A Mage Who Knew Martial Arts

Benjamin returned to the military camp.

As before, the soldier on guard said nothing as he led Benjamin to Gunfire Camp. Looking at the soldier, who was completely wrapped in armor, Benjamin wondered if he was the same cocky kid from yesterday.

But he had no chance to find out. After leading Benjamin to the camp, the soldier left without a word.

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

Inside, the middle-aged man was lining up the new recruits. When he saw Benjamin, he gave an annoyed snort.

"You actually came back? Since you're here, get back in line. And remember to show up earlier next time."

The maid had dragged Benjamin out of bed at six, and on top of that, he hadn't slept well because of what had happened the night before. Now he was exhausted. If he had to come even earlier next time, it would be the death of him.

Still, he didn't dare complain. He obediently joined the line, comforting himself with the thought that being tired was better than being hungry.

Hopefully, they wouldn't spend another whole morning running laps today.

Fortunately, after they had lined up and run a few laps, the middle-aged man finally let them stop.

At last, something new.

"Even though you'll be using guns, once you're on a real battlefield, your enemies won't necessarily stand far away and let you shoot them. They'll charge straight at you. So before you're allowed to touch a gun, the first thing you need to learn is hand-to-hand combat. Take a break for now. Then I want you alert, eyes wide open, watching carefully as I show you how to beat someone who gets close."

Hand-to-hand combat? Benjamin couldn't help thinking of Grant's skills in that simulated war game.

Learning how to fight ought to be useful. Magic was powerful, of course, but a punch or a kick could be more flexible and convenient. Didn't they say that a mage who knew martial arts was unstoppable?

He was going to develop in every way—intellectually, morally, physically, aesthetically, and through hard work.

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

"What's up with old Dean today? Why's he letting us rest so early?"

It seemed Benjamin wasn't the only one wondering. As everyone sat down to rest at the edge of the camp, he heard someone nearby whispering.

Dean sounded like the name of someone who loved giving orders. It suited the middle-aged man.

"Who knows? Maybe he took the wrong medicine. We'd better watch out."

"..."

The others kept talking. Apparently, they had their grievances too. They hadn't truly embraced obedience as a soldier's duty.

"You little bastards, you're not happy with being given a break? You two, get out here! Keep running!"

The two recruits had been chatting away, and hadn't expected a voice to suddenly ring out behind them. It was so loud that even Benjamin, sitting nearby, felt his scalp tingle.

The pair jumped in fright and hurried to their feet, looking behind them in alarm.

There stood the very man they'd been discussing—their instructor, Dean—watching them.

"Hahahaha, what a pair of idiots!"

The system was laughing its head off in Benjamin's mind.

"I-Instructor, we..." The two were stunned. One of them stammered, apparently trying to explain.

Dean waved a big hand and snapped at them, "What? You didn't want a break, did you? Fine! Get your asses running! You two don't get another break today! Run laps!"

They lowered their heads and didn't dare say another word. Then they obediently went off to run.

Benjamin found it a little funny. But since the loudest bird gets shot first, he stayed seated, lowered his head, and pretended he hadn't heard a thing. He didn't want to annoy Dean and have him come after him next.

But what was it Murphy's law said? The more you feared something happening, the more likely it was to happen.

Dean walked over and stopped in front of him.

Benjamin couldn't keep burying his head in the sand like an ostrich and pretending nothing was happening. He looked up at Dean and met his gaze, wearing a puzzled expression.

"Instructor, is something wrong?"

Dean stared at him with such an irritated look that even Benjamin thought he was about to start beating someone up. Then, without warning, he pulled a paper package from behind his back. He held it out to Benjamin with an impatient expression.

Benjamin was confused.

"What's this?" he asked cautiously.

Dean's tone turned fierce. "Didn't you say you hadn't eaten breakfast? And you call yourself a noble? Take this and fill your stomach. Don't go around looking like you're about to starve to death. It's bad for training."

Benjamin blinked. "I ate breakfast."

Dean's face darkened. "Didn't you say you hadn't?"

Benjamin looked utterly baffled. "I said that yesterday. I skipped breakfast yesterday, not today."

"..."

The scene was unbearably awkward.

"Damn it, eat it or don't." Dean flung the package at Benjamin's face and walked away.

The system's uncontrollable laughter sounded in his mind again.

Benjamin sat there for a moment, then picked up the package and opened it. Inside was a piece of bread. It didn't look as good as the cook's bread at home, but for someone who wasn't a noble, it was probably pretty decent.

He looked at Dean, who was already walking away, with surprise.

The instructor always looked like a menacing madman, carrying a gun with the safety off at his waist as if he had a death wish. Who'd have thought he was actually a pretty good person?

Although he'd already eaten breakfast, Benjamin was still growing, and he could manage another piece of bread. So he quickly finished it. He figured that if he didn't eat it fast, Dean would probably make his life difficult and use him as a target during hand-to-hand combat training.

As it turned out, Benjamin had overthought it.

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

"The human body has plenty of weak spots. When you fight, your first goal should be to make your opponent lose the ability to fight, not to defeat them. So you need to aim for vulnerable areas, like... here!"

As he spoke, Dean punched Benjamin in the stomach.

The bread he'd just eaten nearly came right back up.

"All right, that's the demonstration. Anyone want to give it a try?"

The camp instantly erupted.

"Me! Me!"

"Let me do it!"

"Instructor, I want to try!"

"Let me have a go!"

"..."

As part of the Kingdom Army's less respected Gunfire Camp, the recruits had never been as fired up as they were today. Even the cavalry in the neighboring camp were startled by their cheers and stared at them in confusion.

"Don't rush. One at a time. Everyone will get a turn."

Benjamin looked utterly resigned.

In his mind, the system said in a little girl's voice, "Today's training is just as rewarding as ever!"

And so, bruised all over, Benjamin finished the morning's training and returned to the Riser Family with a swollen, battered face.

Jeremy hurried around looking for medicine and applied it to Benjamin's bruises. The others stared at him strangely, thinking he'd gotten into a fight. Only Claude looked at the bruises on his body with a faintly satisfied expression.

Benjamin remained expressionless. After getting the medicine and eating lunch, he retreated to his room.

He collapsed onto his bed.

Damn it, what had gone wrong in his head that made him think the instructor was a pretty good person?

"Your brain has always had problems. What normal person has an ultra-sophisticated artificial intelligence in their head?" the system offered.

Benjamin didn't want to talk to it.

Many thanks to Fa Hehe for the tip! Happy egg-laying, everyone!