Butler roared. ..
"Are you... playing with me!?"
The moment Butler's anger exploded, he backed away from Matthew. Then he immediately rushed in again, swinging his sword fiercely to attack.
"No. No, no, that's not it..."
Matthew was flustered by Butler's attack and tried to make an excuse. But he didn't know what was happening to his own body, so he couldn't explain. Actually, there was something he wanted to say.
There was, but he couldn't bring himself to say it to his opponent.
Because...
'Why are you so slow?' Matthew was too timid to say this to his opponent's face. I can see everything.
There was no other way to explain it. He could see all of his opponent's sword moves, and his body could respond to the attacks faithfully. 'How can this be?'
Even as he moved his own body, Matthew couldn't believe this reality. In truth, it wasn't that Matthew hadn't felt anxious while continuing the training Patrick had ordered. It wasn't sword arts, nor was it Aura Blessing; he had only continued to train his pure physical body.
And it was a strange training method, with over seventy percent of it focused solely on his lower body. He trusted Patrick's skills and thought there was no other way, so he did everything he was told, but he couldn't help the seeds of doubt and anxiety sprouting in a corner of his mind.
As the exam drew closer, he thought he should probably start practicing sword arts soon, but...
[What do you mean, sword arts? A guy who can't even control his own body. Build your body first.]
That was how Patrick had dismissed it. Honestly, he was anxious. He wondered if it was okay to continue like this.
What steeled Matthew's resolve at that time was a lesson he learned from his father.
[My son. If you've decided to believe in something and put it into practice, push through until you see a result. Even if it leads to a loss, you must not stop in the middle.]
[What if I actually suffer a loss because of it?]
[It's a gain.]
[How so?]
[You can learn the lesson, 'Doing this leads to failure,' can't you? The accumulation of such experiences is what leads to great success later on.]
Although he had devoted himself to the path of a merchant rather than a knight, which was his family's wish, the father Matthew knew was a giant. Matthew knew well enough how amazing it was to achieve overwhelming success in one field.
That was why he was faithful to his father's teaching and could follow what Patrick told him to do until the end.
And now...
"Haaaaaaaaaaat!"
Butler's continuous attacks flew without rest. Matthew calmly blocked the assault. The two wooden swords clashed fiercely in mid-air, making a clear sound.
Clack, clack-clack-clack.
Faced with Matthew's perfect defense, Butler's anxiety reached its peak. He had planned to win easily and finish it, but he never imagined it would take this long. His breath was already ragged, and fatigue had built up to the point where his sword-gripping hand was aching.
But his opponent, unlike him, looked extremely calm. His breathing hadn't become ragged, and his expression was serene.
‘Am I weaker than that Matthew? Me?’
When people face a reality they don't want to accept, they tend to lash out. Just like Butler right now.
"Uwaaaaaaaah!"
Butler's wooden sword, swung with all his might, gained power and speed.
However...
"What the..."
"It's not even a brawl."
"He's mentally immature."
It was obvious to the professors that Butler's form had completely collapsed. Butler's sword, which charged forward recklessly for the sake of attack alone without any thought of defense, showed far too many openings. And those openings were clearly visible to Matthew, who was facing him.
'Now.'
Both arms were raised high above his head to bring the sword down. Because of that, his torso was left wide open. It was an opening so obvious that anyone who wasn't a fool would be able to see it.
At that moment, Matthew's feet and sword moved forward for the first time. He smoothly extended his left foot forward, held the sword in both hands horizontally, and naturally lowered his stance. An unshakable center of balance.
Eyes that looked at the point of impact until the very end. All of it became the result as Matthew's wooden sword flew perfectly parallel to the ground.
Thwack!
"Keooook!"
Struck squarely in the torso, Butler let out a painful groan and had to bend his body in half. Even though he was wearing leather armor, he felt a shock as if his back had snapped.
"Ugh..."
"Ugh... ughhhh..."
"Grrrrr..."
Watching Butler collapse, Matthew looked at his sword as if he couldn't believe it. Did I just land an attack? 'Don't tell me... did I win?'
What resolved his doubt was the call of the professor acting as referee.
"Matthew wins!"
"Wha... Whoaaaaaaaa!"
Matthew raised both hands high and shouted loudly. The thrilling sense of accomplishment that can only be felt by those who are rewarded for their efforts. This exhilarating feeling spreading throughout his entire body, from head to toe.
Seeing Matthew enveloped in a euphoric feeling he had never experienced before in his life, Patrick smirked and said.
"That's what victory is."
Victory.
It was a mysterious magic that turned a timid boy into a swordsman.
"Haaap!"
His opponent was pushed back by the force of his powerfully swung wooden sword. The moment he spotted the space created as his opponent staggered backward, Matthew's feet boldly moved forward. A step that cannot be taken without courage and confidence.
The distance closed by that one step perfectly exploited the opponent's opening.
"Urk..."
The opponent, flustered by the sharp attack coming from a difficult angle to defend, swung his sword in a hurry. There was no way such a sword could be powerful, and as a result...
Craaack!
The wooden sword flew high into the air, leaving the opponent empty-handed. Matthew aimed his sword at his opponent's neck and composed his ragged breath. What brought the dazed opponent back to his senses was the referee's voice.
"Matthew wins."
Seven matches, five wins, two losses. That was Matthew's record so far. The moment he secured five wins, Matthew's passing was decided.
Even if he lost all the remaining matches from now on, Matthew's passing was set in stone.
"How could he..."
"No way. This is impossible."
"Don't tell me it's fixed... Hey, Butler, you didn't go easy on him, did you?"
Butler glared daggers at the person who asked if he'd gone easy.
"What do you take me for..."
"No, but it just doesn't make sense, right? What did he even do?"
"What did he do? He did nothing but physical training."
"Right. So how did he get so strong? When he first enrolled, he was the weakest among us."
In fact, this statement represented the feelings of all the first-years. It was hard to believe he had gotten so strong in such a short period. But what was even harder to believe was the way he got that strong.
While they were diligently sparring, swinging their swords, and practicing Aura Blessing, Matthew only did physical training all day long. Of course, he came earlier than anyone and left later than anyone, but so what? Even so, the only thing that increased was the number of sandbags on his body.
So how could a result like this come about? The ones who had personally sparred with Matthew and lost looked even more bewildered. If you asked why they couldn't understand...
'There's no room for excuses.'
'I just...
I just lost.' Those who had fought him directly knew. Their loss to Matthew wasn't due to carelessness or anything else.
Matthew was simply stronger. That was all there was to it. No matter how much they thought about it, they couldn't understand, but since that was truly all there was, there was nothing more to say.
Of course, Matthew was also starting to show signs of exhaustion now.
But...
"Haap!"
Even so, the discipline and spirit in the moment he swung his sword were stern.
"Hoho... Amazing."
"His fundamentals are very solid."
"He wasn't originally at this level. In fact, his admission was... well, you know how it was, right?"
The professors also marveled at Matthew's development. Since he was a student who got in through a donation, they hadn't really expected much. They just thought he would endure for one semester and drop out, at which point he'd at least have 'Academy dropout' on his record, and that would be it.
But seeing Matthew now, it seemed there was no need for such worries. A solid stance and a disciplined sword extending from it. At that level, he was top-class among the first-years.
"Excellent. I thought his attitude in class was sincere, but I never knew he was this good."
"He must have had talent from the beginning."
"Even so, isn't this the result of his talent being supported by effort and environment?"
"That's right. I knew he'd be great from the sincere attitude he showed during theory lessons."
"He also seemed to concentrate diligently during the Aura Blessing training sessions."
"Come to think of it, he's the only one who submitted a report in my general education class."
"Hahaha. It seems our hard work teaching him has paid off."
While the professors were playing the 'We taught him well. Oh, so proud' game, Professor Leit alone was seeing the reality accurately. 'What do you mean, taught him well?'
Most of the education at the Knight Faculty of the Academy was self-study. They would answer questions about sword arts or Aura Blessing if asked personally, but the rest relied on the individual's self-study. In the first place, it was a physical education department where rolling your body was more important than theory, so it was only natural.
However, among them, Matthew was almost exclusively taught by Patrick. 'He kept focusing only on physical training, so I wondered what he was thinking, but was this it?' Leit, who had reached the seven-star level, had a slightly different perspective.
The amount of aura the student named Matthew possessed was not superior to the other students. If anything, it was a little lacking. But his solidly trained body more than made up for that lack.
By strengthening his trained body with aura, his strength, speed, and stamina had all been overwhelmingly enhanced. In particular, the sturdiness of his lower body was phenomenal. No matter what stance he swung his sword from, his firmly planted lower body, like it was made of rock, maintained his balance.
When exchanging blows, he held the advantage in strength and could make decisions half a beat faster than his opponent. 'The training of the body... I'll have to ask him later.
It seems to have a deeper meaning.' In the end, Matthew's final duel concluded. The result was seven wins and three losses.
In a series of matches where he only needed to win five times, he had won seven. Matthew's breath was ragged from the consecutive duels, but a deep smile was etched on his lips from the satisfying result he had achieved. A professor spoke to him.
"Matthew."
"Yes. Yes!"
"You pass. You may step down."
"Thank you."
Matthew was so happy he could cry. No, he was actually crying. He knew he had no talent.
Even knowing that, he had forced his way into the Knight Faculty with the sole determination to become a knight to resolve the lingering regrets of his grandfather and father. There, he was picked on by Roist and endured harsh bullying, desperately holding on to become a knight somehow.
He was rescued by Patrick after that, but it was followed by arduous training. The training, which was close to torture for his body, where he feared waking up every single day, had finally produced a result. Matthew knew who he should be most grateful to at this moment.
"Patrick. Patrick!"
Matthew ran straight toward Patrick, his benefactor and friend. Come to think of it, how much must that friend have suffered all this time? To teach someone as talentless as him, he stayed at the training grounds late every day to watch over his training, and when he collapsed, he carried him to the dormitory.
Half of what he had achieved now, no, more than that, was thanks to Patrick. So, to share the joy, he opened his arms wide and smiled brightly...
"You're smiling."
Flinch.
Matthew's body, which had been running like a dog meeting its owner after a year, froze for a moment. And only then could he see it. The mix of anger and annoyance on Patrick's face as he looked at him.
"You're smiling. You're smiling. You're damn well smiling."
"Uh... Patrick?"
"A loser who lost three times is damn well smiling. Ah! Maybe you've lost your mind? Is that why you're smiling?"
"Well, I won seven times..."
"So what? I taught you personally, so it's only natural you'd beat a bunch of brats!"
Stab, stab, stab. The other first-year classmates were deeply hurt. Unaware of this, Matthew said.
"If I hadn't been tired, I would have beaten the other three too."
Stab, stab, stab. Someone's precious feelings were hurt once again.
"That's something to be proud of. Bragging about beating some brats."
"Hehehe..."
Patrick scolded him, but the corners of Matthew's mouth wouldn't come down. 'Well, he must be happy.' Victory is sweet.
Its sweetness, like the ambrosia of the heavens, has an addictive charm that makes the effort to taste it again not seem wasteful once you've had a taste. Moreover, Matthew had never won before. He had always looked up at those above him from the perspective of the weak, only feeling envy.
But today, Matthew won for the first time. He seized victory with his own strength and succeeded in rising above others. It was only natural for him to be this happy.
'Well, I'll let it slide just this once.' Patrick lowered the hand he was about to use to smack Matthew on the head and said to him.
"Enjoy it just for today."
"..."
"..."
"It's a long road ahead."
"I know."
Seeing him nod and answer seriously, it seemed no more nagging was necessary. And besides, he couldn't nag any further anyway.
"Patrick Schneider!"
Because the professor had called Patrick's name.