Chapter 147: Intensive Training (1)

Chapter 147: Intensive Training (1)

“But there’s a condition. You are prohibited from sparring among yourselves for the remainder of the month.”

“Huh? Why?”

Ronan tilted his head at the unexpected statement. Shullifen seemed equally puzzled, hesitating in response. Navirose spoke up.

“We need to determine the better one between you two. You two have very similar skills. While training through sparring as usual is good, this time, try a different approach.”

“Different how?”

“Yeah. Try to devise a method to significantly surpass your opponent over the next month.”

“Aha.”

It finally clicked for Ronan as he raised an eyebrow. It was indeed a fresh suggestion. Navirose, having cleared her throat, began to convey her intent outright.

“Most people can’t match their ambition with their abilities and end up frustrated. It’s a foreign concept to those like you, blessed with such potential.”

“That applies to the instructor as well, doesn’t it?”

“Enough chatter. I hope this opportunity allows you to feel the desperation and determination of ordinary individuals. Doing whatever it takes to become stronger...”

Navirose raised the corner of her mouth, her creepy smile akin to that of a scientist observing an intriguing experiment.

Though part of him felt like screaming, spit on the ground while declaring that he’s not a puppet for them, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to lose to Shullifen, even if it meant sacrificing a lot.

Ronan raised his hand to ask a question.

“But what if by ‘whatever it takes,’ we end up doing something extreme? Like drinking the blood of a newborn to improve our strength.”

“If you were those kinds, I wouldn’t have to command it. I would’ve killed you myself. Don’t disgrace your good nature.”

“Ugh...”

Ronan’s face turned red. It was a statement reminiscent of what he’d said to Elizabeth just the other day. Navirose smiled as if finding his reaction adorable.

“You both are strong. Your abilities are more than sufficient. Honestly, I can confidently say that 70% of the swordsmen won’t even stand a chance against either of you.”

“Even in an officially recognized setting, there are that many incompetent brats?”

“Yes. But it’s not just a gathering of amateurs. The world is vast, and talent is abundant. Among the remaining 30%, there might be a swordsman strong enough to pose a challenge to you...”

Navirose trailed off. With averted eyes, she glanced back at the two.

“...There might even be the next potential candidate to push that old cat aside.”

There was a hint of sorrow in her beautiful gaze. She seemed not entirely recovered from the despair of realizing she couldn’t surpass Zaifa.

‘Well, those wounds aren’t going to heal so easily.’

Her wavering gaze seemed to speak volumes. Navirose spoke again after a brief silence.

“Dismissed now. You don’t need to attend classes for the remainder of the month.”

The announcement was over. Ronan and Shullifen left the arena and headed towards the training grounds. The sunset streamed through the spires along the streets. Shullifen, who had been walking silently, spoke up.

“I have no intention of losing to you.”

“Who says that?”

“I hope you’ll give it your all, Ronan. Because I certainly will.”

Ronan turned his head as Shullifen was already staring at him.

Though serious in most matters, today he seemed even more solemn. It felt burdensome. Ronan turned his gaze forward again.

“...Come down first.”

“Do not speak to me in a commanding tone.””

“For crying out loud... could you please come down?”

The young man nodded as Ronan insisted. Descending, his wings folded, disappearing into his body, eliciting gasps from all around. It was almost as if he was summoning the entire student body.

“Itargand. Within the academy, try to walk as much as possible. Unless you want ‘Dragon’ written across your forehead.”

“Why should I?”

“For heaven’s sake, if you want to get stronger, you should learn and work like a human. Effort doesn’t matter, but if your identity gets exposed, it might hinder your learning significantly.”

Itargand tilted his head. It felt overwhelming to have to explain such things step by step. He had to endure it. Taking a deep breath, Ronan spoke again.

“You’re a Dragon. Think of it the other way around. If I polymorphed into a Dragon and went to your city, but was discovered to be human, how would you feel?”

“Fair enough. I understand.”

Fortunately, Itargand was intelligent. He immediately grasped that if his Dragon identity got exposed, students might either ridicule him or scream and run away. Itargand said.

“I completed the enrollment procedures as you suggested. Can this really help me become stronger?”

“Naturally. There’s no way it won’t.”

Ronan confidently reassured him. He had coerced Itargand into enrolling at the Philleon Academy. It was to fulfill the promise of teaching him how to become stronger.

Although Kratir was taken aback, he somehow accepted his enrollment. Ronan passionately convinced him by showing how a lion walking on two legs could teach students, so why couldn’t a Dragon attend classes? Thanks to that, Itargand ended up attending the Philleon Academy for a year. He was the first Dragon freshman since the school’s founding.

“Human beings here seem to be quite competent, just as you said.”

“Well, it’s where the continent’s top talents gather.”

“I’ll follow your suggestion. I don’t know what I can achieve in such a short time, but...”

Itargand hesitated, as if not comprehending. For him, a year’s time was almost equivalent to a few days for humans.

Ronan’s proposed method was to learn and strive. It was so straightforward that if a human heard it, they might even feel a murderous impulse.

However, effort and learning were relatively rare concepts among the Dragon race, who were essentially completed beings. In a way, it was similar to what Navirose had mentioned earlier about the ‘privileged class.’

The physical talent was already unquestionably excellent. A Red Dragon, and a direct descendant of Navarodoje—it was almost expected. Ronan believed that with the right mindset, Itargand could far surpass other Dragons.

“Alright then. Let’s meet again in a month.”

“A month? Why?”

“The man named Kratir said that he needed to have discussions with the professors, so he asked me to take a short break and come back. It’s good timing; I needed to visit my mother.”

Itargand said matter-of-factly. Ronan’s eyes widened. It felt like he had discovered the final piece of the meticulously planned training regimen.

“So... it means you have time for a month, right?”

“Yeah.”

Itargand nodded. A smirk crept up Ronan’s mouth. A Dragon, rapid growth rate, and a sparring partner who can replace Shullifen.

After exchanging a few words, they walked side by side toward the club training grounds. That day, Itargand didn’t return to the Dragon city of Adren.

****

And so, a month passed. Wounded and wielding his sword, Ronan shouted.

“Faster!”

“Kraaaah!”

Swoosh! The tip of Ronan’s sword lightly grazed Itargand’s chest as it passed.