Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound Chapter 135

Episode 135 Skill Test (3)

Eyes wide open. half-open mouth.

“…”

Professor Morgue Banshee was making a face he hadn’t made in years.

People who don’t know me may think I’m a bit surprised, but people who know me will have a slightly different opinion.

The fact that Professor Banshee, nicknamed ‘Wax Doll’ because he is so expressionless, is making such an expression was to express astonishment itself.

All the people in the lecture room were shocked and lost their words.

Eventually, Professor Banshee was the first to break the silence.

“……Umm. That’s the correct answer.”

But he added at the end.

“However, it seems that your answer contains many controversial and unreported issues that have not yet been verified in the academic world.”

Certainly, some of Vikir’s answers were new to even Professor Banshee.

However, Professor Banshee thought he couldn’t hastily judge Vikir’s answer as wrong, because what he said earlier was terrifyingly accurate.

In the first place, unless you were a graduate student or professor, how did you know about the Battle of Hill 14 and the Battle of Hill 27?

And the Battle of Hill 306 is a historical fact recently discovered in the academic world, and research is just beginning.

‘……Isn’t this information only available to high-ranking officers in the Imperial Army or members of the Baskerville family?’

Professor Banshee felt that he couldn’t control his expression, and ran his hand over his forehead.

In fact, this question was far beyond the level that freshmen could answer.

He deserves to be called an outstanding freshman even if he only knew about the battles at Hill 1, 7, 8, 75, and 207 that Tudor and Bianca of the Cold Weapons Division knew.

Sinclair of the Fever Army Club additionally memorized the battles of Hill 4, Hill 5, and Hill 30, and this was knowledge beyond the level of an undergraduate.

But how should I explain this new student right in front of me?

Professor Banshee was feeling confused right now.

“How do you know something that hasn’t been reported to the academic world yet, and why do you pretend it’s true?”

Professor Banshee asked Vikir.

Meanwhile, Bikir was still unconcerned.

‘I can’t say I’ve lived it myself. It’s a nuisance.’

When it comes to the Balak tribe of the Red and Black Mountains, Bikir knows better than anyone else. Perhaps no one in the Empire knows as much about Balak as Vikir.

Vikir dodged Professor Banshee’s question with good reason.

“Recently, trade with the barbarians of the Western Front and the Empire has begun. Many caravans are vying for trade. In the meantime, it’s just a commonplace stock market jjirashi. I’m sorry if I sounded assertive.”

With Vikir backing away, even as a Banshee professor, it’s harder to question.

In any case, it was after hearing more answers than I asked.

However, Professor Banshee’s gaze at Vikir became a little more intense.

“…”

If there is a difference from before, it is that the intention contained in the gaze has changed from contempt to curiosity.

“You seem to be interested in economics, right?”

“It’s not that grandiose. It’s just a small person who is sensitive to his teeth.”

“You’re even humble.”

Professor Banshee narrowed her eyes and studied Vikir’s face.

And after opening the attendance book, I turned over the page and looked into the student’s personal information.

Then Professor Banshee drooled.

“…Ummm. I see. The writing score is perfect.”

Professor Banshee muttered involuntarily, causing the entire class to stir.

“Ah, was that the guy who said he was number one in writing?”

“But the handwriting is perfect? Is that possible?”

“The academy’s handwriting difficulty is truly atrocious.”

“Crazy, I placed 4th overall in this handwriting, but I did a half thresh.”

Everyone looks at Bikir with the eyes of a monster.

And among them, the one who surprised me the most was the other one.

“……Perfect score?”

A female student looking at Bikir with her bunny eyes open.

She was Sinclair, who placed second in this handwriting.

An honor student with a very high score of 931 out of 990.

There is a very large gap between the 700 points in 3rd place and the 500 points in 4th place.

However, at the moment when he thought it was strange that he placed second, Sinclair was a bit dazed when he heard the difference in points from first place.

A perfect score means that the opponent could have scored more than that.

The limit is 990 points, so I only scored 990 points, but no one knows where that skill is reaching.

That’s what full marks are.

Meanwhile. Professor Banshee looked away from Vikir.

“Vikir. Considering your excellent answer, I will add 10 points for your attitude. But I can’t condone that I closed my eyes during class, so I’ll deduct another 10 points for your attitude. And apart from that, donate cold weapons. I’ll add 1 point to the overall attitude score.”

Afterwards, Professor Banshee resumed class as if he had never done so.

As a result, Bikir was able to pass quietly without receiving additional points or penalty points.

Separately, the expression of the cold arms donation students also brightened.

However, even so, the reaction of the students who donated cold weapons to Bikir was not particularly favorable.

“You’re a cheeky bastard. Did you sleep in class because you did well on the written test?”

“You could have lost all of your points.”

“I was nervous because I was worried that my attitude score would be lowered for no reason.

“When I see those guys who just study like that, I just want to give them a hit.”

All students gossip regardless of whether they donate hot weapons or donate cold weapons.

Since the academic tradition of the academy itself puts more importance on practical skills than writing, there were many students who did not recognize Bikir.

In particular, the degree was more severe in cold weapons donations than in hot weapons donations.

It was because the students who donated hot weapons, represented by ‘Wizard’, tended to place a lot of emphasis on writing, but the students who donated cold weapons, represented by ‘Warriors’, placed less importance on handwriting.

yet. Some of the cold weapon donation students put their heads together in twos and threes and started discussing the sinister plan.

“Looks like you’re a study bug type. Let’s see if you can be so arrogant in class later in the afternoon.”

“Perhaps there is an athletics lecture in the liberal arts course in the afternoon?”

“Whoa, whoa, ‘Naphtali’ lecture is a real physical education class. It’s even a concept of class competition.”

“It’s perfect for breaking a braggart’s nose.”

“Everyone stay still. I filmed that guy.”

A fierce battle of nerves began between the freshmen who welcomed the new semester.

* * *

Don Quixote Tudor.

The head of Class A of the Cold Weapons Donation, he was currently at the gymnasium in the middle of the academy for PE class.

“…This is a lesson for me!”

Today’s afternoon class is ‘Naphtali’.

Naphtali is a kind of sport that is classified as a ball game.

It was a sport in which a total of forty people split into two sides and scored points by throwing a ball into the opponent’s goal.

There are goalposts at both ends of the large field, 50 meters long and 100 meters wide, and the players of both teams have to do whatever it takes to carry the ball and put it into the opponent’s goal.

You can kick it with your foot or throw it with your hand.

It doesn’t matter if you slam your opponent in the middle or attack with your fists and feet.

No matter what.

It is entirely up to the players to dodge, fight or pass the ball into the opposing team’s goal.

Only spending two mana and using weapons are prohibited.

“Ha ha ha Naphtali is what I do best. Come on!”

Tudor, who stepped forward on behalf of class A, was confident despite not having mana or weapons.

And there were three members of Class B who stood in the way of such Tudor.

“What are you boasting about? I’ll kill you.”

“Kill him.”

“Throw it away.”

They were the triplets of the Baskervilles.

Before long, the class battle between Class A and Class B began.

“Pass! My ball!”

Tudor waved eagerly at his classmates from the start of the match.

Soon, an oval ball made of leather flew and landed in Tudor’s grasp.

Tudor picked up the ball and started sprinting forward.

‘okay. This is a real class!’

What’s the use of memorizing theories or memorizing them in the written exam?

A true warrior, a true knight, should be able to run as fast as the wind, clearing enemies and reaching the desired goal.

Tudor ran at a high speed, befitting a runner position.

and.

There were three line men blocking the way.

“You arrogant bastard. How dare you break through.”

“dare.”

“dare.”

Three brothers, Hive, Middle, and Low, stand in the way of Tudor.

A battle of pure flesh without mana or weapons.

A head-to-head match between Baskerville, the iron-blooded swordsman, and Don Quixote, the Changhae Changga, was about to unfold.

……however.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t dare to confront the monsters of the iron-blooded swordsman head-on.”

Tudor whirled in place.

And in the blink of an eye, he passed Middle Bro and Low Bro and squeezed through the thread-like gap between them and escaped.

It was a ghost-like evasion and a lightning-like rush.

The students in the other class who watched it cheered for Tudor’s super play.

“Wow! Is he a Tudor? He’s really great!”

“I don’t have mana or weapons, but I can’t believe that kind of physicality.”

“I heard that there is a genius in the house of Don Quixote, Naphtali.”

“As expected, he is the head of the Cold Weapons Donation!”

But the cheers didn’t last very long.

“Where are you going?”

Right next to Tudor, who ran away, there was someone who followed like a shadow.

Hivero Les Baskervilles.

Said to be the strongest of Baskerville’s tridents, he stopped Tudor again.

“Ball. Give it to me.”

Before long, Hivero’s hand and Tudor’s hand came together. The result is…

Boom!

Surprisingly, Hive was defeated.

Tudor dodged Hive’s hand and left a deep palm print on his chest.

“Kuh!?”

The moment the hive stepped back half a step, Tudor flipped the hive and escaped at the same speed as he was running.

“Ha ha ha! Stop it if you can!”

After the aces of class B, Baskerville’s trident, were out of the way, there was no one who could stop Tudor.

pop! Puff! bang! Cranky!

His height, weight, and size are no match for Tudor.

With the waist of a leopard and the back of a bear, Tudor ran fast and at the same time stamped out anyone who got in his way.

Speed is speed, power is power.

The strongest runner & lineman who has nothing missing is Don Quixote Tudor.

Tudor, who smashed or bypassed all the obstacles in his way, eventually stood in front of the B class goal post.

If you throw the ball through the big Y-shaped iron goal, you get one point.

As soon as Tudor pulled back his arm holding the ball and was ready to score, he saw something in his eyes.

“……!”

It was Bikir, standing absent-mindedly next to the goal post.

It seems that he has not been given a particularly important position and is taking a suitable rear defender position.

For a moment, a mischievous smile appeared on Tudor’s lips.

‘Isn’t that the guy from Professor Banshee’s lecture in the morning?’

It is memorable for Bikir to answer the theory without any obstruction.

Because of that, his first answer suddenly became a stupid answer.

‘Where can I pamper you for a bit?’

Tudor stopped trying to throw the ball and ran a little further.

I was thinking of bumping Bikir on the shoulder and knocking him to the floor.

‘Friend! I hope you will use this as an opportunity to focus on sports instead of just studying!’

and.

…puck!

That became Tudor’s last thought.