The preparations did not take long. The training ground was not far from the sparring arena, and with the others helping him, Ian quickly donned a Red Spear Knight’s armor.
“It is ready. Would you check whether anything feels uncomfortable?”
An unknown knight spoke in a curt tone. Ian moved his arms and legs.
CLANK.
This was his first time wearing a knight’s armor.
He had expected it to feel extremely awkward, but although the armor—crafted from a balanced combination of leather and metal—was somewhat heavy, it did not restrict his movement nearly as much as he had anticipated.
If such minor restrictions granted him this much protection, they were more than worth enduring.
Ian nodded to the knight, who was staring at him expectantly.
“Then take this sword.”
Ian accepted the sword, fastened it at his waist, and turned around.
Beyond the narrowed field of vision caused by the helmet pulled over his head, he saw the sparring arena.
Diol stood upon it, waiting with a long staff in hand. He would serve as both the referee and mediator.
Diol walked to the edge of the arena.
“They say clothes make the man, and that armor truly suits you. Why not become a Red Spear Knight while you are at it?”
“No.”
“What a firm refusal. Why?”
“If I joined now, I would have to spend quite some time as the youngest member.”
“That cannot be helped. It would be the same wherever you went. In any case, would it not be better to watch at least one spar between Red Spear Knights before beginning?”
“There is no need. We can start immediately.”
Ian had not spent the entire training period stubbornly practicing nothing but Evilbane.
He had taken turns sparring with Mael and Marie and had watched the two of them fight each other. He had a general idea of what to expect.
“Is that so? I like that confidence. Come up.”
Diol turned toward the gathered Red Spear Knights.
“Then let us begin. Who should be his first opponent…? Any volunteers?”
At his booming voice, one of the Red Spear Knights immediately raised a hand, as though he had been waiting for the opportunity.
“Oh, Diarmid!”
A Red Spear Knight’s helmet concealed the wearer’s face completely, making it impossible to identify anyone by appearance.
Diol, however, seemed able to distinguish them regardless and called the knight’s name without even pausing to consider.
Diarmid, a Red Spear Knight, stepped onto the arena.
“As expected, you were the first to volunteer.”
“I was the first to say that I wished to spar with the young master. If I remained silent now, would it not look as though I were fleeing?”
“Excellent. Are you ready?”
“You may begin whenever you wish.”
“And you?”
Ian nodded and looked at his opponent.
He could not see what expression Diarmid was making beneath the helmet, but he could sense the fighting spirit needling at him.
TAP!
Diol lightly struck the ground with the staff in his hand.
At the small sound, everyone turned their attention toward him.
“The use of mana is prohibited. Attacking the gaps in the armor is also prohibited. Victory will be determined only when one side admits defeat or is subdued. As the referee, I may intervene at any time if I judge the situation to be dangerous. Furthermore, if I extend this staff during the spar, both of you must retreat immediately, regardless of the circumstances. Remember that. Any questions?”
“Do we have to fight solely with swords?”
“Hand-to-hand combat is permitted, but joint locks are forbidden. Injuries aside, they damage armor too easily.”
It seemed that even though spare armor was available, damaging it was another matter.
The reason was practical and perfectly understandable, so instead of answering, Ian drew the sword the knight had given him.
The blade slid smoothly from its sheath, but it had not been sharpened.
It was so dull that even gripping the blade tightly with a bare hand would not leave a wound.
However, that did not make it harmless.
It was essentially a blunt weapon. A single solid blow could break bones, and a strike to the head could shatter a skull.
Still, with both a helmet and armor protecting him, Ian did not need to worry about that.
“Huu.”
Ian inhaled deeply and stared at the Red Spear Knight before him.
Unlike an ordinary spar, striking a single part of his opponent’s body would not easily incapacitate him.
Therefore, Ian would subdue him completely.
“Begin.”
The moment Diol raised the staff he had been holding out between them and spoke, Diarmid thrust his sword toward Ian.
Ian, who had been watching him intently, extended his own sword in response.
CLANG!
The instant the dull blades collided, both fighters shifted their stances without hesitation.
With only a slight movement of the arm, each sword point sought the opponent’s vital areas.
Neither, however, allowed himself to be struck so easily.
Even without activating mana, their physical abilities—including their dynamic vision—had long since surpassed the limits of ordinary people.
They could respond within the briefest instant, but that also made subduing the other person exceedingly difficult.
Diarmid was the one who felt this most keenly.
‘I expected this to be difficult, but to this extent?’
Ian had killed Hyullang and a Dark Mage. He had also defeated Mael and Marie, who had only recently become full members but were already regarded as geniuses among geniuses.
Knowing that, Diarmid had fought with all his strength from the beginning.
Yet the battle was nowhere near as simple as he had expected.
Ian possessed a profound understanding of swordsmanship and revealed no openings.
Diarmid had tried to press forward and end the match in a single exchange, but Ian either slipped away like an eel or met his techniques head-on and neutralized them.
‘This cannot be…!’
Why was a knight called a knight?
There were many reasons, but one was that, unlike common mercenaries who merely swung their swords, knights possessed a systematic method of fighting.
A knight could finish an opponent with a single swing.
By simply raising an arm or turning a wrist, the blade would point toward an opponent’s vital area.
They were called knights because they had professionally mastered such techniques, and they earned the recognition of others by using those techniques to dispatch opponents in an instant.
CLANG, CLANG!
Yet the sword Diarmid had trained with every day for years was being stopped by someone he had unconsciously looked down upon.
‘He is holding back.’
Ian was observing him.
He was measuring the ability of a Red Spear Knight.
Diarmid’s eyes trembled.
Ian had supposedly left for the villa after his Coming-of-Age Ceremony and lived there like a ruined man, but Diarmid began to doubt whether that was true.
Perhaps Ian had secretly been developing his skills all along.
‘Otherwise, how could this be possible?’
Diarmid did not deny reality.
He had already tried several times to exploit openings that appeared before him.
Yet none of those attempts had produced results.
Each time he charged forward confidently, he received a heavy blow and was forced back.
As though sensing the turmoil in Diarmid’s emotions, Ian changed his approach.
He became aggressive.
Diarmid, who had previously been pressing the attack, suddenly realized that he was the one retreating.
However, he had no effective response.
SCRAPE!
A sword slid across his armor.
CLANG!
The sword struck his armor again.
Because the blade was dull and no mana had been applied, the armor was not even scratched.
Diarmid desperately thrust his sword toward Ian, only for it to be knocked aside.
He attempted to retreat immediately, but Ian was faster.
CRUNCH!
Ian’s foot stamped down upon the top of Diarmid’s foot.
He could not escape.
At the same time, Ian’s blade came to rest against his neck.
Diarmid had neither evaded nor blocked it.
“……”
“……”
Diarmid did not resist pathetically. He relaxed his body, allowing the sword in his hand to droop.
Ian also stepped back.
“The winner is Ian. Diarmid, you did well. Withdraw.”
“…Yes.”
Diarmid accepted his defeat without protest, returned his sword to its sheath, and looked at Ian.
Despite the intense movements during the short match, Ian’s breathing remained remarkably steady, as though he had expended little stamina.
No matter how Diarmid looked at him, Ian did not seem like someone who had spent years wasting away inside a villa.
Perhaps the rumors had been wrong.
With that thought, Diarmid bowed once to Ian and turned away.
He returned to where the Red Spear Knights had gathered.
No one praised him, but several of his companions silently patted him on the back in consolation.
Ordinarily, Diarmid despised training while fully armored.
Today, however, he was grateful for it.
The helmet concealed his expression perfectly.
“Di~ar~mid~”
Hearing someone call his name in a teasing voice, Diarmid turned to the side.
Several knights were looking at him.
“Hendrick.”
“Did you throw the match to ingratiate yourself with the youngest young master? How could you lose so miserably?”
Diarmid scoffed.
“If that is what you truly believe, why not step forward yourself?”
Anyone who had watched properly should have understood that the youngest young master they had dismissed was no easy opponent.
If Hendrick had failed to notice that, then his judgment was simply poor.
“I was already planning to. I will take this opportunity to show you what real skill looks like.”
Just then, Vice-Captain Diol asked who wished to challenge Ian next.
“Vice-Captain, I will do it!”
Hendrick, a Red Spear Knight, raised his hand and answered with complete confidence.
As he headed toward the arena, he turned around and gestured as though telling Diarmid to keep his eyes open and watch closely.
The result?
It was, needless to say, disastrous.
Hendrick’s sword, thrust forward as though it were his decisive strike, pierced nothing but empty air.
Ian easily evaded it and struck the side of Hendrick’s helmet with the pommel of his sword.
CLANG!
Even though protective magic had been applied to the helmet, it could not fully absorb an impact of that magnitude.
Sure enough, Hendrick dropped to his knees as though he had lost consciousness, then collapsed face-first onto the ground.
Vice-Captain Diol hurriedly lowered his staff, while Ian calmly stepped back as though nothing remarkable had happened.
Hendrick was soon carried away on a stretcher.
“Serves him right.”
The other knights laughed, but their amusement did not last long.
Two Red Spear Knights had already suffered humiliating defeats.
The atmosphere grew more serious.
Several knights, their competitive spirits burning, stepped forward courageously, but the results did not change.
One of them even lost his sword and resorted to hand-to-hand combat, only to discover that Ian was highly proficient in that as well.
Watching Ian’s ferocious fighting style, someone muttered in dismay.
“Are we weak?”
That was not the case.
The Red Spear Knights were by no means weak.
They were practically a symbol of the eastern region of the El Karda Empire, and they possessed strength befitting that reputation.
Although everyone present was only at Level 3, most were close to reaching Level 4. A mere handful of them could exterminate an entire pack of Monsters without difficulty.
The reason they lost was exceedingly simple.
Their opponent was more skilled.
Everyone acknowledged that fact and accepted the results of their matches, but they could not help feeling frustrated.
That day, Ian achieved the unbelievable feat of winning nine consecutive matches against Red Spear Knights.
The accomplishment became the subject of conversation throughout House Berger for quite some time.
Moreover, the spars did not end after a single day.
Diol took the opportunity to arrange matches between Ian and members of the other squads as well.
Those squads mocked the Fourth Squad for losing and stepped forward, claiming they would teach Ian a proper lesson.
Ian defeated every one of them in full view of everyone.
Eventually, Level 4 knights began volunteering instead of Level 3 knights.
Ian could have refused at that point, but as long as they competed purely through technique without using mana, he was willing to fight as many of them as wished.
However, Level 4 knights were indeed different from those at Level 3.
They were more experienced and highly skilled, and their physical abilities were also superior.
Ian struggled greatly. He either won by the narrowest margin or suffered a regrettable defeat.
His victory rate fell below half, but no one laughed at him.
Strictly speaking, they could not.
Ian, who was only Level 2, had fought evenly against Level 4 knights.
That alone was more than enough to overturn the negative perception people had held of him.
Perhaps those spars had also produced another benefit.
One day, while Ian was practicing Evilbane, another ring formed around the Core within his Dantian.
With that, Ian’s attainment in Evilbane reached the Third Ring.