Chapter 1

It was raining. Actually, pouring. The sound was so intense it grated on the ears.

Almost none of the Kingdom's roads had been built with drainage in mind and especially when it came to the backstreets everyone could notice. With heavy rain, the alleys transformed into pools.

The storm beating down on the surface of the water sent up little splashes. The wind whipped up the spray and filled the air with its scent. It felt as if the royal capital itself had sunk into a body of water.

In this world colored gray by whirling droplets, there was a boy.

He lived in a shack. No, it could not even be called a shack. The main beams holding it up were about as thin as an adult man's arms. Instead of a solid roof, rags draped over the shelter to cover it, and the walls were no more than the ceiling cloths sloppily hanging down.

In this dwelling, which offered hardly any shelter from the elements outside, the boy of about six years of age lay on a thin cloth spread out on the floor, curled up like a casually tossed piece of garbage.

If one stopped to think about it, the wooden beams, the scraps that formed the ceiling and walls, it seemed like the kind of thing a child could build, even just for fun. The only real benefit of this home was it kept the rain from falling directly on him. The endless deluge had drastically lowered the temperature and now enveloped the boy in a shivery chill. His foggy exhalations provided but momentary evidence for his existence before they faded away as the air stole their warmth.

Prior to his sheltering here, the cold rain had drenched him and his body heat was deserting him at a terrible pace. He had no way to stop the shivering. The single, minuscule silver lining of this miserable situation was probably that the permeating chill felt good to his all bruised and beaten up little body.

Still lying on his side, the boy looked out at the world, at the alley no one walked down anymore.

The only sounds he could hear were the rainfall and his own breathing. The scene gave him the impression there was no one else in the world. That was the extent of the calm.

Although he was young, he understood that he would likely die. Not old enough to fully grasp it that what death entailed, the boy wasn't very afraid. That, and it didn't seem that life was worth holding dear.

The only reason he'd managed to hang on so far was a sentiment similar to the desire to avoid pain. If death would come without pain, only cold, like how he felt at that very moment, then dying didn't seem so bad. He gradually lost feeling in his wet body, and his consciousness clouded.

It would have been better to move somewhere the wind and rain wouldn't come in before the weather turned, but he'd run into some nasty men and received a beating, so getting back here had been all he could manage.

Still, he considered coming back to the "house" he'd built as one tiny, happy thing. Did that mean everything else was sad?

The fact he hadn't eaten in two days was normal, so that wasn't sad. His parents were absent and no one else would care for him. This had been the case for a long time, so it wasn't something to be upset about. That he was dressed in rags and smelled bad was only natural. Eating rotten food and drinking dirty water to fill his belly was all he'd ever known.

Following this train of thought, was it sad the abandoned house where he had once been living in had been stolen from him, the hut he'd worked hard to build had been trashed, presumably for someone's amusement, and drunk men had beaten him, leaving injuries all over his body?

No. The heartbreaking truth was that the boy couldn't even understand what was sad or why.

But this was the end. The sorrow he didn't even understand would end here. The grave called for the lucky and the unlucky alike. Yes, death was absolute.

He closed his eyes. Keeping them open was too much effort for a body that had ceased to feel even the cold. He could hear his tiny, frail heartbeat in the darkness.

In a world where only that and the rain could be heard, another strange sound appeared. It was like something blocking the rain. Despite his fading consciousness, he mustered that curiosity so peculiar to children and urged his eyelids to move.

In the thin strip of his field of vision, he saw it. The boy's nearly closed eyes popped wide open.

Something beautiful appeared.

For a moment, he couldn't understand.

Perhaps "like a jewel" or "like a nugget of gold" were the right words, but to someone who'd been abandoned, who'd lived eating half-rotten food for as long as he could recall, those words didn't come to mind. He could think of one thing only. It was like the sun. That was the most beautiful thing he knew, the one most out of reach.

The world dyed gray by the rain. Dark rain clouds reigning in the sky. Was that why? Is the sun here with me because it went on a trip when no one could see it? He wondered to himself.

It reached out its hand and caressed his face. That boy hadn't been a person because there had never been anyone who saw him as one. But on that day, someone did.


At the innermost part of the city sat Ro-Lente Castle, which occupied an enormous space. The curtain wall around it, almost 2 km long, was furnished with twelve giant cylindrical towers that formed the defense network. Countless rooms existed in those twelve towers. In one of those there was little more than a single bed.

Lying on it was a child whose age fell right at the vague border between boy and young man.

His blond hair was cropped short, and his skin glowed with a healthy tan.

Climb. Though that was the only name he had claim to, he was a soldier attending the woman often titled "golden," permitted closer to her than any other, a position many looked upon with envy.

He woke up early, rising before the sun.

By the time he noticed his consciousness returning from the deep, dark world of sleep, his mind was clear and his body was primed for the most part. One of the things he had pride in was how he could fall asleep and wake up with ease. Climb's almond-shaped eyes, with the whites visible below the iris, opened wide and revealed his iron will shining within. Pushing back the quite heavy blanket covering his body (even in summer, nights surrounded by stone were chilly), he sat up.

He touched his face near his eyes. The fingers came away soaking wet. "…That dream again?" Climb wiped the tears off his face with his sleeves. Maybe the heavy rain from two days ago had reminded him of his childhood. They weren't grieving tears. How many people did one meet in life whom they could respect? Was everyone lucky enough to serve a person for whom they'd surely give their life without hesitation? On that day, Climb had met a woman whom he firmly believed he could die for without a bit of regret. What he had wiped away were tears of joy. He had cried out of gratitude for the miracle that had begun with that meeting.

With determination on his face, still appropriately childish for his age, Climb stood up. In this dark world bereft of even a single light, Climb whispered in a voice hoarse from too much training. "Shine." In response to the keyword, a white light appeared in a lamp suspended from the ceiling, illuminating the room. It was a magic item imbued with [Continual Light]. Although this item was commonly available, it was expensive. The reason he had one wasn't due to a special position. It was unsafe to burn something, even for lighting purposes, in a place like a stone tower where air did not circulate very well. For that reason, despite the significant initial cost, almost all the rooms were equipped with a magic light.

The floor and walls illuminated by the white light were hewn from rock. A thin rug provided as much protection as it could against the cold hardness of the floor. The other things in the room were a coarsely made wooden bed, a wardrobe that seemed large enough to hold armour, a desk with a drawer, and a wooden chair covered by a thin cushion. Perhaps it seemed shabby to an outsider, but for someone of Climb's rank it was undeserved luxury. Soldiers didn't get private quarters, usually bedding down together in large rooms with shared bunks. The only other furnishing they were provided was a wooden lockbox to store personal belongings. In addition, he also had white full plate armour enshrined in one corner of the room. Rank-and-file soldiers would never be supplied with well-made gear so lustrous and unblemished that it seemed to gleam from within. The special treatment certainly wasn't anything Climb had earned through his own actions. The gear was a token of affection from his master. It was no wonder people were jealous of him.

Opening the wardrobe, Climb removed some clothes and dressed himself using the mirror found inside. After putting on a shirt that smelled metallic from frequent use, he donned a shirt of mail over it. Normally he'd put armour above the mail, but he didn't do that now. Instead, he slipped on a vest lined with many pockets and a pair of pants to finish the outfit. In his hand, he carried a bucket with a towel in it.

Lastly, he checked the mirror to make sure nothing was strange and to ensure nothing about his outfit was in disarray. Any failure on his part could and would be used to criticize his master, the Golden Princess Renner, so Climb took the utmost care. His purpose wasn't to cause trouble for her. He was there to give his master everything he had.

He closed his eyes before the mirror and imagined her face.

The Golden Princess Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself…

She possessed such heavenly beauty she could easily be mistaken for a goddess. She radiated with a compassionate spirit befitting her noble blood and superior wisdom that gave birth to her government policies. She was a noble among nobles, a princess among princesses, the Supreme Woman. She was the sun which had shone so brightly in his darkest hour.

Climb could not allow himself to put so much as a nick in the untarnished gem that sparkled like gold. If their relationship were a ring, Renner would be a large brilliant-cut diamond, while Climb was nothing but the prongs surrounding her. Since his make was cheap, he lowered the item's overall worth, but he couldn't allow it to fall any further. Climb was unable to stop the passion from building in his chest every time he thought of her. Even a devout believer in the gods could not surpass Climb's fervor.

He gazed at himself for a short time, nodded with the satisfaction that his appearance would not bring his master shame and left the room. Climb headed for the large hall occupying the tower's entire first floor as a training area. Usually it was filled with the body heat of soldiers, but of course no one was there this early in the morning. The empty space was so quiet he could practically hear the silence. Because the room was enclosed in stone, Climb's footsteps echoed loudly.

Quasi-permanent magic lights brightly illuminated the hall. Inside were standing suits of armour fastened to posts, as well as straw figures used as archery targets. Along the walls were shelves lined with a variety of dull-bladed weapons.

There was a reason a training area normally found outside had been built indoors. Valencia Palace was housed within the Ro-Lente Castle compound. If soldiers trained in the open, it was possible for visiting messengers to see them. As this was not very dignified, several facilities had been built inside the towers. It was also an option to show off the manly training soldiers as diplomatic tricks but that wasn't the kingdom's style. The prevailing mindset was to present an elegant, gorgeous, and noble picture of the realm. Additionally, most of the Kingdom's soldiers sucked in comparison with those of the close-by human nations. Still, there were exercises that required being outside. These were performed stealthily in a corner of the grounds, on an athletic field beyond the walls, or removed from the capital entirely.

Climb entered the hushed room, penetrating the chilly air inside. He began leisurely stretching in a corner. After a thorough ten-minute stretch routine, Climb's face was more than a little flushed. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his exhaled breaths brimmed with excess put a hand to his forehead and wiped off the perspiration before approaching the weapon shelf and choosing a fairly thick, large, dull iron practice sword. The hand around it was hardened from repeatedly forming and popping blisters. He tested out different swords until he found one that fit his grip perfectly.

Next, he placed lumps of metal in his pockets, buttoning them to make sure the contents wouldn't fall out. With several pieces inside, the vest had taken on the same weight as a full suit of armour. In exchange for being sturdy, full plate armour was heavy and the limited freedom of movement was also a disadvantage. If one wanted to practice under conditions similar to actual combat, training in armour was ideal. But taking out a full suit of armour just to practice wasn't something Climb did very often. Besides, he couldn't wear the white mail he'd been given for training. That's why he resorted to this substitute instead.

Climb tightly gripped the iron weapon larger than a great sword. He raised it over his head and lowered it slowly as he exhaled. As its tip was about to touch the floor, he brought it up again, inhaling. Gradually increasing the speed of his practice swings, he concentrated intently, staring into space with a penetrating gaze.

He did over three hundred repetitions.

After that, Climb was bright red, and sweat dripped down his face. The heat building up in his body dramatically raised his breath's temperature. Climb was a fairly well-built soldier, but the weight of the oversize great sword was still extreme. It was especially difficult slowing the sword so the tip didn't touch the ground: the amount of strength needed for this was not insignificant.

After five hundred repetitions, both his arms began cramping as though screaming out to him. A waterfall cascaded down his face. Climb was aware that this was his limit. Still, he didn't seem interested in stopping. But—

"That's enough, don't you think?" someone else called out to him.

Climb was flustered as he turned to look in the direction of the voice, and he immediately noticed a man. There was no word more fitting for him than robust. He was like steel incarnate. Because his craggy face was frowning, the ensuing mass of wrinkles made him appear older than he was. His bulging muscles showed he was no ordinary man. There probably wasn't a single soldier in the kingdom who didn't know this figure.

"—Captain Stronoff."

Captain of the Royal Select Gazef Stronoff. He was the strongest warrior in the country, and it was said he had no equals in neighboring realms, either.

"Any more than that is too much. No point in killing yourself."

Climb lowered his sword and watched his spasming arms. "You're right. I might've pushed myself a bit too hard."

Climb expressionlessly thanked Gazef as the older man shrugged. "If you really think so, then it'd be great if you wouldn't make me say the same thing all the time. I wonder how many times it has been…"

"I'm sorry."

Gazef shrugged once more at the boy's head bowed in apology.

The pair had exchanged these lines many times, almost like a greeting. Usually this was where it ended and they would each become absorbed in their own training, but today it went differently.

"How about it, Climb? Want to try sparring?"

Climb's expressionless mask began to crack for a moment.

Up until now, these two had met in this place before, but they never sparred. It was an unwritten law. There were no benefits to training together. No, there were benefits, but there were too many drawbacks.

At present in the kingdom, the nobles' faction, comprising three of the six great noble families, and the king's faction were in a struggle for power. The country's straits were so dire that some believed the only thing holding everything together was the yearly war with the empire.

There was no way the king's right-hand man, Captain of the Royal Select Gazef Stronoff, could possibly lose. But supposing he did, the nobles' faction opposing them would use it as ammunition to attack the king under the present circumstances.

Likewise, if Climb lost, the nobles would probably take it as a chance to claim he couldn't be trusted to protect the princess. The fact that a common soldier of dubious pedigree had been appointed to guard the peerlessly beautiful and unwed princess rubbed many nobles the wrong way.

And so, their respective positions would not forgive a loss.

It was out of the question to show any weakness, expose a vital point, or allow openings that could be attacked. They both acted with the utmost prudence to avoid causing any trouble for their masters, a priority they shared due to their origins as commoners.

What reason could Gazef have for breaking this rule?

Climb looked around.

It couldn't be simply that there wasn't anyone else there. The walls had eyes in this place. The chances were high that someone was observing from afar or watching in the shadows. But he couldn't think of any other explanations. Unsure if it was a good reason or a bad one, Climb was confused and shaken, though he didn't let it show on his face.

Before the boy stood the warrior said to be the strongest in the kingdom. Gazef keenly detected the split-second disturbance in Climb's emotions that most humans would have naturally missed before he gave his response.

"I was recently shown how green I still am. I'd like to train with someone who'll pose a bit of a challenge."

"You, green, sir?"

Under what circumstances would Gazef learn he was still "green"? It was only then that Climb remembered the unit he commanded had been missing members of late.

Since Climb didn't have any close friends, he'd only heard the rumors bouncing around the mess hall. Apparently, the Royal Select had been caught up in something and lost more than a few men.

"Yeah. If that charitable caster hadn't helped me, I probably wouldn't be here right "now…"

Hearing that, Climb felt his iron mask crumble; he couldn't help it. But who wouldn't be surprised? His curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "A charitable caster?"

"His name was Ainz Ooal Gown. I'm not sure, but I think he's on the level of the empire's greatest casters."

It was a name Climb had never heard before. The young soldier admired heroes and had a secret hobby of collecting sagas regardless from what race the epic originated. Not only that, but he also collected as many exciting stories as he could from a famous adventurer gropup in the region, but he didn't recognize the name Gazef mentioned. Of course, there was always the possibility it was a pseudonym.

"S-so, nngh!" Climb suppressed his desire to ask details. I can't blithely ask about an incident that cost him some of his men. One can only be so rude "I'll commit that name to memory… So is it really all right for you to train me?"

"I'm not training you. We're sparring. Whether you learn something from it or not is up to you. You're one of the best soldiers this country's got, you know. It'll be meaningful exercise for me, too."

That was high praise, but Climb considered nothing more than polite decorum.

It wasn't as if Climb was remarkably strong. The standard he measured against was simply low. The kingdom's soldiers were only marginally stronger than the average citizens and weak compared to the empire's knights, who were full-time. No member of this kingdom's army was famous enough to be known throughout the region. Probably because most of those who were strong enough joined the adventurers' guild or other organisations.

The men directly under Gazef were strong, certainly, but still not quite as strong as Climb.

Out of all the adventurer ranks (copper, bronze, iron, silver, gold, platinum, mythril, orichalcum and adamantite) Climb was probably gold. It wasn't as if he was weak, but there were many more who were stronger. Could someone like him really engage in a sparring match worth the time of a man like Gazef, a warrior who was undoubtedly adamantite rank?

Climb chased all the discouraging thoughts from his mind.

It would be an extremely valuable experience to learn from the strongest man in the kingdom. Even if he ended up disappointing Gazef, Climb would have no regrets. "Okay, then I'd like to go a round, please."

Gazef grinned and nodded once with enthusiasm. They walked to the weapon rack together and equipped swords that were exactly the right size for them. Gazef chose a bastard sword, Climb selected a small shield and a broadsword.

Then Climb took the lumps of metal out from his pockets. It'd be rude to face someone stronger while still wearing them. Not to mention that if he didn't fight as hard as he could, he would not grow. His opponent was the strongest warrior in the kingdom. Confronting such a considerable challenge would require his all.

Soon Climb finished his preparations and Gazef asked, "Are your arms okay? They're not numb anymore?"

"No, sir, I'm fine now. They feel a bit warm, but there's no problem with my grip."

Climb waved his arms, and Gazef saw from the way they moved that the boy was telling the truth and nodded. "Okay. Hmm. But in a way, that's kind of too bad. You run into all kinds of situations on the battlefield and can't always fight at your best. If your grip is weak, you need to adjust your style appropriately. Are you working on that?"

"N-no, I'm not. In that case, I'll do more practice swings—"

"Oh no, you don't have to go that far. But you're protecting the princess most of the time. It would not be a waste to practice things like how to fight if you're attacked somewhere you're unallowed to carry a sword and familiarize yourself with different weapons."

"Yes, sir!"

"There are nine basic disciplines of armed combat in this kingdom: swords, shields, spears, axes, daggers, combat gauntlets, bows, bludgeons and throwing weapons. If you try to learn too many, you'll end up neglecting all of them. I recommend narrowing it down to two or three and practicing those. Okay. Apologies for the boring commentary."

"It wasn't boring, Captain Stronoff! Thank you!"

Gazef smiled awkwardly and waved off Climb's gratitude. "If you're ready, then let's get started. For now, come as you are. Later…well, I can't train you, but I'll give you some tips on fighting in the other disciplines."

"Yes, sir. Looking forward to it."

"Right, but know that it's not my intention for this to be a drill. Come at me like it's a real battle!"

Climb slowly moved into a stance with his sword held low, facing Gazef with the left side of his body hidden behind the shield. His eyes were sharp, already treating this as more than practice. He could sense Gazef was also taking it seriously.

They stared each other down, but Climb couldn't move.

He was nimbler after removing the lumps of metal from his pockets, but Climb still didn't feel like he could beat Gazef. In both physical strength, skill and experience, Gazef completely surpassed him. If he was careless in how he advanced, the captain would effortlessly intercept. His opponent was superior, and there wasn't anything he could do about that.

But if this was a real battle, would Climb simply lose his life because there was nothing to be done? So then what? He would have to meet Gazef with something Gazef didn't have. Climb lost out on everything a warrior needed. If there was an exception, it would be in gear since Gazef had a bastard sword. Climb had a broadsword and a small shield too. If the equipment was magical, one blade could be superior to another, but these were made for training. In terms of weapons, he wasn't ahead. But whereas Gazef had only one, Climb had two: a shield could be used offensively as well. In exchange for dividing his attack power, Climb had an advantage in versatility. He could deflect a blow with the shield and then swing the sword or parry with the sword and strike with the shield.

Climb observed Gazef's movements carefully, aiming for opportunities to counterattack. After a few seconds, the older man smiled slightly. "So, you're not going to charge? Then I'll start. Here I come." Displaying absolute calm, Gazef held up his sword. He lowered his hips slightly, suffusing his frame with energy like a tensed spring. Climb braced himself as well, so that he'd be ready to defend whenever the sword was swung. Then Gazef rushed forward and swung down at Climb's shield.

Damn he's fast! Climb had to give up on maneuvering the shield to deflect the oncoming hit. He transferred all his attention and ability into the basic defensive act of withstanding the assault.

In the next moment, a tremendous shock assailed his shield.

Did it break from that one attack? It certainly felt like it, as the blow was so mighty it immobilized Climb's shield-bound hand. The strike was the kind that he had to block with his entire body.

Deflect?! How could I even match his speed like this? If only I could get it to glance off smoothlyClimb chided himself for being so naive.

But another shock assaulted his stomach. With a "Guh-hagh!" coming from his mouth, the young boy's body went flying. He landed hard on his back, and the stone floor knocked the wind out of him. One glance at Gazef was all it took to find out what had happened.

The older warrior retracted his leg after launching that heavy kick. "Don't pay too much attention to the sword just because it's all your opponent is carrying. You might get kicked like this. That time, I aimed for your stomach, but usually they'd go for a less guarded area. They'll try to shatter your knees or… even if you've got your groin padded, a kick from metal greaves can break things. You need to keep an eye on your opponent's entire form and watch their every move."

"…Yes, sir." Climb resisted the dull pain in his stomach and stood up.

Gazef had tremendous physical strength. Kicking at full power, he'd easily break Climb's ribs, mail shirt or no, and make him unfit for combat. It was clear he hadn't put all of his strength in the kick and had instead aimed his foot to send Climb flying.

So this is training after allThank you. It was sinking in that this was a lesson from the kingdom's strongest warrior, and full of gratitude, Climb reassumed a fighting stance. How precious was this chance? He had to take care not to let it end too soon. Climb raised his shield again and inched forward. Gazef silently watched. If things continued like this, it would merely play out the same as last time. As Climb approached, he was forced to rethink his strategy. Overwhelming composure came from the waiting Gazef. He hadn't managed to draw out even a hint of his opponent's true strength.

But being frustrated about his inability would probably be arrogant. Climb was already starting to reach his limits. Even though he always got up early to hone himself, his progress was slower than a snail's. Ever since he first picked up a sword, he had not improved fast enough. Even if he could condition his body to swing faster with heavier swords, he would probably still be unable to obtain specialized combat abilities.

Surely it was rude to wish that Gazef, the embodiment of talent, would use his full abilities when Climb was so incapable. He lamented his own skill wasn't enough to warrant them. Telling him to approach their bout as if it were a real battle and not practice had probably been Gazef's way of saying that if Climb didn't fight with the intent to kill, he wouldn't even be worth sparring with.

Climb ground his teeth audibly with a crk.

He hated how weak he was. If only he were stronger, he could be more useful. With more power, he would be the princess's weapon and face head-on all those who sullied the kingdom, all those who caused the people to suffer. The princess had only a fragile sword, so she had to be careful when she wielded it, which racked Climb with guilt.

But he immediately cleared those thoughts from his mind. What he needed now was to avoid drowning in negativity in this endeavor to enhance his abilities, even slightly, by clashing with everything he had against this man who stood at the heights of human potential. He had only one thought in his heart. I want to be useful to the princess…

"Ohh?" Gazef murmured approvingly, his expression shifting slightly. It was because of the minute change he saw in the boy on the cusp of manhood in front of him. Up until a moment ago, Climb had been excited, like a child meeting a celebrity. But after the kick, the bubbly attitude had gone and been replaced with the face of a warrior.

Gazef raised his guard a notch. He thought much more of Climb than the boy knew. He held an especially high opinion of that unwavering desire to better himself. His fervent devotion was akin to a religious faith.

And then there was his swordsmanship. No one had taught Climb. He'd gleaned what he could by watching others train. His form was awkward and contained many extraneous movements. But unlike those who had unthinkingly studied exactly what they were taught, Climb considered the significance of each strike and cultivated a style that focused on real combat or, to put it darkly, a killer's style.

Gazef thought it was absolutely wonderful. In the end, a sword was a tool for murder. Someone trained for sports and display would not be effective in a serious battle. Such a style would not protect or save anyone. But Climb was different. He would cut down his enemies and safeguard whatever was precious to him. However—

"Your attitude may have changed, but there's a clear gap between our ability levels! What are you gonna do about that?"

To put it bluntly, Climb had no innate talent. Without that, he couldn't reach the heights of Gazef or Brain Unglaus, no matter how much harder than everyone else he tried, regardless how cruelly he tortured his flesh. Climb's attempts to be the strongest were nothing but a dream or a delusion.

So why was Gazef training Climb? Wouldn't it be more beneficial to spend his time on someone with more aptitude? The answer was simple. He couldn't stand around watching Climb expend pointless effort. If humans had a limit to their potential, this boy was single-mindedly throwing himself at that wall over and over, and Gazef pitied him for it.

He wanted to show Climb another way. It was his belief that even if there was a limit to power, there was no limit to the skill learned through experience. The other reason was Gazef regretting the Kingdom's appalling state and his inability to change it. It's like I'm doing this to make up for that, which isn't fair to Climb, but still, it's not like he loses anything from going at it with me for a round.

"Come on, Climb!"

A response with the spirit to break through Gazef's internal monologue came back to him.

"Sir!"

At the same time he replied, Climb dashed forward. Unlike before, Gazef slowly lifted his sword with a serious face. Then he brought it down from up high. If Climb received it with his shield, his approach would be halted completely; if he blocked with his sword, he'd be repelled. It was an attack that made defense purposeless. It was a bad idea to defend, but Climb had a broadsword whereas Gazef had a bastard sword: Climb's weapon was shorter.

All he could do was leap. Gazef knew that, so he was waiting to intercept. It was like entering a tiger's den, but the young soldier hesitated for a moment. Climb came within range of Gazef's sword. The swing was perfectly timed, Climb braced against it with his shield. The tremendous shock was even more intense this time. Pain ran up Climb's arm and made him grimace. Too bad it ended up playing out the same as before.

Gazef seemed slightly disappointed as he aimed his foot at Climb's stomach, but then—

"[Fortress]!"

The moment Climb shouted, Gazef's face registered slight surprise. It wasn't as if the martial art Fortress couldn't be used without a sword or shield. It was quite possible with either a hand or armour. The reason it was commonly activated when defending with a sword or shield was due to how tight the timing needed to be. One false move when using it with armour could end with the warrior suffering the hit unprotected. So according to human psychology, most would want to activate it when blocking with something. But Climb knew when Gazef's kick would come, which solved the timing problem.

"You meant for that to happen?"

"Yes, sir!"

The power in Gazef's kick vanished as if something soft had absorbed it. His leg extended fully, and unable to drive any strength into it, he gave up and began to bring it back down. While Gazef was in this disadvantaged posture, Climb moved in to take his shot.

"[Slash!]" Climb activated the martial art as he brought his sword down from high above. Create a single move you can unleash with confidence!, had told him Gagaran. He possessed no inborn talent, but he'd taken to heart her advice and desperately polished his overhead attack.

Climb's body was not covered in an ostentatious layer of muscles, nor was he blessed with a physique that easily put on muscle in the first place. It wasn't as if he had the ability to put extra bulk to good use anyhow. So he had toned his body and achieved a specialized build through what had seemed like infinite repetition.

The result was his downward swing from up high: his singular strike achieving a speed that could be considered extraordinary, which practically summoned a gale in its wake.

That was what fell toward Gazef's head.

The idea that if his attack connected it could be fatal did not occur to Climb. He'd unleashed his move with absolute conviction that a man of Gazef's caliber wouldn't die from something like this.

A sharp clang rang out as the bastard sword rose to meet the descending broadsword. Gazef had anticipated even this far ahead, or at least he'd been quick enough to stop the attack. Climb used all the energy in his body to try and throw the older warrior off-balance. But Gazef's body wouldn't budge. Even in an unsteady position on one foot, Gazef had no problem stopping a blow bearing the entirety of Climb's might. The man was like a great tree with thick roots deeply seated in the earth. Climb was using all his strength. Even with those two things combined, he couldn't match one-footed Gazef.

Wait, why is he on one leg only? He was surprised and looked to his stomach. Slicing with the broadsword had meant closing the distance and thus it was possible for Gazef to kick him again.

He jumped away right as it arrived, receiving just a little dull pain.

Then they stared each other down a few paces apart. Gazef's eyes were happy, and his mouth curled in a grin. His expression was amused, but with no ill will. It was only a refreshing smile. It made Climb fidget how Gazef beamed at him, like a father proud of his son's improvement.

"Nice work. I'm gonna take this next one a little bit seriously." Gazef's expression changed.

Fear coursed through Climb's entire body. The kingdom's strongest warrior had finally shown himself.

"I actually have one potion. If you end up with a broken bone or something, we can fix it up, so don't worry."

"…Thank you."

Hearing Gazef basically announce, I'm gonna break one of your bones, that's all, made Climb's heart pound. He was accustomed to injuries, but that didn't mean he liked them.

Gazef charged—twice as fast as Climb's previous approach.

The bastard sword traced an extremely low arc aimed at Climb's feet, its tip practically scraping the ground. Flustered by the speed and centrifugal force, Climb protected his feet by gripping his broadsword blade-down, as if to stick it into the floor.

The two crashed together. That's what Climb thought, but suddenly, Gazef's bastard sword rose back up, slicing along the edge of the broadsword.

"Kgh!" Climb turned his entire body and face away from the bastard sword, which missed him by a tiny margin. The draft blew a few of his hairs away.

Climb was terrified by how quickly Gazef had been able to corner him. He followed the bastard sword with only his eyes but saw it suddenly stop sharp and come back around. Faster than he could think. His survival instinct seemed to drive him to thrust his shield forward when the bastard sword crashed into it with a shrill clang. And then—

"Gah!" With a sharp pain, Climb's body sailed sideways. And when he fell to the floor, the shock knocked the weapon out of his hands. The bastard sword had rebounded off the shield to the side, delivering a heavy impact to Climb's wide-open flank.

"Flow. Don't think, First attack, then defend. You have to move in a way that connects you to your next strike. Defending is but another part of the attack."

As Climb retrieved his fallen sword and made to get up while holding to his side, Gazef gently spoke to him, saying, "I held back so nothing would break. You're still good, right? …What do you want to do?"

In contrast to Gazef, who didn't seem the least bit out of breath, Climb was panting from the pain and stress. If he couldn't last for more than a couple exchanges like this, he was wasting Gazef's time. But he still wanted to improve, even if only slightly.

He nodded at Gazef and held up his sword.

"Okay, then let's keep going."

"Yes, sir!" With a hoarse shout, Climb raced forward.

After being struck, launched away, and occasionally kicked or punched, Climb collapsed on the floor, out of breath. The cold stones leeched the heat out of him through his mail and clothing, which felt good.

Panting, he didn't even move to wipe the sweat off his face. Rather, he didn't have the energy to.

Enduring the pain welling up in various locations, Climb was overwhelmed by the fatigue coursing through his entire body, and he lightly closed his eyes.

"Good work. I tried to swing so you wouldn't get any breaks or fractures, but how are you feeling?"

"…" Still lying on the floor, Climb moved his arms, examining the painful spots before opening his eyes. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong. I'm hurting, but it should only be bruises."

The throbbing aches he felt were far from serious. They wouldn't prevent him from guarding the princess.

"Okay… Then you don't need the potion, huh?"

"No. Because if I overuse them, I won't get any of the benefits of strength training."

"Letting your muscles heal naturally makes them stronger, but if you use magic to restore them to their original state, then that doesn't happen, I getcha. Are you off to be bodyguard for the princess now?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll give it to you anyway. Use it if you have any problems."

He placed the potion next to Climb with a clink.

"Thank you." Climb sat up and regarded the man his sword had been unable to approach even once.

The unscathed warrior asked in puzzlement, "What?"

"Nah, I was thinking you're amazing…"

Gazef had barely any sweat on his forehead while he, much younger, was out of breath. Sighing, Climb had acknowledged the gap between the strongest man in the kingdom and himself, a boy splayed out on the floor. In response, Gazef grinned awkwardly. "…Oh. I see."

"How—?"

"I can't really answer the question of how I got this strong. I just had some inborn talent, that's all. By the way, I learned to fight during my mercenary days. The nobles are always screaming about how vulgar my kicks are, but I learned those back then, too."

There were no tricks to getting stronger. Gazef had declared it so. He denied with ease the small hope Climb had clung to, the belief that he might be able to grow as strong as Gazef. Still, he'd get more skilled little by little with experience and if he continued training listening to those who were better than him.

"In that sense, it's good for you, Climb. Punching, kicking, a style where you use your arms and legs like that."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, not being trained as a swordsman or soldier will work in your favor. People tend to focus on bladework once they have a sword in their hands… but I don't think that's very smart. In a real fight, a doctrine that fully utilizes the hands and feet with the sword as simply another offensive option should prove more useful. Well, it's kinda fighting dirty… but it works for adventurers."

Climb dropped his usual expressionless manner and smiled. He never thought the strongest man in the kingdom would hold such a high opinion of his sword skills or his inconsistent, unorthodox movements. Climb knew the nobles scoffed at his style from the shadows, so praise like this was a big deal for him.

"All right, I'm going to head out. I need to be ready for breakfast with the king. Are you okay on time?"

"Yes. The princess will have a visitor today."

"A visitor? One of the nobles?"

Gazef wondered who the princess would be entertaining and Climb answered, "From the Aindra family."

"Aindra? …Ohh, then which one? blue, right? I can't imagine it'd be the red one."

"Yes, from the Blue Roses."

Gazef was visibly relieved. "Aha…I see, so her friend is coming…"

Gazef seemed to guess that Renner didn't want Climb at breakfast with her friend, but Climb had actually declined an invitation. Even if his relationship with her allowed it, refusing an offer from a member of the royal family would definitely have made Gazef frown, so Climb said nothing and left the details up to the older man's imagination.

As for Lakyus Aindra herself, she was acquainted with Climb through Renner and was friendly with him. She wouldn't react badly, like the other nobles, if he came to breakfast. But Renner had a few female friends and he figured she could get more of that rare girl talk without a guy around.

"Thank you for today, Captain Gazef."

"Nah, don't worry about it. I had fun, too."

"… If you don't mind, could you train me again sometime?"

Gazef wasn't sure what to say, but faster than Climb could notice and apologize, the captain responded. "Sure, as long as we can find a time and place where no one else is around."

Climb knew what the conflict had been, so he didn't say anything awkward. He flexed his creaking muscles and stood up. He did, however, express his honest thoughts. "Thank you."

Gazef gave a benevolent wave and got moving.

"Okay, let's clean up. There'll be trouble if I don't make it to breakfast on time. Oh, and that swing from overhead is pretty good. You just need to think about how to follow up, if your opponent dodges or blocks it."

"Yes, sir!"