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“First… I’ll need to get a sword from that blacksmith.”

The invitation to Acalusia was truly an unexpected stroke of luck. He didn’t think he would receive it, and even if he did, he assumed it would be much later.

Ronan recalled his conversation with Adeshan. To pass the test of Acalusia, all he needed were the invitation and skill.

He had his own skills, but there was one problem.

“He handled me roughly.”

Ronan drew his black iron sword. The state of it had worsened since he had met Shullifen before.

Engaging in continuous sparring in its already damaged state had been fatal. If he had known how to communicate, he would have screamed for them to throw him into the forge immediately.

No matter how unselective they were about equipment, this kind of damage was beyond repair. Ronan thought of the metal plaque in his pouch. It had been a temporary memory impairment gift from Shullifen that Iril had fallen for.

“Still, if it’s a secret forge in Gracia, I might be able to get something sturdy.”

Ronan remembered the location of the secret forge in Gracia. The fact that they were on vacation for a few days also helped.

“Today’s Wednesday… I’ll have to wait until the weekend anyway.”

According to the rules of Philleon Academy, students couldn’t leave the grounds on weekdays. Ronan decided to focus on academy life until the weekend arrived.

The party didn’t end until nightfall. The new students moved under the guidance of the dormitory supervisors.

****

Philleon Academy valued skill more than any other educational institution. Scholarships and privileges given to top performers were evidence of that.

For the top 30%, regardless of where they were in the Empire, free transportation was provided. They could access Grade 3 or lower forbidden books for academic research.

They could also receive official invitations to the mage tower or knight order they wanted to enter after graduation. Numerous other benefits were provided throughout their enrollment.

But as the saying goes, fresh carrots can also whip. The dormitory system, divided into three tiers, was a prime example.

The first night of admission. The cries of noble newcomers echoed from the dormitory for the lower ranks, just as always. They were realizing for the first time that the floor and ceiling could creak.

“Are they telling us to stay in a place like this? I’m the son of Count Balbroos…”

“If this is my room, then what are these people?”

The Kratir Ward provided to the bottom 10% (proposed by himself) was a building modeled after the homes of commoners.

Inside the humble wooden building, four noble boys were staring at each other as if seeing ghosts.

The guide spoke calmly.

“Four people share a Kratir Ward.”

“Then where is the servant? Who will organize our luggage and attend to us?”

“There are no maids or caretakers in the Kratir Ward. Please check the living rules and any helpful information written here. Well then…”

“Wait!”

Ignoring the noble boys, the guide left the room. The students’ status was not considered in this matter.

Even if they were from affluent and prestigious families, if their grades were low, they had to lead the life of commoners without any objection. It was possible due to the Imperial family being the entity running Philleon.

In contrast, the upper-tier dormitories were so luxurious that one might wonder if they were acceptable. The Navirose Ward, where the top 10% resided, boasted elegance almost on par with the palace itself.

“…And who might you be, miss?”

Ronan furrowed his brow as he looked at the maid standing in front of his room. The maid with tied-up hair lowered her head slightly and gathered her apron-clad hands.

“Welcome, Lord Ronan. Congratulations on your admission.”

“What do you want?”

“I am the dedicated maid in charge of your service, Lord Ronan. You can entrust me with tasks such as cooking, laundry, and cleaning.”

Dozens of crude maid-related jokes crossed Ronan’s mind in an instant. He managed to suppress his urge and spoke up.

“Just make good food, that’s all I need. I’ve got all my limbs attached.”

“According to the rules, I cannot do that.”

“Then, if I were to smear feces on the wall, you’d clean that up too, right? Or if I peed on the sink instead of the toilet?”

“Yes.”

“Not an easy one, are you? Let’s get along.”

After shaking hands with the maid, Ronan opened the door. The room, about twice as spacious as Nim’s home, was filled with luxurious furniture.

The bed was large enough for three people to roll around, and the dinosaur-like bookshelf was packed with expensive books. Ronan let out a whistle.

“Killer.”

Aselle probably got assigned a room like this too. He could imagine him standing there with his mouth open like a dimwit. While he was leisurely looking around the room, he noticed a pamphlet on the desk.

“What’s this?”

The first page of the pamphlet read ‘Course Enrollment Form.’

Come to think of it, he remembered what the seniors had told him. Philleon students could choose the courses they wanted to take.

Ronan clenched his fist when he saw the words ‘Mana Manipulation.’ No matter how hard he tried to self-study, understanding mana affinity and manipulation proved elusive.

Lately, the necessity of handling mana has become more pressing. He felt acutely the awkwardness of being in front of sensitive magic users like Aselle, feeling like he was blind even when his eyes were wide open.

“Damn it, even if it means getting dirty, I’ll learn.”

Imagination and affinity for mana were the things he couldn’t figure out no matter how much he tried. Seeing the words ‘Imperial Swordsmanship,’ his interest was piqued. As someone who never properly learned swordsmanship, proper swordsmanship intrigued him. Just looking at a rotating sword made it seem useful.

Learning would make him stronger. Ronan steeled himself and turned the page. There were rows of subjects with intriguing names.

“Herbology, Magical Combat, Basic Archery… damn, why do they all look interesting?”

Maybe it was because he hadn’t learned anything. They all seemed interesting. Among them, the ones that caught his attention the most were ‘Fundamentals of Elemental Studies’ and ‘Communication and Understanding of Phantasms.’

Elementals had been a curious concept since long ago, and the latter was a course taught by Professor Varen Panacir. Ronan remembered Varen’s promise to create a position for him and Aselle.

“I’ll find out what kind of person Varen is when I meet him.”

Cita was absent due to its guarding duty for Iril. It was supposed to be back tomorrow morning.

A creature that broke out of its mithril-hard shell, drank blood, and was tougher than anything. Cute and capable, so it didn’t matter much, but he was still curious about its true nature.

“This one looks interesting too.”

It was a format where he could write down the subjects he wanted on the blank timetable. On Friday afternoon, Ronan added the subject ‘Practical – Wilderness Cooking’ as an additional entry.

He reluctantly squeezed in most of the martial arts classes and the ones that sparked even a little interest.

“Hmm, not bad.”

Shortly after finishing, Ronan headed to the lobby with his course enrollment form in hand. He coincidentally ran into Marya, who greeted him.

“Oh, you’re here too. Well, you’re in the upper ranks, so I guess that’s natural.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you come to submit your course enrollment form? Let me see it.”

Ronan handed her the form. Marya’s pupils widened as she read it. She yelled as if she had just read a prophecy about the end of the world.

“Hey, are you crazy?! You’ll die if you take all these!”

“…Why would I die for doing what I want?”

With a furrowed brow, Marya alternated between looking at the form and at Ronan. Ronan, accepting the submitted form, spoke up.

“I want to stop hearing about how I couldn’t learn anything. I’ll learn everything I can.”

****

The next morning. The first class at Philleon was Imperial Swordsmanship.

“Welcome, new students. I am Instructor Avarda, responsible for the Martial and Imperial Swordsmanship courses.”

Avarda was a tall and rough-looking man. He had a history of working as an instructor in the Imperial Knight Order. The aura exuding from his body was different, indeed.

Ronan muttered. In his eyes, shadowy marks rested due to his sleepless excitement.

“Imperial Swordsmanship. I’m learning it properly for the first time.”

Imperial Swordsmanship consisted of a total of nine forms, truly the basic swordsmanship that anyone in the imperial army would learn. The movements themselves were simple, but mastering them required years of consistent practice.

Even Ronan, who used to be a disciplinary unit soldier, had been exposed to Imperial Swordsmanship at nauseam, but at that time when he had no intention or will to learn, it was less interesting than watching grass grow. He had learned for himself that there were different forms to learn. He had swung his sword in whatever way he pleased.

Avarda spoke.

“As this is a widely practiced swordsmanship, many of you might already know it, but the basics are more important than anything. I hope you all approach the training seriously, without taking it lightly.”

“Yes!”

The training ground was mostly filled with new students from the martial arts department, excluding Shullifen. There was no need to teach someone who had already transcended that level.

Ronan clicked his tongue.

“Argh, that guy who doesn’t know when to stop. He thinks everyone already knows everything. You’re supposed to practice consistently.”

“First, watch a demonstration from the instructor.”

Avarda sequentially demonstrated the first three forms of Imperial Swordsmanship. They were perfect movements, free from any superfluous actions.

Astonishment spilled from the lips of the new students. After demonstrating the forms three times, Avarda raised his practice sword and shouted.

“Now, let’s begin. First Form! Downward Strike!”

Everyone picked up their training swords. The new students practiced Imperial Swordsmanship on the practice dummies in front of them one by one.

Avarda walked among the new students, correcting their stances. He looked around at the students and grinned meaningfully.

“If you can perform all nine forms perfectly, you can apply for early completion at any time.”

“Wow!”

“Grades will naturally be perfect.”

Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow!

The new students cheered. Imperial Swordsmanship was a long class that took up three hours every day. The possibility of early completion meant that they could make that long duration completely their own.

Energetic new students swung their swords with enthusiasm. The sound of hitting the practice dummies echoed all around.

Avarda smiled with satisfaction and nodded. He knew how to handle people. Of course, except for Shullifen, there hadn’t been such a genius for several years.

Then, in a corner of the training ground, Ronan approached hesitantly.

“Um, Instructor.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I think I… can do it. Up to the ninth form.”

Ronan scratched his head as if uncertain. Avarda’s expression stiffened. It had only been five minutes since training had begun.

“Do you have experience with Imperial Swordsmanship?”

“No, I never learnt it properly.”

“You’re not getting ahead of yourself due to your upper rank, are you? Of course, I saw your sparring match at the entrance ceremony. However, this is a completely different situation.”

Avarda spoke with a lowered voice. He had also seen Ronan using Navirose’s rotating swords during the entrance ceremony.

While the form itself was accurate, the speed was lacking. Of course, even just imitating the form of the sword was proof of his genius, but disregarding the basic Imperial Swordsmanship that served as the foundation for numerous derivative sword techniques was nonsensical.

“Shullifen has been holding a sword since he was five. He practiced Imperial Swordsmanship consistently for nearly ten years without missing a day. That’s why he can skip my class. Are you disrespecting the basics that even the imperial sun respects?”

“No, I know. I understand, but… well, just give me a chance.”

Ronan tilted his head as if feeling wronged. He didn’t want to appear completely unskilled either. Avarda sighed and nodded.

“Fine… I guess there’s no helping it. Alright, give it a try. But be prepared if you fail. I’ll increase the training intensity several times over.”

“Yes.”

Ronan assumed his stance. Avarda narrowed his eyes. Mana flowed into his eyes, enhancing his dynamic vision. He intended to dismiss Ronan mercilessly if his form deviated even slightly.

“Then, First Form. Begin!”

Ronan swung his practice sword. There was no wavering in his flawless form. Avarda, who had been silent for a moment, spoke again.

“…Second Form. Begin!”

Ronan swung his practice sword once more. Avarda chuckled softly.

“Heh, I should’ve known. Third Form. Begin!”

The sound of hitting the practice dummies had ceased some time ago. All the new students were staring at Ronan in amazement.

Finally, Ronan demonstrated the Ninth Form, then lowered his practice sword. Avarda, who had remained silent for a while, opened his mouth with an exasperated expression.

“…I’ve seen enough.”

“Yes, well.”

Without a word, Avarda took out a silver piece of paper from his pocket. It was an early completion certificate. Ronan accepted it, feeling a sense of bitterness as if it were a tissue with a used tissue.

“You don’t need to take this class for the remaining year. Your grades will be recorded as perfect.”

“Um… thank you.”

“Right. Don’t become conceited and make good use of the remaining time.”

Having received the early graduation certificate, Ronan left the training ground. Avarda, watching his retreating figure, muttered to himself in disbelief.

“He’s Beyond expectations to the point of being terrifying.”

Ronan’s forms were flawless. Compared to Shullifen and even himself, who had been wielding a sword for over twenty years, there was hardly any difference.

If it was true that Ronan had never learnt Imperial Swordsmanship, then he possessed an incomprehensible talent. Avarda chuckled softly, then turned his head towards the new students.

“You little chicks!! Can’t you swing your swords any faster!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Don’t let moss grow on your elbows that way! Faster and more accurately!!”

Avarda’s tone brought back memories of his demon-like days as a military instructor. Startled new students resumed striking the practice dummies.

Thump!

Thump!

The sound of hitting the practice dummies continued for a long while.

****

“What the…?”

Ronan sat down on a bench by the lake. Suddenly finding himself with free time, he had nothing to do.

Staring blankly at the lake, Ronan drew his sword. He demonstrated the Imperial Swordsmanship forms he had just learned one by one in the air. All nine forms were reproduced perfectly.

“Why is this so easy…?”

Ronan tilted his head in confusion. Unlike Navirose’s rotating swords, he didn’t need to repeatedly analyze and mimic the forms.

Though there were slight differences in the stances and sword movements, it was no different from reproducing them at a glance. It wasn’t completely pointless either. Following the instructions, he felt that his movements and the sword forms had become more efficient.

He felt confident that he could easily defeat a swordmaster who only used Imperial Swordsmanship. However, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness, different from what he had anticipated.

“Ugh… this wasn’t what I expected from the class.”

As Ronan rummaged through his pockets, he pulled out a tobacco stick. He realized that the time that should have been dedicated to sweating had been completely emptied.

Should he do some stamina training? As he leaned back on the bench, supporting himself with both arms and gazing at the sky, a voice came from behind.

“What are you doing here?”

“Huh?”

“It’s probably Avarda’s Imperial Swordsmanship class time. Wasn’t it a required subject for new students?”

The voice was commanding yet dignified, one that Ronan had undoubtedly heard before. Ronan turned his head backward. He saw the dark green uniform worn by senior instructors.

Ronan’s pupils dilated.

“Navirose?”

“Address me as Instructor. And remember, smoking is prohibited on campus.”

With fair skin and gray hair, the former Grand Swordmaster, Navirose, stood there. Ronan took the cigarette out of his mouth and stood up from his seat.