“All right. I don’t mind. I’m going to be teaching Rentt, Niedz, and the others anyway. Not much of a difference between four students and five.”
Diego looked surprised that Capitan had so readily accepted his request. “Not to argue against my own interests or anything, but are you sure?” he said. “Spirit, magic spells, any kind of useful skills—those sorts of things are usually kept close to one’s chest, aren’t they?”
Diego wasn’t wrong. Most mages and scholars hated sharing the secrets of their research with others. A close disciple was fine—you needed to leave a legacy, after all—but that was a far cry from letting the whole world know. Of course, tunes often changed when fame or fortune were added to the equation...but even then, it was common to hide the juiciest bits.
This mentality derived from the belief that sharing what made you special was basically a form of self-sabotage, and in a certain sense, that was correct—especially in the fields of magic and martial arts. After all, if nobody knew how your spells worked, how could they defend against them? It was harsh, but the reality was that the world was a harsh place.
Still, there were plenty of people out there who didn’t think that way. Capitan was one such example.
“I can understand why others would do that, but it’s a bit extreme for my taste,” he said. “I wouldn’t teach just anybody, of course, but for the people who’ve earned a degree of my trust—why not? We’re in a party together, so what makes you stronger helps me out too.”
“I can’t argue against that...”
“Besides, like I said, everyone has spirit. That means that with enough training, anyone can learn to use it. But at the same time, you need diligence—it’s not something you can pick up from a lecture. So it’s no disadvantage to me if I spread my knowledge around a little.”
Capitan sounded confident, and for good reason. Even if Diego started learning how to use spirit today, he couldn’t possibly catch up to Capitan. I mean, I’d been at it for a decade, and I still didn’t even come close to my mentor’s skill with it. Part of that was because he hadn’t taught me about the finer details yet, but the biggest reason was obviously just time. When the person at the front of the race was running just like you, catching up to them was no easy task.
Diego looked convinced by Capitan’s reasoning. “In that case, I look forward to your instruction,” he said. “Thank you. For the record, I don’t plan on spreading it around.”
“Really?” Capitan said. “I’d say feel free to teach whoever you’d like. It’s no skin off my nose.”
“Are you sure?” Diego paused. “Well, you did say that diligence is the most important thing, so I doubt I’ll come across many promising students anyway. I suppose I’ll think about it when the time comes—I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here.”
“True enough. First, we’ll have to make sure you can do it at all.”
Just as Capitan finished saying that, I noticed the ongoing fight was beginning to wrap up. “They’ve done well,” I murmured. “But it’s probably about time.”
Capitan nodded. “They’ve killed...two, it looks like. That leaves...”
“Three,” Diego finished, nodding as well. “But it’ll be rough. Lukas and Gahedd look like they can hold out a while longer, but Niedz is close to exhaustion. And without him to land the finishing blows, the other two won’t get anywhere.”
Diego had basically said my exact thoughts out loud. The trio were still managing to fend off the attacks of the lesser sahagin, but there was no more strength behind their strikes—as evidenced by the fact they were no longer penetrating the monsters’ scales.
“I’m going to back them up,” I announced.
Diego and Capitan nodded in acknowledgment, but neither followed me as I moved to cut in between our Bronze-class companions and the lesser sahagin. They knew just as well as I did that the narrow hallway meant just one of us joining the fight would be better than all three of us jumping in.
That only left the question of who would go, but Capitan seemed to want to observe his would-be students’ movements more thoroughly, while Diego’s spear would be difficult to maneuver in the crowded fight. By a process of elimination, that left me.
Lukas noticed me as soon as I joined them from behind. “Boss Rentt!” he exclaimed. “Have you come to help us?!”
“Something like that,” I said. “You two hold your ground for a little longer. I’m backing Niedz up first.”
Up in front, Niedz was already looking shaky on his feet. I was genuinely impressed at his efforts—even if we’d technically forced him into it. He was still parrying the attacks of the lesser sahagin, but it looked like he’d drop his sword at any moment. Then, just as his concentration lapsed for a split second, one of the fish monsters used the opening to step forward and thrust its harpoon at Niedz.
It never connected. Naturally, that was because I’d intercepted it.
“R-Rentt?” Niedz said, between gasping breaths. “Didn’t you say...you weren’t...going to help?” He was drenched in sweat, and there was a look in his eyes that suggested he was close to passing out completely. The fact he still had the grit to say those words with a smile was something else.
“If you’re feeling confident enough to say that, maybe you don’t even need my help,” I joked. “Should I let you keep at it, then?”
“Gimme...a break...”
No surprises there; it seemed even Niedz wasn’t foolish enough to pull out the tough guy act at a time like this.
I nodded, then brandished my sword and channeled spirit into it. Mana would improve its slicing ability, but this would be a surer bet against the tough scales, not to mention easier. Spirit could slice too, but I could skip all of that and just transfer the force of my strikes straight into the monsters’ innards.
I swung my blade at the lesser sahagin, and it sliced through its body with smooth ease, the wound rupturing apart in its wake.
Niedz stared at me, looking alarmed. “Now that’s freakin’ terrifying,” he said.