Chapter 11
The castle, sprawling across a monstrous 120 square kilometers, truly left no stone unturned in its opulence. There were vast training fields dedicated solely to the Sword Saint’s practice, banquet halls that could easily house several thousand people, a library rich with the histories and teachings of various races, and inexplicably, numerous empty rooms whose purpose remained an enigma.
Among the tens of thousands of rooms in the castle, it seemed impossible to use every single inch of its space.
As I briefly paid respects to the dwarf artisans who must have endured painstaking efforts in designing this colossal structure, I heaved a sigh, gazing vacantly at yet another empty expanse.
“That room currently has no designated use. If you wish, I can call in the artisans to convert it into a training ground, practice area, or perhaps a library.”
From behind me, a soft voice explained the function of the vacant room.
“No, that won’t be necessary…”
A single servant trailed behind me. A middle-aged man dressed in a sleek tuxedo with an immaculately combed hairstyle and a giant white towel draped over one arm—his appearance was the epitome of a classic butler. For reasons unclear, it felt like he’d break out into a dance if I didn’t get enough sleep on time.
“Could you please guide me to my room?”
Though the middle-aged servant encouraged me to speak more freely, I found it difficult. Having spent my life in a modest upbringing, addressing someone who looked twice my age felt instinctively uncomfortable.
“This way to your room.”
And so, we embarked on a journey…
It was a journey that was…
Extremely long.
Extremely wide.
Extremely exhausting.
“Let’s take a short break for a moment.”
The trip was so arduous that I had to collapse twice, catching my breath.
“Please rest as much as you need. Should anything be required, simply ring this bell, and a servant will arrive promptly.”
Upon reaching the room, the middle-aged servant placed a small golden bell on the table before leaving. I immediately laid down on the bed, massaging my sore legs, exhausted from the long trek.
It had been nearly three or four days since I had rested on a proper bed. The soft sheets and fluffy duvet whispered promises of sweet slumber, but…
“Shit…”
Despite the bed’s comfort, my mind was far from at ease. It was restless, like a deer cornered on a cliff. How had I ended up joining the party of a Sword Saint? Barely a week into this game-like world, and I was already part of something far beyond my capabilities.
What awaited me ahead was daunting. High-ranking marauders, grand marshals like Maltiel or Raguel, and possibly even dragons or ancient spirits. In order to survive, I had to grow stronger—a task made harder by the expectations around me.
The humans around me mistakenly believed I was a genius of such caliber that I could become the second key to humanity’s salvation or the kind of mage whose name would be etched into history.
With such high expectations, I was sure to gain access to top-tier gear and spell tomes. Moreover, the leaders of the Round Table had promised to assign me a personal magic tutor.
Though their anticipation was palpable, I had little faith in myself.
My past was that of a high school dropout who pursued music. A life devoid of serious study, now thrust into the realm of magic—a discipline entirely new to me.
‘Will I be able to handle this properly?’
My doubts were overwhelming.
“This is bad.”
The face of my future tutor already loomed in my mind—lecturing me on basic drills, theoretical studies, and the cunning tricks I’d need to survive the high-level battlefields where Sword Saints roamed.
I wouldn’t survive on honesty alone. If I wanted to catch up with the capabilities of a Sword Saint within three years, I’d need shortcuts—artifacts and perhaps even the blessings of powerful elemental beings like the thunder spirit.
Fortunately, I had a pretty good grasp of the mechanics in this world, given my 5000 hours spent on the game it was based on. I would need to use every bit of that knowledge.
‘It’ll work. I’m a genius.’
The stakes were high, as was the risk.
On this thin thread of misunderstanding, I’d have to perform precarious balancing acts. One mistake could lead to a swift demise on the battlefield, or worse, execution for deceiving the leaders.
“I am a genius… I can do this… I will survive… I am a genius…”
Lying in bed, I chanted these words like a witch muttering incantations, attempting to hypnotize myself into confidence.
…But it had little effect. That damn “Calm” trait prevented me from losing my mind, even when I wanted to.
Thus, I spent the night lamenting my fate, my first night in the kingdom.
—
Day two arrived.
The “Calm” trait lived up to its reputation.
Even in this chaotic situation, it ensured I slept soundly. Upon waking, I leisurely brewed tea at the table in my quarters, shaking off the morning drowsiness.
‘What to do, what to do… First, let’s wake up properly with some tea. Since they’ve already begun misunderstanding me, I might as well use it to my advantage.’
The worries that plagued me last night now felt like a distant dream.
…Though, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was truly losing my mind. Brewing tea calmly in such a situation?
‘Well, the deed is done. All I can do is focus on what I can control.’
With that thought, I rang the gold bell provided to me twice.
A different young servant promptly arrived, knocking on the door.
“Did you summon me?”
…This one, too, seemed like the type who’d start dancing if he didn’t get enough sleep.
“Here’s a list of magical tools and clothing I’ll need.”
I handed over the list compiled during my restless musings the previous night. It included all the basics—crystal orbs, spellbooks, robes, hats, and fundamental books on how magic operated in this world.
‘First, I need to understand what magic actually is.’
Though I had been instinctively utilizing my latent abilities and had an intimate knowledge of this world’s backstory from the game, I knew nothing of “magic” itself.
This was reality, after all. Tapping a few keys at my computer to summon towering pillars of flame wouldn’t cut it here. I needed to understand how magic functioned in this world before meeting my tutor.
“Ah, by the way, could you inform me when the orc Rex and his troops arrive in the capital?”
“Rex… Are you referring to the orc soldier? Would it be possible to disclose the nature of your business with him?”
“…I owe him a life debt. It’d be rude not to attend his comrade’s funeral.”
At my response, the servant gave a quiet nod before quietly leaving the room.
By that afternoon, most of the items on my list had arrived at my room. After checking the sizes for robes and hats, I began my first foray into studying, the likes of which I had never imagined.
As I delved into the texts, time seemed to warp. Everything around me blurred, and my focus sharpened in ways I hadn’t thought possible.
‘This… isn’t as hard as I anticipated.’
To my surprise, information about magic flowed into my mind easily.
Could it be the exceptionally high magic stat playing its part? I breezed through twenty-odd books that I had planned to read leisurely, in just under three hours.
Contrary to my expectations, this world’s version of me seemed to have a rather sharp intellect.
After all, if my magic stat could reach 20 while most mages maxed out at 13 or 14, it would make sense for my intelligence to match the boost.
As my arrogant thoughts swirled about me possibly being a true genius, a sharp pain jabbed at my eyes.
I gripped my temples, standing up from the desk. Rising suddenly after sitting in one position for three hours caused a dizzy spell—a typical sign of anemia. Despite the pain, I managed to collapse onto the bed with eyes burning like fire.
They weren’t wrong—studying was indeed a test of stamina.
This cursed body couldn’t handle reading for more than three hours at a stretch. I spent the day lying in bed, massaging my temples, the price I paid for my intense three-hour reading session.
My expectations of becoming a real genius were, perhaps, nothing more than a delusion.
—
By lunchtime on the third day…
Drawing from the lessons of my previous day’s ordeal, I now followed a strict routine—30 minutes of reading, followed by stretching and a 20-minute nap. I had learned the hard way that this body could not endure being seated for more than three hours without regular breaks.
Just as I sighed, lying back on the bed to think about my low stats—constitution 1, strength 1, agility 1—an unsummoned servant knocked on my door.
“Rex and his squad have returned.”
The young servant announced my benefactors’ return solemnly.
“Please guide me.”
With surprising familiarity, the young servant led me through the labyrinthine castle corridors to where the carriage waited.
About half an hour into our walk, as I struggled to breathe, drenched in sweat, the servant kindly offered a rest, but I declined. Rest could wait until I reached the carriage.
A four-wheeled carriage awaited me by the castle gates. With that, my carriage swiftly passed through the castle walls, riding along the well-paved roads of the capital toward the National Military Cemetery for fallen soldiers.
Almost two hours passed as we traveled.
Off in the distance, on a hill, a funeral was underway.
