Initial

Von Derek stood on the second floor of the Estate, watching the early-rising farmers already tilling the fields.

The golden morning sun was so dazzling that Derek had to squint.

"What a pity... I don't get to enjoy this beautiful day."

Derek felt somewhat regretful. He had been transported to this world for several days now and had begun adapting to his new identity.

In this world ruled by nobles, although material conditions were as backward as the Middle Ages, the lives of the nobility were still quite comfortable.

As the descendant of a baron, Derek was considered a noble as well.

Unfortunately, as the family's second son, he was not the one who would inherit any of it.

The Estate before him had even less to do with his family.

For the sake of his second son's future—even for that negligible sliver of hope for advancement—Derek's Father had sent him to Count Perez's household as a Knight Squire.

As a count with real local authority, Count Perez could afford to maintain a Knight Order armed to the teeth.

Nearby independent nobles and Count Perez's vassals often sent their second sons here as Knight Squires.

First, to maintain their connections with one another; second, to seek a future for their sons.

After completing the full course of knightly training, whether they joined Count Perez's Knight Order or used the experience to pursue another livelihood, both were excellent options.

Even if they returned home to assist their brothers, a knight trained by a count's household would never be worthless.

For the original owner of this body, joining Count Perez's Knight Order, seeking opportunities to earn merit, and becoming a landed noble had naturally been the first choice.

For Derek now, it also seemed like a perfect choice.

Provided that... there was no cheat.

Derek withdrew his gaze. His assignment here had just begun.

The final lesson of knightly training was to independently train a group of Militia.

As a knight, mastery of martial skill was enough to establish oneself.

But he could not be completely ignorant in other areas either.

Otherwise, he would probably spend his entire life as nothing more than a qualified thug.

"Panel!"

At Derek's thought, a screen belonging solely to him abruptly appeared before his eyes.

Von Derek

Class: Knight Level 5 (11/100)

Experience Pool: 0/100

That was it. It was so barebones it was outrageous.

If its only effect had been displaying a few stats, Derek would have obediently gone home to farm.

In fact, after several days of exploration, he had roughly grasped the effects of this cheat.

First, it provided real-time feedback on progress.

Training could increase Knight experience, and daily training also generated overflow experience that could be used to help raise levels.

The most direct effect of leveling up was an increase in personal ability.

And... it did not only work on himself.

After washing up and finishing the breakfast delivered by the Estate servants, Derek arrived at the Training Ground.

This Estate belonged to Count Perez and was one of his properties.

The entire Estate was worked by serfs, numbering four or five hundred in total.

Because bandits roamed the land and dangers of all kinds existed in this era, there was naturally a permanent Guard Squad.

However, an Estate only had five full-time professional soldiers. The rest were temporarily conscripted Militia and farmers wielding pitchforks.

Derek's task was to complete a round of Militia training.

It would last one month, and the group consisted of only a ten-man squad.

By the time Derek arrived, the slouching Militia had only just gotten to their feet.

Even after several days of relatively adequate nutrition, they could not quickly grow stronger.

As for their mental fortitude... that was even more of a mystery.

Fortunately, Derek had enough patience. He stepped forward and struck them one by one with a short stick. Anyone standing crookedly received a blow.

"Stand properly. Form a single line."

Derek's training was very simple: learn to line up, distinguish left from right and front from back, raise a spear and thrust, then train Physical Fitness.

All other training would be a waste. They were only a squad of Militia. There was no need to make things so complicated.

The tedious, flavorless training continued. At this level, it could only be considered standard; anyone who had completed a full knightly course could do it.

What was difficult was having sharp instincts during troop training, finding a better rhythm for the exercises. That was a kind of talent.

But...

Derek secretly opened the Data Panel. The crude Panel on its first page remained unchanged.

But when he turned to the second page, Army—

Farmer Squad One → Militia Squad One

After several days of training, the Panel had finally acknowledged them.

When expanded, the portraits of each Militia member appeared vividly, along with their names and basic attributes.

And of course, the most important thing: the Experience Pool.

At first, the word "Militia" had been rather blurry. As training continued, it gradually became clearer.

At last, the class had completely stabilized.

Derek expanded the information of the Militia member who trained the hardest. A simple Panel appeared before him.

Pitchfork

Class: Militia Level 1 (2/100)

Experience Pool: 1/100

Normal training granted 2 experience points, while 1 point of overflow experience was stored in the Experience Pool.

He tried adding the overflow experience to the number after the level, and the Panel immediately changed.

Pitchfork

Class: Militia Level 1 (3/100)

Experience Pool: 0/100

At the same time, he closely observed the Militia member, Pitchfork. There was almost no visible change, nor was there any reaction like the one Derek experienced after adding points to himself.

"It seems that without a Panel, there won't be any special reaction."

Derek muttered inwardly. Of course... if he added a large amount at once, perhaps there would be a change?

But with his cautious nature, he would only proceed step by step. He would not let anyone notice the slightest flaw.

As for using the Experience Pool's power to play god?

In this Middle Ages-like world, religion was a double-edged sword. It could very well bring a backlash.

After all, this Panel could not make him invincible. It was better to develop quietly.

The Militia did not train for long each day, only for the morning.

At noon, they were given a meal of coarse wheat porridge. There was no meat or oil in it, but it filled their stomachs.

With Derek's intervention, they could accumulate between ten and twenty experience points a day.

Under the influence of supernatural power, their training progressed rapidly.

Although training yielded experience more slowly the further they advanced, one month was enough to raise this batch of Militia to Levels 3 through 5.

Based on Derek's experience, their actual effectiveness was already comparable to Militia who had undergone around half a year of full-time training.

In fact, the guard forces of many villages were not even as capable as this squad of Militia.

After all, they could barely advance and retreat as one, and their skills and stamina met the standard. If they went through one or two battles and continued training for a few more months, they might even match veterans with three to five years of experience.

The Panel's attributes also had their limits. For example, a Level 5 Militia member specialized in spear thrusts; in a one-on-one fight, he might still be killed by a farmer with a single pitchfork strike.

And becoming Militia did not mean they forgot how to farm once they put down their spears.

So it could only serve as a reference.

In truth, Derek felt that the Panel's ability was already outrageously powerful.

Setting aside combat experience and willpower, it accelerated training efficiency by a full four or five times.

After all, normal people accumulated fatigue during training. Doubling the amount of training did not mean gaining double the results, nor did they have the Panel's ability to reuse overflow experience.

In short, Derek felt that he could take a gamble.