Chapter 95

Chapter 95. The Law of Trash Preservation (3)

When autumn approaches the harvest season, everyone temporarily stops their conflicts. This is to allow farmers to harvest wheat and barley in peace.

From ancient times to the present, all humans have lived by making wheat and barley their staple food. It is the food of slaves and the food of emperors.

It was instinct and faith.

Thus, it has been an unspoken agreement since long ago to stop fighting during the harvest season.

Of course, it’s only for about a week. Out of the twelve months of the year, only one week is spent without picking fights or starting battles. Even if it’s a noble from a prestigious family.

“I smell barley…”

Taragon, lying sprawled on the training ground, muttered.

Right next to him, Brooks and Darkin were also lying side by side. The difference was that Taragon was looking at the sky, while they were kissing the dirt.

“I’ve seen your level now. It’s so pathetic I want to kill you.”

Thud!

Keter kicked the dirt. Brooks and Darkin, hit by the sand, snapped back to their senses.

The faces of the two who got up were a mess. They were covered in marks from being thoroughly beaten by Keter.

Taragon also got up. Although he looked very tired, he had no injuries.

“Out of this group, only number three was somewhat useful. He immediately distanced himself from me when the fight started. On the other hand, you two just stood there like idiots, shooting arrows. Why? Were your feet stuck to the ground? Did someone threaten you with a sword, saying they’d kill you if you moved? Or do I need to threaten you to make you move?”

When Keter decided to attack, the three were defeated in the blink of an eye.

Of course, they didn’t just stand there and take it. They did everything they could.

The seasoned Brooks shot five arrows into the sky. It was the 7th form of the Zodiac, the Solar Bow.

The arrows didn’t fly straight but fell from the sky, making it impossible to predict where they would land.

But there was no need to predict. Before the arrows even descended, Keter had already pounced on Brooks.

Taragon and Darkin aimed at Keter with the Lunar Bow, but they didn’t even graze him. They couldn’t predict his zigzagging movements at all.

Once Keter got close to Brooks, Brooks couldn’t even shoot his bow anymore. There was a risk of hitting Brooks.

But they weren’t just standing there like fools. They aimed at Keter’s back or sides. However, Keter wasn’t a fool either and kept turning his body to fight.

Brooks blocked attacks aimed at his solar plexus but failed to block a strike aimed at his groin, causing him to collapse in one hit.

Keter mercilessly punched Brooks in the face as he clutched his groin. And just like that, Brooks fell.

Enraged, Darkin lunged at Keter. He intended to subdue Keter with martial arts rather than archery.

But—

“Hah!”

Keter’s fist landed on Darkin’s face as he let out a spirited shout.

Once, twice, three times.

Crack!

The final blow was a knee strike aimed at his side.

Darkin had deployed his Aura Armor to defend his entire body, but Keter’s fists and knees pierced through his defenses like a drill.

The pain, which exceeded his limits, forced Darkin’s nerves to knock him out.

20 seconds.

That was the time it took for the vice-captain of the Holy Knight Order and the 2nd squad leader of the Lunar Knight Order to fall.

Whoosh!

An arrow flew toward Keter.

It was an arrow shot by Taragon.

Keter dodged the arrow with a slight twist of his body and chased after Taragon.

Taragon quickly backpedaled, firing arrows in succession. His accuracy was terrible. Out of ten arrows, only three grazed Keter.

Eventually, Taragon was caught. He boldly acted by throwing his bow at Keter. It was something an archer would never do.

But his opponent was bad. Keter had thought of every possible move his opponent could make, and that included throwing a bow.

Keter didn’t dodge or block the bow. Instead, he advanced straight forward, blocking Taragon’s punch with one hand while simultaneously kicking his shin, forcing him to kneel.

“…Ugh!”

Taragon tried to stab Keter with an arrow from his quiver, but Keter’s bow struck his shoulder first.

Crack!

And just like that, the battle ended.

In this duel, Keter didn’t benefit from Amaranth at all. Even if he had used a regular bow, the result—and the process—wouldn’t have changed.

Thus, the four had nothing to say. No one argued that they had been careless or demanded a rematch.

“Now, tell me. Do I have the right to be called an instructor or not? Number two. Who am I?”

Keter, who had unsummoned Amaranth, asked Anis.

Though frustrated, Anis acknowledged Keter’s skill in subduing him and the other three simultaneously.

But nobles don’t just chase visible phenomena. Nobles abandon benefits for the sake of rigid rules and are even willing to throw away their lives.

“You are strong. But for me to learn something from you would disrupt the hierarchy of Sephira. At the very least, it should be a mutually equal relationship…”

“Stop talking nonsense. If you want to leave, leave quickly.”

Anis thought Keter would tell him to stay. Or at least negotiate.

Why?

Because I’m the third son of the prestigious Sephira family.

Because, genealogically, I’m his older brother.

Being treated as a trainee was unpleasant. Especially since the other party wasn’t a full brother but a half-brother.

But thinking coldly, Keter had nothing to lose. Even if all the Southern Sword Tournament participants here refused.

In fact, Keter was being generous. A strong person teaching the weak without any cost, wasn’t that what he said?

‘Without any cost? Keter?’

After a moment of contemplation, Anis quickly spoke.

“What’s the cost? It’s not free, right?”

“Did you really think it would be free? Of course, there’s a charge. Labor costs, training fees, and the price of various items. Did you think I’d cover everything out of charity?”

“I’d like to know the estimated cost.”

“It depends on what you do. Roughly around 200,000 to 300,000 gold.”

Darkin, the most financially savvy among the members, was shocked.

“Huh, 200,000 to 300,000 gold? Not bronze or silver, but gold?! Who here has that kind of money?”

The annual salary of a Lunar Knight Order member, the strongest force in Sephira, is 2,400 gold, and a squad leader earns a bit more at 3,000 gold.

Even if they saved for 10 years without doing anything, they’d only have 30,000 gold.

Of course, this amount is more than enough to live comfortably, and since it’s a base salary, they could earn more through missions or private means.

But even so, they wouldn’t save 100,000 gold. They wouldn’t even think of saving that much.

Yet Keter casually mentions an amount that’s two or three times that staggering 100,000 gold.

“I know you’re all broke. But listen. Just make it to the top three in the Southern Sword Tournament. The third-place prize is 300,000 gold. Second place gets 500,000, and if you become the Southern Sword by winning first place, you’ll get 1,000,000 gold.”

“That’s impossible!”

“Then you’re out, number five.”

“Yes. I’ll drop out. I fully understand that Young Master Keter is strong. But being strong and being able to teach are separate abilities. I’ll prepare for the Southern Sword Tournament in my own way.”

Darkin walked past Keter.

Keter didn’t even glance at him.

“How long are you going to keep your mouths shut? If you’re testing my patience, I’ll have to test your endurance.”

“Instructor. Please take care of us.”

Taragon, who had already been training Keter’s way, was the first to give in. He decided to push the enormous tuition fees onto his future self.

“If I train under you and fail to make it into the top three, thus not getting the prize money, what happens?”

Anis fired off a rational question until the end.

“What happens? You’ll still have to pay. I won’t ask for it immediately. I don’t expect it either.”

“Sigh, with those conditions, I… Instructor.”

Even Anis gave in. He expressed it by adding an honorific to Keter’s title. Though his head was lowered and his body trembling.

Now, the only one left was the veteran Brooks.

“This old man will follow along too, Instructor.”

Brooks was more curious than confident in Keter.

He was curious about whether Keter, who was unbelievably strong, could also teach well, and what methods he would use.

If it didn’t seem right, he could always drop out midway.

“Good. And you’re included too, number one.”

Luke, who had been watching from the sidelines, made a face that said, “Of course.”

“Sigh, understood, Instructor. Since I’m not participating in the tournament, I can pay the money later, right?”

“Of course. Just write an IOU.”

And so, except for Darkin, the four became Keter’s trainees.

* * *

“Who came late?”

At Keter’s question, the trainees hesitated, not understanding what he meant.

Number three, Taragon, recalled.

“I came first. And second was Sir Luke.”

“Trainee number three. Your voice is too soft. And here, we call each other by numbers, not names. Do it again.”

“I came first! And! Ah… number one came second!”

“Numbers two and four. Go to Hakoz Village and buy sandwiches within an hour. Execute.”

The faces of numbers two and four, who didn’t make it in the first round, turned pale.

“Ke-, no, Instructor! Hakoz Village takes over an hour round trip even on horseback. It’s too tight.”

“Latecomers will be considered disqualified.”

“What happens if we’re disqualified, Instructor?”

“If you’re not worth teaching, you’ll have to leave my sight immediately. One minute has passed.”

Thud thud thud!

Anis started running first.

Brooks glanced at Keter’s eyes. It was a look asking if there was any consideration for elders, but he gave up after a second and started running after him.

Taragon and Luke, seeing the two running, made a resolution. From now on, if Keter says it’s first-come-first-served, they’ll run first and think later.

“We should start too. First, run.”

Thus began Keter’s training method, which would later be recorded as the “Forbidden Book of Sephira.”

Running around the training ground.

Until when?

Until Keter stops.

Luke wondered what kind of training this was. He had run around the training ground countless times during his knight cadet days.

Twenty laps, thirty laps, no problem. That’s the stamina of a knight.

Seventeen laps passed. By then, Anis, who had gone to Hakoz Village, returned, and Brooks also arrived with two minutes to spare, joining from the twentieth lap.

The two, who had been sprinting for an hour, had already exhausted half their stamina and had to keep running around the training ground without rest.

Forty laps passed. By then, even the world’s greatest knights began to gasp for breath.

“In, Instructor. How long do we have to keep running?”

“Your voice is too soft. I can’t hear you.”

“How long! Do we have to! Keep running!”

“Until I stop.”

Keter gradually increased his speed, reaching the point where he ran two laps for every one lap the trainees ran.

Surprisingly, Taragon was the most stable runner among the four.

Actually, it wasn’t surprising. Taragon had already been doing this reckless running ahead of the others.

But even Taragon would eventually tire. Especially since this training ground was at least twice as large as others.

The first to tire was Luke. He had basic stamina, but relying on his abilities had made him neglect physical training.

Originally, the four were running almost evenly, but soon a dropout appeared. It was Luke, who had shown signs of tiring first.

Luke, falling behind the group, suddenly felt an overwhelming misfortune approaching from behind.

But he couldn’t react.

His mind understood, but his body didn’t listen.

Crack!

Luke’s back bent like a bow. Keter had struck his back with his palm as he passed by.

“Aaaah!”

Though it was his back that was hit, Luke felt pain as if needles were piercing his entire body and couldn’t hold back his scream.

“I said run, not walk. Run.”

“Ugh…”

Luke increased his speed again. He convinced himself it wasn’t because Keter’s back smack was too painful.

The number of laps around the training ground steadily increased.

From sixty laps, the sound of a whip striking leather echoed through the training ground every three laps. Followed by groans.

Seventy laps. Now, screams erupted every two laps.

Eighty laps. Now, the screams didn’t stop.

It was unclear whether they were running or flailing. But they were definitely running around the training ground.

Their stamina had long been depleted. They were running with stamina that had surpassed their limits.

Their legs kept giving out, and whenever that happened, Keter’s palm would mercilessly strike their backs.

Strangely, each strike brought a slight surge of energy. It was as if the pain was converting into vitality.

‘I must be going crazy.’

The trainees thought they were going insane, but no. Keter’s strikes weren’t mere punishment; they were a form of medical technique.

By inflicting pain, he accelerated blood flow, inducing an awakening effect and minor recovery. This was an advanced technique that consumed the caster’s mana as well.

In other words, Keter was pushing himself as hard as he was pushing the trainees.

He ran twice as much as the others and exhausted his mana while running. Yet, Keter never slowed down, though he was sweating.

Time passed regardless. As the sun above began to set, Keter finally started to slow down.

The trainees, who had used even the strength to lift their eyelids for running, silently cheered when they saw Keter slowing down.

‘Is, is it finally over? How many laps did I even run?’

They had run 120 laps.

Keter had run 180 laps.

Eventually, Keter came to a complete stop. The trainees also stopped running.

Thud!

All the trainees collapsed. Strange sounds came from their mouths.

“Huuuu.”

“Uuuu.”

“Kuuuu.”

While making painful sounds, their faces were smiling.

Was sitting down this comfortable? Was leaning against the ground this joyful? They had discovered a new world they hadn’t known before.

Keter left the training ground and went somewhere, and the trainees vaguely thought the training was over.

Thirty minutes passed. Though to the trainees, it felt like three minutes.

Keter returned to the training ground. Not alone, but with twenty servants in tow.

“You’ve rested long enough. Trainees, get up now. Execute.”

“Instructor. Isn’t the training over? If we do more, our hearts might not be able to take it.”

“We don’t have the strength to move.”

Brooks felt like his entire body would fall apart if he did any more. It was a sincere thought, with no hint of a joke.

But Keter was just as sincere.

“No, you can still run more. Once you learn Heavenly Power, that is.”