Sweat on the Training Ground

In the study, Yero stood beside Heide and listened as he talked about this batch of students.

"Yero, you've been with everyone for almost a month now. Who do you think will place in the top three at next month's assessment?" Scholar Heide asked, leaning back in his chair.

"I think..." He fell silent for a moment.

"First, Iona is far stronger than everyone else. She's all but guaranteed first place."

"Among the other students, Solin and Baron are both strong in Secret History and combat, so they're likely to take second and third overall."

"The remaining students have some strengths, but only in one area. Ray and Karen, for example, are good at combat, but they're far behind in Secret History."

"Miss Tia is excellent at Secret History, but her combat skills are much weaker. Comia is decent at Secret History, though her advantage isn't especially pronounced, and she's only a little better than Miss Tia in combat."

"Is that so?" Scholar Heide wore an inscrutable smile.

"I... Please enlighten me, teacher." Yero bent forward respectfully.

"I won't tell you the answer in advance, but you may have misjudged someone this time."

"Don't worry. Anyone else would probably have overlooked that student, too. That child is simply too low-key."

Yero had no idea which student Scholar Heide meant. For now, he could only run through the names again and again in his mind, searching for a likely candidate.

Toss? He was a noble's son, and Viscount Xuefeng's nephew. Could he be the dark horse? No, with his showy personality, he could never be low-key.

Valenie? Even less likely. She was Iona's shadow these days, and had inherited neither Knight Levin's physique nor his skills.

Mick? All his combat techniques were rough and unrefined. The instructors had been forcing him to correct them lately, and he trained late every day. Could it be him? But his Secret History Class grades were truly dreadful. He'd have to improve somewhere else to earn extra points.

Miss Tia was knowledgeable and clever, but she'd been frail since childhood. Yero had never seen her pick up a sword, so she probably couldn't fight at all. After turning over a few more possibilities in his mind, he decided to cross the bespectacled girl off the list.

No one else seemed likely. They were either too foolish or too average.

That meant Mick was the most likely to have been overlooked. He really had been working hard to catch up lately, and he was always one of the most enthusiastic about exercising. Yero made his assessment silently.

A week passed. The assessment was only three days away.

On the Training Ground, the boy with slanted eyes swung his iron sword with all his might. Sweat dripped from his body like beads, soaking into the dusty earth.

After running through the sword techniques his instructor had taught him once more, his movements had grown remarkably smooth, as if they'd become muscle memory.

"Basic Swordsmanship Lv.3"—that was roughly his current level.

After wiping off his sweat with a towel, he went to the well, lifted a bucket of water, and poured it over himself to cool down. A satisfied roar escaped him.

"Hey, Mick, training again today?" A towering figure approached. His name was Ray, and he was the tallest student, standing about 1.9 meters tall and weighing over 200 pounds.

"Want to spar with me today?" Ray eagerly waved the massive hammer in his hand.

Even with several layers of soft cloth wrapped around it, a blow from that hammer could cause unimaginable internal injuries, so the other students were reluctant to spar with him.

"Whew. Sure, but give me a moment to catch my breath." Mick took a deep breath and steadied himself.

"Okay, I'll wait." Ray scratched his head, looking a little slow-witted. The two went to sit for a while in a corner of the Training Ground.

Elsewhere, Baron was sparring with another noble student, practicing the sword technique they'd recently learned.

After a few exchanges, Baron defeated his opponent with ease.

"Although Instructor Burke always looks surly, the swordsmanship he teaches is genuinely practical." He sheathed his sword and struck a rather elegant pose as he gave his opinion.

Baron had always been talented, and the rigorous training over the past while had greatly improved his abilities. Even Solin occasionally lost to him.

"Looks like you'll take second place, Baron," the other noble student teased.

"Second..." Baron nodded slightly.

"If I come closest to Iona, perhaps she'll see me differently." Everyone knew he was pursuing Iona.

"Of course she will. You're the rightful heir to a barony. Iona may have once had a prominent status, but now..." The student shook his head as he spoke.

The nobility had its own social tiers. Those with the highest standing were usually the eldest sons who would inherit their titles, followed by the younger sons of great nobles, and then those with noble blood who couldn't inherit a title.

"Forget it. I heard Solin's been practicing some special ability lately. Have you heard anything?" Baron asked directly.

"I don't know. You'd have to ask the commoner students." The noble and commoner students rarely mixed, separated by an invisible barrier.

"Solin's father is a Second Order Blood Law warrior. His father must have taught it to him."

"But Solin hasn't condensed a First Order Aspect Power yet, so the abilities he can practice are quite limited."

"Blood Law Aspect..." Baron thought it over, then shook his head.

"Other than the Breathing Technique, I won't practice any Blood Law abilities. That doesn't fit with my family's tradition." He was going to become a Knight one day. He couldn't stray down the wrong path.

"Unfortunately, most Castle Aspect abilities can only be learned after you condense a First Order Castle Aspect." Was there really no other way? Baron wondered.

He didn't want to lose to Solin. He was a noble, after all. Losing to a commoner in the assessment would be mortifying, especially in such a closely watched event. The results would spread through the noble circles of Scorched Stone City at once. It wouldn't just bring shame on his family—if Iona saw it, then...

At the thought, Baron grew irritated.

No, I need to go home and ask Dad if he can come up with something. I'm his heir. If I lose face, so does he.

After resting, Mick and Ray went to one side of the Training Ground and took up their weapons.

"Here I come, Mick." Ray swung his hammer down, its rush through the air making a whooshing sound.

That hammer... Mick glanced at it, then leaped away and opened up some distance, dodging the attack.

"Don't run!" Ray swung the hammer again and chased after him. Fortunately, his steps were slow, and Mick was always able to evade him.

But dodging alone wouldn't win. Mick fixed his eyes on Ray's movements, trying to find an opening.

When Ray swung his hammer once more, Mick suddenly charged forward and thrust his sword at Ray's abdomen. The specially made wooden sword pressed into Ray's training leather armor. Wincing in pain, Ray clutched his lower abdomen and crouched, then toppled backward onto the ground.

"Ow! Again." Ray rubbed the spot and got back to his feet.

"Heh, sure." Mick smiled. The two had grown to respect each other.

They were both commoners, both had started from a low point, and both trained hard. Their relationship had gradually grown closer.

They sparred back and forth on the Training Ground again and again, until the sun sank in the west and dusk drew near.

"That's enough for today." Mick, reeking of sweat, washed himself with water and spoke to Ray, who was doing the same beside him.

"Okay."

They walked toward the exit of the Training Ground in quiet understanding. Once again, they were the last to leave.

Gazing at the dark-red clouds on the horizon, glowing like flames, Mick felt a wave of emotion rise within him.

Maybe a life like this isn't so bad.