Chapter 21 – Before the Blade, the Body

He let those words settle, his gaze scanning the group.

“I despise repeating myself. I hate wasting my time with foolishness. If I warn you more than three times, I will simply stop teaching you. I do not care if you were summoned by the gods themselves—you will either become worthy, or you will remain weak.”

A tense silence followed.

Then, his voice rang out like a hammer striking steel.

“Have I made myself clear?”

The weight of his presence bore down on the students.

A few immediately straightened up.

“Y-Yes, sir!” Haruka responded instinctively, her athlete’s discipline kicking in.

Miko sighed, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her oversized hoodie, still wearing it despite being given clothing more fitting for this world. “Ugh. Military types. Always so dramatic.”

Takashi smirked, nudging Kenta. “Dude’s got a whole speech prepared. Bet he does this with every new batch of heroes.”

Souta adjusted his glasses, scribbling something down. “Strong first impression… Classic authoritative instructor approach…”

Aya, who had been holding up her phone—which somehow still had some battery left—hesitated before lowering it. Even she could tell now wasn’t the time for a selfie.

Yuto remained quiet, thoughtful. “He’s testing us already.”

Renji scoffed, crossing his arms. “Tch. So much for natural talent. Guess we’re all just grunts now.”

Rakuga’s gaze swept over them, reading their reactions. Then, with the ease of a seasoned warrior, he turned on his heel.

“Good. Your first lesson is this: before you can wield a weapon, you must first wield your own body. Strength is the foundation of all heroes. Without it, you are nothing.”

Takashi blinked. “Wait, so… we’re just working out?”

Miko groaned. “I knew it.”

Rakuga didn’t even look back. “You can either train, or you can leave. Your choice. Alright, let us begin.”

The group collectively braced themselves.

“One hundred push-ups. Right here. Right now. No one leaves this field until you’ve completed them.”

A pause. Then—

“Wait, what!?” Takashi nearly choked.

Aya groaned. “One hundred!? Are you serious!?”

Haruka blinked. “That’s… kind of a lot…”

Yuto frowned. “Umm… that level of exertion could be harmful for some of us…”

Miko snorted. “What is this, a bad training montage?”

Renji scowled. “You can’t be serious. We’re supposed to be heroes, not muscle-heads!”

THUD.

The ground trembled as Rakuga slammed his sword—Ex’Avir, still in its sheath—into the earth. The impact silenced them instantly. A wave of force rippled outward, the sheer weight of his presence forcing their attention back to him.

His emerald eyes flashed dangerously.

“That was your first warning.”

No one spoke. No one moved.

Even Renji, who moments ago was brimming with complaints, swallowed his words.

After a heavy pause, Rakuga continued.

“Complaints and excuses do not shape warriors. Struggle does.”

His grip tightened around his sword.

“Start.”

Miss Aiko Tanaka, standing among the students, took a deep breath and knelt down.

“Come on, everyone. A hero’s path isn’t supposed to be easy.” She rolled up the sleeves of her pale-blue blouse, this one more noble-like, and got into position. “If I can do it, so can you.”

Haruka nodded, dropping down next to her. “Might as well get started.”

Takashi groaned but followed. “This is actual hell.”

Miko smirked. “You’d be the expert on that, wouldn’t you?”

Kenta clapped his hands together. “Let’s go! Team effort!”

With no other choice, the students dropped to the ground and began.

The Royal Spectators

From a grand pavilion overlooking the training grounds, two figures sat observing the new heroes.

Princess Celestia, a brown-haired, red-eyed woman who sat with the grace of a born warrior. Dressed in her white and gold knight’s uniform—fitted to perfection—she carried the air of a woman who did not tolerate nonsense, whether on the battlefield or in conversation. Always with a sword at her side because, as she often said, it felt strange to move without one. Many believed she was just looking for a fool to cut down… Wouldn’t be the first time.

Known to many as the “Sword Princess.”

The eldest daughter of the king, a picture of discipline and duty, and perhaps the only princess in history who found courtly dances more exhausting than combat drills.

Beside her sat Princess Emilia, her younger sister—the “Rose of Aradorn.” A title she earned not for her delicate beauty, but for the way she effortlessly ensnared people with words and left them bleeding with smiles on their faces.

Her tongue was as sharp as her words were sweet.

The kind of woman who was always eager to stir the pot just to see what would bubble to the surface.

Golden curls framed her delicate face, and her crimson eyes glowed with curiosity as she leaned forward with excitement.

“Do you think any of them will be strong enough to actually fight wham a realm eater shows up?” Emilia asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

Celestia remained composed. “Potential takes time to reveal itself. Strength alone is not enough—discipline and character will determine their worth.”

Emilia smirked. “I heard a rumor, you know. Something that happened only yesterday.”

Celestia gave her a sidelong glance. “Oh?”

Emilia leaned in conspiratorially. “One of the heroes Father summoned was so weak, he had to send him away. Gave him gold and told him to start a new life somewhere else.”

Celestia’s expression darkened slightly. “That seems… cruel. A hero is summoned with purpose. To discard one because they were weak at the start is short-sighted.”

Emilia shrugged. “I don’t make the rules. I just hear the gossip. I heard his class was FFF.”

“FFF? That sounds… Peculiar.”

“I say it sounds pathetic.”

“Still, he was a hero regardless.”

Celestia sat in silence for a moment before turning to a nearby maid.

“Investigate this discarded hero. I wish to know where he went and what has become of him.”

The maid bowed. “At once, Your Highness.”

As the servant hurried away, Emilia grinned. “Curious, are we?”

Celestia didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the training field.

“A hero’s worth is not so easily determined. This is not the first time in history one presumed weak turned out to be strong, father’s action clearly lacked foresight. If that man still exists, then perhaps his story is not yet over.”

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