My arm wouldn’t move. A sharp spasm shot through my lats, locking my joints for a heartbeat, and then another. But I didn’t care. So what if my body’s falling apart? I’m the strongest damn villager in the world.
【Skill: Indomitable Will activated.】
Lactic acid? Bring it on. Potassium ions, calcium ions? Who gives a damn about concentrations right now? Muscle fatigue meant nothing to me; it was like soft autumn breeze brushing past my skin. I tore through it without hesitation, forcing my body to accelerate again. Pain screamed through every muscle fiber, but my will shouted louder.
That said, I wasn’t dumb enough to push it too far. Tear a muscle, and I’d be benched for real. This was a one-time gamble. Just this once, I’d bulldoze through it on sheer guts alone. Willpower could override a lot of things, but it couldn’t rewrite physics. There were limits to what a human body could take.
I blasted upward, cutting through the air like a missile. At the peak, just as my fingers tapped the ceiling, I twisted midair and shouted down, “Instructor! Cushion is on you! I’m falling, so be ready!”
At that exact moment, I manually released the stat restraints from the Shackles of Golgotha. No way was I gonna dive from thirty meters with the physical specs of a typical modern Japanese guy. And to top it off, the one assigned to catch me, the instructor? Yeah, not exactly comforting.
Still, I figured Lilith had probably set up a layered spell field to slow my descent. She was cautious like that. I trusted her.
And then I felt it. A breeze, gentle but firm. The wind barrier the instructor summoned enveloped me like a soft glove, cushioning my fall. A second later, I touched down.
The murmurs hit me before the dust even settled.
“He actually did it…”
“No way. Seriously?”
“They say almost no one’s ever cleared that. And even then, only after months of muscle training. But this guy? On day one?”
Their awe washed over me, quiet and electric. I didn’t say a word. I turned toward the instructor and lifted my right hand, thumb up. That was enough.
“As for holding us all responsible for Koharu’s screw-ups,” I said, crossing my arms, “I’d like that policy permanently waived from now on.”
The instructor paused for a moment, mulling it over. Then he gave a small, thoughtful nod. “Fair enough. If I got stingy with the rewards here, it’d only kill morale for everyone. I’ll allow it.”
I nodded in return, satisfied. But before I could step away, Arthur approached, his brows drawn tight, confusion and frustration all over his face.
“Why?” he asked, voice low and raw. “Why would a Villager like you… someone like you… be able to surpass me after all the hellish training I went through?”
I let out a dry, tired laugh. “Sorry, but I guess my training wasn’t exactly normal either.” I gave him a look, not smug, just honest. “Didn’t the instructor say as much? I don’t know what kind of ‘hell’ you went through, but if this is the best you’ve got…” I shrugged. “Sounds like you just didn’t work hard enough.”
He froze, expression twisting as the words hit. Clearly, he hadn’t expected me to throw it back that bluntly. He stood there, chewing on his pride, until his frustration boiled over. Then he turned toward the instructor, his voice rising in protest.
“Sir! For the afternoon’s close-combat drills, surely you’re not planning to have us wear the Shackles of Golgotha again, right?”
The instructor shook his head. “No. That would completely defeat the purpose of combat training.”
Arthur’s shoulders dropped slightly with relief. Then he turned back to me with a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The drills are done in pairs. Why don’t you partner with me, Ryuto Maclaine?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Why me?”
He snorted, lips curling in contempt. “Because I can’t stand the idea of some muscle-headed commoner getting full of himself just because he managed to outperform me.”
Ah. So that’s it.
Honestly, I wasn’t the type who liked standing out. I didn’t care to humiliate people, and I definitely wasn’t into bullying the weak. But if someone was practically asking to be embarrassed in front of the whole class? I didn’t see any reason to hold back.
“Well, I guess I don’t have much of a choice,” I said with a shrug. “Fine. I accept.”
Arthur’s grin widened, this time with genuine amusement. “Don’t complain if I end up hurting you. You won’t get any sympathy from me.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. Just gave a slow shrug, deliberately exaggerated, like I couldn’t even be bothered to take the threat seriously.
The message was clear as day: That’s my line, dumbass.
The sharp cry rang out just as I was sitting down to eat. Koharu’s voice cut through the lunchtime din of the cafeteria like a knife, shrill with panic. “There’s no way a Villager like you can win!” she cried, drawing eyes from every direction.
I didn’t answer. No point. I already knew where this was going.
“He’s a noble, for heaven’s sake! Even if he’s not the best, he’s been training since he was a kid! You don’t stand a chance against someone like that!” Her voice was trembling now, barely holding itself together. “You can’t win! It’s reckless! You need to withdraw from the mock battle right now!”
Still, I kept quiet. Her outburst was embarrassing enough without me adding fuel to the fire.
But then she said it again, “Villager,” and something in me snapped.
“Villager, Villager, Villager. You keep saying that like it means something. So what?”
She froze, eyes wide. But not for long.
“That’s why it’s reckless!” she insisted, louder than before. “You’re just a Villager! You’ll get hurt—”
“Enough.” The word sliced in like a blade.
It came from Lilith. Her voice was calm, but it held venom. She looked Koharu dead in the eye, lips curled in contempt. “Shut your damn mouth, you squealing sow.”
My chair scraped back as I jumped up. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Lilith, why are you the one getting pissed off here?!”
She barely glanced at me. “What kind of wife wouldn’t be furious when someone insults her husband?”
“Husband?”
Right. I’d been aware, vaguely, that I might be sitting on some kind of emotional landmine. But hearing her say it so openly, here of all places, made it clear that this particular bomb was live and ticking. If I acknowledged that statement now, in front of everyone, there’d be no walking it back.
I was still trying to figure out how to steer the conversation off a cliff when Brian, short, silver-haired, and perpetually smug, decided it was the perfect time to join in.
“You really are an idiot,” he said, not even trying to hide his amusement.
The three of us turned to stare at him in confusion. I blinked, then narrowed my eyes. “Wait. Weren’t you refusing to speak to me?”
Brian just grinned and gave me a jaunty thumbs-up. “This kind of thing? Other people’s misery? That’s prime entertainment. No need to stick to the rules right now.”
I stared at him, deadpan. Of course, he’s that kind of guy.
Die. Just drop dead, you smug little bastard.
I sighed and turned my attention back to him. “So? What’s your point, Brian?”
In response to my question, Brian launched into one of his overly articulate explanations, clearly enjoying himself far too much.
“He’s the third son of a dirt-poor noble family.”
“Yeah, I know that much,” I said with a nod.
“And his father,” Brian continued, undeterred, “was apparently the knight commander of a certain kingdom up until the previous generation, anyway.”
That made me raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“He got ousted,” Brian added with a sly grin. “By a man known as the Orc Killer. From there, the family fell into disgrace, and after a series of demotions, they ended up where they are now, barely scraping by as impoverished nobility.”
And just like that, it all clicked.
The Orc Killer? That would be Bernard, my old swordmaster.
Man, that name takes me back. It’s been ages since I’ve thought about him. I really should visit sometime. I tried to get him to quit drinking more times than I could count… I wonder if he ever actually stopped. I still have a stash of that immortal-grade sake lying around. Letting him have a night with it wouldn’t hurt. Worst case, the elixir blend I have can patch up whatever liver damage it causes.
Brian went on, oblivious to my trip down memory lane. “From childhood, he’s been trained intensively in swordsmanship and physical enhancement. His whole life’s been focused on becoming a weapon.”
I smirked. “And yet, I already outclassed him in raw strength.”
“Yes, well.” Brian sniffed. “You’re a Villager. With no natural talent, no impressive stats, no growth potential from skills, you had no choice but to grind away at pure muscle like an idiot until something finally stuck.”
Before I could fire back, he clapped his hands as if drawing a conclusion. “Anyway, he’s nobility. Born and raised to fight. There’s no logical reason a Villager should be able to win.”
Despite the condescending tone, I didn’t bother arguing. What mattered wasn’t background; it was results. And those would come soon enough.