Chapter 11

Within the castle, an absurdly vast expanse totaling 120 square kilometers, there truly was nothing lacking.

There was a sprawling training ground dedicated solely to the Sword Saint’s practice, a grand banquet hall capable of easily accommodating thousands, and, of course, a library filled with the history and teachings of diverse races. Also, there were many empty rooms whose purpose I couldn’t even guess.

Tens of thousands, no, even hundreds of thousands of rooms were crammed within the castle walls. It would have been impossible to utilize every single space inside.

I paused for a moment to pay my respects to the dwarven artisans who must have suffered agonizing headaches while designing the interior of this building, then sighed as I stared blankly at a vacant lot.

“That is a room whose purpose is not yet defined. If you wish, we can summon artisans to convert it into a training ground, a practice hall, or even a library.”

From behind me, as I stared into the empty room, came an explanation in a voice as smooth as silk.

“No, I don’t think you need to go *that* far….”

I had found myself with an attendant. A middle-aged man with neatly slicked-back hair, a crisp tuxedo, and a colossal white towel draped over one arm, its purpose utterly unknown – the very picture of a traditional servant.

The kind who looked like he might burst into a waltz if you didn’t get to bed on time… yes, *that* kind of servant.

“First, please show me to my room.”

The middle-aged servant had told me to speak casually to him, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I’d lived my whole life in a land of respect for elders, and now he was asking me to drop the formalities with someone who seemed twice my age.

Instinctively, it felt… undeniably awkward.

“The room is this way.”

And then, we walked.

Really.

Really, *really* disgustingly long and wide hallway.

“Wait, just… just a moment to rest.”

Just how long and arduous was this journey? Long enough that, during my servant’s escort, I had to collapse on the spot twice, panting for breath during each hard-won reprieve.

“Then, please rest. If you require anything, shake this bell, and servants will soon come to your room.”

After arriving at the room.

The middle-aged servant placed a small golden bell in my room and departed. I immediately collapsed onto the bed, kneading the aches from my legs after the exhausting march.

It was the first proper bed I’d lain in for nearly three or four days. The sheets were soft, the duvet plush – if I simply closed my eyes, I felt I could drift off instantly.

“Goddamn it….”

Despite the bed’s comfort, my heart felt like a deer caught on a cliff’s edge, uneasy as all hell.

I had, in the end, joined the Sword Saint’s party.

A fledgling, barely a week since being thrust into this game-world, joining a party so far beyond my station…

The things to come flashed through my mind, sending a shiver down my spine.

I would be exposed to countless dangers.

High-ranking demons were the baseline. Encounters with Archdukes like Maltiel or Raguel were possibilities. And on occasion, perhaps, packs of powerful monsters – not just demons and aberrations, but dragons and ancient spirits.

To survive, I had to become stronger.

Fortunately – or perhaps not – the humans around me were mistaking me for some second key to saving humanity, or a once-in-a-lifetime genius who would go down in magical history.

If I wanted, I could likely acquire almost any equipment or grimoire with ease.

Adding to that, the leaders of the Round Table had promised to assign me a personal magic instructor.

They seemed to be anticipating just how much stronger I would become once I began properly learning magic, given my lack of formal education… Honestly, I wasn’t so sure.

I was the sort of person who dropped out of high school and left home to become a composer.

I, who had never truly studied anything in my life, was now suddenly stepping into the new academic field of magic.

‘Can I even manage this?’ The worry was unavoidable.

“This is going to be a disaster.”

…I could already picture the expression on my future tutor’s face.

‘Basic training and study are essential, of course, but to survive in the Sword Saint’s high-level battlefields, I also need to be cunning.’

Studying honestly alone wouldn’t be enough to catch up to the Sword Saint, a living, breathing weapon of mass destruction, within three years.

Acquiring ‘artifacts’ would be one of those cunning methods, and perhaps seeking the blessing of the lightning spirit dwelling in the forest would be another.

Fortunately, I had a thorough grasp of the various elements that could rapidly boost a character’s stats.

I had to mobilize all the knowledge and methods at my disposal.

“If I can do it, then I can do it. Genius.”

A misunderstanding with risks as grand as its rewards.

I must perform a precarious tightrope walk upon this slender thread of misconception.

Should I falter even by a hair’s breadth, I’ll meet a pointless end on the battlefield. Or, worse, be driven to the executioner’s block for deceiving the leaders.

“I am a genius… I can do it… I will survive… I am a genius…”

Like a witch chanting a bizarre incantation, I lay in bed, idly hypnotizing myself.

…Truth be told, the effect was negligible.

Damn my [Composure] trait, preventing me from even having a proper freak-out.

And so, I spent my first night in the kingdom lamenting my fate in bed.

* * *

The second day dawned.

The performance of my [Composure] trait was undeniable.

To be able to sleep soundly even in this insane situation!

Moreover, upon opening my eyes, I even sat at the inn’s table, leisurely steeping tea to shake off the last of my morning slumber.

‘What can I do? Things have turned out this way. First, I’ll wake up with some tea. Since I’ve already started being misunderstood…might as well put it to good use.’

The anxiety of last night felt like a mere dream.

…Could it be that I’m truly losing my mind? Calmly brewing tea in a situation like this.

“Well, the deed is already done. I need to focus only on what I can do.”

Having settled my mind, I rang the golden bell that the servant provided a couple of times.

Soon after, a different, younger servant knocked and entered.

“You summoned?”

… This one looks like he’s about to start dancing if he doesn’t get his rest.

“Here, it’s a list of the necessary magical tools and clothing, things like that.”

I handed the servant the list I’d frantically scribbled in my notebook last night, fueled by incantations.

Basic equipment like crystal balls, spellbooks, robes, and hats were on it, of course, but so were fundamental texts that explained how magic actually worked.

‘I need to at least know what magic *is*.’

I was instinctively using Bloom, and even though I’d played the game this world was based on for a good 5000 hours, I didn’t have the faintest clue what ‘magic’ actually *was*.

This is reality.

In front of the computer, a few clicks would conjure a pillar of roaring fire, but reality clearly wouldn’t be so simple.

I needed to grasp the mechanisms of real-world magic, at least a little, before I met my tutor, didn’t I?

“Oh, and I have one more favor to ask.”

“As you wish.”

“… Could you let me know when an orc named Rex and his men arrive in the capital?”

“Rex, you say… Are you referring to the, uh, orc soldier? May I ask your purpose?”

“… I owe them my life. I believe attending their funeral is the least I can do.”

The servant simply nodded silently in response to my answer and left my room.

That afternoon, most of the items on my list arrived.

I checked the sizes of the robes, hat, and other gear, and then opened a book, beginning a course of study I’d never imagined I’d undertake.

As I began to read the words written in the book, I felt time accelerate in an instant.

It was as if everything around me blurred, pushed out beyond the edges of my vision.

Even I was surprised by how well I could focus.

‘…Easier than I thought?’

Contrary to my worries, knowledge related to magic entered my mind with remarkable ease.

Could my abnormally high magic stat be contributing?

I devoured about twenty books – the ones I had intended to stack up and slowly read over time – in less than three hours.

Unlike reality, it seemed I was more sharp-witted in this world than I gave myself credit for.

Well, considering I possessed a magic stat of 20, when ordinary mages barely reached 13 or 14… it wouldn’t make sense if my intelligence didn’t keep up.

Just as the arrogant thought that perhaps I was a true genius flickered through my mind, a sharp, stinging pain shot through my eyes.

As if pierced by needles, I pressed my knuckles into my eyes, rising from the desk.

After sitting in one position for three hours straight and then suddenly standing, my head began to spin. It was a classic case of anemia, but I forced my burning eyes open and barely managed to collapse onto the bed.

Someone once said, studying also requires physical strength, doesn’t it?

This cursed body apparently couldn’t even handle sitting and reading for more than three hours.

For engaging in such an intense weight training session of reading for three hours, I was forced to lie in bed all day, massaging my throbbing eyes.

It seemed my expectations of perhaps becoming a true genius were nothing more than a fleeting delusion.

* * *

Around midday of the third day.

Learning from yesterday’s agony, I made it a rule to stretch after every thirty minutes of reading and then rest in bed for twenty minutes.

I had learned yesterday that this insane body couldn’t even manage three hours without periodic breaks every thirty minutes.

Stamina 1, Strength 1, Agility 1.

I sighed again at these numbers that made my heart feel so constricted, lowering myself onto the bed, when a servant I hadn’t summoned knocked on my door.

I dragged my leaden limbs, pulling open the door latch with difficulty.

“Lieutenant Rex and his squad have returned.”

The young servant delivered the news of my benefactors’ return with a grave expression.

“…Lead me.”

The young servant, as if he had memorized every inch of this maddeningly large interior, led me to the carriage with practiced steps.

Perhaps we walked for thirty minutes.

Breathless and perspiring, I was offered a moment of rest by the servant, but I declined.

Rest could be taken in the carriage.

A four-wheeled carriage, prepared by a servant, awaited me at the castle entrance.

And so, the carriage took me straight out of the castle walls, along the well-paved roads of the capital, towards the National Cemetery for fallen soldiers.

Nearly two hours must have passed.

In the cemetery on the distant hillside, a funeral was in full swing.