'Hahaha, he hasn't changed a bit.' It was a statement that meant, "I acknowledge your achievement of catching the black mage, but that was more luck than skill." In fact, Justin Leit was a man famous for having risen as a knight solely through his own abilities, despite being a commoner.
In his youth, he had participated in the Arcana Tournament and achieved the magnificent feat of reaching the round of 16, a first for the Atronia Kingdom. Though he was regrettably defeated in the round of 16, the fiery fighting spirit he displayed at that time earned him the title of the Unyielding Knight.
After coming of age, he joined the Royal Knight Order and seemed to be on a smooth path to success, but... 'The problem was that he was too upright.' He had internally reported a fellow knight who was involved in corruption.
After that, he began to be ostracized within the knight order and eventually tried to quit and leave, but the former Duke Kardios, who was the chancellor at the time, held him back and made him a professor at the academy.
He could not afford to lose such a talent, so he seated him where he could keep an eye on him, trying to keep him in the country somehow. Naturally, Justin Leit also knew the heart of the former Duke Kardios, so he was always polite and respectful to him.
However...
'But that's that. There's no reason for me to look favorably upon this fellow.' He looked at Patrick and spoke calmly.
"I will test your skills before deciding on your admission."
"Do as you wish."
"If he fails my test, please send him to another faculty."
He did not bother to add the words, "That way, Count Parmas, the Eastern Marching Count, will be able to save face." For him, who detested corruption and shortcuts, this was already a huge compromise.
However...
"My, you're being quite prickly."
From Patrick's perspective, he couldn't care less. Patrick was originally extremely sensitive to the atmosphere of people subtly pushing him away and ostracizing him. He had experienced such people until he was sick of them, after all.
Patrick spoke bluntly.
"Why don't you just say it? Tell the trash who got in through corruption to get lost."
"Oh? If I say it, will you leave?"
"No, I have my own reasons, so that's a bit..."
"What are you trying to do?"
"What do you mean, what am I doing?"
Patrick smirked and said.
"In the end, all I have to do is win, right? Isn't that so?"
"What did you say your name was?"
"It's Patrick Schneider."
"Why?"
If one were to gather all the defiance and swagger in the world and mold it together, would it turn out like this? Professor Leit was at a loss for words at the swagger that seemed so natural, one would believe him if he said he had been a back-alley thug for ten years.
'Did our academy create a new department for thugs besides the knights’ faculty?' This was the first time he had met someone who was openly sarcastic to a professor on their first meeting.
"You seem confident in your skills?"
"It's the only thing I have to believe in."
It was true.
"Good. If you have the skills, you are most welcome. Prove that you are not just all talk."
"Got it. So who am I fighting? You, old man? Or those brats over there?"
At Patrick's words, Professor Leit chuckled and said.
"Everyone, halt!"
At his words, all the first-years who were training stopped. Professor Leit then gathered them in front of him and said.
"This is unplanned, but we will have a special spar today. First, let me introduce him. This is Patrick Schneider. He's a country bumpkin who has come up from some rural corner of the eastern territory."
"Hey, that's hurtful to the country bumpkin listening."
Hearing Patrick's sarcastic remark, the first-years who were lined up had expressions that were half disbelief and half shock. 'What's with that guy?' 'Is he crazy?
Has he lost his mind?' 'He just snarked at the professor, right? That's what happened, right?'
But Professor Leit didn't seem to mind and continued.
"He has come with a letter of recommendation from the Eastern Marching Count, Lord Parmas, seeking admission into the knights’ faculty. Without taking any exams, mind you."
At that, the expressions of the first-year students turned grim. Most of the students here had overcome fierce competition and passed grueling tests to be in this place. But now some nobody they'd never even heard of was coming in on a parachute?
There was no way this would be accepted gracefully. Into that grim atmosphere, Professor Leit poured oil on the fire.
"For your information, after watching you train, he said you were a bunch of unskilled brats."
Patrick hadn't said the 'unskilled' part, but he didn't deny it. Instead, he nodded his head as if to say, 'That's the plain truth,' and so on. That was enough to make the first-years' gazes turn from grim to murderous.
Receiving their heated stares, Patrick smirked. 'The little chicks are glaring cutely. I feel like I've seen this somewhere...
Ah!
When I first joined the Martial Alliance, the eyes of those kids called the rising generation of the Nine Great Sects were just like this.' To put it nicely, it was hazing; to put it bluntly, it was just a fight for dominance.
People who wielded blades were the type of race who, even when they met as allies and not enemies, wouldn't be satisfied until they had determined who was stronger. It was familiar. Those eyes watching him.
And he knew what he had to do about it.
"Today, we will test this country bumpkin who doesn't know his place. Who will volunteer to kick this idiot's ass and chase him back to his eastern corner?"
As soon as Professor Leit finished speaking, a dozen first-year students quickly raised their hands. Professor Leit pointed to one of them.
"Roist, step forward."
"Yes, Professor."
Then, he looked at Patrick and said.
"Will you use a real sword for your weapon? Or a wooden sword?"
"I'll use a wooden sword."
"Do as you wish. You can choose from over there."
"Yes."
Patrick then went to the place the professor indicated and chose two suitable wooden swords. 'They've maintained the equipment well at a glance, huh?
Hm? What's that?
It looks like a magic tool, do they have things like that too?' He saw many strange-looking tools, but he could find out how to use them later. He could learn what he didn't know later.
For now, he should stick with what he was familiar with. 'If I lose here, I'll fail to get into the academy and can go back to the fief, right?' In fact, Patrick preferred that.
He didn't need an academy diploma and had no interest in it. He had a mountain of work to do in the fief, and the thought of being stuck here for five years made him sigh in frustration.
However...
[Actually, this father of yours also took the academy entrance exam in his youth.]
[With our family's finances, it was impossible to have our son study in the capital for twenty years. So, although I passed the exam, I had to refuse admission myself.]
If he just stepped on the threshold of the academy and returned, his father would surely be disappointed. No, even if he were disappointed, he wouldn't show it. He would rather comfort and console him, pretending to be unconcerned.
And Patrick absolutely did not want to see that. 'What can I do? I have to be a good son.
Filial piety, this is all because of my Master who preached Confucian ideals to me.' Grumbling to himself, Patrick grasped the twin swords and faced his sparring partner.
"You use twin swords?"
"Yes. Is that not allowed?"
"No, do as you wish."
And Professor Leit muttered softly, "Just for show. Kids these days..." and so on.
And then...
"Both sides, greet each other."
"Patrick Schneider."
"Roist Panola."
Right after the greetings ended.
"Begin!"
As soon as Professor Leit's word fell, the opponent who had identified himself as Roist charged fiercely toward Patrick.
Clack!
The two's wooden swords collided.
Creeak! Creeeak!
The two of them, holding their wooden swords with both hands, were in a contest of strength. Roist tried to push Patrick back in one go, but his opponent's strength was surprisingly strong, and he wasn't pushed back even a single step.
"Not bad."
"..."
"But this is just the beginning!"
And a very faint aura began to rise from Roist's wooden sword. Aura rose from the wooden sword of a young man still in his teens. Though incomplete, the ability to raise aura meant that this young man had one foot in the three-star level.
It wasn't as noticeable in the Schneider Fief because of the monsters there, but this was actually an incredible feat. Talent and effort. Lacking either one, it would be impossible to raise aura at this age.
And then...
"Haaah!"
Roist's wooden sword split into a dozen images and fell towards Patrick's entire body.
Boom! Baam! Bang!
Along with the sound of aura exploding, Roist's wooden sword poured down on Patrick's entire body. The sword strikes, flowing elegantly without a break, clearly showed the traces of long-term training and effort.
However...
"Kuhk..."
The problem was that the attack, delivered with all his might, was not working on Patrick at all. Patrick had not moved a single step from his spot. And although he held wooden swords in both hands, his right hand was just dangling like an ornament, and he was blocking Roist's fierce assault with only his left hand.
And yet...
'Why, why can't I break through.' Roist's fierce attack couldn't even touch a single strand of Patrick's hair. No matter where he attacked or how he moved, his opponent's sword was always waiting where his sword was aimed.
It was a perfect defense, so much so that it felt like he was striking an iron wall.
"Ugh... Uwaaaaaaaaaah!"
Out of frustration, he put more strength into his sword and swung it harder. As if to say, if technique doesn't work, he'll break through with strength.
But...
"You think that'll work?"
Patrick said nonchalantly and lightly swung his wooden sword.
Clack!
It wasn't a flashy aura, nor was it Patrick's usual blindingly fast sword. He moved only with the necessary amount of strength and speed. However, it was with chillingly precise timing and trajectory.
That clean sword strike accurately hit Roist's wrist, which was filled with strength, and as a result...
Clang.
Roist's wooden sword, which he had been swinging recklessly with brute force, fell to the ground. And Patrick, with a look of disbelief, said.
"What's this? You dropped your sword?"
"Kuhk..."
"Wow, this is something new. You dropped your sword?"
"It... it was a mistake."
"A miiiiiiistaaaaaake?"
"You punk. A swordsman should die with his sword in hand. Dropping it and calling it a mistake? A miiiiistake? If one of my kids in the fief did this, I would... Ugh, never mind, I shouldn't even talk about it."
Patrick lamented, thumping his chest as if he were genuinely frustrated. Seeing Patrick like that, Roist's face turned red. He had a mouth but no words to retort.
Just as he said, dropping his sword was a disgrace. And to talk about a mistake after that was a blunder he would kick the blankets over for the rest of his life.
"You know it's embarrassing, don't you?"
"..."
"Right. You're not one of my kids, so what can I say? Go on, go."
And Patrick left Roist and looked towards the professor, saying.
"What now? Should I keep going with a different opponent?"
"..."
"Professor?"
Patrick said to the gaping Professor Leit. Then, belatedly coming to his senses, Professor Leit said.
"You... you you..."
"Me... me me... what?"
"... What star are you?"
"What are you going to do with that information?"
"Just tell me if I passed or failed. Am I going home? Or am I staying?"
Then Professor Leit said urgently.
"Passed, of course you passed."
"... Huh?"
"Congratulations. As a professor of the knights’ faculty, I greatly welcome you to our department."
'How can he change so drastically?' Patrick was slightly dumbfounded. His attitude was just as rude and swaggering, but Professor Leit's reaction had completely changed.
Just a moment ago, he had thought of him as an ill-mannered punk, a parachute appointment, a rude brat, and a social misfit with serious problems with his mental state.
But...
'He had a reason to be arrogant. More than enough reason. With this level of skill, it would be strange not to be arrogant.'
In a single spar, his evaluation of Patrick had risen dramatically. Roist was one of the top-skilled students among the first-years. He had already surpassed the two-star level and was looking towards the three-star level, a talent who was expected to reach the four-star level while still at the academy.
And he had defeated such a Roist. No, it was hard to even say he had defeated him.
Subdued him?
No. It would be more accurate to say he had toyed with him. 'I can't see the bottom of his skill.' It was impossible to gauge Patrick's skill with Roist.
Should he pit the second-years in the training grounds against him? No. They might be a bit better than the first-years, but to that monster, there would be no difference. In that case...
'Me?'
A fighting spirit arose. Not as a professor, but as a swordsman who lived by the sword. As Justin Leit, the Unyielding Knight, one of the top five in the kingdom, he wanted to find out Patrick's skill.
But...
"Stop."
"Hm?"
"You're a professor. It wouldn't do to lose face in front of the students, would it?"
At those words, Professor Leit was startled. When he came to his senses, he realized he had unconsciously been reaching for his sword.
"Ahem, ahem..."
"So if I've passed, what now? Do I participate in class from now on?"
"No, for today, you can go back. If you go to the administration office, they will assign you a dorm at the academy. And listen to the detailed rules there as well."
"Got it."
And Patrick turned and walked away. Beside him, the butler, who could be described as beautiful rather than handsome, followed behind him. Professor Leit then went to the fallen Roist and said.
"Roist, are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, I'm alright. I'm sorry, Professor."
"There's nothing to be sorry about. That was never a guy you could have won against in the first place."
"Today's class will be all self-training. Second-years, please guide the first-years."
And Leit left the training grounds.