Chapter 62: Practical Training (5)

The beast hunt progressed smoothly.

Smaller clusters were taken down by each team dispersing, while those with larger numbers were attacked together.

By the time they had finished scouting around the entire base camp, traces of fatigue began to show on the cadets’ faces.

It was only natural—they had been on the move for almost fifteen hours since entering the Erendal Forest.

“This should be enough for today.”

Standing atop a hill, Brother Darius looked up at the sky, where the purple hue was deepening.

In the day, the sky held a violet tint, while at night, darkness even deeper than the usual night blanketed the surroundings.

There was no need to overexert themselves from the very first day, so Darius ordered the cadets to return.

“Phew.”

“That was exhausting, really.”

“Hunting beasts isn’t an easy job.”

The cadets moved their tired feet, each voicing their fatigue.

Since the area near the base camp had already been cleared, there were no more beasts to block their path.

Thud. Thud.

Around the watchpost built from wooden pillars, golems serving as guardians patrolled.

In addition, barriers and detection spells had been deployed, ensuring that any intruder would be detected immediately.

“Ugh, I want to wash up.”

“I feel gross. I got splattered with beast blood earlier and it stinks.”

Though they all looked exhausted, their expressions were bright.

Despite it being the first day, they had achieved decent results, and the hot spring installed by Darius was waiting for them back at the base camp.

“We’ll split into groups. Follow your assigned order so everyone can get cleaned up.”

If they all entered the bath at once, it would delay their ability to respond should anything happen.

So under Darius’s lead, they split into groups—Darius, Ivan, and then Luna and Yuria went first to wash.

“Guess we start with equipment maintenance.”

“I’d rather do that. No need to get my hands dirty twice.”

At Gale’s comment, Maximilian shrugged.

Their sword blades were caked with dried blood and bits of flesh from endlessly cutting down beasts.

No matter how fine the equipment, if not maintained properly, it would rust and deteriorate. So they all took a spot in one corner of the base camp and began inspecting their gear.

Scritch.

Carl also sat in a corner and drew his sword.

He began by carefully wiping off the blood and flesh from the blade with a soft brush and cloth.

If he scrubbed too hard in haste, it would only press the residue into the steel, making the work double.

If there had been a river nearby, rinsing it in flowing water wouldn’t have been a bad option—but it wasn’t as if he could leave the base camp alone.

Shhhk, shhhk.

Since his days as the Unkillable, Carl had been meticulous about inspecting his weapons.

As the old saying went, the success of a kill was dictated by heaven’s will.

If the target was fated to die, the blade would pierce their heart; if not, the killer’s own heart would be pierced instead.

For an assassin, the sword was the tool that decided that fate.

Carl had never denied that truth.

That was why he entrusted fate to the heavens, but prepared for the kill with absolute thoroughness—down to personally inspecting even the smallest Hidden Poison Needle.

‘Some assassin once said, “A master never blames his tools.”’

A true assassin, they claimed, should be able to kill a target with nothing more than a rotten branch.

And that idiot, who had spouted such nonsense, had died at Carl’s bare hands.

Perhaps, in dying, the fool had proven his own words?

“Carl, you’re seriously skilled at honing a blade.”

Maximilian, who had been sneaking glances at Carl’s polishing, couldn’t help voicing his admiration.

The way Carl wiped the blade clean and set the edge on the whetstone carried the dignity of a refined craftsman.

At the academy, there were facilities for storing and maintaining weapons, so this was the first time Maximilian had seen Carl like this.

‘Maybe I focused too much.’

Feeling the occasional glance in his direction, Carl gave an awkward smile and replied,

“In my territory, we often fought in the field. If you don’t maintain your blade on time, it will rust.”

“Does Brother Darius handle his weapons as well as you do?”

“Yes, he does.”

Carl nodded, looking again at the blade, now restored to its original form.

He had handled swords for decades.

Sometimes he had even sat before the forge to temper weapons himself.

In making hidden weapons, he might have surpassed most artisans.

“We’re done washing. It’s your turn now.”

After a while, Darius returned, freshly clean, and spoke.

The cadets, who were just about finished with their maintenance, sped up their final checks and soon headed for the hot spring.

“If you peek, you’re dead.”

“We’re not little kids, you know.”

At Amy’s teasing, Maximilian snorted in disbelief.

The hot springs were separated by gender, leaving no gap to cross over.

So, laughing, they each went to their respective baths.

“Ahhh…”

Gale sank into the steaming water, letting out a deep sigh.

The others, wearing similar expressions, let out similar sounds as they immersed themselves fully in the hot spring.

“…Is it like this in Leipzig?”

“Since it’s a cold region, we take care of ourselves a bit more carefully. If you neglect it even a little, the flesh on your fingers and toes will start rotting away. Even if it’s not a hot spring, we maintain ourselves in a similar way.”

Artifacts that allowed one to use a hot spring like this were expensive items to begin with.

Normally, it was more common to use an artifact with a heating function for massage and care.

“I see.”

“Yeah, to adapt in a cold region, you’d need that.”

“So it’s just a way of life.”

The Empire’s territory was vast.

Its environment varied greatly, and in some places, even the seasons were different.

“By the way, in outside time, not even a full day has passed yet, right?”

“According to estimates, time here flows at about 2.2 times the normal rate.”

At Carl’s words, Maximilian pressed at his brow.

“So one day stretches to two days and four hours…”

“That means the three-day training will actually be six and a half days.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

At Maximilian’s sigh, everyone nodded.

If just the first day was this exhausting, then they still had five more days of this ahead.

“…Let’s hope it ends safely.”

“That makes it sound like something bad’s going to happen now.”

“Are you saying my mouth is the problem?”

At Pozers’s remark, Maximilian frowned.

Gale, standing nearby, shrugged and continued.

“At least you’ve got some awareness.”

“Stop picking on me all the time.”

Maximilian grumbled and ducked under the water, intending to leave the teasers behind and swim to the other side.

“Haha.”

Watching the scene, Carl let out a faint chuckle.

He too was curious whether this practical training would end without incident.

The first night arrived.

Although the base camp was protected by magic and guardian golems, the cadets also decided to keep watch in case of emergencies.

They paired up, assigned shifts by drawing lots, and arranged for four rotations of two hours each day.

Carl’s shift on the first night was the second one—arguably the most awkward time slot.

“Yaaawn.”

His partner was Yuria.

Wearing an overcoat, she emerged outside, her eyes half-closed as if she still hadn’t shaken off her drowsiness.

Yawning repeatedly and staggering forward, she nodded to Carl.

“Let’s go on patrol.”

“…Will you be all right?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Her voice lacked strength, a clear sign she was tired.

Still, duty was duty, so the two made a round of the base camp before returning inside.

Crackle, pop.

In the center was a campfire.

Yuria sat before it, hugging her legs and curling up.

“…Carl, aren’t you tired?”

“I am tired.”

“You don’t look tired at all.”

“I’m used to staying up at night. When hunting or in battle, going without sleep for a day or two was common.”

“…When I was in the Magic Tower, I often stayed up all night too, but now that I’m out here, I’m not used to it.”

“Fieldwork is different. You’ve probably been tense all along, so you’re more fatigued than usual.”

“Is that so?”

Yuria tilted her head, then held her hands to the fire.

Silence fell between them for a while.

Only the occasional crackle of burning wood and the whisper of wind passing by filled the quiet.

“…”

Yuria’s eyes began to close.

Carl, poking at the firewood, whispered softly,

“If you’re sleepy, you can rest your eyes. Standing watch is mostly a formality anyway…”

“Still, I can’t do that.”

Clap, clap.

Yuria patted her cheeks to wake herself up, stretched, then sat with her legs stretched out.

Picking up a nearby stick, she prodded the fire like Carl, then spoke without thinking.

“…Carl.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“…?”

It was an unexpected apology.

Carl, who had been thinking about something else, turned slightly to look at her.

Yuria avoided his gaze, looking awkward.

Was the reddish tint on her face from the firelight?

“…No, it’s just—ever since we first met, I was kind of… like that. Maybe more than ‘kind of’? Anyway.”

Her words stumbled over themselves.

She still wasn’t fully awake, so her thoughts weren’t entirely organized.

“I had a goal. I prepared for years, but it got shattered, and that was a shock.”

Carl realized what she was talking about.

‘This is about me taking the top rank.’

Even if she wasn’t always first in practicals, Yuria had always been first in theory.

Still, this sudden apology and confession were puzzling—but the hearts of youth her age could be harder to read than the next move in a master swordsman’s duel, so he decided to simply accept it.

“Because of that, I think I saw you in a bad light. I’ve never been good at talking to people, so there are probably plenty at the academy who dislike me.”

“…”

Carl didn’t deny it.

He had heard from Laysis that Yuria’s personality had made her a few enemies at the academy.

“But thanks to you accepting me, I’ve been able to befriend people besides Laysis.”

Yuria smiled faintly as she looked at the fire.

In Bayern, the first female friends she had made besides Laysis were Amy and Lien.

How could she not be grateful to those who had approached her first, despite her awkwardness?

“…”

Carl gave a small smile at the sight.

Yuria glared slightly and pouted.

“Why are you smiling?”

“It’s nothing.”

Unlike her usual sharp demeanor, she was now speaking frankly about her feelings—it was a different side of her.

Was it the charm of the night that brought it out?

“Still, I think this side of you is better.”

“I guess so, huh?”

“Yes. Before, you always looked at me like you wanted to kill me.”

“…I never looked like I wanted to kill you. I just showed that I didn’t like you.”

After that, they passed the time with light chatter and playful bickering.

As their shift neared its end—

“…”

Carl, in the middle of talking about good restaurants near Beatrice Street, suddenly stopped mid-sentence and jerked his head up.

“…What is it?”

Yuria, too, picked up her wand and scanned their surroundings.

But she sensed nothing.

Carl narrowed his eyes toward the darkness, then tilted his head.

“It’s nothing. Must have been my imagination.”

“You weren’t nodding off, were you?”

“Do you think I’m you, Miss Yuria?”

“What?! When did I ever nod off?!”

Carl brushed off her protest, but kept his gaze fixed beyond the darkness—

As if something was happening out there.

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