Chapter 21

Honestly.

The Demon King only thought that the Kid would be mentally pushed to the brink in that hellish place, repeatedly experiencing despair dozens of times.

He assumed the process wouldn’t be smooth, but eventually, the Kid would rise back up.

But hey?

‘Not even faltering once, huh.’

Though it wasn’t outwardly expressed, inwardly the Kid must’ve faced countless moments of despair.

Trapped by piercing loneliness and self-doubt, trembling every moment.

I was planning to gently nudge him back to reality if he looked too worn out.

Even if the Kid complained about how tough things were, fine—but never once did he blame others or give up.

Instead, the Kid fully immersed himself in it all.

‘Just like a Hero.’

If anything, those golden pumpkin-like eyes stood out the most.

Judging just by appearance, Hermine’s traits seemed more prominent—fine black hair like silk, and overall delicate features making him rather cute-looking.

However, temperament-wise—or should we say perseverance? Willpower?

What could be called the core disposition and nature of heroes and warriors—it was there in Ruelde’s son, reminiscent of Carriel.

…Though now it’s faded with time, that naive quality where he couldn’t easily resent or curse others.

Instead, he bottled it all up inside, leading to self-loathing and sinking into depression—that part definitely came from Hermine.

‘But.’

It’s still too early to judge.

Just because someone knows 90% doesn’t mean they know everything, right? There are still plenty of unanswered questions.

Still, the Demon King didn’t know much about Carriel.

Someone might say, “Isn’t that enough?” But unresolved mysteries remain scattered everywhere.

‘Maybe this is my last bit of entertainment. Let me unravel it leisurely.’

Like aging cheese and wine to enjoy at their peak flavor!

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Common sense says:

If a teacher and student are on the same level or the teacher isn’t significantly better, it’s hard to properly teach.

Moreover, the Imperial Academy, located at the heart of the Empire—one of the top institutions on the continent.

Being an instructor there means you’re one of the best educators and skilled individuals across the land.

However,

they’re still people.

Each has their own circumstances, swayed by power, concerned about reputation or performance.

Some are driven by approval or ambition for fame.

Among them, some genuinely dedicate themselves as teachers with responsibility or pride.

Others might’ve been forced into the role unwillingly or thrust into it.

Or maybe they see it as a stepping stone to climb higher.

Lembert, nearing thirty this year, was often considered mediocre and clumsy in every way.

The only thing he excels at? Wielding a sword? Having great physical attributes?

He didn’t slack off though.

But walls of talent and effort loomed large.

When he worked 8 hours, those talented ones worked many more.

They trained tirelessly, sparing no playtime.

‘Why live like that?’

What do they gain from such suffering? The Demon King is dead, so why train so hard?

He has no regrets.

But after years passed, decade upon decade…

Their positions diverged completely.

Maybe.

It’s because I didn’t have the chance to shine, to accomplish great deeds?

If only I had the opportunity.

If only I were chosen by a Sacred Sword or Relic…

Sometimes cursing his family, sometimes blaming his past self for not trying harder.

Realizing none of it changes reality, just making life harder.

That’s how he became just another adult like those around him.

So,

Born as the child of a hero, once rumored to be so extraordinary as a kid.

Now, seeing him so incompetent?

And not even putting in the effort?

If he’s gonna hold a sword, why not just pick up a pen instead?

…Is he easy prey?

What exactly did he learn from Knight Ruelde?

If I had a father like Ruelde…

…maybe I could’ve become a hero too.

“Enough! Stop it already―!”

Lembert snapped out of his thoughts as a student cried out while face-planting onto the ground.

This young student wasn’t bad at all.

Solid fundamentals and decent natural talent.

Almost like looking at his younger self.

Since becoming a swordsmanship instructor, Lembert had seen countless students with similar talents.

Thinking he was somewhat special turned out to mean he barely reached the edge of greatness.

Getting into the Imperial Academy meant being recognized as such.

So.

…Collapsing helplessly like this is unacceptable.

Even in mock battles, such a huge gap shouldn’t exist.

Especially since the student was taken down by…

The Hero’s blemish.

The lizard tail born of a Dragon.

The embodiment of incompetence: Carriel Brendiar.

This is… absolutely unacceptable.

Everyone watching clearly didn’t know how to react to the current situation.

“Next.”

Carriel, with a wooden sword casually slung over his shoulder, announced without any particular emotion.

“…”

With dry eyes, he calmly scanned those who mocked and belittled him.

Lembert felt cold sweat trickling down.

Why am I nervous?

He’s just a student-level fighter.

Nothing impressive or special about him.

His mana control is still a mess, his aura weak like a flickering candle in the breeze.

His movements are even worse than a wooden scarecrow’s.

So why…

did he win?

Upon closer inspection, Carriel didn’t overpower his opponent with sword skills.

He dodged swiftly and struck with the back of his hand under the chin.

Then calmly deflected the opponent’s flailing attack before tripping them and twisting their left arm behind their back.

“…”

What did he even use the wooden sword for?

Nothing.

He just held it.

Neither blocking nor lightly swinging or threatening with it—he simply held it.

‘Is that rumor… true?’

The unbelievable tale of Partyna, the youngest female member of the Golden Dragon Knights, getting beaten by him.

If she let herself lose as a favor to her close junior…

Would such a minor incident really cause a stir?

On the other hand, if his expectations were so low that this was surprising… isn’t that another insult to Carriel?

“Winning once by luck is no big deal. Alright! Let me handle him directly!”

Another student stepped forward confidently, looking far superior in swordsmanship ranking compared to the previous one.

The heir of a viscount’s house approached without considering the possibility of losing.

…But.

“??”

Carriel swung his reverse-grip sword like a club.

The wooden hilt slammed into the opponent’s throat, causing him to collapse gasping for air.

“…”

Carriel’s gaze on the fallen student showed not a hint of wavering.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

‘Is he staying alert?’

No, it’s something else.

This is the calculating look of a predator deciding whether to finish off its prey.

As long as the prey lives, the situation hasn’t ended.

“Next.”

His foot twitched slightly but didn’t follow through with further action.

‘Just now…’

Even though he could’ve kicked the head or trampled vital areas, he didn’t go that far.

…Meaning.

The boy was thoroughly controlling and regulating himself with reason, not emotion.

Everything observed so far proves this conclusively.

“…”

Carriel’s gaze had shifted to Lembert.

His dimmed pupils, murky eyes…

It felt like they were digging into his innermost thoughts, sending shivers down Lembert’s spine.

“Shall we continue?”

What?

“Next.”

After taking down only two opponents, why aren’t there any volunteers stepping forward?

Didn’t everyone think Carriel was so easy to beat?

He still looks unstable standing, yet why were the confident challengers defeated so effortlessly?

“Why use bare hands in a sword duel…?”

Even the student pointing this out knew how cheap and pathetic the excuse sounded.

Without support from others, the complaint trailed off.

“If you want proof, come show me.”

Precisely when.

Carriel locked eyes with him, overwhelming him instantly.

“I’ll use a sword if you wish. Just remember—you’ll likely get injured. My control isn’t refined yet due to insufficient practice.”

Delivered without hostility.

A calm statement of fact, almost like a warning.

That calmness made the oppressive silence even stranger.

If only.

I had strength.

If I’d been bullied and ignored because I lacked power…

If I’d been unjustly harassed…

Could I have remained this composed?

Neither angry nor cold, perfectly neutral.

Even if accusations pointed at me…

There are plenty here without valid excuses.

And that fact.

Is planting ominous feelings in everyone’s hearts.

“…”

What target does the arrow of vengeance aim for?

When will the bowstring release?

When will the arrow fly?

Most importantly.

What’s going through his mind?

What’s his purpose?

The more they observe, the less they understand his intentions.

Seeds of unease planted in everyone’s hearts begin to sprout.

As fear.

As the unknown.

Feeling sharp teeth hovering just above the neck, grazing skin and hairs in an eerie sensation.

All these feelings hit too vividly, too strongly.

“Huff!”

A female student gasped for breath.

When Carriel’s gaze fell on her, she involuntarily collapsed.

“What will you do?”

Carriel asked Lembert directly.

As a teacher, guiding duels with students is acceptable.

That’s the limit.

Going beyond is dishonorable.

Even if not equal, allowing a few moves against a supposedly superior opponent is also disgraceful.

Therefore.

Unless overwhelmingly dominant, engaging offers no advantage.

“No, that’s not it.”

Did I ever worry about this before?

Against Carriel?

Against that blemish?

Against that epitome of incompetence?

“One can’t cut everyone’s necks or stab their hearts, right?”

Suddenly.

In a blunt tone, Carriel dropped a chilling line.

“You should start noticing.”

This is it.

“There’s no avoiding this anymore.”

As long as you’re a swordsman, a knight.

“This is your final warning. Choose.”

Will you commit fully?

Or.

“Will you keep it simple?”

“Carriel, you shouldn’t talk to your teacher like that…!”

“Don’t play word games. Isn’t this what you always preached? Talking is done up to a point. Beyond that…”

I’ll kill you.

…

No sound escaped.

Only subtle lip movements, yet Lembert understood the message perfectly.

“You, this arrogant… brat…”

“…”

Why.

Does someone claiming to kill others show no emotion at all?

Can’t you display even a tiny reaction?

Yet, his words carried weight.

It made no sense.

Regardless.

Carriel approached as if giving ample preparation time, raising his wooden sword steadily.

“One move, please.”

Carriel harbored a shred of sympathy.

Because I was foolish and weak.

Because I allowed your attacks too easily.

This unfortunate turn of events began.

If this is partly my fault.

‘Then if I started it unintentionally…’

Breaking this rotten cycle is also my duty and responsibility.

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