations of the Ermiya family. It was a famous sword, awarded 400 years ago to the first leader of the Ermiya family for his valor in the war, given by a Dwarf King.

The smooth blade was inscribed with runes to resonate well with the wielder’s mana.

The reason Nash requested a match with real swords was simply to see that sword once more.

Nash picked up his own sword, which had been tossed aside in the training grounds, and drew it.

Grinning coyly, he brimmed with bravado,

“It won’t be easy.”

The two of them faced each other, swords at the ready.

A bluish aura rose from Flynn’s sword. It was his sword aura.

The air suddenly grew dense.

Sweat formed on Nash’s back due to the oppressive feeling of the sword aura.

The standoff didn’t last long.

Nash was the first to burst forward with a battle cry toward Flynn.

Flynn stepped back, effortlessly moving out of Nash’s reach. Without needing to clash swords, Flynn lightly dodged Nash’s blade and counterattacked.

Nash hesitated momentarily due to the backlash of swinging his sword indiscriminately. Flynn seized the opportunity to strike.

In a single move, the duel was decided.

Clang.

When Nash came to his senses and lifted his hands, only the sword’s hilt was in his grip.

The blade was rolling on the ground.

Flynn sheathed his sword and announced,

“Then rest up. I’m off.”

Nash let out a hollow laugh and slumped down on the ground.

Walking through the corridors, Flynn cooled off the sweat. He straightened his disheveled clothes and caught his breath.

He knocked on the door of Gael’s office. Hearing an invitation from inside, he opened the door and entered.

Gael was sitting on the windowsill, wiping her sword with a dry towel.

“Professor Gael, you called for me.”

“Welcome.”

Gael gestured for him to sit. Flynn seated himself on a visitor’s chair at some distance from Gael.

“I’m still sweating from the training; my apologies.”

“When have I ever been bothered by such things? How’s your father?”

“Yes, he’s improved a lot.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“But what’s the reason for calling me?”

Gael wore a meaningful expression and said,

“There’s a personal favor I want to ask of you.”

Gael was Flynn’s mentor. She had tutored him at home since he was eleven and continued their relationship at the academy. The fact that Flynn had smoothly entered the academy was all thanks to Gael. Flynn had a steadfast nature, believing in repaying all debts, and thus felt indebted to Gael for always helping him.

“Whatever it is, I’ll help if I can.”

Gael nodded slightly. From her expression, it didn’t appear to be an onerous request.

“…Sure, it won’t be difficult.”