Chapter 8
Grant had grown up hearing that he was a genius.
A dullard might train their entire life and never even reach the 1st-class, and for most, becoming a 4th-class Aura User was the absolute limit. Only those with true talent could surpass that, and even the most gifted had to toil for over a decade to reach the 5th-class.
Yet, Grant had reached the 5th-class at the mere age of twenty.
‘I’m a genius?’
Compared to Mitchell, who had only picked up a sword two months ago, he was nothing more than a talented student.
‘Wait, is that even possible?’
It was hard to believe. The image of Mitchell emitting Aura and taking down three mages and a warrior in an instant was still vivid in his mind. Even if he accepted the explanation about the special cultivation method for the Aura, the movements and judgment shown afterward were entirely Mitchell's own. Putting everything else aside, cutting a human being with a sword is no simple task. A human body isn't a thin branch, after all.
His posture was clumsy, but he instinctively knew how to generate power.
‘But why is his form so awkward?’
With such brilliant talent! Anyone who saw Mitchell's raw potential would be dying to teach him the basics properly. Just as he felt right now. As his thoughts reached that point, a ridiculous idea popped into his head.
“Two months, you say… Did you perhaps learn the sword through self-study?”
“I learned it from a book.”
Hah….
If that were true, he wasn't a genius, but just an ordinary man. And countless other warriors were simply fools. At this point, his belief wavered. He didn't know why Mitchell would tell such an absurd lie, but since he seemed to want to hide the truth, Grant decided to let it slide for now.
“I think it’s best to teach you everything from the very beginning. Would that be alright?”
“Before that, can I do some physical conditioning? I find the effects are better if I do that before holding a sword. It said so in the book.”
“Of course. It’s a great way to build stamina and prevent injury during serious training later. I’ll be watching, so just go ahead as you usually do.”
Mitchell began to jog around the training grounds. Moving with light, bouncy steps, he gradually started to pick up speed. By the second lap, he was running at nearly full tilt.
‘That’s a bit fast.’
He was worried it was too much for a warm-up, but he decided to keep watching. Mitchell wasn't an official trainee of the house, so he intended to observe his routine and adjust accordingly. However, Mitchell didn't stop until he had spent thirty minutes running at that top speed.
‘He doesn't seem to be using Aura, so he must have a naturally strong body.’
When you train in Aura, your body becomes sturdier than an average person's even without actively using it. If someone is naturally gifted, their physical durability is even higher. Grant himself was such a case. He watched Mitchell, wondering how to structure his stamina training, when...
‘Uh….’
Running while in a crouch.
‘Hmm.’
Running on all fours.
‘Hah.’
Running while doing a handstand.
‘Who trains like this…?’
Then came strength exercises like push-ups and horse-riding stances. Even those were done at high speed. As Mitchell returned, seemingly finished with his workout, Grant was speechless.
His entire body was flushed red, and his clothes were soaked through with sweat, steam rising from him. Intense heat was billowing off his body as if trying to escape.
It was beyond ignorant. To do that without even using Aura... it was a workload no normal human should be able to handle. He seriously wondered if Mitchell had troll blood in him, but looking at his handsome face, that clearly wasn't the case.
Grant looked at the approaching, weary Mitchell and seriously debated if they should even proceed to sword training. But when Mitchell drank some water and spoke, Grant couldn't help but shout.
“Phew, that was refreshing. Anyway, do you have anything heavy I can drag for my cool-down?”
“Stop it, you lunatic!”
After the brutal physical conditioning and a brief rest, they moved on to sword training. Grant cleared his throat while looking at the expressionless Mitchell.
“Ahem, please take up your sword.”
“……”
“I apologize for shouting earlier.”
“……”
“And I’m sorry for calling you a lunatic. Your training looked so excessive that I was worried you’d get hurt.”
At those words, Mitchell stood up and gripped his sword. Actually, Mitchell had been wondering what was wrong with his training. He had only done what he usually did, yet he’d been called a madman. After hearing Grant’s explanation, he finally understood.
“I’ve always done this much, so you don't have to worry about injuries.”
“Is your body made of ogre flesh or something?”
“Huh? What did you say?”
“Just talking to myself. More importantly, I’ll teach you how to grip the sword first. The grip you’re using is for two-handed swords used by knights; it won't be balanced well for this.”
No wonder….
Knights fighting in thick steel armor mainly used two-handed swords with long blades and hilts. Since the book Mitchell read was a manual for knights, even the grip was different. As he thought, everything had to be learned properly. Mitchell turned his attention to Grant, who was personally demonstrating the grip.
“Benefactor, you hold the hilt like this….”
“Actually, could you stop calling me 'Benefactor'? We’re around the same age, so you can speak more comfortably.”
“Shall I? Alright, Mitchell. Pick up your sword.”
Wait, what…?
Mitchell was stunned for a moment by the audacity, but there wasn't a hint of malice on Grant’s face as he immediately dropped the formalities. So, Mitchell just let it go. It was only surprising because the tone changed so instantly, but he was the one who suggested they speak casually as peers. Mitchell gripped the sword exactly as Grant showed him.
