Mages Know Martial Arts

Benjamin arrived at the military camp once again.

Just like last time, the guard at the gate led him to the Gunfire Camp without saying a word. Benjamin looked at the soldier, who was completely encased in armor, and wondered if he was the same stuck-up brat from yesterday.

He didn't get a chance to verify it, though; after the soldier brought him to the destination, he left without uttering a single syllable.

Benjamin had no choice but to turn around and walk into the camp.

Inside, the middle-aged man was organizing the recruits into formation. He spotted Benjamin and let out a grunt that sounded like dissatisfaction.

"You actually came back? Since you're here, get into the ranks quickly. Remember to be earlier next time."

Benjamin had already been dragged out of bed by his maid at six o'clock, and with the events of the previous night, he hadn't slept well and was now exhausted. If he had to come even earlier next time, it would truly be the death of him.

However, he didn't dare complain. He obediently joined the ranks, comforting himself with the thought that being sleepy was better than being hungry.

He just hoped they wouldn't spend the entire morning running laps again.

Fortunately, after they finished lining up and ran a few laps, the middle-aged man finally told them to stop.

New content was coming.

"Although you use muskets, once you are on the battlefield, the enemy won't necessarily stand far away and let you shoot them. They will rush right up to your face. Therefore, before you can touch a gun, the first thing you must master is close-quarters combat. You are dismissed to rest for a while. When you return, I want you to be alert, keep your eyes open, and learn how to beat them when they get right in your face."

Close-quarters combat? Benjamin couldn't help but think of the skills Grant displayed in that simulated war game.

Learning how to fight should be beneficial. Magic was powerful, but it wasn't necessarily as flexible or convenient as a fist or a kick. Didn't they say that when a mage knows martial arts, no one can stop them?

He was truly developing in all aspects—morally, intellectually, physically, socially, and aesthetically.

He was actually quite surprised that the middle-aged man let them rest so soon. During yesterday's training, this guy had made them run for the entire morning without a single break. Why had he suddenly become so "merciful" today?

"What's wrong with old Dean today? Why did he let us rest so early?"

It seemed Benjamin wasn't the only one with this doubt. As everyone sat on the edge of the camp to rest, Benjamin heard someone nearby whisper this.

Dean—it sounded like a name that loved to issue orders; it suited the middle-aged man quite well.

"Who knows? Maybe he took the wrong medicine. We'd better be careful."

"..."

The people nearby were still gossiping. It seemed they harbored resentment as well. When it came to obeying the soldier's sacred duty, they hadn't truly committed to it from the bottom of their hearts.

"You sons of bitches, you're not satisfied even when I let you rest, are you? You two, get out here! Keep running!"

The two men nearby were chatting away, never expecting a voice to suddenly erupt from behind them. It was so loud that even Benjamin, sitting to the side, felt his scalp go numb.

The two recruits were startled, quickly standing up and looking behind them in terror.

They saw the subject of their discussion—Instructor Dean—standing right behind them, staring them down.

"Hahahaha, those two idiots!"

The system, witnessing this scene, laughed gleefully in Benjamin's mind.

"I-Instructor, we..." The two were stunned, one of them stammering as if trying to explain.

Dean waved a large hand and cursed at them: "What's the matter? You didn't want to rest, did you? Fine! Go run, damn it! Don't even think about resting again today! Go run laps!"

The two hung their heads, not daring to say another word, and obediently went off to run.

Benjamin found it somewhat amusing. However, considering that the nail that sticks out gets hammered down, he stayed where he was, kept his head down, and pretended he hadn't heard anything to avoid Dean finding trouble with him if he felt annoyed.

Yet, what did Murphy's Law say? The more you fear something will happen, the more likely it is to occur.

Dean walked up to him and stopped.

Benjamin couldn't continue acting like an ostrich with his head in the sand, pretending nothing had happened. He looked up, met Dean's gaze, and wore a puzzled expression.

"Instructor, is something the matter?"

Dean looked at him with an annoyed expression, and even Benjamin thought he was about to start throwing punches. Suddenly, however, he pulled a paper parcel from behind his back. He held it out toward Benjamin with an impatient look.

Benjamin felt very confused.

"What is this?" he asked cautiously.

Dean's tone turned fierce: "Didn't you say you didn't eat breakfast? And you call yourself a noble. Take this to fill your stomach; don't walk around looking like you're starving to death all day, it affects the training."

Benjamin blinked, then said, "I already ate breakfast."

Dean's face turned dark instantly: "Didn't you say you didn't eat, damn it?"

Benjamin was full of confusion: "That was yesterday. I didn't eat breakfast yesterday, not today."

"..."

The situation became extremely awkward.

"Damn it, eat it or don't." Dean threw the paper parcel right at Benjamin's face and walked away.

The system's unstoppable laughter echoed in his mind again.

Benjamin sat there for a while, picked up the parcel, and opened it. Inside was a piece of bread. Although it didn't look as good as what the cook at home made, for a commoner, it was probably decent.

He looked at the retreating figure of Dean with some surprise.

This crazy instructor, who looked fierce all day long and kept an un-safety-locked gun tucked into his waist, was actually quite a decent person.

Although he had already eaten breakfast, Benjamin was still in a growth spurt, so he could certainly handle another piece of bread. He finished it quickly—he figured if he didn't eat it fast, Dean would probably hold a grudge and make him a target for the close-quarters combat training.

As it turned out, Benjamin had overthought it.

Even after he finished the bread and acted as if it were delicious and he was grateful for the favor, Dean still made him the target for the combat training.

"The human body has many weaknesses. When you are fighting, your first thought should be to incapacitate your opponent, not to defeat them. Therefore, you must strike at the vulnerable parts, like... this spot!"

With that, Dean punched Benjamin in the stomach.

The bread he had just eaten nearly came right back up.

"Alright, demonstration over. Does anyone want to come and try?"

The camp instantly erupted like a boiling pot.

"Me, me, me!"

"Let me do it!"

"Instructor, I want to try!"

"Let me have a go!"

"..."

As the Gunfire Camp, which was relatively ignored in the kingdom's military, the recruits had never been as high-spirited as they were today. Even the cavalry in the neighboring camp were startled by their cheers, wearing expressions of bewilderment.

"No need to rush, one by one, everyone will get a turn."

Benjamin wore an expression of utter hopelessness.

The system, in his mind, spoke in the tone of a little girl: "Today's training is another fruitful one!"

And so, covered in injuries, Benjamin finished the morning training and returned to the Riser Family, bruised and battered.

Jeremy scrambled to find medicine to apply to Benjamin. The others looked at him with strange expressions, assuming he had gotten into a fight outside. Only Claude looked at the bruises on his body with a hint of satisfaction.

Benjamin remained expressionless. After applying the medicine and eating lunch, he hid back in his room.

He collapsed onto his bed.

Damn it, what was wrong with his brain to think the instructor was a decent guy?

"Your brain has always had problems. What normal person has a super-invincible, precise artificial intelligence inside their head?" The system offered its opinion on the matter.

Benjamin didn't want to talk to it.