Please Vote for Your Knight! – Chapter 12

Author: Asternkm

“Lord David will go first.”

Amont said so.

It seemed they would demonstrate in whatever order she randomly selected.

Even so, calling David first had clearly been intentional.

As expected, David demonstrated swordsmanship that was nearly flawless.

Naturally, every participant who came after him was bound to be compared to him.

They ended up looking even worse than their actual skill level.

“Do you think Cartamen is a joke?”

“If you’re going to perform like that, why did you even come all the way here?”

Amont’s harsh criticism poured down on them.

It made for quite a provocative scene.

“Next, Raphael Laurent!”

Amid the tense atmosphere, a blond man with soft, gentle features stepped forward.

His swordsmanship was as smooth as his appearance, while also demonstrating excellent control over speed and force.

His skill certainly showed potential.

However, even he eventually forgot the sword form halfway through.

He had memorized more of it than the participants before him, though.

He had simply been overwhelmed by the tense atmosphere.

Amont let out a sigh.

“You said you ran an orphanage, right? You’d never properly trained in martial arts, but I gave you first grade because I saw potential in you. Was it all just empty hype?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

Raphael lowered his head.

“Your first-grade ranking means nothing right now. If you know that you’re lacking, then work harder during training.”

“Yes. I’ll work twice as hard.”

“No. You need to work ten times harder. Otherwise, your rank will definitely drop in the next evaluation.”

It was a brutal assessment.

Even Kusto, who had come close to death’s door before, felt his knees go weak.

‘And what’s even scarier is that I’m next.’

The moment he stepped forward, he immediately felt the chilling atmosphere.

“Let’s see what you can do.”

Amont said coldly.

Kusto gripped the practice sword, relaxed his body, and extended his arm.

He had memorized all the movements, so he could perform them without interruption.

The problem was that he had no fundamentals in swordsmanship.

Kusto simply followed what he had been taught and practiced, faithfully extending, swinging, and retracting the sword.

Amont immediately recognized Kusto’s condition.

“You have absolutely no foundation. You look like someone who’s picking up a sword for the first time.”

“It is the first time I’ve learned swordsmanship.”

“But you’ve worked as a mercenary, haven’t you? You must have used a sword before. Your fundamentals are so poor that I can’t even tell you to have that experience.”

“I’ll work harder.”

“You have no foundation, yet you memorized all the movements. You certainly put in a pointless amount of effort.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Swordsmanship isn’t just about memorizing movements. You have to make them part of your body before you can use them in actual combat. If you want to get eliminated, keep going like this.”

Amont spoke harshly.

It was an evaluation Kusto had expected.

And it was appropriate advice, too.

However, snickering could be heard among the participants.

Kilman’s voice was among them.

“Don’t laugh at him. He’s from a lowly slave background, so it can’t be helped. What could he possibly have learned?”

It was the kind of remark that pretended to be sympathetic while rubbing salt into the wound.

Kusto ignored him and returned to his place, only for someone to pat him on the shoulder.

“Well done.”

“?”

“Don’t be too disappointed. You’ll be able to do better.”

It was Dimitri.

When Kusto stared at him with question marks in his eyes, Dimitri quickly withdrew his hand and pretended to look elsewhere.

When Kusto turned his head, David was giving him a thumbs-up from a distance.

‘What’s wrong with these guys?’

Kusto ignored them and watched the next participant instead.

‘Could there really be someone with less foundation than me?’

But the real problem began after that.

Every participant who came out to demonstrate had the exact same problem.

“What is this? Why are you all doing the same strange thing? Putting unnecessary force into the movements halfway through and trying to look cool—where is there room for that kind of posturing in Valkyria swordsmanship?!”

In the end, Amont exploded.

“Why have you all suddenly developed habits you never had before? Who taught you this?”

Amont swept her sharp gaze across the participants.

No one said a word.

Amont glared at the participant who had demonstrated just before.

Startled, he hurriedly raised his hand and pointed somewhere.

“K-Kilman taught me!”

Kilman flinched.

“I-I was just doing my own training! That guy was watching me on his own and copying me incorrectly!”

“Lord Kilman! You personally told me that my movements were wrong and that I needed to put more force into them here!”

Watching the two argue, Amont spoke.

“Then, Kilman. Come out and show us.”

Kilman stomped forward, angrily bumping the previous participant aside with his shoulder.

“I’ll show you my skills.”

“Yes, confidence is good.”

Kilman performed the swordsmanship without hesitation.

Compared to the participant before him, even the flow of his movements was different. His motions were bold and refreshing, with clear variations in strength and speed, like watching a powerful dance.

But when his demonstration ended, Amont’s brow was deeply furrowed.

“Excellent.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re the culprit.”

“Pardon? W-What do you mean by that…?!”

Kilman couldn’t hide his bewilderment.

“It looks excellent on the surface, but it’s a complete mess underneath. Who told you that you could alter the swordsmanship however you pleased? Why are you putting unnecessary force into certain parts and adding exaggerated variations?”

“B-But that’s how we were taught in the Pius School! They said true swordsmanship should be performed this way…”

“Then you shouldn’t have left that school. This is a place where you learn Valkyria swordsmanship.”

“……”

“In other words, it’s as if you didn’t demonstrate any swordsmanship at all. If I were to score it, you’d get zero.”

“B-But…!”

“If you’re going to do it like that, you’d be better off performing like Kusto, whose skills were at least at the basic level. At least Kusto faithfully followed the Valkyria swordsmanship.”

Kilman’s face, which had been looking down on Kusto so openly, turned bright red.

The people who had gathered around Kilman and laughed along with him were no different.

‘Just as I expected.’

This was exactly why Kusto had watched Kilman’s demonstration once and then simply walked away.

Even Kusto, who hadn’t managed to memorize the entire sword form, could tell that Kilman was altering the swordsmanship however he pleased.

To those who admired the swordsmanship of established schools, even those alterations might have looked impressive.

But to Kusto, who had no such prejudices, the habits of a particular school only made the swordsmanship more of a mess.

That was why he had chosen to learn the movements faithfully from a blank slate, knowing full well that it would expose his lack of fundamentals.

Still, after Amont’s ruthless assessment, the number of people making the same mistake as Kilman decreased.

Instead, more people began exposing their lack of fundamentals, just like Kusto.

Among the participants who were criticized for the same issue, Kusto’s skills were still the best.

Fortunately, most of those who had learned from David performed the swordsmanship cleanly, so Amont’s anger gradually subsided.

“Dimitri, even though you’re second grade, your skills are good enough that I’d believe you were first grade.”

“Right. If you’re in first grade, that’s how you should perform.”

Of course, there were also participants who remained dissatisfied despite receiving praise.

“Hey, hey. That guy’s crying. He’s crying.”

At the voice beside him, Kusto flinched and turned his head.

Someone was sobbing with his head bowed. It was Pierre Simon, who had just returned to his place after receiving praise.

He was a handsome man with sharp eyes that could be glimpsed through his ash-gray hair.

‘Wasn’t he a noble’s page? And he also worked as a coachman. Maybe that’s why he was pretty good, but why is he crying?’

As if answering his question, a murmur came from Pierre.

“I wasn’t perfect. If my master had seen me, he would have encouraged me while whipping me…”

Is this guy insane?

Kusto quickly turned his head away.

Let’s not get involved.

But before he could dismiss the thought, a memory came to mind.

‘Wasn’t that guy sitting in Seat No. 1 in the waiting area during the entrance evaluation?’

A great many people had fought to claim that seat.

The contests had included all kinds of challenges: arm wrestling, push-ups, hand-to-hand combat, and more.

But Pierre Simon had never lost even once.

Despite being a former coachman, he had an elegant appearance like a young nobleman, and despite his slender build, he had beaten every large man in contests of strength.

The result had been completely unexpected. One of his defeated opponents, unable to understand how he had lost, had asked him:

“How did you beat me with a body that skinny?”

Pierre had answered with a chilling smile.

“When nothing I did worked, I remembered the moments when my master would whip me.”

“!”

“Then there’s nothing you can’t do. I became strong thanks to him.”

Everyone who heard it had gotten chills.

‘Just who the hell was that crazy master?’

Kusto sighed as he listened to Pierre’s sobbing.

That was when Ines’s shouting rang out from the adjacent third- and fourth-grade training grounds.

“Should we just drop every single one of them to fifth grade?”

‘They’re getting destroyed over there too.’