After leaving the building, Mike and the others moved as one toward the martial arts class, while Mario and Ron, followed by the young man, headed to Instructor David.
About fifteen minutes later, they arrived at an open-field training ground. A small stage stood at one side, with a weapon rack displaying swords of various types—iron, steel, and wood.
The area was already crowded with academy students, numbering roughly two hundred.
Mario and Ron took their place at the back, waiting with the others.
"Looks like most of the students here are from our class," Ron remarked, noting the sea of identical gray uniforms, with only a few wearing white or black.
Mario simply nodded in response.
Ten minutes later…
A brown-haired man with a lean, muscular build, dressed in a crisp black instructor uniform adorned with a small sword crest on his chest, slowly ascended the stage—Instructor David.
He stopped at the center and surveyed the roughly two hundred students before him.
A slight frown appeared as he noticed most were clad in gray academy uniforms with gold-trimmed seams—a class overseen by Seth.
Raising his voice, he said, "Didn't Seth tell you that if you've already mastered the fundamentals of basic and advanced swordsmanship, you should go to the main instructor instead of me?"
"…Or don't tell me all of you are complete beginners, because I simply wouldn't believe it." His gaze sharpened, sweeping over the students, causing most to flinch under his scrutiny.
Despite the pressure, a hand timidly rose among the students.
Instructor David's gaze fell on a brown-haired young man, his hand shaking slightly. "What is it?"
The student flinched at the question before speaking in a low voice, "…Sir, Instructor Seth didn't tell us that."
David's frown deepened. 'Did he forget again?'
'…Looks like he's still dealing with the aftereffects of that spell…' he sighed quietly.
Eventually, he shook his head and said, "As you can see on your academy watch map, there's more than one swordsmanship instructor. The ones with shining crests next to their names are the main instructors."
"They are responsible for guiding you in beginning your sword cultivation, while I focus solely on teaching and overseeing the basics and advanced fundamentals."
Hearing that, Ron tapped Mario on the shoulder. "Let's go."
But Mario didn't move. He met Ron's gaze with a calm expression. "I still haven't mastered the fundamentals."
He lied with perfect composure.
"You mean you're new to swordsmanship?" Ron asked, slightly confused as he looked at Mario's physique. "Then how come your body looks… more developed than mine?"
"I trained," Mario replied simply.
Seeing Ron still skeptical, he added, "Also, some middle-aged man from the hotel I was staying at gave me a free sample of first-stage cleansing."
"A… free sample?" Ron studied Mario's face carefully. 'Are people actually giving out cleansing treatments now? Why didn't they give us any?'
Finding no hint of deceit, Ron could only shrug. "Okay. Take care then." He walked off with the other youths who were leaving.
After a few minutes, the open training ground had thinned significantly, leaving only around fifty youths behind.
'They really do look alike…' Mario thought, his gaze fixed on David's face.
In truth, he could have followed Ron and begun swordsmanship cultivation immediately. He already understood the fundamentals—his body simply needed to catch up to that knowledge, and with enough effort, it wouldn't take long. At most, a week.
However, he had chosen this instructor for a reason. The first time he saw David's profile on the academy watch, his face had been identical to the Chain User from his second simulation memories.
'Are they the same person… or just look alike?'
Seeing that only around fifty students remained, Instructor David nodded.
"Now, let's begin—"
"Sir!"
His words were cut off by a hand rising from the crowd. He glanced over and saw a black-haired, blue-eyed young man.
"What is it?" David asked, a trace of irritation in his voice.
The young man scratched his cheek, forcing an awkward smile. "Um… Instructor, I was just wondering… why were they separated from us?"
"And why have they already begun their sword cultivation, while we still need to practice the fundamentals?"
David's frown deepened, but he exhaled slowly and composed himself. "I was just getting to that—but of course, you had to interrupt."
He gave the young man a small, amused smile, which made the student flinch ever so slightly.
"I'm sorry…" The young man lowered his head.
Seeing that, Instructor David let it slide and continued, "Anyway—the reason for the separation is simple. There are different tests: one for those new to cultivation who haven't yet learned the fundamentals, and another for those who could afford private instruction or specialized training from a young age."
"...That's how our academy prioritizes—"
"Sir!"
David's words were cut off again. He glanced up and saw the same young man raising his hand. His eyebrow twitched. "What is it now?"
"Um… Sorry again, sir. I was just curious—if they're wealthy, why don't they simply cultivate at home instead of attending the academy?" The young man asked hesitantly, bowing his head once more.
Instructor David didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned slightly forward and asked, "What's your name?"
The student slowly lifted his gaze, meeting David's intent stare. He swallowed hard before replying in a quiet voice, "Zenith, sir."
Instructor David nodded, committing the name to memory.
He shifted his focus away from Zenith and addressed the entire group. "The answer is simple: no one has been allowed to cultivate privately since the war and the establishment of the academies."
"As for the reason behind that… well, some things aren't as simple as they seem."
"Any other questions?" Instructor David glanced back at Zenith—only to find the young man no longer standing in his original spot.
Scanning the students, he immediately spotted Zenith crouching at the back.
Instructor David took a slow breath, composed himself, and chose to ignore him, continuing on. "Now, since none of you have yet mastered the fundamentals of swordsmanship, we'll begin there."
"Swordsmanship fundamentals are essential before beginning cultivation. Why? Because they prepare you, ensuring that your understanding won't falter when you start cultivating. By mastering the fundamentals, you'll also find it much easier to grasp swordsmanship techniques—a requirement for reaching the Beginner Swordsman rank."
He cleared his throat. "So, what exactly are these fundamentals?"
Instructor David scanned the youths, expecting a response, but no hands went up—clearly, they were hesitant to interrupt him.
With a resigned sigh, he continued. "Swordsmanship has two main categories of fundamentals: Basic and Advanced, each further divided into minor ones. One month is not enough to fully memorize and master both, so we'll start with the Basic Fundamentals."
He paused, then approached the weapon rack and pulled out an iron sword. Walking down the stage toward the training dummies, he explained, "The Basic Fundamentals are broken down into minor areas: Stance, Strikes and Cuts, Defense and Parry, and finally, Advancing."
Upon reaching the training dummies, he stopped in front of one.
"What I'm going to show you is the difference between a strike with proper stance and one without."
Instructor David unsheathed the iron sword and made a casual vertical strike at the dummy.
Thunk~
The blade cut into the dummy but got stuck halfway.
"See? This is a strike without proper stance—just brute force." He pointed at the jagged, uneven cut.
Sheathing the sword, he moved to another dummy. "All of you, watch carefully."
He stepped forward, planting his front foot firmly, his rear foot rooted to the ground. Slightly bending his knees, he balanced his weight. Slowly, he raised the sword above his head, adjusted his grip, relaxed his shoulders, and straightened his posture.
He exhaled and brought the sword down.
Swish~
The dummy split cleanly in half.
Instructor David turned calmly to face the students. "That," he said, "is the difference when a strike is paired with proper stance."
The crowd of youths fell silent, many murmuring quietly to each other.
"Beautiful…" a female student whispered, eyes wide with awe.
"Yeah… at first I thought all you needed was strength to brute-force it," the student beside her added, nodding in agreement.
"Ahem!" Instructor David's sharp cough immediately stilled the chatter.
"Now that I've demonstrated the difference, can anyone explain it to me?" he asked, scanning the students.
Mario, though he knew the answer perfectly, stayed silent, his hand unmoving.
Moments passed, then three hands slowly rose among the fifty students.
David's gaze landed on them. One was the brown-haired young man from earlier, the second an unfamiliar young woman.
His eyebrow twitched as he noticed the third—Zenith. He chose to ignore him for now, shifting his attention back to the first student.
"You," he said.
All eyes turned toward the brown-haired young man, who stiffened under the scrutiny.
"Uh… S-Sir, I think it's the weight… and how strength is distributed," he stammered, hesitation clear in his voice.
David nodded, unfazed. "Go on. Why do you think that?"
The student inhaled sharply, steadying himself. "Sir… when you struck without a proper stance, the weight stayed on the sword, and the strength came only from your shoulder. With the proper stance, the weight is distributed across your whole body, and your shoulders relax, letting you use less strength while the sword's own weight finishes the motion."
Instructor David nodded in approval.
The brown-haired young man gulped. "…That's all I noticed, sir." He looked at David, anxious for any sign of praise.
Seeing that, Instructor David nodded slightly and praised the young man. "Good observation. Now, tell me—what's your name?"
"R-Rowan, sir," the young man stammered, beaming at the praise.
David noted the name, then turned his attention to the young woman. "And you?"
"Sir, I think the same," she said confidently.
David shook his head slightly, a hint of disappointment crossing his face, making her flush with embarrassment.
He paused, taking a deep breath before pointing at the last student. "...And you?"
Zenith stepped forward, scratching his cheek with a sheepish smile. "Um… actually, sir, I don't really understand it…"
David's eyebrows twitched, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he slightly clenched his fist behind him. '…Is he doing this on purpose?'
After a moment, he asked, "...Then why did you raise your hand?"
For some reason, a chill ran down Zenith's spine. He stammered, "S-Sir… I didn't understand, but I feel like I can imitate it. I just… feel it."
Hearing that, David studied him closely. Seeing no trace of deceit in his eyes, he fell into thought. 'A feeling…?'
After a brief silence, he said, "Show me."
Zenith hesitated before stepping forward, stopping a few paces away—as if instinctively keeping his distance.
David approached instead, causing Zenith to unconsciously take a step back. Though he noticed, he said nothing and simply handed him the iron sword.
"Have you ever held a sword before?"
Zenith shook his head, forcing himself not to retreat further.
David's gaze swept over his physique—lean, with a slight layer of fat and only faint traces of muscle. Clearly, he hadn't undergone proper training.
Zenith accepted the sword.
"Lift it," David instructed.
Zenith raised the sword above his head.
"Can you control it?"
"Barely, sir," Zenith admitted, feeling its weight strain his arms.
"Then take a wooden sword from the rack." David gestured toward the stage before taking the iron sword back.
Zenith nodded and quickly retrieved a wooden sword, returning to stand before him.
"Now, show me."
Zenith closed his eyes, recalling David's stance. Slowly, he adjusted his footing, forming a rough imitation.
He raised the wooden sword above his head, then opened his eyes.
Exhaling deeply, he brought it down.
Swoosh~
Seeing that, a hint of surprise flashed in Instructor David's eyes.
Although the stance was rough and the swing unrefined, the essence behind the strike was there—it simply lacked proper execution.
Based on his experience, with a few adjustments, Zenith's strike could become near perfect.
At that thought, David couldn't help but look at Zenith with a trace of appreciation. The irritation he had felt earlier gradually faded. '...A talent.'
Most of the surrounding students failed to grasp what was remarkable about it, their attention instead fixed on David's reaction.
Meanwhile, Mario's brows furrowed.
He studied Zenith's face carefully, finding it faintly familiar.
But even after Zenith returned to his spot, Mario couldn't place where he had seen that face before.
In the end, he set the thought aside.
'Zenith, huh…' Mario repeated inwardly, committing the name to memory.