Chapter 34: Grit Theory, Sweet Cookies, and Horrific Crime (2)

A magic professor opened a swordsmanship lecture.

An action that raised doubts about expertise and defied understanding of its intent. Yet the competition rate skyrocketed.

Well, that was to be expected, given my past exploits.

Slaying three demons. A professor who saves the Academy like it's nothing and recklessly fires off Meteor, a great magic spell.

Moreover, every student from my previous self-study lecture achieved remarkable results. Though the content was confidential, it was evaluated as a life-changing class.

If someone like that suddenly announced they're opening a new lecture, even I would've gone crazy trying to get in.

'They all look like they're about to die from joy.'

One of the Academy's facilities, the large training hall.

Chosen as a safe location to avoid past mistakes, it was already packed with numerous students.

Their smiles all reached up to their ears.

Selected by lottery. They thought they'd grabbed incredible luck. That much was obvious from their faces.

Conversely, the onlookers peering into the training hall all wore expressions like they'd lost their country, but they should feel relieved.

I'll soon normalize these deceived ones.

Their envy won't last even 10 minutes before turning to sympathy.

I stepped forward with an evil smile.

The tension was sky-high. The students cheered just from my appearance, but I casually ignored it and started ruining the mood.

Skipping the warm and friendly introductions and greetings.

With a serious and stern face, I declared:

"I have no intention of teaching you swordsmanship."

Brazenly announcing dereliction of duty on day one. Naturally, everyone's faces filled with confusion.

"Or rather, it would be more accurate to say I couldn't teach even if I wanted to. I have no swordsmanship knowledge worth sharing, and I can count my experiences with a sword on one hand."

A swordsmanship professor confessing they don't know how to handle a sword.

Just seeing the students' bewildered faces made me smile, but I'm not one to be satisfied with just this much. If I'm going to do it, I'll do it properly.

"Well, there's no need to be shocked. You don't think I opened a swordsmanship lecture without any thought, do you?"

Color returned to the students' faces.

But this hope was given only to be snatched away.

I boldly betrayed the students' expectations.

In front of people who had dedicated their lives to honing their swordsmanship, I declared with utmost confidence:

"I know what swordsmanship is. It's just meatheads with muscles for brains crudely swinging swords around. Teaching it is as easy as eating cold rice."

Your lifelong martial arts pursuit is nothing special.

Such a simple-minded activity, even an outsider like me can teach it, so from now on, I'll be instructing you.

How this would sound to martial artists was obvious.

Sure enough, the atmosphere instantly turned serious.

Unable to watch anymore, one student stepped forward to deny reality.

"Y-you're joking, right? This can't be real. Someone like you, Professor, couldn't possibly be running such a strange class. Right?"

With a pale face and cold sweat. Even in this situation, they still believed I must be hiding something - seems their trust in me was quite high.

But I frowned at the student trying to defend me, asking sharply as if offended.

"Do I look like someone who would joke during a lecture?"

Looking at just this line, it might seem professional, but considering the context, it couldn't be more insane.

In front of everyone rendered speechless, I drew a sword. A wooden practice sword prepared for this situation. I took a stance and swung it with all my might.

In that moment, the sword's essence was distorted by my actions.

A weapon meant to be gripped and swung transformed into a projectile.

In other words, I lost grip of the wooden sword during a horizontal slash.

The sword flew with a whoosh before crashing to the ground.

The faces of the swordsmanship majors who witnessed this filled with despair incomparable to before.

They were students of the Imperial Academy after all.

Geniuses among geniuses. Only those blessed with talent could cross its threshold.

The born warriors' eyes must have seen clearly.

That my pathetic movement just now couldn't have been faked. That I truly was clueless about swordsmanship.

"Has your curiosity been satisfied now? I never lied. Stop the nonsense and focus on class."

After saying that, I propped my chin thoughtfully.

Looking deep in solitary contemplation.

I opened my mouth as if having realized something.

"Perhaps that attitude is the problem. You're only thinking about receiving some mystical swordsmanship and achieving instant results, so how could your skills improve?"

It's natural for students to hope for good guidance from their professor. But I harshly criticized this as the lazy attitude of youth with rotten determination.

"You fail because you only try to take the easy way out."

I drew from my experience as much as possible.

The bewilderment of being told at work that kids these days only look for shortcuts, and what would they do if the computer made a mistake while using something called Excel functions.

Nothing was more suffocating than someone who knew nothing trying to teach you on their own terms.

"I'll fix that mindset of yours."

I smiled wickedly at everyone.

It was the moment training-disguised harassment began.

*****

A freshman at the Imperial Academy.

Cain Desmond felt like he would go mad any moment.

Until yesterday he couldn't even sleep properly from excitement about today, but now he was wasting precious time on nonsensical activities.

He never thought he'd say this, but Professor Ryan's lecture was beyond disappointing - it was detestable.

'This is just torturing us!'

His arms felt ready to fall off.

His exhausted body screamed for immediate rest.

But Cain kept swinging his sword. Not because he was persistent, but because Professor Ryan was watching him from behind with wide eyes.

Swing your sword ten thousand times.

An absurd requirement straight out of novels.

Any achievement possible through such simple repetition had already been gained. Pushing further would only damage his body needlessly. No matter how you looked at it, this was meaningless busy work.

'What could possibly be the thinking behind making us suffer like this.'

That skill. The achievements of stopping demons and saving everyone.

While it was clear they were an outstanding mage, they were clearly not an outstanding swordsman by any measure.

There were no signs of physical training, and their demonstrated swordsmanship was crude to the point of being regrettable.

The other students must have figured that out too.

The only reason the class could still proceed somewhat was because everyone held respect for them, but

Their patience kept hitting its limit.

"The energy seems a bit weak. Try doing better."

As if it wasn't hard enough already, they kept criticizing from behind. When asked for advice about perceived shortcomings, all that came were bizarre responses.

"Why are you asking me? I just told you I've never learned swordsmanship, did you already forget?"

Getting scolded just for asking a question.

It was beyond baffling - he was at a loss for words.

Not knowing swordsmanship wasn't a crime, but hadn't this professor opened this lecture themselves? The man before them had decided on their own to teach swordsmanship to students.

Then why on earth did they open the lecture?

Naturally, anger welled up.

His exhausted mind made his mouth move on its own.

"What exactly are you trying to do, Professor Ryan? At least pretend to take the class seriously!"

While everyone else was swinging swords until they dropped, the professor alone was leisurely enjoying a cup of coffee.

Shouldn't an educator at least set a minimum example? If you can't give advice or correct form, at least swing the sword alongside us.

Cain shouted this rebuke at Ryan, but all he got in return was a shameless response.

"Aren't I already practicing together? I've been diligently swinging my sword along with you all."

"...What are you talking about?"

"Though my body was drinking coffee, in my heart I was sweating alongside my precious students. How disappointing that none of you understand my sincerity."

Pop - the string of patience snapped.

To hell with the grade now.

Let's declare I'm rejecting this ridiculous lecture and get out of this cursed training hall quickly.

The moment Cain reached this conclusion in his mind.

"...Swinging the sword with the heart, not the hand."

The top freshman beside him.

Class A's Ciel suddenly muttered something.

Breathing naturally falling into rhythm.

A stable stance naturally taken.

The girl drew her sword without any hesitation.

Just that single strike made the earth tremble. The world split in half along the trajectory drawn by the blade.

Everyone was naturally struck speechless.

It would have been stranger not to be.

At this moment, right here in this place.

The Empire's youngest Swordmaster had been born.