"—Master Dylan, are you truly certain about this?"

  That morning, as I prepared myself, Martha spoke those words. Her voice carried an unusual degree of worry and bewilderment, far removed from her usual composure.

  "Of course."

  I nodded at my reflection in the mirror while fastening the belt of my leather chest guard. No ornate decorations befitting nobility—just purely practical light armor. That appearance, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to the Luminas Academy uniform, eloquently told of where I was about to go.

  "However, participating in practical monster subjugation exercises... If something were to happen, how would I explain myself to the master of the house? In the first place, such dangerous activities are unsuitable for someone of your station—"

  "Martha."

  I cut off her words and turned around.

  "I appreciate your concern. But this is my decision. There are things that can't be gained through classroom study alone."

  Book knowledge and training ground swordsmanship alone wouldn't be enough to survive this collapsing world. To avoid the engagement, to prepare for the coming threat—I needed the power called "experience."

  "I've prepared myself as best I can. How do I look from your perspective? Just a reckless youth?"

  Martha and I had trained together quite a bit. If she said it was impossible, I would honestly agree. It might be a somewhat cruel question for her, but I had that much resolve.

  Martha fell silent, examining me from head to toe as if appraising merchandise. After several seconds of silence, she regained her usual composure as an attendant, yet opened her mouth with a serious light dwelling in her eyes.

  "You have the skill. Through years of training, Master Dylan's swordsmanship would surpass ordinary knight apprentices. Regarding magic as well, considering the incident at the recent Arcane Arts Society meeting, you possess more than adequate aptitude."

  "But?" I prompted her to continue.

  "However, practice and real combat are entirely different. The terror of having killing intent directed at you, the unpredictable movements of monsters, and above all, the resolve to take life. Master Dylan, you critically lack that experience. I won't call it reckless, but it is undeniably an extremely dangerous gamble."

  An accurate assessment. As she said, I had no real combat experience. My mountain training had centered on building basic physical strength and controlling magic. Naturally, there was no way I'd been given opportunities to exchange life and death with monsters. That's precisely why I was here now—to gain that experience.

  "Thank you, Martha. I'm relieved to hear your evaluation. ...I'm prepared for the danger."

  Perhaps sensing my resolve was firm, Martha sighed deeply once and bowed respectfully.

  "...Understood. Then I shall accompany you. As your guard, protecting Master Dylan is my duty."

  Those words carried an undeniable ring. Her own resolve, I suppose. I nodded slightly.

  "If I judge it impossible, I will drag you back by the scruff of your neck if necessary. Please be prepared for that."

  "...Yeah, I'm counting on you."

  I'll have to avoid that if possible. With a wry smile, I picked up the unadorned iron sword leaning against my room's wall.

  The practical exercise assembly point was the Third Training Ground at the edge of the academy grounds. A vast expanse of land adjacent to dense forest, enclosed by high stone walls. A mock battle arena stood at the center, surrounded by training areas simulating various terrains. A place separated from nobles' elegant academy life, smelling of sweat and dust.

  About a dozen students had already gathered, all clad in light or leather armor like myself. Burly soldier candidates, nimble-looking adventurer hopefuls. All wore uniformly tense expressions, silently maintaining their weapons.

  Naturally, no one resembling nobility could be seen among them.

  When Martha and I appeared, the atmosphere changed instantly. Piercing stares. Curiosity, contempt, and pity.

  "Hey, look... from House Belmond..."

  "Isn't that the rumored 'Prince Rejection'? Did he become self-destructive after being dumped by Lady Erna?"

  "Talk about out of place. I'm not interested in babysitting some noble's playtime."

  Whispered voices reached my ears, but I ignored them and waited in a spot slightly separated from the group. Reacting to every comment wouldn't get me through what lay ahead.

  "Quiet, you lot!"

  A deep, gravelly voice echoed across the training ground, and it fell silent. Professor Gideon. He crossed his arms and glared at the assembled students with sharp eyes.

  "You're all here, you fools with no regard for your lives. Let me be clear—this is not play. Today, you'll face living goblins confined in cages. Three of them. Low intelligence, but cunning and cruel. Underestimate them, and you'll die with your throat ripped out."

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  At the word "goblin," tension rippled through the students. The monsters that had broken hero Leon's spirit. Synonymous with small fry, yet a realistic threat that could claim lives if underestimated. As first practical opponents, they couldn't be more appropriate.

  "Training will be conducted in groups of three. Magic use is prohibited. Learn the importance of cooperation with your bodies."

  As the professor spoke, students naturally began gathering with acquaintances. But no one approached me. Only the space around me remained conspicuously empty.

  Well, of course. If I were a commoner, I wouldn't want to team up with a noble like me either. The stress alone would make cooperation impossible.

  "Belmond. Your attendant may count toward your number, but pair with whoever's left over."

  The professor's merciless voice rang out. The one excluded from the students' circles was a male student with distinctive freckles and red hair. He looked down awkwardly, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

  "Leo, wasn't it? You'll pair with him. Don't look so displeased. Bad luck is part of skill."

  "...Yes sir."

  The student called Leo gave a curt response, then walked toward us with thoroughly reluctant steps. His well-worn spear made a clacking sound as if voicing his dissatisfaction.

  "...Just don't drag me down, noble boy."

  "I'll do my best."

  I responded briefly to his openly hostile words. Martha directed a reproachful gaze at Leo, but I stopped her with my hand. What he said was perfectly reasonable. What I needed to prove here wasn't words, but actions.

  "Alright, first group, begin!"

  At Professor Gideon's command, the arena's iron bars were thrown open. Our turn wasn't yet, but the first group advanced to the arena's center. With a creaking sound, the cage door opened and a goblin appeared.

  "Gruuuuu...!"

  Green skin, clawed hands and feet, and hatred-filled red eyes. Its body length was about that of a human child, but the killing intent radiating from its entire being was genuine. The air changed. The earlier jeers and chatter vanished as if they'd been lies, and the training ground became dominated only by sounds of held breath and the goblin's threatening growls.

  The battle was over in an instant. The goblin struck away the shield of one student whose coordination had faltered. As he lost his stance, another goblin thrust a rusted dagger forward.

  "Guah!"

  A scream rose. Instructors immediately intervened at the professor's instruction and the goblins were subdued, but blood flowed from the student's arm. He wouldn't die. But that blow filled with killing intent had definitely eroded the hearts of those watching. I heard Leo beside me swallow audibly.

  Unpleasant sweat trickled down my back as well. Just as Martha had said. Different from practice. If those red eyes stared at me, would I even be able to swing my sword?

  Several more matches followed, all ending in crushing defeat. Not because they were incompetent—that's just how difficult real combat was.

  And finally, our turn came. Standing at the arena's center. The gazes from the spectator seats stabbed painfully.

  "Master Dylan, your instructions."

  Martha's question flew toward me. Gratefully, it seemed she intended to remain in a supporting role this time.

  "...I'll take the front. Martha, cover me from slightly behind. Leo, use your spear's reach advantage to harass from the side."

  "...Tch."

  Leo grumbled but readied his spear. The cage door opened and the goblin leaped out.

  "Gyaaaaaa!"

  With a shrill battle cry, one charged straight at me. Fast. But its movements were simple. I recalled my training and calmly raised my sword.

  I can do this. If I do it like in practice, I should be able to cut it down.

  But the moment the goblin's raised club and the two red eyes behind it entered my vision, my body froze like lead. Fear. The terror of having killing intent directed at me that Martha had mentioned paralyzed my thoughts.

  "Damn!"

  The goblin wouldn't miss that momentary stiffness. The club cut through the air, bearing down on my head.

  CLANG!

  Just before impact, my body moved ahead of thought. The sword forms I'd repeated day after day for five years—they forced my arms up, leaving behind my fear-frozen mind. But this wasn't the perfect block drilled through practice. It was an ugly defense, distorted by fear.

  "Gu... ugh...!"

  The impact of being struck sword and all ran through my left shoulder. A dull pain like bones creaking. I staggered back two, three steps. It hurt. It burned. This was real combat.

  Yet that intense pain shattered the shackles of fear binding my brain. The goblin before me raising its club again for a follow-up seemed to move in slow motion. Red eyes. Killing intent. I recognized them not as fear, but as a "target" to be defeated.

  "Master Dylan!"

  Martha's voice sounded distant. But I didn't need help anymore. Without killing the momentum from my backward steps, I instead used it to kick off the ground. While protecting my left arm, now barely functional from pain, I twisted my body and thrust out my sword with only my right arm.

  The blade split flesh.

  The thrust sword tip shallowly cut the throat, red scattering like mist. The goblin made a gasping sound and its knees buckled—but it didn't fall.

  It didn't disappear.

  It didn't turn into light.

  It didn't vanish like a defeated enemy in a game.

  It was just… still moving, still warm, still hateful.

  Its animal stench breath hit my face. The club was still being brought down.

  But I couldn't immediately follow up. I put strength in my legs. Still not enough. Half a step too far.

  Maybe he saw me grit my teeth through the pain.

  Maybe he realized I wasn't just a pampered noble playing hero.

  Or maybe—he just didn't want to die.

  "...Leave it to me!"

  Wind passed through my flank. A low footfall and simultaneously, a shadow slid in diagonally—Leo. The spear's tip slid in at an angle crossing with my extended sword, piercing straight through the goblin's side.

  A wet squelching sound. The small body trembled once and collapsed powerlessly.

  My sword felt heavier than it had ever been.

  Not because of fatigue—

  but because something was still clinging to it.

  The venue fell silent.

  I exhaled my held breath and grimaced at the pain in my left shoulder. Beside me, Leo strained to pull his spear from the goblin. Both of us had completely let down our guard.

  That one moment of carelessness.

  "—Gii...!"

  With a death cry, the goblin—which should have been finished—jerked its arm with final hatred. The club released from that hand flew irregularly spinning toward my face.

  Shit—

  I couldn't react. Pain and exhaustion made my body disobey. Leo too, distracted by his spear, was completely caught off guard.

  CLANG!

  A sharp metallic sound. A shadow cut between Leo and me. Before I knew it, Martha had drawn a short sword and deflected the flying club at the last second. The club flew in an unintended direction, falling to the floor with a dry sound.

  "...!"

  Both Leo and I stood frozen, unable to comprehend what had happened. Martha sheathed her short sword and quietly turned around.

  "I told you, Master Dylan. In real combat, anything can happen."

  That calm voice and unwavering eyes. I was reminded once again that she wasn't merely an attendant, and that this world was decidedly not kind.

  The silence in the arena was different now. Gone were the sneers.

  Gone was the pity.

  The students looked at the blood dripping from my sword, then at my face.

  No one laughed.

  No one spoke.

  For the first time since the rumors began, I felt their eyes weigh something other than gossip.