(Arin's POV)
The afternoon sky above Instructor Brook's Private Training Arena looked ablaze with a reddish-orange hue. That magnificent sight seemed to be a perfect reflection of the physical suffering taking place beneath it. The air around us felt sticky, heavy with the vapor of sweat, flying dust, and curses held back in the throat.
Thwack! Clack! Thwack!
The sound of blunt swords striking straw dummies, iron posts, and occasionally the bodies of unlucky students, created a monotonous rhythm of violence.
"Use your hips, Fools! Your hips!" shouted Instructor Brook from the edge of the arena. He sat casually on a wooden crate while chewing a green apple with an annoying crunching sound. "You swing a sword exactly like grandmothers shooing away flies! Rotate your body's axis or you will die slashed by a lowly Goblin!"
Today the arena was packed. My and Kars's success in conquering the Benzzi faction had apparently triggered a strange wave of enthusiasm among Class C students and a few Class B students. They flocked here, hoping to absorb a little miracle by training in the same place as us.
However, that enthusiasm usually only lasted two hours.
"I... I cannot take it anymore..."
Liam, a skinny Class C student, dropped his wooden sword. His face was deathly pale, his breath wheezing like a broken whistle. He had just finished three hours of basic training, and his legs were trembling violently like jelly.
"Sorry, Brother Arin... Sir Kars... I request permission to go home early. My vision is spinning," excused Liam while holding his nauseous stomach.
I did not stop swinging my sword.
"Home?" I asked flatly while slashing the neck of the straw dummy in front of me with precision. "It has only been three hours, Liam. The warm-up is not even finished yet."
"Three hours is the limit for a normal human, Brother!" protested Liam weakly.
Beside me, Kars Benzzi snorted roughly. He was doing squats while carrying a fifty-kilogram iron weight on his shoulders. Sweat soaked his brown hair, but his eyes blazed with utter contempt.
"Get out of here!" snapped Kars without stopping his squat movements. "Who do you think you are to go home early while the Heir is still sweating? Weak! Your presence is only wasting precious oxygen in this arena!"
Liam shrank back, then ran frantically out of the arena. Perhaps he wanted to find the nearest bush to empty his stomach contents.
"The younger generation today is so spoiled," commented Kars, as if he himself wasn't a spoiled brat two months ago. "Barely three hours and already dying. I used to be beaten by Karl for six hours a day and could still eat dinner politely."
"That is called trauma, Kars. Not training," I corrected.
Slowly, one by one, the other students began to fall away. The sun began to set completely, leaving behind a darkness illuminated only by the arena's magic lamps.
Finally, only the three of us remained. Me, Kars, and Tom Garius.
I stopped my sword swing, then wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. My eyes fell on Tom.
There was something strange today.
Usually, Tom was our complaint mascot. He was the person who would shout every ten minutes with phrases like, "My legs are going to fall off!", "I want to go home!", or "Is this hell?". His shrill voice was mandatory background music during our training sessions.
However, today was different.
Tom remained totally silent.
He stood in front of a wooden training post. His face was gloomy. His eyes stared blankly ahead while his hands swung the wooden sword repeatedly without stopping.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
His strikes were hard. Too hard. There was no technique there, only pure anger. The veins in his neck bulged tensely.
"Hey," whispered Kars while lowering his iron weight with a thud. He nudged my arm. "Look at Tom. What is wrong with him? Possessed by an Orc spirit?"
"I do not know," I answered, observing Tom who was hitting the wooden post as if the post had just insulted his mother. "He doesn't complain of pain, doesn't even ask for a break. That is... terrifying."
"Those strikes..." Kars narrowed his eyes, analyzing Tom's movements like a sword expert. "Those are not training strikes, but strikes of hatred. He looks like someone who wants to destroy the world."
"Those are heartbreak strikes," I corrected.
Kars turned to me. "Huh?"
"Look at his eyes. Those are the dead fish eyes of someone who has lost the will to live," I explained. "Let's interrogate him."
The two of us walked approaching Tom.
"Tom, take a break," I ordered.
Tom did not hear. He kept hitting. Whack! Whack!
Kars stepped forward, holding Tom's wooden sword with his hand. "Enough, Tom. That post has already died twice. Do you want to kill it again?"
Tom jolted. He looked at us with a dazed stare, then his wooden sword simply fell from his hands. He slumped down onto the cold arena floor, hugging his own knees.
"It is all over..." mumbled Tom. His voice was hoarse and pathetic. "My life is finished."
Kars and I looked at each other, then sat beside him. Brook in the distance seemed unconcerned. He was busy polishing his favorite axe with a rag.
"Tell us," I ordered while offering a water bottle. "Who is the girl?"
Tom turned in shock. "How did you know?"
"You hit the wood as if it were your wife's lover," chimed in Kars. "Who is she? A cafeteria waitress? Or a neighboring Baron's daughter?"
Tom gulped the water greedily, then let out a long sigh that sounded like a deflating tire.
"Lisa," whispered Tom. "Do you remember the red-haired girl who sat at the table across from us at The Golden Swan restaurant?"
"The girl who laughed when Erika ate the snail shell?" I asked.
"Yes, that is her," Tom looked down, his face reddening. "I... I have liked her since the first semester. Yesterday, I gathered my courage to send a letter. I asked her to meet in the back garden."
"And then? Rejected?" asked Kars bluntly.
"No... not yet," Tom shook his head. "She said she was also interested in me."
"Then why are you beating a wooden post like a madman?" I asked confusedly. "That is good news, right?"
"The problem lies in her conditions, Arin," said Tom, looking at me with glassy eyes. "She said she is willing to be my lover, but there are three absolute conditions I must fulfill if we marry later."
"Conditions?" Kars snorted. "Women do like to play hard to get. At most she asked you to buy a pony or a new dress. Just fulfill it, Tom. You have a lot of money."
"Not that," Tom shook his head weakly. He raised one finger. "The first condition is marrying young. She wants an official engagement next month and to marry as soon as we graduate from the academy."
"That is good!" exclaimed Kars. "Marry fast, settle down fast. I support it."
Tom shook his head again, his face growing gloomier. "The second condition, she does not want to have children. Lisa said children will only ruin her figure and disrupt her socialite career."
I frowned. "Okay, that is a life choice. A bit extreme, but..."
"And the third condition..." Tom swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "The third condition is... When we marry later, I must give up my title. I must stop being a Knight or Administrator and stay at home."
Silence.
The night wind blew, carrying dry leaves rolling past us.
"Wait," I interrupted. "You mean, you become a househusband?"
"Worse," continued Tom with a blank stare. "She said, 'Tom, you just sit pretty in the mansion, take care of the garden, and welcome me home. Let me be the Head of the Family, play politics, and lead the territory. You only need to be a sweet ornament by my side'."
Kars glared in horror. He clutched his chest as if suffering a heart attack.
"Finished," Kars delivered the verdict. "Your history as a man finishes right there, Tom. She wants to castrate you socially!"
"I know!" cried Tom in frustration, messing up his hair. "She wants me to be an ornament! To be a trophy husband!"
"So what was your answer?" I asked curiously.
Tom picked up his wooden sword again, gripping it tightly.
"I broke up with her," said Tom. His voice was hoarse holding back tears. "I left her in that garden."
"Good!" Kars patted Tom's back hard. "Right decision! A man's pride must not be sold!"
"But..." I interrupted, my economic brain starting to spin. "Who is this Lisa actually? Why did she dare to propose such a dominant condition to a Baron's son like you?"
Tom looked at me. "She is the daughter of Marquis Walde from the Southern territory. Her father owns the third largest gold mine in the kingdom. Her wealth is ten times my father's."
My eyes widened broadly. Imaginary gold coins spun in my eyes like a casino slot machine.
"A Marquis?!" I shrieked. "And owns a gold mine?!"
I grabbed Tom's shoulders, then shook him vigorously.
"Tom! Are you stupid or what?! Why did you reject her?!"
Tom and Kars stared at me in shock.
"Arin?" asked Kars confusedly.
"Think about it, Tom!" I exclaimed fiercely. "Marrying a Marquis's daughter? Living in a luxurious mansion? Owning a gold mine? And you do not have to work for the rest of your life?! That is my dream! That is paradise! You could wake up at two in the afternoon, eat wagyu beef, then go back to sleep! Why did you reject that windfall?!"
"Arin!" snapped Kars. "Where is your pride?! He would be a man steered by his wife!"
"Pride cannot be eaten, Kars!" I retorted. "If there is a wealthy woman willing to make me an ornament in her house and give me thousands of gold in pocket money a month, I would propose this very day! I am willing to be a flower pot!"
Tom looked at me, then slowly removed my grip from his shoulder. He stood tall. His previously tearful face now changed. There was a new look in his eyes. A look I had never seen before from a Tom Garius.
He planted his wooden sword into the sandy ground.
"No, Arin," said Tom softly but firmly.
He stared at the night sky starting to fill with stars.
"I do like money. I also like a comfortable life. But..."
Tom clenched his fist against his chest.
"What is the use of a comfortable life if my name is lost? What is the use of being rich if I am only known as Madam Lisa's Husband? A lifetime is too long to be a man under a wife's flag, Arin. I want my own name to fly. I want my children to be proud of their father. Not because their father is good at tending the garden, but because their father has fangs."
I fell silent. Kars also fell silent.
Those words... somehow sounded very manly and heroic, even though they came out of the mouth of Tom who usually whined for training discounts.
"A man under the flag..." mumbled Kars in awe. "Well said, Tom. I acknowledge you."
I sighed, smiling wryly. "Well, if that is your choice. What a pity about the gold."
The atmosphere became quiet and solemn. A touching moment of masculine friendship.
Suddenly...
Smack!
A giant hand struck the back of Tom's head hard. Tom fell forward, his face kissing the sand.
"Ouch!"
We turned in shock.
Instructor Brook stood behind Tom, towering like a tower of darkness. His eyes blazed, and he grinned widely, showing his terrifying white teeth. It turned out he had been eavesdropping all along.
"Well said!" exclaimed Brook, his voice booming full of spirit. "A man under the flag, huh? I like that! That is the philosophy of a true Knight!"
Tom lifted his sand-covered face, looking at Brook with fear. "I-Instructor?"
Brook grabbed Tom's shoulder, lifting him to his feet with one hand as if Tom were a rag doll.
"You rejected a comfortable life for the sake of pride? For the sake of your own strength?" asked Brook, bringing his face close to Tom's.
"Y-Yes...?" answered Tom hesitantly.
"Good!" shouted Brook. He patted Tom's back so hard the boy coughed violently. "Because you have thrown away your path to a comfortable life, you must become strong so you do not regret it! You need strength to support that big mouth of yours, Kid!"
Brook's eyes flashed sadistically.
"As a reward for your determination, I will give you a special menu! An additional five hundred sword swings! And run around the field carrying this rock!"
Brook pointed to a large boulder the size of a goat at the edge of the field.
Tom's face changed from heroism to pure horror in one second.
"What?! Nooo!" shrieked Tom hysterically, returning to his true whiny nature. "Mercy, Instructor! I regret it! Lisa, come back! I want to be a flower pot! I want to be an ornament!"
"Too late! Do it now or I will increase it to a thousand!" snapped Brook while kicking Tom's rear.
"Waaah... Arin, help me!" Tom ran to hug the rock while crying, then began dragging it pitifully under the supervision of Brook who laughed uproariously.
Kars and I could only stare at the scene while shaking our heads.
"He dug his own grave," commented Kars.
"At least he dug it poetically," I added.
While Brook was busy torturing Tom in the background ("Come on! Do not be a snail! Lisa is watching you from the sky!"), I pulled Kars slightly away to the edge of the arena.
"Kars," I called, my tone turning serious. "Enough playing around."
Kars turned, realizing the change in my tone. He wiped the sweat from his face. "What is it? Another business plan?"
"More important," I answered. I folded my arms over my chest, feeling my strong and stable heartbeat. "I feel my Piston Heart needs a new challenge to level up."
I looked Kars straight in the eye.
"I want to hunt for the next serum upgrade material. And maybe, something that can strengthen your crazily talented body too."
Kars's eyes lit up with interest. "The target?"
"The Northern Mountain Forest. Above the snow line," I answered. "Our target is the Sigma Direwolf."
Kars whistled a long note. "Sigma? That is a peak tier-three monster. Almost tier four. That is the king of the forest, Arin. Do you want to commit suicide?"
"Not if we have the right team," I smiled thinly. "I have thought about it. The Hexagon Party."
I began counting on my fingers.
"Me as the Vanguard and strategic brain. You as the Tanker and Heavy Hitter with your mace. Rose for speed and DPS. Elena for area control and ice magic. Erika as long-range artillery."
"That is five," cut Kars. "Who is the sixth?"
I looked at him meaningfully.
"Who else if not your 'Lady'?"
Kars's face turned red, but he understood immediately. "Celia...?"
"She needs to vent stress because of her steel business problems, right? And her Halberd has the reach we need to hold off a giant wolf," I explained. "Plus, this is your chance to show off your strength in front of her in a life-and-death situation. Women like men who can be relied upon when fighting monsters, not men who can only bring coffee."
Kars fell silent for a moment, imagining the scenario. A wide smile slowly appeared on his swollen face.
"You are a devil, Arin. A genius devil," said Kars. "Fine. I agree. I will persuade Celia. She will not refuse a good hunt."
"Good," I nodded.
I looked back, seeing Tom who was still crying while dragging the rock, being yelled at by Brook.
"Tomorrow morning. We have a day off from classes, right? Gather at the North Gate at five in the morning. Do not be late."
"Ready."
I stared at the dark night sky above the academy. The stars shone brightly, as if mocking how small we were.
Inside my chest, that hourglass of death kept ticking endlessly. Three years. I did not have much time.
But tonight, seeing my friends, seeing the foolish Tom and the ambitious Kars, I felt a little lighter.
"Sigma..." I whispered to the night wind. An ambitious smile was carved on my lips, unaware of the irony of my own fate.
"Wait for me. Your heart will be mine."
And in the distance, a wolf's howl sounded faintly, as if answering my challenge from the snowy mountain peak.