Episode 72

Charles paused to think, then said, “We should save as many points as possible.”

She then added, “This is a great opportunity to close the gap with those at the top. It all depends on how many points we save here.”

Mir seemed reluctant to engage with Charles, and Evan also appeared uneasy around her. Left with no other option, I stepped in to ask on their behalf. “How exactly do you plan to save points?”

“Each person should carry one bottle of water. That’s four bottles in total,” Charles replied.

I hummed in response.

“If we can find a spring to replenish our water supply, we might even save those points.” Charles turned to me and asked, “By the way, do you happen to know the geography of Butterfly Forest?”

Her tone was so different from the one she used with Hector that it felt like she’d completely forgotten about it. Still, she probably assumed I was a Badniker.

“No, I don’t,” I replied.

Regardless of her assumptions, I couldn’t claim knowledge I didn’t have.

Charles gave me a look that said, “I knew it,” and pressed, “In any case, water is our only essential need. We can survive without food for a day, so there’s no need to bring any. Since we won’t be staying for multiple days, we don’t need tents or lights, either.”

“What about bandages or potions?” I asked.

“We’ll be fine as long as we don’t get injured,” Charles answered.

Her reasoning was sound, but it felt overly extreme.

“I object!” Mir shouted, as if she had been waiting for this moment.

A vein bulged on Charles’ forehead. “And your reasoning?”

“You’re underestimating the hunt! Do you really think we can find quality game in just one night? It’s impossible!”

At first, I assumed Mir was opposing Charles out of sheer stubbornness, but it turned out she had a solid argument.

Mir continued, “First of all, the instructors haven’t told us how long the trial will last!”

Charles’ expression hardened slightly.

I was surprised once again. I hadn’t expected Mir to pick up on that. Was she actually smarter than her odd way of speaking suggested?

Mir was right. The special trial had left many details unclear. Juan hadn’t disclosed the trial’s duration or how points would be calculated. Most importantly, we didn’t know how many points we could earn. Since this was a group trial, the points would be awarded collectively.

If my prediction was correct, securing first place would likely net us at least fifty points. Divided among the group, that would be about twelve to thirteen points per person—a reasonable score.

“One day isn’t enough!” Mir declared. “Whether it’s two or three days, we need to spend as much time as possible to achieve the best hunt. That’s the only way to take the top spot!”

“Hah! And what if we fail?” Charles shot back.

“If we don’t succeed here, we won’t get another chance to turn things around!” Mir answered.

“How do you know that? It is only the second week!”

“Enough, you two,” I interjected.

Charles had already dropped formalities, so it was time for me to step in. I stepped forward, remembering one of my internal rules. Both of them turned their attention to me.

“Hah! Then let’s hear the leader’s opinion! What do you think?” Charles asked.

“That’s good! Blond Badniker! Give us your opinion!” Mir added.

“Will you both follow my decision?” I asked.

They nodded simultaneously.

I had already made up my mind. “We’ll save points, but we won’t go to extremes like Charles suggested.”

Their faces showed a mix of relief and disappointment.

I looked at Mir, who now looked sullen. “Mir.”

“Yeah?”

“I agree with most of what you said, but there’s one thing you overlooked.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Time.”

Mir tilted her head. “Time?”

“No matter how much time the instructors give us, we must be back before sunset on the first day,” I explained.

“Why?”

I paused, searching for the right way to explain it, then recalled something I’d once heard.

“Hyde Woodjack, the empire’s strongest ranger, once visited the Butterfly Forest. He said something like this.” I glanced briefly at Charon before continuing, “Even for a first-rate ranger, surviving a single day in the Butterfly Forest is a daunting task.”

Silence fell over the group.

“The forest at night isn’t just dangerous. Sir Hyde called it hell. This is the man who regularly ventures into the Swamp, one of the empire’s four Forbidden Zones.”

“Hmm…”

“We must compete during the day and return before sunset. That’s non-negotiable for our group,” I said firmly.

Mir and Charles both wore reluctant expressions, but they nodded reluctantly.

“Understood.”

“Got it.”

Thankfully, they knew when to set aside their stubbornness.

“Then let’s get some rest and meet tomorrow. Sleep well,” I said.

***

At dawn, while most of the hero disciples still slept, the conference room in the instructors’ building buzzed with activity, as bright and noisy as midday. The instructors had gathered for a meeting.

“Now that there are no dropouts during the early morning runs, and some even chat while running, I believe we can soon increase the training intensity,” one instructor remarked.

“I agree. Familiarity tends to make them complacent,” another added.

“The progress in theory classes is slower than expected. I think we should maintain the current pace for now,” a third suggested.

“Are you keeping track of all the sparring results?” someone asked.

There was no one-size-fits-all approach to education. Each disciple had unique aptitudes, so the instructors adjusted the schedule and intensity based on their observations of the hero disciples’ progress. Unbeknownst to the disciples, the instructors were working far harder and resting far less than usual.

At that moment, Juan clapped his hands to draw everyone’s attention. “Now, now. Please focus for a moment.”

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him.

“We’ll discuss the training schedule later. First, let’s talk about the hero disciples. What are your overall impressions of this class?”

At Juan’s words, the instructors exchanged glances.

A knight instructor was the first to speak. “Personally, I think this class is exceptional, even considering it’s a training camp right after the blessing ceremony. Despite their lack of experience due to their age, they’re adapting quickly enough to compensate.”

“It’s only been two weeks, but it’s encouraging that no one has died or been seriously injured yet,” another added.

“For descendants from Great Families, their understanding is quite impressive,” a third noted.

Overall, the feedback was positive. Although the instructors often verbally chastised the hero disciples and called them foolish, they privately acknowledged the class’ talent.

Juan nodded. “I think we all share the same sentiment. It’s a shame that only three of them can be granted hero status.”

“Three people…” Soymond, the survival instructor, stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I don’t know who will earn that qualification, except for one.”

At this moment, all the instructors thought of the same person.

Juan voiced their collective thought. “Are you referring to Charon Woodjack?”

“Yes. Charon’s performance is extraordinary. To be honest, I’m not sure this training camp will make much of a difference for him.”

The other Great Masters, who had been listening silently, chimed in as well.

“In hunting lessons, he’s the quickest to find, track, and catch a target. It’s only natural, given he’s the son of Sir Hyde.”

“He’s never lost first place in the early morning run, and he’s undefeated in sparring matches.”

“He’s shown some clumsiness in theory classes, but his enthusiasm for academics is remarkable. In his free time, he focuses on improving his weaknesses.”

Juan nodded in agreement. “Knives, spears, daggers, axes, bows… He’s proficient with most weapons and highly skilled.”

Whispers circulated that Charon’s first-place position was all but assured.

Juan spoke again. “Is there anyone else besides Hero Disciple Charon?”

“Hmm… It must be Hector Badniker and Seren Goodspring.”

These were the two most anticipated hero disciples, alongside Charon.

“Hector Badniker is unmatched in swordsmanship. He’s undoubtedly the best in this class.”

Hector, one of the most renowned children of the Iron-Blooded Lord, was showcasing his talent at the training camp. Beyond his swordsmanship, his leadership stood out. Even the most arrogant nobles followed him without question.

“Seren Goodspring… I’m not sure why she’s participating in this training camp, but her talent is undeniable. What’s particularly noteworthy is her mastery of blessings. She’s already demonstrating the same level of skill as an active hero.”

Other names also caught the instructors’ attention.

“Ryude Chevalier has excellent overall balance.”

“Charles Rubieta has exceeded expectations, though she’s a bit too aggressive. She could benefit from some self-reflection.”

Naturally, where there was praise, there was also criticism. That didn’t change, even in a class of this caliber.

“Bruno Hammer, Shaw Greenwood, Evan Helvin, Mir Giant… They are honestly falling short of expectations…”

“Mm. The foreign races seem to be the issue.”

The training camp wasn’t exclusive to humans. The Great Families, descendants of the heroes who once saved the continent, naturally included diverse races. After all, the Badniker family’s ancestor was a black fairy, though the bloodline had diluted over time.

“Evan Helvin,” Juan muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint, cold smile. “His talent and blessings aren’t lacking, but he’s too entangled with his family. He’s even practicing a worthless martial art like Raven.”

Soymond frowned at his harsh tone. “Aren’t you being too severe?”

“Not at all. You’ve heard the rumors about the Knight of Complete Defeat, haven’t you?” Juan questioned.

“Lord Dodds Helvin, the founder of Raven, naturally suffered defeat throughout his path. But there’s more to learn from losing than winning. I don’t think his swordsmanship, born from defeat, deserves to be dismissed so easily,” Soymond answered.

“I see,” Juan replied, nodding. “But aren’t I more qualified than you when it comes to martial arts?”

Soymond’s voice dropped, and the atmosphere grew tense. “Are you suggesting my understanding of martial arts is inferior to yours?”

Juan ignored the shift in mood and smiled. “Everyone has their strengths.”

The others chimed in.

“That is true.”

“Respecting each other’s expertise is essential. Isn’t that why we have the Ten Great Masters?”

“Instructor Soymond, Instructor Juan is the Martial Arts Master for a reason.”

“Martial Arts Master? Oh, that title he never dared claim while the Swordmaster was still around?”

Juan’s expression stiffened for the first time.

The Swordmaster, Carzakh, was literally Juan’s nemesis. During his time in the main house, he served as the Great Masters’ representative and enjoyed the closest relationship with the Iron-Blooded Lord. The fact that Juan’s rise coincided with Carzakh’s disappearance was significant in many ways.

In any case, the argument between the two had cooled the atmosphere in the conference room.

Soymond quickly realized the mood was not in his favor. It couldn’t be helped—most instructors had already aligned themselves with Juan.

Then, a man indifferent to the tension spoke up. “I am eyeing Luan Badniker.”

It was the Hunting Master, Tanko. His expression remained stoic despite the collective gaze of the room.

“Luan Badniker?” someone echoed.

“He definitely excelled in the special trial, but…”

“He hasn’t made much of an impact since then.”

Luan had placed second in the dawn raid special trial. While some instructors had taken notice of his performance, nothing remarkable had followed.

“He’s struggling in my class.”

“Physically, he’s weak. Frankly, he’s at the bottom among the hero disciples.”

“Is that so, Instructor Tanko?” Juan turned to Tanko, having finished with Soymond. “Rumors suggest you’ve been showing favoritism toward Luan.”

“Favoritism?” Tanko’s tone was flat.

“Yes. You claim to be Hero Disciple Luan’s opponent in every sparring session. After that, you find excuses to award him extra points.”

Tanko’s lips twisted. “Excuses? Those spreading such rumors should know better.”

“Your words are excessive.”

“Not at all. The insults of those who dismiss my judgment are what’s excessive,” Tanko remarked.

Everyone fell silent.

“Remember this. A Great Warrior of the Grasslands doesn’t lie when evaluating warriors,” Tanko declared.

That was the kind of man Tanko was. Unlike most of the Great Masters, who prided themselves on the title bestowed by the Iron-Blooded Lord, Tanko held one identity above all—Great Warrior of the Grasslands.

Juan felt a flicker of embarrassment but masked it. “I understand. The evening sparring is your domain, and I won’t interfere. However, I cannot condone inflating his scores beyond reason.”

“Then there’s nothing more to say.”

Fortunately, Tanko usually respected the majority’s stance. Not out of tolerance—he simply didn’t care to argue unnecessarily.

Juan paused, then posed his next question. “Are there any other instructors paying attention to Hero Disciple Luan?”

No one raised a hand. Even Soymond, who typically opposed Juan, remained silent.

Juan turned back to Tanko. “To be honest, I have little to say about Hero Disciple Luan. It’s difficult to view him without prejudice. Surely, everyone here has heard the rumors about the sword seller.”

“Rumors? Then you haven’t heard about Hero Disciple Luan beating Hero Disciple Hector?” Tanko asked back.

Juan chuckled. “I doubt anyone believes that. Most assume Hero Disciple Hector deliberately lost to spare his younger brother’s pride.”

“You only believe what you want to believe,” Tanko pressed. “So let me ask you another question. In any of your classes—regardless of the subject—has Hero Disciple Luan ever failed a single course?”

“That’s a strange question. How many experts do you think are gathered here?” Juan countered.

As previously explained, the training camp graded four main subjects, but the details were far more complex. Even within survival, for instance, there were categories like food identification and procurement, topography and geographical knowledge, and stealth. Achieving a ‘perfect score’ at the Badnikers’ training camp was virtually impossible.

Charon had already surpassed the level of a hero disciple, yet he still struggled in subjects that didn’t suit his strengths. The camp brought together some of the empire’s foremost experts, offering a curriculum more diverse and in-depth than any academy. In short, failing two or more subjects was perfectly normal here.

Yet none of the instructors responded to Juan’s words. They exchanged awkward glances.

Once the atmosphere changed slightly, Tanko said, “As you said, Hero Disciple Luan’s physical abilities are the weakest among the hero disciples. Yet, he hasn’t failed a single subject.”

“What are you trying to say?” Juan asked.

“Nothing much. It’s just a response to the earlier question,” Tanko muttered gravely. “But since we’re on the topic, I’ll add something else. I believe Hero Disciple Luan will finish first in the second special trial.”

His declaration plunged the room into silence. Tanko wasn’t one to make empty boasts.

His words were so unexpected that the instructors found themselves reevaluating the platinum-blond-haired Badniker.

“Is that so?” Juan replied, unfazed. “I also expect an upset in the second trial, though my prediction differs from yours.”

“What do you mean?” Tanko asked.

“Surprisingly, no one died in the first trial. That was unexpected. So, it wouldn’t be strange if something equally unexpected happened in the second trial.”

“What are you implying?”

Juan smirked. “I predict that half the hero disciples will die in this second trial.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep