1-Second Invincible Player in the Game

138. The Ten (3)

He wrinkled his brow at the smell of disinfectant.

It wasn’t the stench of alcohol that bothered him.

Rather, it was the fact that a card he needed to play lay bedridden in the hospital.

“This is embarrassing.”

Riamon slightly lifted his arm, bound by a splint.

Emerick and Berndal had rushed in as soon as they heard the news. And Belman ground his teeth.

The first to voice his anger was Berndal.

“…Those despicable b*stards.”

Emerick nodded in agreement.

“Their actions grow more petty by the day. I can’t believe they would resort to violence.”

Belman clenched his fists tightly and asked, “Are the professors going to stand by once again?”

“They’ve claimed it’s for discipline. They’ll likely brush it off as a form of punishment. Even if we raise objections, it would be the same. If they coordinate their stories, it will all turn to dust.”

Emerick’s words rang true.

—

The words of the ten men echoed in unison, declaring that Riamon had committed a grave act of insubordination, and with that utterance, it became truth.

Unless we presented evidence or witnesses from our side, their words alone stood as proof.

“This is troublesome. If it were Meldon’s position, perhaps it could have been taken away…”

Emmerich muttered, a hint of regret in his voice. As for Meldon, I knew not how it had come to this, but he was currently incapacitated.

If only we could remind Riamon of his weaknesses, he could be brought down in no time.

But with the situation as it was…

“When will he recover?”

I asked, and Riamon replied.

“They say it takes about two weeks for the bones to heal.”

With that timeframe, it might be possible to mend him with recovery magic.

Yet, there was a problem that could not be solved by mere spells.

“I’m asking about the Danjeon.”

They had even touched the Danjeon, the very core that governed the aura.

The reason it could not be healed by magic was that if the Danjeon was the hardware of a computer, then the techniques governing the aura were akin to software.

Only Riamon himself could untangle the mess of his own cultivation.

“To be strong enough to defeat that Meldon, at least a month?”

“That’s rather grim news.”

After uttering those words, a weary sigh escaped my lips.

Now that it was clear we had raised our banners in rebellion, they would surely concoct some scheme within that month.

Time was never on our side.

“Enduring for a month is impossible. They will undoubtedly create an even harsher environment. Discontent is already brewing among the first years. It’s only a matter of time before our unity shatters.”

Belman spoke the harsh truth, and I added a more dismal note.

“Moreover, they will be lurking, waiting for the moment we are isolated. There’s only so long we can stick together.”

“So, Hursel, what shall we do now?”

It was Riamon who answered Belman’s question.

“What about Eruzel? Why not push him forward?”

I looked at Riamon as if he had spoken nonsense.

Yet Belman seemed to ponder deeply.

“Eruzel… Indeed, he does possess potential.”

“Was there another by the name of Eruzel in the Adel clan?”

Belman stared at my face with a sullen gaze.

“You underestimate your brother far too much.”

“Hmm?”

As I showed my confusion, Belman let out a sound of astonishment.

“Eruzel has received good evaluations from the professors. He has surprised everyone in class from time to time.”

“…I can’t believe that.”

“It seems he doesn’t meet your standards. But from our perspective, he’s quite remarkable. He carries the bloodline of the Tenest family and has been taught by Lord Kolo, known as the Sword King of the South.”

Hearing this, I suddenly realized how impressive his credentials were.

“But he is Eruzel…”

“Ahem, he may show some less-than-bright moments, but admit it. He is an excellent swordsman.”

“But he is Eruzel?”

“…The very fact that he went to the Adel Academy is no small feat. And just look at how he partnered with Riamon during the practical lessons in the magic field; it’s proof that the professors trust him.”

The evidence was solid, yet I felt a disconnect in accepting it.

It was as if I had been thrown into a different dimension.

I turned to Donathan, who at least had some insight into swords.

“Donathan, what do you think of Eruzel?”

“Compared to that monstrous little brat, he may fall short, but he possesses a level of steel that would make any master craftsman envious. He stands out among ordinary materials.”

“…”

Even Donathan’s generous assessment left me speechless.

Only when he added further explanation could I finally voice the question I had been holding back.

“That old man Kolo hammered such a material. His aura manipulation is impressive, and his swordsmanship when cutting down the undead was remarkably skilled for his age.”

“But why does he look like that?”

Donathan fell silent for a long moment before answering.

“Well… there is one flaw. A very critical defect for a swordsman. If it weren’t for that, it would have been truly wonderful; what a pity.”

Just one flaw?

Indeed, this was a multiverse.

* * *

The back mountain of the Tenest estate lay barren.

Where the breath of the monstrous bird had swept through, there was not even a trace of life left.

It would take a long time for nature to restore itself.

There, Melin took a squat stance, gritting her teeth as she counted.

“Forty… nine.”

A weight hung from her wrist, and the plates attached to the barbell in her hands matched her own body weight.

“Oh, oh… oh… damn!”

As Melin trembled and barely rose, Kolo, watching her, clicked his tongue.

“Tsk, tsk, that wasn’t fifty. Do it again.”

“W-what?”

“Are you already deaf, young one? Again, again.”

Melin’s face fell, and she gazed at the footprints she had left on her way here.

They must have been at least ten centimeters deep.

All of this was the mark of her journey up the mountain path with the barbell in hand.

After such a grueling trek, she was met with squats.

The meticulous old man wouldn’t accept anything less than perfect form.

‘Should I just use my aura?’

Yet, for some reason, she felt that any trickery would be immediately exposed.

‘No, no. This old man. His keen eyes are anything but ordinary.’

The look he had given her when he forbade her from using it was anything but casual.

“Ugh!”

Melin poured every ounce of her strength into executing the last squat perfectly, relying solely on her raw muscle.

The training of the wandering troupe felt like nothing compared to this grueling ordeal.

Doubt crept in as she cast a suspicious glance, and Kolo seemed to read her mind, citing his reasoning.

“What are you staring at? The truth is, you can do it. Your age, the strength you’ve gained through your training—all of it has been taken into account.”

“Ugh! That’s a lie.”

Melin realized too late that she had reached her limit, and the discontent brewing inside her spilled forth.

As expected, the ominous feeling proved true.

“Do you dare call me a liar?”

As Kolo’s eyes narrowed and he began to approach, Melin sensed her impending doom.

“Hey, I’ve only adjusted it for your youth, and you don’t even recognize that. This won’t do. As planned, I’ll add more weight to your wrist.”

“I-I’m sorry! Aah!”

She hastily offered her apologies, but Kolo was much quicker in fastening the weights to her wrist.

As the tendons stood out more vividly, Koulo smiled with a sense of satisfaction.

“Cackle, if you can’t do it within the next ten seconds, there’ll be more added on.”

Merlin braced herself, ready for her muscles to burst, and summoned strength into her legs.

“Eeeek!”

“Yes, that’s it. Finally squeezing out every last bit of strength you had as a babe.”

“Ugh!”

In the end, Merlin managed to lift the barbell triumphantly.

Then she collapsed onto the floor, utterly spent.

Even as the barbell fell toward her, Merlin couldn’t bring herself to care.

‘Ah, I’d rather be crushed by that and die here.’

But Merlin’s wish was cruelly dashed by a mere gesture from Koulo.

Thud.

Koulo inserted his finger into the center of the barbell, spinning it with centrifugal force.

He safely set it down on the ground and rummaged through his pockets.

“Well then, I suppose I must reward you.”

What emerged from his pocket was a treat meant only for the eyes of commoners.

Chocolate.

Merlin’s eyes sparkled.

“Could it be… is that chocolate?”

“Ah, you know well.”

Chocolate could only be made from fruits that grew in the enchanted lands.

Even the instructors of the wandering troupe indulged in it only on rare occasions, and every time Merlin saw it, she would swallow hard, imagining what it might taste like.

“Here, eat. You have a ten-minute break.”

“T-thank you… Sir Koulo.”

The taste of the chocolate was sweet. It was more delicious than she had ever imagined. Tears streamed down Merlin’s face as she thought she wanted to savor this flavor for a lifetime.

Perhaps sensing her emotions, Koulo grinned playfully.

“I’ve got more where that came from. If you want it, finish the next training too.”

“M-more of this?”

“Why are you so surprised? It’s all part of the supplies for the Tenest Knights.”

The chocolate in her mouth melted away quickly, disappearing without a trace.

As time flowed, Koulo rose from his seat.

“By now, ten minutes must have passed. Rest is over. Put down the Babel and follow me.”

Melin followed Koulo with a lighter step.

This place was far from where Bress had swept through, a thicket dense with twigs and underbrush.

Koulo moved like a specter, deftly weaving through the branches as he ventured deeper.

“Ow!”

Melin entered cautiously, but a stray twig snagged her, leaving a scratch.

She then gazed at the old man’s back.

His pace showed no sign of slowing, steady as a tranquil river.

‘He’s certainly an impressive old man… taller than me, too.’

She tried to mimic his movements, but it was no easy task.

After a few more scratches, they arrived at a clearing.

Yet it was not an empty expanse.

Melin pointed to a statue made of iron and asked.

It bore a striking resemblance to Hessel.

“What is that?”

“You can tell just by looking, can’t you? It’s the statue of the eldest young master. Allow me to introduce it. This is the training ground prepared for the third young master.”

“Ah, I see. But why is the statue of the first young master here?”

Koulo, as if it were of no consequence, did not respond, instead offering her a wooden sword.

“Take it.”

“Yes.”

If he had no intention of answering, there was little she could do.

Melin grasped the wooden sword. Was she finally going to receive sword training?

But then Koulo pointed at the Hessel statue and instructed her to do something strange.

“Hit that with the wooden sword.”

Melin hesitated, stammering her response.

“The statue made of iron? If I do that, the wooden sword will break…”

“Oh, right.”

It seemed there had indeed been a misunderstanding. To strike iron with wood was folly.

Yet Koulo appeared to be serious.

“Do you remember the auras you’ve been saving up? Gather them and strike.”

“Pardon?”

“Just do as I say for now.”

Filled with doubt, Merin approached the statue as Koulo instructed.

Then her gaze drifted to a spot further away.

There was another statue, hidden behind the thicket, that she had not seen before.

It was riddled with deep indentations.

“Over there, Sir Koulo? There’s another statue here.”

“That one… Hmm. That’s Ruon, the vice president of Lethe, who used to accompany the young lord. Forget about it; just focus on smashing the statue of the young lord.”

Merin wrapped her arms around the aura and thrust the wooden sword toward the Hessel statue.

Clang!

Her wrist tingled. But the sound resonating was not from the statue; it was the wooden sword. Its vibrations were more intense than that of a steel blade, and they lingered.

“Uh-oh?”

Koulo chuckled, unraveling her confusion.

“The material of that wooden sword vibrates more than steel. For a while, you’ll learn to control the recoil. That’s the foundation of my swordsmanship.”

Merin didn’t quite understand why she had to do this, but she offered a response that she hoped would please Koulo.

“Oh, such profound meaning.”

Thus, Merin swung the wooden sword, glancing at the old man for approval.

Clang!

With each strike against the statue, questions swelled in her mind.

‘Ruon, was it? Isn’t that the guy who tried to kill us?’

The dark swordsman who lingered in the highlands of the Purple Forest.

She vividly recalled how he led a gang and displayed hostility toward the first-years in the lowlands.

And the Hessel statue.

‘Since he’s a lord we serve, it doesn’t seem like Koulo brought it out for venting. Does the third lord harbor any ill feelings toward those two?’

Curiosity piqued, Merin cautiously asked Koulo.

“By the way, what kind of person is this third lord?”

“Hm? If you were at Frost Heart, you might have seen him. Didn’t you catch a glimpse of Lord Erucel?”

Merin rummaged through her memories.

‘Erucel?’

I had not been at the mansion long enough to memorize the entire family tree, but the name was familiar.

It served as a clue, conjuring the face from the portrait I had once glimpsed.

‘Ah, yes. That foolish-looking face.’

Now that I thought about it, he had been present during the practical lessons in the realm of magic.

He was one of the members who had gone hunting for instructors, leaving a strong impression, and I had seen him around the campfire or some such gathering.

“I remember now. That gentleman was Lord Erucel.”

“Right, since we’re on the topic, let me ask. How is the third young master? Is he doing well at the academy?”

“…Well, the truth is, I don’t know that much either.”

“Tsk, tsk. If there had been any noteworthy exploits, I would have recalled them instantly. By the looks of it, there’s been nothing of the sort. Sigh…”

Koulo tore his gaze away from Melin and let out a deep sigh.

It seemed he had not overcome the fears that had plagued him there.

The terror of Hursel and Luon, who had tormented him at every turn…

‘If those wretches hadn’t instilled such vile habits, there would be few among my peers to rival him. What a shame, what a waste.’

Koulo lamented that the splendid swordsmanship he had crafted could not shine.

* * *

Erucel lay sprawled on the ground, serving as a human chair.

A woman sat upon him, her weight pressing down, and she was Amenda of the Fourth.

She shook the water bottle in her hand, asking with a hint of curiosity.

“But don’t you get tired?”

“Huh? What? After tormenting me endlessly, now you’re worried?”

“Do you think anyone enjoys this?”

Amenda glanced around, ensuring no one was watching, and stood up.

“No one’s looking. Just take a quick sip of water.”

“Ahem, I suppose my throat is a bit dry.”

Erucel chuckled softly.

I had heard that all those above the Seventh were terrible people, but this woman didn’t seem so wicked.

This was why he accepted the torment so readily.

‘It seems she’s joining in just to avoid being ostracized by the Tenth.’

If she fell out of favor with the powerful Kherndel, she might end up like Berndal or Emeric.

Erucel took the water bottle and spoke playfully.

“Could it be that you’ve been poisoned?”

“What? This?”

Amenda feigned a punch, her movements playful and exaggerated. Yet, despite the jest, Erucel flinched, retreating dramatically as if struck.

“Ugh.”

Amenda chuckled softly.

“Why are you backing away so much? I’m not going to hit you.”

Embarrassed, Erucel cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Ahem.”

“Oh, it’s not long until we finish today’s quota. What will you do afterward?”

“Training. I haven’t been able to do it lately, and it’s been bringing to mind the face of some old crone.”

“Training, huh? Don’t you have any hobbies? Like a club or something?”

Erucel handed back the water bottle as he replied.

“…Thinking about it, I don’t seem to have any.”

Amenda’s voice brightened, as if pleased by the answer.

“Really? Then how about joining the art club? I’m the representative there. If you don’t want to join, at least come and take a look. There are some pretty impressive paintings.”

“Art, you say? Ah, now that you mention it, I do enjoy appreciating paintings. My mother has collected so many at home. Sometimes I find myself entranced by them.”

“Oh, so you’re from Tenest, a wealthy family, huh? I bet there are many masterpieces by great artists!”

Erucel pondered, eager to keep the conversation flowing.

“I don’t have deep knowledge about it, but I know of the paintings by Abendrel. It’s one my mother cherishes dearly.”

“Wow, Abendrel. That guy, huh? Hey, hey, I hear footsteps. Quick, sit properly.”

Just as Amenda said, footsteps echoed nearby.

Erucel quickly assumed a proper seated posture, while Amenda hurried to sit down.

But the voice that pierced through the air was all too familiar to Erucel, a low tone that sent a chill down his spine.

“Hand over my brother.”

The devilish half-brother.

Hershel Ben Tenest approached, casting a shadow as he drew near.