Chapter 2: Experts Don’t Blame Their Equipment (2)

Joaquin Academy. The official motto of this school was the training of heroes.

Why were heroes needed? The answer was simple:

Because there was a Demon King.

The academy’s founder and ancestral hero, Balor Joaquín, left behind a legacy of training new heroes, which served as a good excuse.

However, in reality, the academy was more of a place where the children of corrupt elites could network among themselves.

Even so, its reputation wasn’t entirely undeserved, as it was also the best educational institution in the world. This made many merit-based students dream of getting in. As a result, the competition was fierce.

The fact that Kang Geom-Ma managed to get accepted on merit alone was something praiseworthy, but… why did I have to be the one who ended up in his place, when all I wanted was a peaceful life?

That’s why I skipped the entrance ceremony.

It seemed like a waste of time listening to boring speeches, so I preferred to use my time more efficiently and explore the academy where I’d spend the next three years. Besides, there was still an hour left before the class placement test. I had plenty of time.

“…It’s impressive.”

As expected of an academy attended by the children of the upper class, the size was enormous.

In fact, the campus looked more like a small city than an academy.

The buildings that filled the area were also pleasing to the eye. The Victorian-style annexes were neatly aligned, and the landscape was beautifully designed, as if the gardener had been working tirelessly.

The most impressive structure was the main building, whose top was barely visible even when tilting my head all the way back, as if it were the Tower of Babel reaching the clouds.

I sat down on a bench in the shade of a tree.

Watching the cotton-like clouds float by, I realized how much I missed nicotine to ease the tension in my neck.

Setting aside the fact that I was now a student, cigarettes didn’t even exist in this world. And well, in a game focused on an academy setting, it would be pretty jarring to see teenagers smoking everywhere.

I rested my head on my arm and leaned back on the bench, letting the gentle spring breeze carry the fragrance of the season. The scene felt like something straight out of a youth drama, which made me smile.

My eyelids grew heavy from the spring breeze, so I closed my eyes for a moment.

Come to think of it, I didn’t have many fond memories of my teenage years in my previous life. My family, who had lived relatively well, went bankrupt when my father co-signed a loan he couldn’t repay.

When the kind of situation I had seen so many times on TV and in comics became my reality, I had to face a harsh fate at the age of seventeen.

I dropped out of school and started working at a Japanese restaurant. It wasn’t because I had a grand dream or vision—it was just that the restaurant was close to home.

At the age when I should have been holding a pencil, I was holding a knife. Perhaps at that time, I envied kids my age, but eventually, I grew more accustomed to the smell of fish than that of ink.

They used to call me the best swordsman in the country, haha.

I slowly opened my eyes halfway and checked the time.

There were 30 minutes left until the placement test. It felt like I had just closed my eyes for a second, but time had flown by.

Although I would have liked to take a nap under the sun, I remembered my parents’ faces, who had paid the exorbitant tuition without complaint, and got up.

I brushed off my regrets, put on my backpack, and got ready.

I had already left my suitcase, full of clothes and essentials, in the dorm as soon as I arrived.

In this backpack, I carried a few 5 kg weights and the set of knives I had hurriedly bought.

“It’s a test, after all. I should get used to them.”

I thought back to how, since arriving in this world, I hadn’t used a knife, not even for washing dishes.

After having worked with knives for nearly 20 years, I wondered if my skills had rusted after a year of inactivity.

I remembered one of the phrases from my first master.

“Never stop holding the knife, not even for a day. Sleep with it in your hand. Understood?”

Of course, I never slept with a knife. What if I accidentally stabbed myself?

It was just a figure of speech.

I opened the package and pulled out a kitchen knife.

Holding the knife’s handle after so long washed away any feelings of unease.

I turned the knife in various directions to examine it. I ran my fingers over the handle and then partially unsheathed it to hear the sound of metal, lightly tapping the blade with my nail.

The clear, crisp ring brought me fully back to my senses.

Considering the price, the craftsmanship wasn’t bad, and I quite liked the wooden sheath.

“It’s better than I expected.”

Considering I bought it on sale, I was satisfied. If it hit something hard like a bone, the blade would wear out quickly, but for the price, it was great.

I smiled in satisfaction, and just as I decided to cut a nearby leaf with the shiny blade, a message appeared with a bright sound.

[The weapon meets the conditions.]

[The Blessing of the God of the Sword has manifested.]

“What? Where did this come from?”

[Your body’s level is too low.]

[The weapon’s level is too low.]

[Syncing with the user through containment force.]

Ziiiiing―

[Synchronization is complete.]

After the final message, another appeared.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

《May the blessing of the gods be with you.》

+++++++++++++++++++++++

A soft female voice whispered in my ear.

Then, a searing pain, as if someone were branding my brain with hot metal, coursed through my body.

“Aaaaaargh!”

The intensity of the pain multiplied endlessly, repeating infinitely. In a matter of seconds, it felt as if a flood of information, far beyond what a human could process, was being forced into my mind.

The smell of burning flesh overwhelmed my senses, and the burning sensation in my brain spread to my forehead. I couldn’t even scream because of the intensity of the pain.

I thought I might actually die, and with one last effort, I opened my eyes, which felt as though they were weighed down by something heavy.

‘!?’

My vision turned bluish, as if someone had poured paint into my eyes. The scene before me was shattered like a broken mirror, with red cracks resembling chains running through the world. The fragments of the shattered space floated in the air.

I dropped the knife, overwhelmed by a sudden loss of strength, and instantly, the broken world reconstructed itself as if nothing had happened.

After a few seconds, my breathing stabilized, and my blood flow returned to normal.

I clutched my head, which felt like it was going to burst, and collapsed to the ground. It felt as if someone had torn apart my brain. My limbs trembled uncontrollably.

“…Damn it, what was that?”

It was an indescribable pain, beyond any concept of suffering, and something I never wanted to experience again. The “Blessing of Insensitivity” usually left me with mild muscle aches, but this…

It seems like the “Blessing of the God of the Sword” had some peculiar trait, but if this happened every time I activated it, I wouldn’t be able to use it ever again.

If instead of just a brief glimpse, I had activated it for longer, I might not have survived.

I had thought that with such a grand name, this blessing would be a gift, but now it seemed more like a curse.

And I still didn’t know what it actually did. What exactly was the “Blessing of the God of the Sword”? All I had seen was a broken world reflected in my eyes.

As I recovered, trembling, I heard a distorted voice in my ears.

‘Sound check, one, two. Attention, please.’

A loud voice rang in my eardrums.

‘In exactly 10 minutes, the class placement test will be held in the training grounds in front of the main building. All students must attend.’

When I came to my senses, 20 minutes had already passed. I hurriedly gathered the things scattered on the ground from my convulsions.

I hesitated for a long moment about whether I should pick up the knife I had unsheathed.

But what if this only happened the first time?

With that hope, I cautiously reached out.

“Aaaaargh!!”

It wasn’t just the first time.

* * *

The training grounds, surrounded by circular stands, resembled the Roman Colosseum. The place was packed with spectators who had come to witness the first official event of the world’s top hero training academy.

Among them, the upper section was reserved as VIP seating for people of noble lineage.

A rotund middle-aged man timidly approached a white-haired man.

“Ha, ha… It’s an honor to have you here, Master of the Sword.”

There was no response.

Siegfried von Nibelung, known as the Sword Emperor.

Siegfried von Nibelung. Descendant of Aaron Nibelung, the main disciple of the founding hero Balor Joaquín, and current leader of the Nibelung family. A man blessed by the heavens, considered the strongest among humans.

“…”

His golden eyes, bright and commanding, glanced at the rotund man, who immediately began to sweat.

“Haha… Well then, enjoy your time here.”

The man hurriedly returned to his seat, his belly bouncing with each step.

“…Hah.”

A sigh escaped Siegfried’s lips. He had come to the entrance ceremony of his only granddaughter, but being surrounded by people filled with such racial arrogance made his stomach churn. His white eyebrows furrowed as he observed the presumptuous attitudes of those dishonoring the glory of their ancestors.

Someone approached him from the opposite side.

A woman with long, green hair that cascaded down to her waist, dressed only in a dark robe that resembled a bathrobe. Her mint-green eyes and voluptuous figure, accentuated by a plunging neckline, drew everyone’s gaze.

“Oh, Siegfried, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Ah, Media, it’s you. I told you not to call me that. And besides, you’re the headmaster of the academy—what kind of outfit is that? Haven’t you learned anything in seventy years?”

Siegfried clicked his tongue, his eyebrows knitting even more, but Medea simply laughed seductively and gave him a light jab to the side.

“Even until the day we die, a woman always wants to look young and beautiful, don’t you think? If you want, just say the word, and I can make you look ten years younger with my blessing.”

“External appearance doesn’t matter to me. What matters in a person is their heart.”

“Huff, what an old fossil. You haven’t changed at all in fifty years.”

“And it seems you still haven’t matured, even after half a century.”

“Hmph, enough of that. What can I say to an old man whose black hair has completely dried up?”

“…And is that coming from someone who’s about to turn seventy?”

She scoffed in response and sat down next to Siegfried.

“Anyway, Siegfried, you’ve changed a lot.”

“What do you mean?”

“You would’ve never come to a place like this. You were always unable to adapt, saying you didn’t want to mingle with people like that.”

Media nodded toward the plump man chatting in the distance.

Siegfried remained silent.

“Your granddaughter must be quite cute. Maybe I should get married too. Start a family, have some children…”

“You?”

“Oh, please! And why not? Look at my appearance, my figure, and besides, I’m the headmaster of the prestigious Joaquín Academy. Where would you find a woman like me?”

Media slightly lifted her black robe, revealing her soft, pale skin.

“…As a fellow warrior, let me tell you something.”

Siegfried muttered seriously.

“Pregnancy at your age wouldn’t be healthy.”

“You damn bastard! Do you want to die?”

Media, her face flushed, grabbed him by the collar, but Siegfried just let out a dry laugh.

The petty argument continued for several minutes, and Media, exhausted, slumped back into her seat.

“How will the rank assignment test go this year?”

“What? You don’t know that either?”

Media raised her voice in response to Siegfried’s question, making his brow furrow even more.

“Do I look like one of those idiots who takes bribes? In a fair educational institution, it’s only normal not to know the details of the test until the day of the event.”

“Ha—bastard. Well, you’re right. As usual, rumors spread among the hero families, but I’ll have to correct them in my generation.”

Media’s nails tapped on the armrest.

“This year, the test will be a battle royale. The students will be divided into groups of ten, and they’ll be evaluated based on how long they can survive.”

“…”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what a battle royale is.”

A momentary silence. Media crossed her legs, a mocking smile playing on her lips.

“I know.”

“Then say it. If you don’t, I’ll start calling you old for real.”

Siegfried replied in a low voice, occasionally clearing his throat as if to buy time.

“Battle and royal. It’s… the king’s game that’s popular among university students.”

“…Idiot.”

As the two giants exchanged words, an announcement echoed throughout the stadium.

[The exam is about to begin. Cadets, please prepare your weapons.]

A buzzer rang, signaling the start of the test.