Screeeech!
The sharp spearhead, larger than most battle axes, gleamed menacingly. The intimidating halberd looked as if it would destroy anything that blocked its path.
No—it only looked that way.
The man wielding it, Ralph Kallia, knew better than anyone else that his halberd’s strength wasn’t nearly so overwhelming. His face twisted with dissatisfaction.
“Damn it!”
Boom!
Unable to contain his rising frustration, Ralph slammed his halberd violently into the floor of the training ground.
The men of the Kallia clan, known for their heavy weapons, were generally massive in build. Yet even among them, Ralph stood out. At only six years old, he had already possessed the monstrous strength to lift a war axe.
From then on, it seemed only natural that Ralph would rise with recognition and glory, backed by the Kallia name.
But he had drawn the ire of Manus Kallia—pathetic, cowardly Manus, unworthy of the clan’s bloodline. Because of that, Ralph had been denied even a single proper elixir from his family.
The excuse was convenient enough: “No matter how gifted, he is but a branch family child close to the main line. We cannot waste the clan’s precious elixirs on one who will never become a direct heir.”
But everyone in the clan knew the truth: all of this was because Manus, that damnable wretch, was pulling strings in the background.
When had it begun? The fools of the direct line, who couldn’t even meet his eyes, began swallowing elixirs and building their muscles and aura. One by one, they started to surpass him.
As time passed, they supplemented their lacking aura with elixirs, and eventually, Ralph’s halberd no longer even reached them.
His raw strength dulled. And before those who had begun wielding aura, Ralph could no longer stand tall.
Humiliation. So bitter it was driving him mad.
Yet he knew—there was nothing he could do.
And so he twisted. And so he grew crooked.
What use was natural strength? What use was mastery over heavy weapons? In the end, a warrior’s worth was judged by the mana accumulated within.
Just look at him now. Once hailed as a prodigy, now reduced to a laughingstock, dragged into some children’s play for rejects.
…Thud!
Ralph collapsed flat onto the training ground floor, staring up at the sky.
Mockingly clear skies above.
“…Damn it all. Maybe I should just go farm.”
Why bother working hard when no effort would let him climb higher?
As Ralph lay there lamenting his fate, a shadow fell across his face, along with a mocking voice.
“Well, well. Biggest body here, but you act worse than a three-year-old child, you idiot.”
“What?!”
Ralph shot up, enraged by the harsh words.
Standing before him was the “half-wit” of the martial household— the one who had openly insulted him.
“You little insect, what could you possibly know…!!”
What could some coddled trash of the direct line— who had never suffered, who had grown up pampered— possibly know of the despair of someone blessed with talent, yet blocked at every turn by the walls of reality?
“Oh, I know plenty,” Ian replied coldly, not flinching under Ralph’s glare. “I know that all you ever do is blame others and your circumstances. Pathetic. Too pitiful to even laugh at.”
Ralph’s eyes narrowed with fury.
Of all the misfits in the Submerged Dragon Unit, Ralph had the most physical power. Even among the warriors of the northern steppe, few had been born with strength like his.
He had the potential to go far. He was blessed from birth. And yet, all he did was wallow in self-pity and blame the world.
Physically, he was almost a completed warrior. Mentally, after a week of observation, he was the most pitiful of them all.
“…Seems like words won’t work on you.”
Shing!
Ian’s hands moved to his waist, drawing out his twin blades.
“…Ha! What are you doing now?” Ralph scoffed.
“Because you got lucky and knocked me down once with a sneak attack, you think you’re above me? If it hadn’t been a surprise, you’d already be dead.”
“Is that so? Then prove it.”
“You bastard, you really—!”
“When did a Kallia man get so long-winded? What’s wrong? Scared?”
“Scared? Hahhahahaha! Look at this brat’s tongue! Fine then—if you’ve got the guts, come at me!”
Clang!
Ralph hefted his halberd with a mocking grin. Ian, however, met his gaze with nothing but a cold, piercing stare.
Ralph had the talent to stand tall on his own. But he had grown lazy, squandering it.
And reshaping men like him—was Ian’s specialty.
‘Fixing someone like this is simple.’
Keep breaking their head, over and over again, until they wake up.
‘Ralph, I’ll make you into a real man.’
The clash began.
The halberd fell with terrifying force, its edge gleaming sharp enough to split Ian’s skull.
Ian had sensed it earlier, when Ralph had fought against Cecilia: for all his twisted mind, Ralph took care of his weapon.
Heavy arms like halberds suffered immense strain when clashing against weapons or the ground. Neglect it even a little, and the edge would chip.
But Ralph’s halberd edge was razor sharp.
It meant only one thing. Despite his words, he hadn’t abandoned hope or possibility.
Even in despair, he had trained without skipping a day.
Which meant—he still had potential.
If his rotten mindset could be fixed, he could grow again.
And that was exactly what Ian intended to do.
He dodged by a paper’s breadth, sliding along the halberd shaft and closing the distance.
“Ha!” Ralph sneered, as though expecting it.
In battle, the most crucial thing was always distance. Any strongman on the continent would say the same.
Your weapon reaching the opponent, while theirs could not reach you.
Ralph, trained by one of the great martial clans, had learned countless ways to maintain that balance.
Still gripping his halberd, he swung his thick leg to kick at Ian’s waist.
Boom!
The kick split the air like a war drum bursting. Had it landed, Ian’s frail-looking spine would have snapped in two.
But Ian wasn’t a fool.
Hop!
At the perfect moment, he leapt, landing right on Ralph’s knee.
“With legs that slow, you couldn’t even swat a fly.”
Crack!
He kicked off the joint, vaulting gracefully over Ralph’s head and landing behind him.
“Damn brat!!” Ralph howled in pain.
No matter his size, Ralph’s knee joints weren’t strong enough to withstand the impact.
…Stumble!
Limping slightly, Ralph tried to adjust. Ian smirked.
“What’s wrong? Can’t move well?”
Ralph’s face turned red with fury at the taunt.
“…I’ll kill you!!”
Despite the pain, he charged recklessly like a maddened boar.
Ian nodded inwardly. Reckless—but such raw fighting spirit was innate, not learned. He didn’t dislike it.
“Graaaahhh!”
Unable to put weight into his lower body, Ralph swung the halberd only with his upper strength.
Ian easily deflected the shaft with his short sword, gliding along it and closing in again.
Flip!
Reversing his grip, Ian slammed the hilt of his blade straight into Ralph’s jaw.
Crack!
“Ughh!”
Even with lesser strength, a blow to the jaw with a blade hilt shook Ralph to the core.
Thud!
He staggered, losing his balance. Ian tripped his leg, toppling him to the ground, then mounted his chest.
“You… you bastard…!!”
Blood dripped from Ralph’s lips as he bit them, glaring.
Clang!
Ian dropped his swords aside, rolling up his sleeves.
“What… what are you doing?” Ralph stammered, unease flickering in his eyes.
“What do you think?”
Spit. Ian hawked onto his palm and clenched his fists.
“I’m about to teach a fool with a rotten mindset. Animals that don’t listen—need the stick.”
Bam!
The beating began.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
The sound of fists drumming echoed across the training yard.
Ralph’s head snapped side to side as Ian pounded him mercilessly.
‘…This… doesn’t make sense.’
His dazed mind tried to process it. He had been training, then sulking, when that half-wit had provoked him. He had been about to crush him.
And yet…
How? Why? Why was that “half-wit” now sitting on his chest, raining fists down on him?
“St… stop…”
A broken plea slipped past Ralph’s swollen lips.
“Hm? You want me to stop?” Ian asked mockingly.
Humiliation burned Ralph’s pride to ashes, but he nodded. Survival came first.
But Ian slowly shook his head.
“Nope. You’re still not awake yet. We’ll keep going a bit longer. Don’t worry—I’ll stop hitting your face.”
Bam-bam-bam-bam!
“Urghhhh!”
True to his word, Ian shifted his fists to Ralph’s body, pounding his torso. His small frame hid shocking strength, each blow sharp as fire.
Ralph’s muscles screamed in agony. He flailed like a fish out of water, until finally his body sagged, spent.
“…Whew.”
Ian wiped his sweat, satisfied.
“Funny thing—you realized, didn’t you? I never once drew on my mana during this fight.”
“……”
“Think hard. Today should’ve shown you that your excuses were nothing but cowardly lies. If you slack off like this again, I’ll have you kicked from the Submerged Dragon Unit immediately. Imagine the rumor: the Kallia boy, beaten and expelled by the half-wit second son. That’d be a sight.”
‘Damn… bastard… What kind of monster… is he…’
Ralph couldn’t even protest. No one in the clan knew just how terrifying this “half-wit” truly was.
All he could do—was nod weakly.
Ian smiled, baring his teeth. Like a devil without horns.
Ralph realized it then: he’d been caught. Badly.
“Urghh… damn it, my whole body hurts.”
Left alone in the training yard, Ralph groaned as he forced himself upright.
“…Damn bastard… pounded me into mince. Ugh!”
His body trembled violently, spasms wracking his limbs. He couldn’t even walk back to his quarters.
‘…No choice.’
Normally, he would never attempt aura cultivation here in the training ground. But no one cared about this “reject squad” anyway.
Suppressing his pain, Ralph began circulating his aura.
Hoooohhh…
At first, it was just to ease the pain. But soon—his eyes widened in shock.
‘Wh-what?! This is…!’
The mana road that had always been tightly clogged— had widened, even if only slightly.
It wasn’t an illusion. He knew his own mana road better than anyone, narrow and stifling. He could draw its map with his eyes closed.
And right now—it had expanded.
‘Why? How?’
Today had been like any other. The same training, the same meals.
Except for one thing.
‘…Could it be?’
Being beaten senseless by Ian.
Other than that, nothing had changed.
‘No… now’s not the time to dwell on it.’
He steadied himself, pouring aura through the widened road. Before it closed again, he had to seize every drop of efficiency.
For the first time in a long time, Ralph’s cultivation brought not despair, but satisfaction.
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