Patrick kicked off the ground with both feet, stepping lightly as he spoke.
“Do you have time to be thinking about other things?”
“N-no, it’s just…”
“Focus. Or this will be over in an instant.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Patrick’s body blurred and vanished. And when he reappeared…
“Heot!?”
It was directly in front. He could have reappeared behind him or to his side. But Patrick revealed himself right in front of Professor Baroque.
And Professor Baroque, despite his surprise, thrust his halberd forward sharply.
“Haaat!”
Even with its heavy axe head and long, cumbersome blade, his thrust was far sharper than that of an ordinary spear. To accentuate the strengths of one’s beloved weapon and compensate for its weaknesses. It was the most basic of basics.
But how much effort must he have put in to polish this basic skill to such a level? At this moment, as a senior walking the martial path, Patrick felt proud of this man. And with that feeling overflowing…
Thwack!
He kicked him.
“Keoheok…”
Struck squarely in the lower abdomen, Professor Baroque was sent flying backward. He managed to regain his balance without falling, but Patrick appeared before him once again. Again, directly in front.
Seeing Patrick appear right before his nose, Professor Baroque reacted instinctively.
“Uwaaaaah!”
This time, it was a slash. He swung the heavy axe head of the halberd, intending to cut Patrick in half, but…
Crack!
Patrick’s fist was faster once again. With a sword still in his other hand, Patrick’s fist smashed into Professor Baroque’s face. As Professor Baroque’s vision swam and shook, Patrick spoke.
“Wielding a weapon well and being wielded by a weapon are two different things.”
“What… Keoheok!”
This time, a knee. Patrick’s knee struck Professor Baroque’s stomach, and for a moment, it felt as if bile was rising from within him. Unable to withstand the excruciating pain, he sank to his knees and looked up at Patrick.
With a face full of frustration, he spoke.
“What is this? Are you saying I’m not even worthy of your sword?”
“That’s not it.”
“Well, actually, that’s kind of true too…”
It seemed he was right after all. Patrick looked at the grinding Professor Baroque and said.
“I simply chose the fastest and most concise means of attack from that distance.”
“What did you say?”
“At a close distance like just now, no matter how sharply you swing your sword, it can’t be faster than a fist. Don’t you agree?”
“…Uh…”
“That’s true even for me, who uses a light sword. So what about someone like you, who uses a heavy weapon?”
“…Ah!”
A gasp escaped Baroque’s lips.
Yes.
This was it. He had been too obsessed with his weapon. To overcome the halberd’s weakness, its heavy weight, he had focused solely on swinging and thrusting it faster and more perfectly.
As a result, he could execute faster, sharper, and more precise movements with his halberd than anyone else. In fact, when Patrick closed the distance, he had instinctively counterattacked immediately. But no matter how fast or sharp it was, counterattacking with a heavy halberd was far less direct than kicking and punching with his bare body.
Suddenly, Patrick’s earlier words came to mind.
[Wielding a weapon well and being wielded by a weapon are two different things.]
His gaze fell upon the halberd in his hand. Whether the opponent was near or far, or at an awkward distance, he always attacked with his halberd. He had dismissed all other possibilities, focusing only on thrusting and swinging his halberd faster, stronger.
It was an obsession with and dependence on his own weapon.
“Haha… Hahahaha…”
Once he realized this, he could see various possibilities he had been missing all along. The weaknesses in angles, distances, and various combat situations that he had previously thought difficult were now supplemented, and possibilities for counterattacks emerged.
“Ah… Aaaah… so that’s how it was. That’s right.”
Then, Professor Baroque closed his eyes, and the aura halls within his body began to expand.
“Stop the test! Stop!”
In that moment, Professor Justin Leit, who grasped the situation faster than anyone, shouted. At his voice, the other professors rushed in, startled.
“Everyone, back away. Do not approach Professor Baroque!”
“The test is suspended! Everyone, dismiss!”
“Everyone, fall back!”
Right now, Professor Baroque was about to step into a higher realm as a knight. For his five-star level to rise meant he was entering the realm of a six-star knight, which in turn meant the country would gain one more six-star knight. This was a much more important matter than a simple midterm evaluation for first-year students.
“Uh… uh uh? Wait, what about my test? Did I pass? Or not?”
To the flustered Patrick, Justin Leit yelled.
“Is that what’s important right now?”
“Yes.”
Seeing Patrick answer so nonchalantly, Justin Leit made a face that said, ‘What kind of person is this?’ But that expression soon changed to ‘Right. This is the kind of person he was,’ and he bit his lower lip and said.
“Patrick Schneider, you pass.”
“For real? I really passed, right?”
“Yes. So please clear the area quickly.”
“If you say otherwise later, I’ll just… you know what I’ll do, right?”
Now he was even threatening a professor. The problem was that several professors flinched upon hearing this threat.
“See you later then.”
Patrick left with those words and walked away without a second glance. This was a piece of the legend that would be passed down for a long time at the academy with the words, ‘That guy just did what that guy does.’ A tavern somewhere in the royal capital, White Town.
As usual, it was a place where various people gathered to share various stories. In a sense, so many stories were exchanged that it could be called a sea of information. Just like right now.
“Hey, did you hear the rumor?”
“A rumor? What rumor?”
“It’s about what happened at the Knight Faculty of the academy…”
“Oh, that? I heard about it. But it sounded too ridiculous. Isn’t it a baseless rumor?”
“A baseless rumor… I thought so too at first.”
A first-year student provoked the professors during the midterm evaluation, sparred with them, and won eight consecutive victories. And overwhelmingly so. In the end, he even fought against Baroque the Pulverizer, gave him a lesson, and as a result, Marox Baroque ascended to the six-star knight realm.
Most people who heard this rumor thought.
‘No way.’
‘After always finishing last at the Arcana Tournament, now they’re desperately trying to get attention.’
‘Tsk tsk tsk, our country’s academy has really gone to the dogs.’
It was only natural to think this way. Because it was something that couldn’t possibly happen by common sense. Even if rumors are exaggerated, there has to be a plausible part to believe, but wasn’t this lie a bit too much?
But then, one person in the room grinned and said.
“Surprisingly, it’s not a baseless rumor.”
“What?”
“Is that true?”
“You all know my younger brother works in the academy cafeteria, right? He said he saw it on site.”
“Hahaha… So a first-year student really beat the professors? Consecutively, at that?”
“Is it also true that he fought as if he was teaching them a lesson?”
“Yes. It’s all true. The test ended ambiguously because Sir Baroque the Pulverizer had an epiphany at the end, but even if they had continued, the professors would have had no chance of winning.”
“Ooooh…”
“To think that was actually true?”
The man who brought up the story slammed his beer mug down on the table toward the marveling crowd and said.
“Patrick Schneider. That’s the name of the person who achieved that unbelievable feat.”
“Patrick Schneider… Schneider… I’ve never heard of that family.”
“I hear it’s a barony from some backwater corner of the eastern territory.”
“Is that really true? Isn’t that place like the boonies of the boonies?”
“I heard it’s hard for people to live there because there are so many monsters.”
“If you think about it the other way, isn’t it because of such a harsh environment that the soldiers and knights of the eastern territory are renowned for their toughness?”
“Ah… that’s true.”
“Everyone knows the people from the east are tough.”
“It seems a talent has finally emerged from the east. No, the word talent isn’t even enough. What should I call him? A genius? A monster?”
“In any case, a great figure has appeared. Maybe… just maybe, we can have some hope for this year’s Arcana Tournament.”
“We’ve been messing up for over ten years, and now all of a sudden…”
“We didn’t have Patrick Schneider until now, did we?”
“But can a first-year student be chosen as a representative for the Arcana Tournament?”
“Hey! Who cares if he’s a first-year or not? He thrashed the professors, so what’s so special about upperclassmen?”
“That’s true.”
“Now that you mention it, that makes sense.”
“This time, our country has to get at least one win at the Arcana Tournament. We can’t keep finishing last in the continent without a single win.”
“That’s right. We absolutely have to.”
“I really hope that happens.”
And so, the people grew excited about the emergence of a new legend, hoping that this new genius named Patrick Schneider would wash away their humiliation. As for what this genius, who was receiving the entire nation’s attention, was doing…
“Ooh, this is your house?”
“Yeah.”
“Woah… it puts the mansions of great nobles to shame. Money really is great. It’s the best. It’s the truth.”
Before Patrick’s eyes was a mansion so large and splendid it made the residences of most noble families look like doghouses. Who would look at this and think an ordinary commoner lived here? Matthew sighed as he looked at Patrick beside him.
Did people know? That this man, crazy for money, was the genius who had recently been the talk of White Town? Matthew had kept his promise.
He had arranged for Patrick to meet his father as soon as the midterm evaluations were over. That day was today. So Patrick had prepared the necessary items and had come like this.
“Ace, did you bring the things I prepared?”
“They are here, young master.”
April, who was following behind Patrick with a deadpan expression, was carrying a bag containing something. On the way, Matthew had asked what was inside, but the reply he got from Patrick was…
“Five gold if you want to know.”
It was so petty and cheap that he decided not to ask. How could a person so obsessed with money reach such a remarkable level? Could it be that an obsession with money and the realm of the sword had something in common?
‘No, by that logic, my father should be the strongest in the kingdom.’
As Matthew entertained these silly thoughts, Patrick spoke.
“Well, let’s go in. Aren’t you going in?”
“No, let’s go.”
When Matthew opened the door and entered, a person who appeared to be an attendant came out a moment later.
“What is your business… Ah! Young master!”
“It’s been a while, Zeros.”
“Ooooh, young master, you’re here. I heard you passed the midterm evaluation with excellent grades. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I was lucky.”
“Hahaha. Everyone knows how hard you worked, young master. Well, please come in. Who is this person next to you?”
“He’s my friend. I made an appointment with my father in advance, he’s home now, right?”
“Ah! Come to think of it, the master canceled his schedule today and stayed at the mansion. It must have been because of his appointment with you, young master.”
“He overdid it.”
Matthew smiled bitterly. Time is money. Wasting time is the same as throwing money away.
That was his father’s philosophy. So his father, who usually managed a busy schedule and did his best to expand his business, had cleared an entire day for his son. Matthew’s father, Aaron.
The greatest merchant in the Atronia Kingdom. His day, converted into money, was worth at least thousands, no, depending on the circumstances, hundreds of millions of gold. Matthew felt grateful to his father for setting aside such time for him, and at the same time…
“Ooh, this looks expensive. Is it gold? It’s gold, right? It has to be gold, right?”
He sighed as he watched Patrick marvel at the decorations in his house. Was it really okay to let this guy meet his father?
This guy? Really? For real?
“Ptooey, ptooey, ptooey, this isn’t gold, is it? Geez… what a waste of a good taste in my mouth.”
He felt embarrassed watching his friend bite the decoration to check if it was gold.
‘I’m sorry, Father.’
What could he do? A promise was a promise.