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Chapter 16
What was he even thanking me for?
“Sir, this place is…?”
“The staff dormitory.”
“So this is where you live…?”
It was Delrev’s first time seeing the staff dormitory.
‘It’s this worn down?’
He’d passed by the building before because it was next to the student dorms.
He’d thought it looked old from the outside, but inside was far worse than he imagined.
Drip. Drop.
Water dripping from who knows where—despite it not even raining.
Cobwebs everywhere.
And there was even a strange smell.
Compared to the magnificent student dormitory built with piles of donated money, this was a disgrace.
“Isn’t… it uncomfortable here?”
“Is there something that should be uncomfortable?”
Kundel was a great noble house.
Naturally, Delrev had never imagined someone living in a place like this.
He himself lived in the top-floor single suite of the student dorms.
‘Does he live here on purpose?’
Delrev had now come to believe every action Ziehl took must have some big reason behind it.
‘There must be a reason. Definitely.’
No matter how he looked at it, this was a place no one would willingly live in.
Even a broke staff member would probably prefer commuting from outside the academy over living here.
‘It wouldn’t even be strange if a ghost came out…’
“It’ll be better to train in the back.”
Ziehl led Delrev to the rear of the staff dorms.
Trash was scattered around and bushes were overgrown, but there was enough open space for one or two people to train.
“Do you also train here, sir?”
“No.”
Delrev interpreted it as: He doesn’t need to.
‘As expected of an expert…’
The truth was simply that Ziehl couldn’t train here—assassins rarely trained in open spaces.
“Train there. I’ll observe.”
“R-really?”
“The teacher must accompany you, or you’ll receive penalty points.”
Delrev took this as: He’s going to personally coach me.
But Ziehl meant it literally.
‘He’s warmer than he seems…?’
Misunderstanding upon misunderstanding piled up as Delrev grabbed a wooden practice sword.
Whish, whish!
A wooden sword with the same weight as a real one.
Even without a blade, his swordsmanship carried real power.
Delrev was the greatest talent in House Kundel.
Said to surpass even his two older brothers in talent.
He hadn’t surpassed them yet due to his still-growing body and lack of experience, but his swordsmanship had been praised since the day he enrolled.
Praise and expectations—that was the only environment he had ever lived in.
Meeting Ziehl had been a shock.
‘I’m still lacking.’
He realized he was lacking—
‘I still have a long way to go.’
And he slowly came to understand that the world he saw was much narrower than he thought.
Whish, whish!
His heavy swings cut through the air.
This was Kundel-style heavy swordsmanship.
Using Kundel’s mana breathing method, the practitioner moved mana sequentially from waist → back → shoulders → arms → hands, producing destructive power.
A single strike could dent or tear through thick armor, and with high proficiency, even split the ground.
“Hoo… inhale!”
Delrev continued without rest.
Forms 1 through 5—the basic sequence—were now perfect.
Next came forms 6 through 10—the middle sequence.
But he got stuck at form 7.
Clang!
Pushing too hard, he even dropped his sword.
He quickly grabbed it and restarted from form 1.
‘My brothers already passed the middle sequence…’
Forms 11 and up were the finishing sequence—his goal.
But he was ashamed that he still got stuck in the middle sequence.
Considering the difficulty of Kundel-style swordsmanship, reaching the middle sequence at his age was already remarkable.
But Delrev was never satisfied.
After a long struggle, he still failed to complete form 7 even after fifty attempts.
His breath was ragged from continuous use of mana.
‘Still… I improved.’
Before, he would’ve been exhausted after around thirty attempts.
His stamina training had definitely paid off.
But the disappointment remained—he still couldn’t pass form 7.
‘I wanted to show Father during the Exchange Meet…’
His father probably thought he was still stuck at form 6.
He had wanted to proudly display form 7 and surprise him.
That was why Delrev had grown impatient recently.
‘The prelims will be fine, but the exchange meet…’
He suddenly wondered:
Why did Professor Ziehl say he had the highest expectations for me?
He turned to look at Ziehl—
“S-sir?”
Training had gone on for over an hour.
And only now did Delrev turn to observe Ziehl properly.
“…Were you standing like that the whole time?”
Ziehl was still standing exactly as he had been at the beginning—completely unmoving.
Standing still wasn’t hard, but standing that still?
As if time had stopped?
‘Is he even human?’
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“No, nothing… It’s just amazing.”
“You can do it too, Delrev Kundel.”
Anyone could, technically.
But people would get bored, fidget, move a little.
Still, Delrev cautiously asked:
“Um… how was I?”
“You mean the swordsmanship you just performed?”
“Yes.”
“It was swordsmanship.”
“…….”
That wasn’t what he meant… he wanted a review.
‘Does it look like regular swordsmanship to him?’
As expected of Ziehl—Delrev was nowhere near earning his admiration.
‘Or maybe he’s being fair.’
He had already received plenty of special treatment.
After all, Ziehl had treated him to that incredibly expensive meal!
Delrev steadied his resolve and swung again.
Form 7 still wouldn’t break open.
‘Why can’t I do it?’
Then—
Swordsmanship.
Ziehl’s earlier words echoed.
‘Just swordsmanship?’
Delrev froze.
A thought flashed through his mind.
Kundel-style heavy swordsmanship.
He had always been told:
Our family’s swordsmanship is special.
Others can never imitate it.
Because of that, Delrev had always tried to treat his swordsmanship as something extraordinary.
For example, form 7 required:
A downward slash + a full-body spin + a finishing slam.
That required circulating mana twice and swinging twice.
At least, that was the “Kundel way.”
‘What if I thought of it as normal… just a little more normal?’
In most sword styles, efficiency was key—multiple movements could be contained in a single mana cycle.
Kundel-style used separate mana for each form to maximize destructive power.
At least up to the basic forms, that was how he’d learned.
“…!”
His eyes lit with realization.
A flash of insight struck him.
Delrev halted and steadied his breathing.
‘Normal.’
He had always seen the family swordsmanship as special.
But taking one step back—he realized something.
‘Put two forms into one breath.’
Up until now, that had been the problem.
One breath, one form.
His breathing speed simply couldn’t keep up with the movement speed.
But what if one breath held two movements?
Just like ordinary swordsmanship.
What if he let go of the fixation on “special”?
He filled one breath with two forms—
And—
“I did it.”
Ecstasy washed over him as he completed form 7 for the first time.
The destructive power was weaker; one breath held limited mana.
But it didn’t matter—he succeeded.
‘It was that simple…’
Now he just needed to gradually increase breathing speed.
Why had he never realized this before?
No one knew Delrev was training form 7.
He had practiced alone because he wanted to achieve it alone.
And he really did achieve it alone.
‘I don’t need to cling to one path.’
If one path was difficult, he could take another.
As long as he reached the destination in the end.
Not just form 7—he felt he’d gained a major life lesson.
And that enlightenment came entirely from Ziehl.
“Thank you, sir.”
Delrev bowed deeply with gratitude.
‘His advice was perfect.’
From a single comment, Ziehl had given him insight.
Ziehl’s status in his heart rose once again.
Maybe because he trained twice today, fatigue hit him suddenly.
“Sir, may I head back now?”
Ziehl checked his pocket watch and nodded.
“It’s late. Go on, Delrev Kundel.”
As expected of him.
He didn’t brag or act superior at all.
‘He’s so damn cool…’
Meanwhile—
What exactly is he thanking me for?
Ziehl still had no idea why Delrev had thanked him.
And—
‘That assistant, Tiron.’
Ziehl had already sensed someone observing him from the bushes.
Two days before the prelims
“Professor Ziehl, as I mentioned last time, you only need to be present during the prelims.”
Ziehl met with Assistant Tiron before class.
“There’s nothing special you need to do. According to the professors, just think of it as gaining experience.”
“Understood.”
“The stamina tests will be graded by me and the other assistants, while the professors will handle the sword evaluations.”
Tiron handed him a document.
“Oh, and the test categories are written here. Two stamina events and two sword events.”
“They added another criterion for swordsmanship.”
Originally, swordsmanship was judged by sparring.
But now, sword dance had been added.
“Yes. Apparently it was decided in the professors’ meeting.”
“For what reason?”
“No idea. They didn’t explain that far.”
Sword dance evaluated artistic beauty—
how beautiful one’s sword movements were in empty air.
From Ziehl’s perspective, it had no meaning, no efficiency, and no practicality.
At least the weight was low—around 10%.
‘Someone must’ve paid donations again.’
If something in a smooth system changed suddenly, it meant someone benefited.
Tiron recalled last year’s prelims.
There had been a shocking incident:
Rowan Valkyr, the second son of the Valkyr family—one of the Five Great Houses—had been eliminated.
By a very narrow margin, and with terrible matchups.
‘Didn’t the Valkyr family give the third-largest donation this year?’
The picture was clear.
They wanted to ensure Rowan Valkyr, now a second-year, made it into the exchange meet.
Besides, the Valkyr family was famous for beautiful swordsmanship.
There were stories of opponents being so mesmerized by their movements that they didn’t even realize they were being attacked.
“Anyway, that’s the plan. Some students will be very depressed after failing. Please comfort them well.”
Tiron then whispered:
“I think… unless something strange happens, the ones chosen for the exchange meet will probably be Delrev and Celia. Ah, Maris also has a chance.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Oh, so Maris is borderline, right? A bit uncertain—”
“More will be chosen.”
“…Sorry?”
Ziehl glanced toward the students preparing for class.
“Ten of the students I teach will be selected.”
“….”
Tiron wasn’t shocked—he was dumbfounded.
‘Where is this confidence coming from?’
It was obvious who the top candidates were.
Only Delrev and Celia were from the Five Great Houses in this year’s first-year class.
But that didn’t mean the remaining students were weak.
Especially among the 60 students Ziehl didn’t teach—there were plenty of strong ones.
‘Well… he’s free to delude himself.’
Tiron shrugged.
After dealing with Professor Elkanto for so long, he was used to people saying strange things.
“That’s one way to see it. Oh, and lastly—the department head will attend the prelims.”
He waited for Ziehl to react nervously.
“The department head is paying special attention to the first-year students.”
The Sword School’s department head—
the pinnacle of the Sword School, former captain of the Imperial Knights.
Even high nobles would bow their heads before him.
“Yes. Understood.”
But Ziehl simply responded calmly.
“That was the last item, correct? No more instructions?”
‘What kind of guy is this?’
He wasn’t even pretending to be nervous.
“A-ah, yes. That’s all.”
“Then I’ll go teach.”
As Ziehl walked away, Tiron’s misunderstandings deepened again.
“Is he not even afraid of the department head…?”
His backing must be enormous.
No one knew the truth, but surely it was extraordinary.
‘If Delrev Kundel respects him so much… does House Kundel know something?’
Just a few nights ago—
Tiron had passed by the staff dorms and seen Delrev training with Ziehl watching over him.
And Delrev had bowed deeply and expressed sincere gratitude.
‘There’s something going on.’
Questions upon questions.
Misunderstandings piling upon misunderstandings.
Layer after layer.
“What kind of person was he before coming here…?”
But Tiron didn’t dare investigate.
Someone with powerful backing meant: don’t dig into their past.
Tiron wanted to live a long life.
‘I can’t die before becoming a professor. No way.’
He hurried out of the hall—
Completely unaware of what would happen in the prelims two days later.
