Varg, the Family Man

“Haa... What am I supposed to do with this?”

The instructor crouched on the shattered floor, holding a large burlap sack as he picked up the scattered remains of the blackwood swords.

His eyes were moist.

Endless sighs escaped his lips.

“One... two... three... four... This is driving me crazy. Twenty blackwood swords broken in a single spar!”

The instructor picked up the broken pieces and counted on his fingers, calculating the damage.

The blackwood swords used at the academy weren't made of ordinary, cheap wood. They were a prized specialty of the Empire's South, specially treated.

Each one cost about as much as an ordinary commoner's monthly living expenses.

And yet, twenty of them had been smashed to pieces in less than fifteen minutes.

“Haa... What is the headmaster going to say when I submit the budget request...”...