“What? You’re asking if there’s no dicine that makes you fine after eating one bite, even if you’re rolled around harshly all day? Hey, do I look like a chef to you? Do you think you can just place an order and get everything you please?”
[The ‘Tin Knight’ says he believes in Dorothea’s abilities!]
[The ‘Tin Knight’ encourages Dorothea to put in so effort for Adel’s sake!]
[The ‘Tin Knight’ asks if they can’t increase the amount of the food made for the construction workers!]
“You sure talk big for soone whose cooking is so bad that even a stray dog would take one bite and spit it out, really.”
[The ‘Tin Knight’ argues that people have their own aptitudes!]
[The ‘Tin Knight’ claims they need not only stamina recovery but also physical ability enhancent, wound healing, and sothing to make them ‘trip’!]
“No. I’m busy dealing with things on my side too, you know? And what nonsense is this about making people trip?”
[The ‘Tin Knight’ cheers her on!]
[The ‘Tin Knight’ encourages Dorothea, saying that she can do it!]
[The ‘Tin Knight’ chants Dorothea’s na!]
Clang! Clang! Clang!
***Swish, swish.
The Tin Knight smoothed out his dented helt after being beaten by Dorothea.
The power of her staff seed to be increasing by the day.
The Tin Knight praised himself, saying it was certain that he had a talent for making those around him grow.
It was nonsense that would have made the witch lant that she should have beaten him more if she had heard it.
Now, having obtained the witch’s assistance, which was as convenient as a certain blue future robot, the Tin Knight had nothing more to hold him back.1
To put it simply, the gates of hell opened for the disciples.
***In the training grounds at midnight.
– Whoosh.
As the Tin Knight pointed his sword to the right, one student who saw this tensed his stomach and shouted, “Roll right!”
Scurry!
The remaining six students, except for the one who raised his voice, quickly rotated to the right.
– Whoosh
This ti, the Tin Knight pointed his sword to the left.
“Roll left!”
– Whoosh, whoosh.
“Stand up! Sit down!”
– Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
“Lie down, stand up, lie down!”
The six students quickly rolled on the ground, while the one who didn’t roll and only moved his mouth rolled his eyeballs, observing the Tin Knight’s attitude.
The Tin Knight nodded, and the student’s face brightened.
“Everyone, rise!”
“Rise!!”
Training day 3.
The students’ movents were impeccably coordinated.
The idea that communication without a common language was nothing more than a misconception.
The sword itself was an excellent ans of communication, and they were enthusiastic and capable students.
After it beca known that the student who showed the best performance against Adelaide during the morning training ti would beco the Tin Knight’s adjutant and be on the “rolling” side instead of the “being rolled” side, their training results skyrocketed.
But the Tin Knight knew the truth.
Even if they replenished their physical strength and energy with the effects of the dicine Dorothea had given, there was clearly a limit.
Unless they were going to use it only until the test and then discard it, they needed to guarantee so rest and sleep ti to prevent their bodies from being damaged.
In other words, the actual ti gain was about 1.5 tis that of others.
If this competition had been a month-long endeavor, it would have been very aningful, but unfortunately, the deadline was only a week.
Unless one were a genius like Adelaide, for ordinary people, even if a week turned into ten days, their skills wouldn’t increase so dramatically.
It wasn’t a waste, nor was it a guaranteed victory.
Above all, pushing people with violence and fear like this had clear limitations.
To improve the students’ motivation, a more special trigger was needed.
The Tin Knight’s blue will-o’-wisp-like eyes flickered brightly.
***The next day.
The students woke up in a gloomy mood.
“Damn. To think we have to endure this hell for 4 more days.”
“Why is that terrible dicine so effective? If only sothing would hurt, then we could use that as an excuse to rest!”
“Stop it. We’re already halfway through.”
Even if the dicine filled the pain and fatigue of the body, ntal fatigue and pain didn’t disappear.
Although Adelaide’s morning classes were much more relaxed compared to the Tin Knight’s night classes, it was impossible to slack off because the evaluation of those morning classes determined whether they would roll as ordinary soldiers or beco adjutants wielding a bit of power during the night classes.
To begin with, Adelaide wasn’t easy enough to slack off against either.
The disciples headed to the training ground with powerless steps.
What awaited these disciples was unexpected news.
“Huh? So there’s no mock battle today?”
“Yes. Instead, we’re going to observe classes from other teams. I’ve already gotten permission from the lord and the instructors.”
The students’ faces brightened.
It was called observation, but in other words, it was a free pass to laze around while watching others suffer.
“Wow, our master is really kind, after all. Preparing this kind of event for us.”
“That’s right. She can’t even be compared to that demon at night.”
“Hey, hey, speak quietly. He might be secretly listening sowhere again.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Where would he be listening from?”
The other students burst into laughter at the sight of the disciple looking around nervously while saying this.
It was truly an enjoyable ti.
The first place they arrived at was the dojo run by René von Lennart.
Watching a young man deliver a splendid strike against a magic doll and the René team mbers cheering for that young man, the students made subtle expressions.
“I want to beat up our demon instructor like that, too.”
“Compare what’s comparable. If that tin can was that slow and weak, I would have beaten it on the first day.”
“They chose their team well and are training comfortably. Haa.”
During the observation, they chatted incessantly.
The content was common complaints about their situation and self-assertions like “I would have done better than that if it were ,” but the problem was that they were in the middle of enemy territory.
The René team students, who overheard the Adelaide team students’ words, didn’t hesitate to openly sneer.
“They’re talking nonsense. With no proper ability to teach, they’re just peeking at others’ training.”
“Hiya, I’m so jealous. Going on a field trip under a pretty master. Their so-called training is probably playing around an entire week, isn’t it?”
“Hey, hey, leave them alone. They’ll find out on the day of the match, anyway. Let them dream a little.”
Originally, kind words beget kind words.
It was natural for the response to be harsh when they went to where others were training and said unpleasant things, but humans were creatures that tended to think from their own perspective.
Adelaide’s team students were infuriated.
“Damn, the hell did they say? Do they even know how much we’re being run ragged?”
“Pfft. Run ragged? Are you holding hands and dancing? Must be exhausting.”
The verbal altercation between the two teams was defused before it could escalate into a full-fledged fistfight, thanks to Adelaide, who had been held back by the Tin Knight, belatedly understanding the situation and diating. However, the mood of Adelaide’s team did not improve at all.
The sight of their master bowing her head repeatedly and apologizing to the other side as they left the dojo only worsened their mood.
The observation of Gerhardt’s team’s class was even worse.
Perhaps due to Gerhardt’s strict teaching policy, no one approached them to sneer or pick fights, but naturally hot-blooded youths could sense how others thought of them just by looking into each other’s eyes.
The arrogantly raised chins, the subtly upturned corners of their mouths, the eyes looking down on them as if they were pathetic—each of these seed to be saying, “Tsk, look at these idiots. This is real n’s training. Are you enjoying playing house with a girl? Do you even have anything down there?” Adelaide’s team wasn’t so dull as to not notice this.
“Do you know what those bastards said? They called us beggars mooching off the lord’s castle because we don’t even have our own training ground!”
“Those René bastards. It was obvious the dolls were going easy on them, but they talk so disgustingly as if it’s because they’re so great. The nerve.”
“They complained about ten hours of physical training a day. We train all the ti except for the four hours we sleep!!”
“Guys who don’t even work as hard as us are looking down on us? Huh? Isn’t that infuriating?”
Joy shared increased, sorrow shared decreased—but anger shared multiplied.
Even disciples who initially tried to maintain composure couldn’t help but feel their heads heating up and their eyes rolling as they started hearing the “experiences” of other disciples.
After confirming that the delicious stew had boiled sufficiently, the Tin Knight added one more spoonful of magic ran seasoning.
“Sir Knight, what’s the matter? Huh? You want to write sothing down?”
If our team wins, we plan to implent an assistant system to diate between the instructor and students. Naturally, the top perforrs of the match will beco assistants.
“This ans they’re going to officially create a position similar to diating between us and the demo—I an—Sir Knight, right?”
“So, if we just win the match, we can legally boss those bastards around?”
“There’s more content at the end?”
Even if another team wins, there’s a possibility that a similar system will be implented.
In truth, the Tin Knight had never discussed this with René and Gerhardt, but he wasn’t exactly lying either. He had only ntioned the “possibility”, after all.
And the disciples interpreted that phrase as the Tin Knight intended.
If you win, you can beco assistants and boss them around. But if you lose, you’ll be under them instead. Just saying.
“We must win! By any ans necessary!”
“Arrogant bastards! I’ll shove a wooden sword down their throats!!”
“You saw those bastards sneering when our master was bowing her head, right?! We should gouge out all their eyes!”
“No! That’s not enough!!”
“Right! Our goal isn’t victory!! It’s murder!!”
“Kill them! Kill them! Kill them! Crack their heads open!”
“...”
Watching the disciples raging with bloodshot eyes and veins, spitting as they spoke, Ernest, the vassal of the Tik-Tok family, quietly wrote a report.
The disciples’ ntal state is extrely unstable, and they have fallen into collective madness. I suggest appropriate restrictions for a safe match.
Also requesting a component analysis of the stew brought in by the Tin Knight.
The count replied.
It seems interesting, so leave it be.
Kids all grow up like that.
And that soup slled so good that I sneaked so and ate it, but it just tasted good.
“My loooooord!!”
Ernest’s scream echoed through the halls, and a few more days passed.
Finally, the curtain rose on the Guillotine Match.
Let’s just ignore the fact that only one side was aware of the shift in nature of this match.
Footnotes
1. ED Note: We're basically calling Dorothea Doraemon.
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