Max donned his leather armor, secured the padding on his elbows, and strapped his sword to his hip.
He planned to undergo moderate training today; afterward, he could leave the training grounds early to extensively study dungeon monsters. This knowledge would definitely be helpful for him, allowing him to uncover the monsters' weak points, their characteristics, and the skills those monsters utilized.
With this gained knowledge, he could succeed with great speed, which would definitely secure him a higher ranking during the dungeon expedition. However, since this was their first dungeon visit, specifically an E-Rank Dungeon that contained different kinds of Slimes, he had to pick up books related to the Slime race.
Max exited the dorm and walked toward the training grounds. Along the way, students of every year cast him looks of contempt.
Ever since the news spread of him joining the academy through a recommendation instead of merit, these people loathed those they deemed unworthy or unequal. They judged not by status, but by talent.
Most of the time, Max ignored these glares. Only on two occurrences in the last month and a half had he confronted the people who verbally insulted him.
Both times, they only argued verbally rather than physically, since fights within the academy were strictly forbidden. Furthermore, those two guys were second-year students from the neighboring lands.
The people from the Land of the West mostly did not show outward enmity, since he was the ruler to them, but they must have harbored hostility in their hearts.
He reached the training grounds ten minutes early.
As usual, he utilized this early arrival to start his dummy training. Once the instructor arrived, the teacher would teach him the proper forms and insist upon him using his inborn skills.
Upon awakening the Swordsman Class, he had obtained Four Skills that he could use in fights or hunting, but the major problem was that the Skills possessed very low potential.
No matter how long he practiced, his Skill Proficiency did not increase, as if he were simply not capable of comprehending the Skill.
For example, his first Sword Skill was called:
[Sword Tempest]
Description: Unleashes a violent storm of rapid sword strikes, continuously slashing all enemies within the user's surrounding area. The attack persists for a short duration, dealing repeated damage to every target caught within its range.
Max had attempted to use this Sword Skill over ten thousand times, yet he had not successfully activated the Skill even once.
According to the instructor and general knowledge, utilizing one's inborn Skill consisted of three steps.
First, the Intent to use the Skill.
Second, Mana Channeling.
Third, the Action.
It seemed very simple, but not for Max.
"First, Intent to use the Skill."
He stood firmly in front of the wooden dummy, gathering all of his concentration and converting it into Intent.
"Second, Mana Channeling."
This step came simply for Max himself, as it occurred naturally with a mere thought.
Finally, "Action."
Max moved his limbs along with his body, executing a cross-slash action aimed at the dummy.
Silence.
Nothing happened.
There was only a single slash mark left behind, created purely by his physical strength. If the Skill had been used successfully, a sword storm should have assaulted the dummy.
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People referred to this as a lack of talent, which was the norm for Multiple-Class Awakeners. They were bound to be average in every Class they awakened.
His father had hired people to coach him ever since he awakened three years ago.
However, every Sword Master had failed to teach Max anything that would allow him to properly use his Skills. That was the time the news leaked to the public that the Grand Duke's only son possessed below-average talent.
Consequently, there was a strong chance for a power shift.
Fortunately for Max, his father, Malcolm, did not place any pressure on him, nor did he display any disappointment upon seeing that his son was talentless.
However, this reaction only subjected Max to great stress and caused him to feel pity for his father.
It was then that it dawned on him how well the 12th King had ruled the kingdom. Bearing that same ambition, he had joined the academy, yet he was now here, still struggling.
Max made a few more attempts to utilize the Skill until his Mana was spent.
Afterward, he commenced his regular sword practice, continuing until his fellow classmates began to arrive.
A few students immediately started to spar with one another, a few began practicing at the dummies, while a few simply stood aside and chattered among themselves.
Naturally, students would fool around, but these people were laughing at him.
"What are you laughing at?" Max turned around, asking in a loud voice.
Surprised by this sudden call-out, the group's expressions shifted for a second before they steadied themselves.
"We are laughing at your untalented, sloppy sword skills. Why else would we laugh on the training ground?" one of the guys stated, speaking up once he recovered from the shock of Max confronting the group.
Max took a few steps forward toward the group.
He had half-expected his previous brave stunt to shoo them away. However, these guys were talented individuals; instead of backing down, they questioned Max's authoritative voice.
He could not back down now that they had spoken against him, due to a few reasons.
First, he was the only heir to the Great Grand Duke of the West.
Second, backing down now would render him an insignificant and cowardly person. This was the main thing he planned to avoid, as it would directly affect his future and the image he planned to construct.
"Let us duel, then you will know who possesses sloppy sword skills," Max declared, standing a few feet away from the group.
"You must be joking?" the youth said as he laughed loudly, the group standing behind him quickly joining in.
This altercation attracted the gazes of the surrounding students; they halted their actions and looked toward the direction of the commotion.
"Your mama was the one joking." Max retorted, pointing his sword at the youth.
The youth, who previously wore a big smile on his face, sank his expression in the next second after hearing Max's mockery.
He instantly unsheathed his sword, ready to attack Max at any moment.
Max assumed a firm stance to face the youth.
Even though he would eventually lose the battle, after all, what could he possibly do with his sloppy sword skills? Thinking back on it, the youth had been honest about his abilities.
However, that did not matter; since he had committed to a fight, he would go all out.
"Everyone, gather around."
Suddenly, a voice echoed from the training ground's main doors as a burly, middle-aged man walked in.
He was the academy instructor for Swordsmen, Rossif Thewlis.
As he walked toward the center of the grounds, his gaze shifted toward the commotion, where two youths stood holding swords pointed at one another.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at Max and the opposing youth.
Max, who had been waiting for this chance, lowered his sword.
He shot the youth a firm, mocking look, acting as if the guy had only been spared due to the instructor's presence, and started to walk toward the center.
The youth snorted and walked over as well.
"Now, you all will embark on your first Dungeon Expedition in two days, correct?" Rossif stated once everyone had gathered in front of him. "Although the Dungeon is only E-Rank, I want everyone to perform well and secure a higher rank within each of your Classes."
As he spoke, his gaze swept across the area.
Standing at the back, Max craned his neck to listen.
When Rossif's eyes landed on him, Max instantly noticed a shift in the instructor's countenance.
In that single second, Rossif's expression changed, as if he were worried about Max's results.
'Dammit. Without talent, I can try hard, but I still cannot impress the instructors,' Max cursed inwardly.
One of the most important aspects of his future plans was that people had to talk about him.
That was the very reason he had decided to excel academically and spend extra time training, even arriving early to the training grounds.
He intended for the instructors to notice him so that the conversations would go like this:
"Even though he does not possess talent, the youth sure is a hardworking fellow."
That particular reputation needed to spread throughout the academy.
Now, seeing that the instructor was disappointed or worried about his ranking, he felt these conversations were never going to occur, even if he maintained this hard work for the next six months.
'Sigh, let us keep up the effort for now. It has only been a month, so there is still a long way to go. Eventually, I will achieve everything I intended.'
"For the next two days, there will be full-day practice sessions. I want everyone to be present without fail," Rossif announced. "Today, you will continue your Inborn Skill practice. Alright, that is all. Go practice."
Following the instructor's instructions, everyone departed on their own to practice their Skills.
Max remained standing in the same location without moving.
He wished to ask about his doubts, even though he had already asked many times. He believed this persistence would ensure that people noticed him.
However, upon looking to his side, he noticed another youth also standing there instead of heading to practice.
It was the very same youth he had quarreled with earlier.
'What is he standing here for?'