Chapter 7
9 min read ·
The Count's Wastrel (2)
The Frost Trial Grounds.
Literally, a place of trials where frost settled. In practical terms, it meant a place to practice martial arts. Put simply, it was a “training ground” where the county conducted military instruction and drills, and soldiers conditioned their bodies.
In other words, Adrian was currently at the training grounds.
It was hardly surprising that Kai looked dumbfounded. Seraphia, who had been quietly listening beside him, also tilted her head to the left.
“That bastard is—”
“Sir Kai!”
Seraphia shouted at once, and Kai quickly corrected himself.
“... Are you saying Lord Adrian is at the Frost Trial Grounds?”
“That is correct.”
Bernard nodded immediately.
Naturally, Bernard had no reason to lie. That meant Adrian really was at the Frost Trial Grounds.
But did that make any sense? A wastrel who spent every day gambling and indulging himself, at the Frost Trial Grounds?
“What is he doing there?”
Kai asked with a frown. Of course, the only thing to do at the Frost Trial Grounds was train.
But he couldn't believe it. The Adrian he knew had not trained there once in the past ten years. Forget training—he had never even gone near the place.
What could possibly have come over him overnight to make him train at the Frost Trial Grounds? It was impossible unless he had become an entirely different person, and people changing was all but impossible.
He must have gone there for some other reason.
“He is training.”
Yet that was Bernard's answer. Even Seraphia apparently found this hard to believe, because she asked in Kai's stead.
“Brother is training?”
“That is correct.”
Bernard's answer remained unchanged.
Kai knew perfectly well that Bernard would never lie. Even so, he simply couldn't believe it.
“What on earth is he training in at the Frost Trial Grounds?”
After all, Adrian had no talent whatsoever for swordsmanship. And not just swordsmanship—spears, sabers, bows, anything. He had no aptitude for martial arts at all.
More precisely, it would be fair to say that his aptitude for aura was abysmal. No, it went beyond abysmal to utterly nonexistent. If talent could be expressed in numbers, Adrian's talent for aura would have been “0.”
Did he have a talent for magic, then? Not that, either. Adrian couldn't use magical power (Mana Force) at all.
Ultimately, his “aptitude for mana” was zero.
What sort of training could someone like him possibly do at the Frost Trial Grounds?
“Well...”
Bernard hesitated, drawing out the word. He looked somewhat bewildered.
“His training is so peculiar that I am not quite sure how to describe it...”
“Brother is doing peculiar training?”
Even at Seraphia's question, Bernard struggled to answer.
What kind of training could he possibly be doing to provoke that reaction? What was Adrian doing that even Bernard, who rarely showed any emotion, looked bewildered?
“I will go and see for myself.”
Kai headed for the Frost Trial Grounds on the outskirts of the count's castle.
* * *
A simple wooden structure stood on bare earth. Inside, bars linked by thick ropes and wooden posts stood at intervals, while heavy rocks and large logs lay scattered haphazardly about.
Old training swords and shields hung on the walls. Dummies, roughly stitched together from leather and secured with crude belts, stood in storage.
Despite the bitter cold of the snowy mountains, this place was filled with sweat and heat.
[Frost Trial Grounds]
These were the training grounds for the soldiers of Whitewolf Castle. In keeping with that purpose, many soldiers had gathered there.
Contrary to that purpose, however, they weren't training.
“N-no...”
“Wh-what is that...?”
They had merely gathered to watch someone else train.
At the focus of their gazes, a man was devoting himself to his training.
Deep black hair and delicately handsome features.
Adrian Whitewolf, eldest son of House Whitewolf.
HUFF! HUFF! HUFF!
His breathing was more than ragged—it was feverish, yet rhythmic. There was steadiness to it, and restraint.
But it wasn't the product of practicing any martial art.
“Hnngh...! Hngh...!”
These were simply pained grunts from lifting heavy weights, and the rough, heated breaths that naturally accompanied them.
In other words, Adrian wasn't practicing combat. He was conditioning his body. Specifically, he was focusing on building muscle.
Muscle growth was vital for a knight, because it affected the efficiency of aura. With the same amount of aura, the difference in power could range from severalfold to hundreds of times, depending on the physical abilities underlying it.
Great strength came from a strong body. That fact remained unchanged even after awakening to the power of aura. Physical conditioning was therefore as essential and important as aura training.
But that didn't mean—
“Hnnngh...!!”
...taking it that far.
The idea was to train one's muscles. It most certainly wasn't to destroy them like that!
“I-instructor... Is that even possible...?”
One of the soldiers asked, but Leverton, a knight and training instructor at Whitewolf Castle, didn't answer. More accurately, he was too overwhelmed to answer.
“!!!!!!”
His shock bordered on horror.
HUFF! HUFF! HUFF!
Just look at Adrian lifting that absurdly heavy barbell. Look at him training his lower body with a barbell that must have weighed at least 300 kilograms on his back!
'Even I wouldn't be confident with that weight. How on earth...!'
Was that... even possible? It couldn't be done without the help of aura.
Did that mean Adrian was using aura? Absolutely not. He had no talent for it. Not merely a lack of talent—his aptitude approached zero. Everyone in this castle knew that.
Which meant this was pure physical strength...
“U-ugh...!”
Leverton simply couldn't believe it. How could a human being do such a thing?
And this wasn't just anyone. It was Adrian. The count's wastrel son, who had spent his days gambling and indulging himself. A pale nobleman's son who had never trained or conditioned his body in his life. Adrian, who was so frail he looked as though a tap would break him.
Before becoming Whitewolf Castle's training instructor, Leverton had been a mercenary. Then, at the previous count's invitation, he had left that life behind to become the castle's instructor.
He had held the post for more than ten years now. And even so, he could say it.
... This was a first.
'Th-that relentless...!!'
He had never seen anyone so viciously relentless!
Relentless? Could that word alone possibly describe Adrian?
The physical training he was doing right now was not something a human could perform.
CRACK! CRACKLE! CRUNCH!
Strange sounds burst from Adrian's thighs every time he lifted the barbell. They announced that his muscles were not merely tearing, but reaching the point of rupture.
'Th-that...!!!'
That went far beyond physical conditioning. How could he even be called human?
Anyone born human inevitably had biological limits. Aura allowed people to overcome those limits.
But Adrian couldn't wield aura. At this moment, he was merely “human”—
CRACK! CRACKLE! CRUNCH!
'How on earth...!!'
Everything Leverton had accepted as unquestionable common sense was being utterly shattered.
Besides, muscle growth depended on recovery. Repeated, high-intensity exercise damaged the muscles, and as that damage healed, the muscles grew.
But even that had limits. Once the damage reached the point of rupture and became irreparable, muscular strength would be lost forever.
Limits were called limits for a reason. The price of violating them was by no means small.
And yet—
GURGLE, GURRRGLE.
... What in the world was that now?
* * *
THUD! THUD-THUD!
A tremendous tremor rang out as I flung the barbell to the ground.
My skin had gone beyond flushed to scarlet. It was burning hot, and steam billowed from my bare torso.
My muscles had reached a state beyond recovery. Ruptured, they could no longer support me.
Just as my body crumpled helplessly to the floor—
◆Y-you are out of your mind!!!
A message suddenly appeared before my eyes. A stream of additional messages followed.
◆You can use the skill 'Regeneration[C+]' to regenerate your ruptured muscles.
◆Required nutrient - Protein
◆Would you like to consume protein to regenerate your ruptured muscles?
Regeneration[C+], the skill I had gained by devouring the ice troll.
I accepted without a second thought. But with all my muscles ruptured, I couldn't even twitch a finger. Fortunately, activating the skill required nothing more than my will.
◆Activating the skill 'Regeneration[C+]'.
◆Consuming a large quantity of protein to regenerate ruptured muscles.
As the messages appeared, the muscles throughout my body began to shift like clay. Was this what it would look like if muscles had minds of their own?
The ruptured muscle fibers re-formed, twisting together more tightly. The rebuilt muscle was packed so densely that there seemed to be no gaps at all.
When regeneration was complete—
◆Your muscle fiber tissue has surpassed its limits!
◆Your muscle fibers are being restructured!
◆Your Strength stat increases by +4!!
I confirmed that my Strength stat had increased by +4.
* * *
“Aaaagh!!”
Leverton let out an involuntary scream. And no wonder—just look at that!
GURGLE, GURRRGLE.
Adrian's muscles were writhing. It was unmistakable proof that his ruptured muscles were healing.
“Huh...?”
“Wh-what in the world is that...!!”
Leverton and every soldier gaped. How... was that possible?
Human healing had its limits. Cuts and torn skin could heal.
But a severed arm or leg? That was the end of it. Human recuperative powers couldn't regenerate severed limbs.
Adrian's ruptured muscles had been an injury on that scale—a devastating, irreparable injury comparable to losing an arm or a leg.
Yet it had healed in an instant.
That... wasn't human healing. Unless he had used some sort of magic, how could—
'You call that magic?'
No, even magic couldn't do that.
Divine power, said to be the power of a god. Would it take something of that magnitude to bring this even remotely within the realm of comprehension?
And even then, it would have to be the Saintess of the distant Holy Kingdom. Only then could he accept it, thinking, 'Well, I suppose the Saintess's divine power could do that!'
Put simply, Adrian might as well have had the Saintess as his personal trainer. It was no different from using her divine power to develop his body at an astonishing rate.
In technical terms, he was receiving “training fit for an emperor.”
'Receiving training fit for an emperor...?'
No, it would be more accurate to say he was providing that training himself.
“I-impossible...!”
“How can something like that happen...!!!”
At last, the shock Leverton and the soldiers felt went beyond even horror.