After the trainwreck that was breakfast, we were herded into the gymnasium. According to the schedule, this half-hour slot was supposed to be for a class meeting, but day one seemed to come with a few alterations.
Apparently, this time would be used for a rundown of the gym’s facilities.
I tilted my head back and whistled low. The ceiling had to be at least thirty meters high, easily tall enough for flight-based magic battles. This wasn’t just a gym; it was a battlefield designed for aerial combat training. But what really drew everyone’s gaze was the thick rope hanging from the ceiling, about five centimeters in diameter, swaying faintly in the morning air.
While we all stared, intrigued, the instructor gave a wolfish grin and spoke in a voice that promised trouble.
“This rope,” the instructor began, gesturing to the thick cord dangling from the rafters, “is to be climbed barefoot, using nothing but your arms and legs. No tricks. No spells. Just raw, physical strength.”
A low murmur swept through the gym as everyone stared upward at the seemingly endless length of rope. The instructor’s voice took on a faint note of amusement.
“Of all the students who’ve tried over the years, only a handful have ever reached the top. But hey, let’s call it a fun little bonus challenge. Anyone care to give it a shot?”
Silence. Not a soul moved. Not a single hand was raised.
After what had happened with Koharu earlier that morning, her spectacular failure during the warm-up run, and the resulting punishment of half rations, no one was willing to risk dragging their group down. The threat of a collective penalty weighed heavily on everyone.
“Instructor, sir. Permission to ask a question?” Arthur’s voice rang out, formal and calm.
The instructor gave a short nod. “Permission granted. Speak, Arthur Markham.”
“From your earlier remarks, I gather this challenge is of considerable difficulty. In that case, would those who succeed be eligible for any sort of reward?”
A thoughtful hum escaped the instructor as he stroked his chin. “I’ll see to it you get bonus marks added to your final assessment.”
That was all it took. The mood flipped like a switch.
“Instructor! I’d like to try too!”
“Me as well, sir! Please let me attempt it!”
Excitement spread like wildfire as students clamored for a chance to prove themselves. But the instructor held up a hand, silencing the crowd.
“However, anyone who fails to reach even a third of the way up will be penalized instead. Significantly.”
The room fell silent again. Hopes sank faster than they’d risen. But amid the retreating fervor, Arthur stepped forward without hesitation.
“Instructor,” he said steadily, “may I attempt the challenge?”
The instructor arched a brow. “Well now, you seem confident.”
Arthur’s mouth curled into a self-deprecating smile. “I’m the third son of a poor noble house. No talent for magic. No talent for the sword. No wealth. No genius. I’ve got nothing, absolutely nothing to my name.”
“Hmph…”
“But that’s exactly why I’ve done everything I can to get stronger. I’ve trained every single day. That includes raw, physical strength.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked toward the rope. Calmly, he kicked off his shoes and stepped onto the mat in bare feet.
“May I begin now?”
The instructor nodded. “Go ahead.”
Without hesitation, Arthur grasped the rope and began to climb. His arms pulled while his legs scissored tightly around the thick hemp, anchoring him upward with a steady rhythm. There was some technique involved, sure, but this was, at its core, a test of raw explosive power. Less finesse, more brute force. A vertical sprint in disguise.
The moment he started, murmurs rippled through the watching crowd. It was understandable. Arthur was scaling the rope with shocking speed. In mere seconds, he’d cleared the ten-meter mark, the very threshold the instructor had declared as the penalty cut-off.
“He’s amazing! Arthur, you’re amazing! Keep going!”
That cheer came bright and shrill from Koharu, beaming as she clapped her hands like an overenthusiastic child.
Wait, didn’t he just grab her by the collar and shout her down this morning? I blinked, baffled by her ability to bounce back from that, as it had never happened. Is she actually kind of an airhead?
I cast a sidelong glance at Lilith. She, too, was watching Koharu with a look of faint disbelief, her head shaking slowly. Yeah. I’m not the only one thinking it.
Arthur pressed on. Fifteen meters. Halfway. But his momentum faltered.
Anyone who’s done pull-ups knows how this goes. At first, your body moves with surprising ease: three, four, five reps. No problem. But then, without warning, the fatigue hits like a freight train. One moment you’re fine, the next your muscles just stop responding.
You think, Okay, that was tough, and then, one rep later, you realize, Nope. That’s it. I’m done.
If you’re stubborn, you might squeeze out one last lift on sheer willpower. But after that? Dead weight. Your arms might as well be noodles.
That was where Arthur was now, on the edge of collapse.
The instructor, perhaps sensing it, called out, “I may not look it now, but I used to be a C-rank adventurer. I’ll cast wind magic to soften your fall, so just let go.”
C-rank. Not bad, honestly. In some backwoods village, that might qualify you as a local legend.
Arthur reached his limit. His grip slipped, and he fell.
Wrapped gently in a membrane of air magic, Arthur landed softly and slowly pushed himself upright. His eyes were glazed, his voice hollow with disbelief.
“This… can’t be. I trained. I trained so damn hard…”
The instructor stepped forward, his expression unexpectedly sincere.
“Arthur Markham, right? I’ll be honest with you. I’m impressed. Since I started overseeing the lowest-ranked class’s training camps, you’re the first to make it that far on day one.” But then, the instructor shook his head slowly, pity bleeding into the hard edge of his voice. “Here’s the thing. When it comes to raw strength, just pure unboosted muscle, talent matters far less than it does with magic. Anyone can reach a high level if they put in the work. That’s the brutal beauty of it.”
He snorted softly.
“Only a handful have ever cleared this test. But some have. Which means one thing: you didn’t fail because of a lack of talent. You failed because you didn’t work hard enough. Maybe now you understand your place, little frog in a very big well?”
Arthur slumped, his shoulders sagging as the shame hit.
“Ugh, damn it…”
The instructor scanned the room with a theatrical sigh. “Alright, enough of this farce—”
“Hey, uh, teach?” I stepped forward, cutting him off before he could wrap things up.
He squinted at me. “What is it now, Ryuto Maclaine? And how many times do I have to tell you… Watch your damn tone. Want another taste of what happened on day one?”