Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

Following Shayden’s advice, I took notes in a prepared notebook as I attended the class.

There were no students jeering when Professor Kaiser mentioned that we would immediately move forward in the first class due to the large number of artifacts we needed to learn about.

The handouts contained several detailed diagrams, which depicted the typical appearance of each artifact, the magical formulas used, their general price ranges, and how to distinguish their performance—all clearly laid out for easy understanding.

“I’ve already mentioned that there aren’t many everyday-use artifacts. So, which of combat or medical artifacts do you think are more commonly used? …Yes, the student who raised their hand.”

“Combat artifacts are used more often.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s more efficient to invest in capital than human resources when dealing with monsters.”

“Good. Not perfect, but close to the correct answer.”

I shifted my gaze toward the girl who had answered. When our eyes met, she quickly looked away, flustered.

I had looked at her because she answered confidently and neatly, but seeing her reaction made me feel like it was wrong to be distracted during class.

I also refocused on Professor Kaiser.

“Of course, human life is more valuable than material wealth. However, for the purpose of this class, we’ll express it a bit differently. Using artifacts to combat monsters is more efficient than relying on human strength. Now, let’s move on to the first combat artifact: the explosion artifact.”

I was moved by the professor’s respect for human life and diligently copied his words into my notebook. However, none of the students seemed to be distracted—they focused intently on his words, not even glancing at their notes.

The explosion artifact was similar to a thunderbolt bomb (a bomb made by refining gunpowder).

Since gunpowder was originally a weapon of war, its use was strictly controlled, and I had never had the chance to handle it while I lived in Central Plains.

Here, even though I was learning about the structure of explosion artifacts through drawings, it was fascinating.

Explosion artifacts were categorized by the type of magic used—fire, ice, electricity, and others—and by their firepower—small, medium, or large. They were also categorized by their range of use: short, medium, or long range. I carefully wrote down the names of the artifacts and the names of their inventors in a chart with twelve different categories.

As I wrote this down, it suddenly struck me that this class was part of a business administration course.

The way the students took notes and focused was telling. They were clearly planning to memorize the chart for use during exams. I stared blankly at Professor Kaiser, who had started explaining how to use the first artifact, and quickly caught up by referring to the handout and taking notes.

Most of the artifacts were named with a number in front, like “Type 1, X-Type.” Professor Kaiser explained this as well.

“The number in front of an artifact’s name indicates how many functions it has. For example, look at the Type 2 electric shocker on the third page of your handout. It uses two magical formulas: electric discharge and electric absorption. Why is this the case? The student sitting in the second row, third seat, go ahead.”

“…To protect the user…?”

“Try to be more confident in your answer. Yes, that’s correct. The artifact sends out an electric shock attack toward its target while simultaneously absorbing the electricity to prevent it from affecting the user. Why do we represent this with numbers? Yes, you there, raise your hand.”

“It’s to clearly indicate how many mana stones are needed for the artifact’s creation.”

“Correct. Your name?”

“Damien Christopher.”

“Remember that name.”

I had known Damien was good at studying, but watching him answer so succinctly and confidently was still impressive. Jurgen Kaiser continued.

“Just a hundred years ago, all artifacts were named after the magicians who created them. But as the number of magicians grew and the variety of artifacts expanded endlessly, several issues arose. The most famous of these incidents was the Hans case.”

“Hans?”

Some of the children chuckled as they looked at one student.

The student being stared at nudged the shoulder of the one next to them and playfully hit them. It seemed that the student’s name was Hans. The way the children bickered was cute, and I couldn’t help but smile briefly.

“Ah, there’s one here too. That’s right, Hans is a common name. The famous battle mage Hans and the medical mage Hans from that era were also namesakes. Both were orphans, adopted by the magic tower, and received relatively simple names. Both of them took great pride in their names and decided to name the artifacts they created after themselves: Hans No. 1 and Hans No. 2. And… people started confusing their artifacts.”

A gasp of disbelief could be heard from among the children.

“Fortunately, at that time, artifacts were so expensive that they were only used for monster hunting in the Unyil Mountains, so Hans No. 1 never exploded in a city. However, during a monster hunting expedition in the Unyil Mountains, a massive lizardman that had been captured fully recovered. This caused the mercenary alliance to break apart.”

I didn’t know what a lizardman was, but it seemed to have been a quite formidable monster. I muttered to myself softly.

“The mercenary alliance that suffered losses strongly protested to the magic tower that sold the artifact. In order to prevent the misuse of artifacts, the magic tower began the painstaking task of standardizing artifact names. After the Hans incident, every mage was required to include the number of mana stones used and the functions of the artifact in its name.”

“…Hmm?”

“If you have any questions, feel free to raise your hand and ask.”

Without realizing it, I let out a curious sound, and since Professor Kaiser was looking this way, I immediately raised my hand to ask. The professor nodded easily, granting me permission.

“What I know about artifact names seemed to deviate from this rule, so I was curious.”

“What is the name of that artifact?”

“It’s called the ‘Source of Waterproof Forest.'”

The Source of Waterproof Forest was the name of an artifact I learned about in Professor Angela Stingham’s class last semester.

This artifact, used to purify monster corpses, was a round object about the size of a child’s fist. It was a remarkable item, with a spell consisting of twenty-five sentences, each engraved twenty-five times.

Professor Kaiser nodded as if it were obvious and answered.

“Occasionally, for particularly useful and widely used artifacts, you will see poetic names instead of standardized ones. ‘Source of Waterproof Forest,’ ‘Starlight of Dawn,’ ‘Sigh of the Earth,’ ‘Blessing of Darkness’—these are all examples.”

The children nodded and wrote down the names of these artifacts. I did the same.

“These artifacts were invented before the Hans incident and have been in use for a long time, becoming brands in and of themselves. They are used only when the artifact contains magic other than combat or medical magic.”

The explanation was thorough enough. I nodded to show I understood. I knew that Professor Kaiser would explain about things like “Starlight of Dawn” and “Sigh of the Earth” later, so I didn’t rush to ask.

Meanwhile, the boy who had handed out the handouts earlier kept glancing over here. I wasn’t oblivious to his gaze. After thinking about it for a moment, I realized he was the mouse-like boy I had seen at the opening ceremony. I didn’t remember his name, but I did recall how easily his face turned red.

He had mentioned he was a work-study student, so it seemed he was also responsible for running errands during class. I found it interesting how the students here had such diverse roles. I suddenly wondered if that Luver would also be helping professors in such ways across various classes, though I couldn’t quite imagine it.

I didn’t have time to think further. The professor turned to the next page of the handout, so I followed along.

—

On Tuesday morning, during advanced swordsmanship class, I greeted some familiar faces with pleasure.

There were thirty students, the same as last semester. However, I noticed that two of the students, who were previously considered second-rate swordsmen, had now reached the level of first-rate.

Their growth was astonishingly fast, and I couldn’t help but admire the speed at which they improved. If there had been a Maelo Sanson in the Central Plains, he would certainly have become a master by now.

Luver, Lucilla, Benjamin, and Matt naturally stood by my side.

As I was surrounded by the tall guys, Walter Orgen, passing by, jokingly remarked about bouquets, but Lucilla scolded him sharply.

The way the kids bickered affectionately was adorable, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

I had expected that students would be sparring again this semester, but Maelo Sanson carefully observed the students and asked how they were doing before marking the training ground with the tip of his sword.

The children stood in position according to Sanson’s guidance. I seemed to be the only one confused about what kind of training we were going to do this time. Sanson, with a smile, explained.

“I’m sure you learned a lot from the sparring last semester. Now that we’re somewhat familiar with each other’s sword techniques, we’ll focus on learning how to work together. The most important thing in teamwork is taking responsibility for the safety of the person next to you. This semester, we will focus on ensuring our swords and bodies don’t interfere with each other’s movements and learning how not to block each other’s sword path.”

Working together with these kids to form a perfect formation? I looked around.

I had experienced forming such formations back in the Central Plains.

When multiple people unite to face a powerful opponent or are surrounded by enemies, if they form a great formation, they can conserve energy while protecting each other.

Some martial arts schools considered the “Eighteen Arhat Formation” or “One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation” to be the pinnacle, but every school had its own unique formation.

Formations like this were used when a group of soldiers needed to bring down an elephant, so it required perfect coordination.

Each school paired up warriors of similar levels and ages, training them from a young age to perfect these formations.

The key was that they all practiced the same martial arts and deeply understood each other’s techniques, which made these formations possible. It wasn’t something that could happen after just four months of observing each other’s styles.