How to Teach a Hero at the Academy Chapter 19 : Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Sword Forging Family (3)

“Look over there!”

Roberta shouted, pulling on Ernst's collar.

“Demian-oppa is eating dirt!”

Yeah, yeah. I'm watching.

Ernst muttered with a sullen expression. Serves you right, you bastard. I've always believed you'd end up in the mud soday. You should have stopped wandering around like such an empty-headed fool.

A listless smile spread across Ernst's lips. Demian, who had been flailing, wiped his eyes, then crumpled his expression as he checked the grains of sand on his hand. Is he a little pitiful? Ernst thought, tilting his head.

‘By the way…….’

Ernst let out a languid breath.

‘How did he dodge it?’

The crowd was steeped in astonishnt at Abel, who had thrown sand out of nowhere. A man of professorial status had, with a cool smile, thrown sand at a student for all to see. But Ernst's question was directed at the process leading up to the throwing of the sand.

‘He was so fast he was invisible.’

The act of ducking his body to avoid the blade.

The motion of grabbing sand, and scattering it.

It all happened in a fleeting mont.

‘I hate to admit it, but that Demian fellow's swordsmanship is superior to that of most knights.’

Ernst knew well what Demian had achieved.

Since they had been close since childhood.

As the eldest son of the Farenheit family, a renowned family of swordsmanship, Demian had renewed achievents worthy of shining the family na. A newly knighted knight would be no match for him, and even among his prodigy peers, Demian's swordsmanship was unparalleled. To have dodged the first attack of such a monstrous fellow, and to have taunted him for all to see……?

“I think you're right, Fleur.”

Just watching him make one move was enough.

The frawork of a ga is often easier to guess than one thinks.

Ernst decided to admit it cleanly.

Abel Argento is not just a forr commander.

“……Fleur?”

Ernst's eyes shifted towards Fleur.

Fleur was not looking at Abel or Demian, but at Monika, who was standing at a distance. Ernst's gaze moved to Monika. A lusterless prosthetic arm revealed beyond her sleeve. Sharp eyes that didn't match her thin fra. Ernst felt an unknown chill from Monika's amber eyes.

‘Is that…….’

The expression of a commoner child who finds it difficult to talk?

No way. She looks like she's about to chew his eyeballs out.

While Ernst was feeling suspicious, Fleur smiled and waved at Monika. Fleur's blue eyes, glistening with moisture. Monika, captured within them, indifferently turned her head.

“……This is ridiculous.”

To think she'd greet .

That damned bitch.

After letting out a small curse, Monika stared at Abel, who was facing Demian.

‘I want to beco stronger.’

She vaguely guessed. How much effort would it take to beco as strong as Teacher Abel? Recalling the ti they overturned the base of the two-tongued Tarkan, Abel's combat style was so cold it made one's blood run cold. That's why even the act of throwing sand at Demian felt questionable. A trivial provocation should be unnecessary for Teacher.

‘Of course, this is also…….’

Very much like him.

Monika conceded, shrugging.

Teacher Abel, has a knack for pissing people off.

“You threw sand.”

Demian recited in a low voice.

Seuk, and. The sand grains flowed gracefully as Demian's hand tilted.

“The most important thing in combat is vision.”

Abel said with a stoic expression.

“That is why I tried using sand. You're not offended, are you? A knight must know how to use everything he can get his hands on as a weapon. If you can't, you won't be able to touch my body.”

“──Let's see about that!”

Demian's body shot forward as if leaping.

A clear trajectory engraved on the sandy path.

The blunt blade shot out and cut the wind, and a footprint like a wide-open eye was stamped down beside Abel. But a whisper reached Demian's ear.

“My grandmother's kitchen knife would be faster.”

A voice that grew distant in an instant.

Demian's blade had rely cut its tip.

Large, and small. Narrow, and wide.

Demian poured out his sword strikes, chasing Abel's movents. And so, he was certain. It's like the mouth sounds of a child who has just learned to sing. There was no rule given to Abel's movents.

‘And yet why…….’

Can't I reach him.

Demian bit his lower lip.

“It was a lie.”

Again, a whisper reached Demian's ear.

“I don't even know my grandmother's face. You're quite skilled.”

At the taunting praise, Demian's heart grew cold.

At this, his left hand opened. It supported the end of the hilt.

As it was, he put his right foot between Abel's legs, then swung the blade back as if wrapping around the empty air. For a mont, Abel's gaze wavered. The tip of Demian's blade, extended. It spread in all directions as if distorted by rainwater.

‘Not bad.’

A faint smile hung on Abel's lips.

Nuros Formal Swordsmanship, 37th Section, ‘Fox Rain’.

A technique of nimbly extending the blade while feigning a heavy downpour, as if violating the law of weight bound to the sword. There would be few knights in the capital who could perfectly execute that. Abel duly acknowledged Demian's talent.

‘But it's not enough.’

Abel's footprint, chewing up the ground.

A blade that was quickly extended. It was not aid at Demian. Abel deeply stabbed the wooden doll that had been stuck behind him. And so, udeuk, and.

The fra of the wooden doll that had been stuck in the ground was revealed. The wooden doll, pierced through by Abel's blade. Demian's mouth opened as he looked at it.

‘Did he……, pull it out with force?’

A brutish plan. But effective.

If Demian's blade was a descending downpour, the wooden doll pierced by Abel's blade was a seamless umbrella. Therefore, he must stop. He should stop his motion, but it was impossible to take back the downpour he had poured out with all his might.

“──Kkeueuk!”

The wooden doll struck Demian's body whole. A shock as if being swept away by a giant blunt weapon. Demian's movents faltered powerlessly.

‘I'm going to fall!’

Demian clenched his teeth. Demian's blade, just barely stabbing into the ground. He maintained his posture by adding strength to his lower body.

Good. I endured it. I didn't fall. While half of his body throbbed, Demian swallowed his breath and lifted his head.

- He's not an ogre with a club or anything……

- That's not it, look at his speed. Does that make sense?

The onlookers were murmuring and scanning Abel. Abel himself was trampling on the wooden doll with a languid expression.

“Why did you not use magic.”

Abel asked Demian. Tookang, and. The training longsword that had been stuck in the wooden doll was pulled out. Abel roughly wiped its blade with the hem of his clothes.

“I know you also have talent in divine magic. You could have blocked it if you had mobilized a defensive spell.”

“That's absurd.”

Demian, who had been panting, wore a smile.

“Your movents were too fast, Professor. I didn't have ti to recite a cast.”

“No, it was different. You didn't even try to calculate the gap. It must be because you thought it was far from being fair and square. To mobilize magic in a duel between knights is……”

“I'll admit it.”

A hollow laugh escaped Demian's lips.

“I have been taught about honor since I was young. My father always used to say. Do not forsake your honor even if you are defeated. For honor is the heart of a knight.”

“That's a funny story.”

Abel's steps were directed at Demian.

“A heart is just an organ inside the body. A slave's heart, and a king's heart, there is only one. In the end, those who can protect their honor even if they are defeated are only those with power that transcends victory and defeat.”

While facing the blade, Abel had gained insight several tis. Demian was a student with exceptional talent. There was only one regrettable point. His rigid thinking was blocking his room for growth. A good environnt, good teachings, and a good heart were rather having a negative effect.

‘He lacks application. Even his way of thinking.’

Even if he were to hone his skills as he is, it would be possible to reach a high level. But he was concerned. The chaos that would co with the advent of the Demon King would rcilessly shake Demian's values.

“Pick up your sword, Demian. The duel is not over.”

“……I know.”

Demian pulled out the sword that had been stabbed into the ground.

Demian's hand, barely supporting the hilt. It was trembling. Abel let out a sigh and shook his head. It would be fine if he just mobilized a healing spell, but why……

‘What that child needs is not a good teacher.’

He will need a bad teacher.

A teacher who makes him have a rebellious feeling towards the teachings. A teacher who makes him repeatedly doubt, and eventually desire to surpass. What Demian needed was such an existence. Convinced of this, Abel opened his mouth.

“I have heard of the fa that the Farenheit family has built. They say that the heads of the family have all left their nas as knights without exception. I know it is all thanks to the secret techniques written by their ancestors. You will also soon be able to view it.”

“That is correct. The secret techniques of the Farenheit family are only given to honorable knights……”

“No need to say more. If your father is a truly upright knight, you will not be able to inherit what you desire.”

Demian's gaze widened.

Is this a provocation? Throwing sand, mobilizing a wooden doll. Is it an extension of the plan that had disturbed my mind? Demian tried to guess, pouring strength into his hilt.

No. It's different from that.

What lurked beyond Abel's lifeless blackish-blue eyes. It was a clear sincerity. Professor Argento is trying to deny my knighthood entirely. Demian's expression trembled as he sensed this.

“Demian von Fernando Farenheit, I guarantee it. You will not be able to reach the realm you have wished for.”

Along with a declaration as light as a snowflake,

Heundeul, and.

Abel's wide-open eyes were cast beside Demian. It was in an instant. The languid expression that had been firm all along was gone. It's not the gaze of a person. It's closer to the eyes of a rock. As Demian was about to step back, having such a thought,

‘……Aura Blade?’

Demian's gray eyes flashed. A translucent streak of light on Abel's blade. It was undoubtedly Aura. There were many Holy Knights who had achieved Aura within the Farenheit family, and Demian had no difficulty in being certain.

‘I've never seen such an Aura.’

An Aura so clear and transparent, and therefore so overwhelming.

Not only had he never seen it, he had never even heard of it. An Aura is woven from belief and is bound to be radiant. Why is it a color as empty as a margin?

“The gas are over, Demian.”

The blade gripped by Abel shot up towards Demian.

Demian's stance collapsed. It was because of instinct. I must not touch that. I have to avoid it no matter what. A pure fear took root in his mind. Demian swallowed a scream in front of the descending blade. That was the best he could do.

But silence.

And soon, a murmur.

The training longsword that Abel had been holding was gone. To be precise, it was scattering. Turning into powder, finely ground. It was fluttering, swept away by the wind like sleet. What on earth had happened? While the students were suspecting, Demian sensed the answer.

‘The sword couldn't withstand it.’

The sword had not been able to withstand Abel's Aura.

The students probably didn't even notice that Abel had woven an Aura. Since it had all happened in an instant. Demian believed so without a doubt.

‘In that brief mont…….’

The Aura had cut several tis. Hundreds of tis, thousands of tis. More than that. Countlessly. It had cut until it turned to powder. In the end, even the sword with the Aura Blade on it had crumbled.

‘Is there even a sword that can withstand that?’

Even though it was just a training longsword, it was an item made of steel that was guaranteed to be of the highest quality.

It's an absurd power. A truly ridiculous power.

Demian looked up at Abel, steeped in astonishnt.

Forgetting even the fact that he was helplessly sprawled out.

‘Shall I leave him so advice.’

anwhile, Abel pondered, leaning towards Demian.

‘What advice does this child need.’

Advice that would guide him to break free from a pretense like chivalry and create his own path. A smile spread across Abel's lips as he considered this. And so, he whispered into Demian's ear.

“Hey, young master.”

Did you pee yourself or sothing?

and.

“Ah, ah, ah……”

Demian's face turned red. Trembling lips. The sound of teeth chattering. The inner thoughts stained with fear scattered, and a pure sense of humiliation, not based on anything, soared. Finally, Demian's mouth opened and a voice leaked out.

“──Sir Abel Argento!”

A scream-like roar echoed.

* * *

“Did you really have to go that far?”

Abel's office.

Monika, who had been sitting facing the round table, opened her mouth.

“You provoked Demian Senior on purpose, didn't you?”

That sunbae……, he seed like a good person.

At Monika's whisper, Abel shrugged his shoulders once and picked up a towel. The regular sound of wiping his beloved sword. Monika let out a sigh and propped her chin on her hand.

Stark surroundings.

A single round table placed in the center.

Abel's office was no different from the structure of his dormitory. A wardrobe, a round table, and one chair. Thanks to that, Monika had to procure a folding chair again.

‘He's really a strange person.’

Monika turned over the textbook spread out before her.