I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple Episode 59

Episode 59

Evan imdiately protested, "T-this is ridiculous. I can't eat just because I don't have enough points?"

"Who said you can't eat?" the knight replied casually. "I said you can't set foot in the dining hall. Eat plenty tomorrow morning."

Oh gods, what nonsense is this?!

Evan's face flushed crimson. Although he was a noble with modest sensibilities, his father had always taught him never to tolerate insults, no matter the circumstances.

Taking a deep breath, Evan prepared to give the knight a piece of his mind.

"Stop your bullshit!"

But the shout didn't co from Evan. It ca from a young man behind him, who had been stopped by another knight.

This guy... His na should be Hans Vander. Evan was sure he'd had a point deducted earlier.

"This might be the Badniker family's domain, but you can't treat , Hans Vander, like this! If you don't serve a al right now—"

Hans' words were cut short as he was sent flying, tumbling across the ground with a loud thud.

"C-cough...!"

Hans appeared dazed, unsure of what had just happened, but Evan had seen it clearly—the knight had kicked him.

The knight sneered. "What were you saying? That I should serve you well?"

"H-how dare you treat like this?" Hans stamred, still struggling to regain his composure.

"You signed the pledge with your own hands, didn't you, Hero Disciple Hans? If you are hungry, go chew on so grass. Stop causing a scene here."

Hans scrambled to his feet and said defiantly, "I'm quitting! I'm leaving this training camp right now! Send back now!"

"I will be in charge of this idiot from now on," the knight said with a sigh. "Hans Vander, my na is Rogers. Please take good care of during the rest of this training camp."

As Rogers approached, Hans paled and retreated. "S-stay back! Don't co near ! If you lay a single finger on — Ack!"

Following this, a sound akin to a pig being slaughtered echoed across the training grounds.

Having witnessed the entire ordeal, Evan turned his gaze forward.

The knight standing in front of the dining hall asked, "Hero Disciple Evan, do you have anything to say?"

Evan stared at the knight with a distant gaze. "Not at all, instructor."

***

After the al, an instructor briefed the hero disciples on the rules.

"If there are no evening classes, your ti is your own. However, leaving the training grounds or approaching the instructors' quarters is strictly prohibited. Break these rules, and you'll face the consequences. You'll have no one to bla but yourselves."

It was only then that Evan noticed the gleaming building to the right—the instructors' quarters.

This is a three-story building on the verge of collapsing, Evan thought.

In contrast, the six-story building on the other side was impressively designed, its interior undoubtedly well-equipped.

"By the way, basic clothing and essential supplies will be distributed tonight," the instructor continued. "Collect them in order at the training ground."

The clothes they received were called hero disciple attire. While the design was plain, they were noticeably shabby and carried a musty odor.

"Instructor, none of these fit ," Evan said.

"Just wear whatever fits," the instructor replied dismissively.

"Yes, sir."

The only redeeming quality was the fabric's durability. It seed unlikely to tear, no matter how much they rolled around. Still, Evan muttered, "The fit is terrible."

"Now's not the ti to complain about the fit," the instructor snapped.

The hero disciples' building was simple in layout. The first floor housed a lounge, the second floor was for female disciples, and the third for males. Naturally, crossing into each other's territories was forbidden unless under special circumstances.

Perhaps for this reason, most hero disciples gathered in the lounge. Though it was little more than a wooden table, chairs, and a fireplace, with only crumpled cards and a few battered books for entertainnt, it was preferable to their cramped, shabby rooms.

Evan sat at a table with a friend, staring blankly at the fireplace.

"By the way, how's the food at the dining hall, Charis?"

Charis Earthman was Evan's friend. They had lived near each other since childhood, and their families frequently exchanged visits, so they had grown up almost like brothers. They had also deliberately tid their participation in the blessing ceremony and agreed to join the training camp together.

"It's better than I expected," Charis said. "The portions are generous, so you can eat as much as you want. But the knights keep a sharp eye on everyone, which makes it a bit uncomfortable."

"I see," Evan replied, gulping down water. "Ugh, I am starving."

Fortunately, the lounge had a water supply, so they could drink freely.

"How about your roommate? Did you get soone decent?" Evan asked.

"He is a dwarf. Not bad, but I think he snores. What about you?"

"I'm not sure yet," Evan answered.

"Who is it?" Charis pressed.

After a mont of hesitation, Evan finally said, "Luan Badniker."

"Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Wow." Charis made a sign of the cross, his expression weary. "You are off to a rough start since day one."

"Well, he seems different from the rumors. He might actually be a decent person," Evan said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Decent? You've heard the rumors about that lunatic. He sold the Badniker family's treasure sword—"

Charis abruptly stopped speaking. Soone had just appeared at the top of the stairs.

Not just anyone—it was Luan Badniker himself.

That wasn't all. The boy strode confidently over to their table and plopped down beside them.

"It is definitely better here than being locked in a room. There are also books here. The Important Thing is an Unbreakable Heart? Is this a cultural book? Great title," Luan said casually, flipping through the pages.

Evan and Charis fell silent. This was Luan Badniker, after all.

The two of them exchanged uneasy glances.

Did he hear us? Evan wondered.

I don't know, Charis' look replied.

Then Charis forced an awkward smile and spoke up. "H-hello. I am Charis Earthman."

"Luan Badniker. I am the one who's moved on from the crazy act of selling treasure swords," Luan replied with a smirk.

He had definitely heard them.

Charis imdiately hit his head. "I'm so—"

"Relax, it's a joke. I just ca over because you seed like my roommate's friend. Thought I'd introduce myself."

"Ah, I see."

"You said your na is Charis Earthman, right?"

"T-that's right."

"You can speak casually. We're probably around the sa age."

"Uh, can I? No, but..."

Charis knew better than to take the words of soone of higher status at face value. The statent likely ant, "If you're too polite, it makes uncomfortable. Keep it moderate. But rember, if you're not polite at all, you may die."

He was certain of it.

"Oh, you must be from the north too," Luan remarked.

"You— No, you as well?"

"My mother is from Coland, but I have never been there."

"So that's why your hair color looks familiar."

Strangely, Luan is easy to talk to, they thought.

"Did you know that having too many blessings isn't necessarily a good thing? It can even be harmful," Luan said, steering the conversation.

"Is that so?"

"That's right."

Luan had a way with words.

"You've heard of the genius of the Max family, right?"

"Yeah, I've heard of him. He was considered a genius before receiving the blessing, but afterward, he beca average, right?"

"Exactly. The blessing consud his talent. If he hadn't received it and just focused on his swordsmanship, he'd have been much stronger."

Luan's points were sharp and well-articulated.

"Well, there's always an exception," Luan added.

"What exception?" Evan asked, curious.

"The head of our family. He is the only one who can handle the majority of blessings almost perfectly," Luan remarked.

"As expected, you are bragging about your family."

"That is how it is," Luan replied, unfazed.

He's actually not that bad, is he? Evan thought.

Charis shared Evan's impression

Before they knew it, a small crowd had gathered around them.

Charis noticed that most were fallen nobles, commoners, or mbers of other races—no more than ten people in total. This was unsurprising, as most descendants of the Great Families were well-known nobles.

"Flush! Good, that ans I win, doesn't it?"

"Idiot, are your eyes just for decoration? That isn't a heart; it is a diamond."

"Oops."

"Puhaha!"

Like most teenagers, they quickly bonded over shared monts. The training camp's unique environnt, which emphasized camaraderie, was perfect for fostering such connections. Soon, the hero disciples were joking comfortably or laughing as they played with a worn-out deck of cards.

Naturally, not everyone approved of such behavior.

One of the nobles frowned. "Aish. Can't you vulgar bastards shut your mouths?"

The atmosphere grew tense at the blatant insult, but Charis didn't want to cause trouble on the first day.

"Watch your tone," he said calmly.

"Is that all you have to say?" the noble shot back.

Charis didn't reply.

"Listen, commoners. Do you think we are equals just because we are rolling around together in a place like this? Know your place."

Charis' expression hardened. First, he had bowed humbly, only to be disrespected. Second, he wasn't even a commoner—though his family lacked the fa of the others present.

"Who are we talking to?"

"Do I have to explain that to you—"

The noble's words caught in his throat as his expression shifted. He had just noticed the person who intervened: Luan Badniker. No matter how many concessions Luan made, he could never be mistaken for a commoner.

The noble had heard rumors of Luan's notoriety and his precarious position within the family, but the Badniker na carried a weight that demanded respect, regardless of status.

Luan asked, "By the way, what is your na?"

"Hans Vander."

"Hans? Ah, the one who threw a tantrum in the dining hall and got beaten up by a knight."

Hans' face flushed, but Luan didn't care. "I know you are sensitive because you didn't get to eat dinner, but don't be too feisty. We will be seeing each other for the next six weeks to the point of getting sick of each other. It is good to get along."

"Hah! If you're a noble, you should know who's worth befriending and who isn't!" Hans felt proud for using informal speech even when addressing a Badniker.

Emboldened by his pride, he raised his voice. "And you lot over there? Once this training camp is over, I'll never have to see your faces again!"

"Hmm." Luan's brow furrowed, then he nodded. "Well, I've never heard of the na Hans Vander, so I guess you're not in the sa league as the rest of us here."

Hans flushed again at the implied insult. One defining trait of teenagers was their intolerance for insults.

"Y-you incompetent Badniker...!" Hans blurted out, then flinched, glancing at Luan to gauge his reaction.

Luan's expression didn't change.

He's all talk! Hans thought, his face brightening.

He smirked and continued, "What, are you losers sticking together because you're all talentless? Haha. You are a great match. No wonder you only got one or two blessings!"

At that mont, the main door swung open and a young man appeared. He had black hair, a rarity in the empire, and a face like a sculpture. It was Hector.

"Who's that...?"

Hans' face lit up. Though he knew little about the Badnikers' internal affairs, he was aware that Hector treated Luan with disdain.

"You are here, Hector!"

In addition, Hans was a talented individual eager to join Hector's side. Over the next few years, Hector would make a na for himself throughout the empire and possibly beco the head of the Badniker family. Hans had that much confidence in him.

Hector scanned the room. "What's going on?"

"Well, I had a minor issue with your younger brother," Hans said cautiously.

Even he knew better than to openly insult Luan in front of Hector. Despite Luan's pathetic nature, he was still a Badniker by blood.

"What kind of issue?" Hector pressed.

Hans scrambled to fra the situation in his favor, failing to notice that Hector's tone had grown noticeably colder.

"Your younger brother seems unaware of the Badniker na's value. Look at him, mingling with these lowly people. Hector, as his elder brother, you should say sothing—"

"Hans Vander," Hector interrupted him, puzzling Hans.

"Yes?"

"I'm surprised. I had no idea the Vander family's influence had grown so much."

"What?"

"You actually dare ddle in the Badnikers' affairs."