Chapter 39 - Academy Field Trips Always Come Under Attack (3)

There is a saying: "To hide a leaf, hide it in a forest." It is an age-old maxim on concealment techniques. (It is not.)

Accordingly, Extermination Unit members infiltrating forests become masters of setting traps with leaves. The methods vary by season, but since Krasilof essentially has only summer and winter, the task is considerably easier.

TWANG!

"Eek!"

The instant Isabelle heard the sharp snap of a thread breaking, she covered her head and rolled. A familiar explosion erupted where she had been standing.

BOOM!

"Seriously! That could actually kill someone!"

"Weren't you the one who asked me to train you as though it were real combat?"

"There! Are! Limits!"

Isabelle sprang to her feet and immediately swung her sword toward the voice.

CLANG!

"Kill your emotions."

"I'd rather kill you!"

Her overall record: seventeen bouts, zero wins, seventeen losses. Grinding her teeth, Isabelle lashed out with her sword.

CLANG! CLANG!

Sparks flew as an axe blade flashed in the shadows. By now, it was practically a routine.

Gunfire, followed by a booby trap in her escape path. Dodge the trap, and an ambush awaited wherever she dodged.

Ivan's pattern was vicious beyond measure. With consummate skill, he steered even her evasions into an unbroken succession of traps—traps that promised death or serious injury at the slightest mistake.

After five days of this, Isabelle could time her attacks with her eyes closed.

"Excellent."

Ivan gave a faint smile, lowered his axe, and stepped back. A cool forest breeze tickled Isabelle's bangs.

"People really do grow stronger the more you beat them."

"I think you and I have slightly different ideas of what people are."

"Not when it comes to you, at least. You've kept up well."

Ivan was not stingy with praise. He had encountered the Hero's Party in person. Naturally, this had raised his standards to absurd heights, but that very fact had left his expectations of "trainees" extremely low.

Nothing they did would let them move like the hero. Apart from the truly strong, everyone was much the same.

Standing even a little above that crowd was enough. After all, he was more accustomed to training soldiers than heroes. A soldier only needed to perform at an average level—well enough not to impede the mission.

But that would no longer do. Ivan raised his axe and took his stance.

He had taught her all the basic techniques needed to counter sneak attacks. From here, it was a matter of instinct and mastery.

Which meant he would spend the remaining time...

"Raise your sword."

Teaching her the realm of superhumans.

Ivan's gaze deepened. Mana swirled, making his beard flutter.

The truly strong, those who set foot on the battlefield of superhumans, were in a different league. Isabelle would have to reach that place someday. Starting now, he would teach her, even if he had to beat the lesson into her head.

'Academies are dangerous.'

One might wonder just how dangerous a university could be, but that did not apply to an "academy." An academy was literally no different from the front lines.

That was "common sense."

"Extend your sword."

"What? Oh, yes."

Isabelle held her sword straight out. Her stance was flawless. Her grip, her footing, her abdominal bracing, the alignment from shoulder to wrist—all were nearly perfect.

She truly was the hero's daughter. Her talent for using her body was already complete at an instinctive level.

All she needed, then, was learning and experience.

"Endure it."

"... What?"

Just as she was about to smile and joke that this was wonderfully reassuring...

SHING!

Ivan's arm seemed to blur, and in an instant, her blade was in two pieces.

Though he had split her sword with an axe, she had felt no impact. The axe had sliced through the blade as though it were tofu.

"What the hell was that...?"

Isabelle gave a hollow laugh. She stared blankly at her halved sword, letting out little chuckles.

"This was really expensive... No, how did you even...?"

"Did you see it?"

"See what? My sword becoming what used to be a sword...?"

"The separation of time."

Ivan spun his axe up and took his stance.

"Human auditory nerves take 0.1 seconds. Tactile nerves, 0.25. There are clear limits to what training can do."

Those limits were built into the human body. Neural reaction speed depended on electrical impulses traveling from the sensory organs through receptors to the brain. There was inevitably a physical limit to their speed.

Anatomy had yet to advance that far in this premodern fantasy world, but, astonishingly, this world possessed something called mana.

This all-purpose resource, endlessly adaptable to whatever use one found for it, could directly influence the human nervous system and push its transmission speed to the absolute limit.

Put simply, this was the separation of time.

"A world opens up when you strengthen your nerves with mana, Isabelle. There is a realm you reach when your sight, your senses, and your movements surpass their limits."

That was the battlefield of superhumans.

Very few could reach it, but with enough talent and experience, it was the destination they would eventually arrive at.

It was the first step into the struggles of those in a league of their own. Anyone who failed to reach it would remain an ordinary soldier for life.

But Isabelle was no supporting character. She was clearly one of this world's leads. She had to be prepared. The sooner she reached this realm, the better.

If Ivan could not always protect her, this was the best thing he could do for her: give her a push forward.

"You can't just suddenly tell me to do that..."

"You will."

"Yes, well, of course I'll do my best if you teach me."

"You just have to keep experiencing it until you can."

"Huh?"

Ivan raised his axe and reversed his grip, presenting the back rather than the blade, as though that made it entirely unthreatening. He wore a harmless expression.

"The survival instinct lays the foundation for growth."

"You make insane things sound so natural..."

Cursing her past self for asking this lunatic to train her, Isabelle raised her broken sword.

That was the last thing she saw.

BOOM!

* * *

"Bella, Bella? Bella!"

"What?! Huh?"

Isabelle startled and looked up. Esidisi was watching her with concern.

They were spending their lunch break together on campus on a warm spring day, eating their packed lunches.

Oh, thank goodness. It had been a dream. (It had not.)

Feeling goose bumps prickle over her skin, Isabelle rubbed her forearms, then looked up.

"You've been acting strange lately. Is something wrong?"

"Wrong...? Ahaha. I'm just getting ready for exams."

"What kind of studying does that...? Hmm... Is it because you're in the Knight Department? You seem to have a lot more bruises."

As the hero's daughter, Isabelle enjoyed all sorts of special privileges. A priest assigned exclusively to her by the Thilles monarchy, for instance.

That was how she could come home practically shattered every night and still show up to school looking fine the next morning.

But the human body was not built to work that way. Sadly, injuries and exhaustion continued to accumulate. The dark circles beneath her eyes were proof.

"And you've been a little suspicious lately. Are you seeing someone?"

"Seeing someone? Who would I be seeing?!"

Perhaps owing to her background as a noblewoman of the Thilles court, Isabelle's clothes and accessories were, of course, all of the finest quality. Even so, she seemed to be putting in more effort than usual...

Esidisi wondered whether there were any decent boys in the Knight Department, then remembered her uncle and frowned.

The Knight Department was a horrible place.

"Do you know anything, Yuri? Any boys Bella's close to?"

"Isabelle is nice to everyone. Hmm. Lately, I'm not sure. Everyone's busy studying for exams. If I had to name someone, perhaps Oscar?"

"Oh my goodness! Oscar?!"

Grinning, Esidisi poked Isabelle in the ribs.

"You little... Is something going on with Oscar?"

"Eshi. There are things you can joke about and things you can't. Honestly, Oscar is too... How do I put it? He's a bit smarmy."

"Why? He's really popular."

"I like someone solid and quiet... Um. A bit like a bear...? That sort of person? Someone dependable. He's far too delicate."

Delicate...? Was Oscar delicate? Esidisi tilted her head. She had never paid him much attention, but hadn't he trained as a knight since childhood?

Leaving Esidisi to her confusion, Isabelle stood and stretched.

"Well, I'm off to train some more!"

"Now you're trying to take my scholarship, too!"

"You think I'd let you stay top student forever?"

Isabelle chuckled and walked away with light steps.

* * *

"Mister!"

"Mm."

"Ahaha... I wonder when you'll finally say 'Hi!' to me."

Pruning shears in hand, Ivan turned toward Isabelle as she came running from the distance.

"Let's go train again today! The exam's tomorrow!"

"No."

"Huh?"

Ivan looked her up and down. The exhaustion left by six days of training was plain to see. She appeared to have made every effort to get herself healed, but she was nowhere near peak condition.

"Rest today. You need to be ready for tomorrow."

"Hmm... Then... Um..."

Isabelle hesitated, fiddling with the ends of her hair. Her eyes shifted slightly, and she bit her lip.

"Have you eaten yet...? Um. Or... if you have some time today..."

"I'm busy."

"Oh."

Ivan was an efficient man, so he did not repeat himself.

After a glance at Isabelle, who stood there blankly, he strode away.

Tomorrow was the field exercise—an exam held off university grounds, no less. Naturally, unknown enemies would attempt an attack, so he had plenty of preparations to make himself.

It was common sense that academy field exercises came under attack.

Ivan was a man of common sense. If an enemy attack was expected, eliminating the targets before they could launch it was common sense in the Extermination Unit.

"I really think I'm going to lose my mind..."

Watching Ivan walk away, Isabelle lowered her head and muttered.

* * *

"Holy crap..."

Watching the scene from a distance, Yuri and Esidisi let coffee dribble from their mouths.

"The man is... the gardener...?"

"The man is... Crazy Bearded Axe John...?"

"Who's that?"

"There's... There's someone like that..."