Eventually, Donovan finished going through every single one of the boys that had gawked at the sight of the very pretty Helen — and even a few girls who'd waved at Reivan and Hector. Before his victims' tears dried under the heat of the sun, Donovan stood in front of the group of young children imposingly.

"Attention."

No one dared to look anywhere but into Donovan's cruel grey eyes. One could even taste the fear and anxiety in the air.

"I know that you are all very much aware of who I am. And as much as I'd like not to, I know who all of you are as well. In excruciating detail."

Right from the start, Donovan's words were laced with venom. But all the children had no choice but to listen to his droll tirade.

"However, that cannot be said for everybody present. Chances are, this is the first time you've seen the vast majority of faces here."

'So I got it right. They don't know each other...'

Reivan held back a smirk of satisfaction at deducing the fact, even though it was ultimately an insignificant piece of information.

Donovan's hawk-like eyes scanned the gathering of children before continuing. "For your information, a group of knight cadets generally start off by training under an active-duty knight to develop basic knowledge and discipline. Once the squires grow to a satisfactory level, the good seeds are gathered and trained together in a single group."

There was a visible stir at the old knight's words. The news had inevitably made many of the children's faces brighten.

After all, didn't he mean that they were all good seeds?

Unfortunately, they'd counted their chickens before the eggs hatched.

"That's not the case this time though." Donovan casually pulverized the cadets' already shattered spirits. "It's just that sometimes, it's good for squires to broaden their horizons and interact with other squires that trained under different knights. It is similar to how you would often receive guidance from other knights aside from your assigned instructors. A breath of fresh air can go a long way, so to speak."

'So that's how it is...'

Reivan listened in interest. As someone who received guidance from multiple teachers frequently in the safety of the palace, this was all fascinating to him.

'It'd be great if I could train with other people aside from Helen and Hector too...'

Donovan continued, "On that note, we have three special guests here today. Although they are the same age as you, these three surpass you in certain fields. As such, they were trained differently from you all."

"Eh?" Reivan's eyes widened as the scenery in front of his eyes changed. He suddenly found himself standing in before hundreds of kids, right next to Donovan. The one saving grace was that he found himself together with the twins.

"Huh?" Hector's brows furrowed, confused at the situation. "Weren't we just there...?"

Ignoring their confusion, Donovan started pointing them out and introducing them to everyone. "These two with dark eyes are twins, with the boy's name being Hector and the girl's name being Helen. I'm sure the boys have become somewhat familiar with the latter. Now, as for the one that's not wearing a training robe... his name is Van."

Reivan was once again bathed in the gazes of the children. Some looked at him with interest, some with confusion... and some looked at him with sentiments he couldn't really parse.

In any case, his current situation was somewhat uncomfortable.

"Now, we'll start things off with a spar. Form up!" Donovan announced before he directed all of the children to assemble into a circle around the middle of the training grounds.

Reivan and the twins naturally moved to follow the nasty old man's orders but were stopped.

"You three stay where you are," Donovan said throwing them a pointed glance.

And so they stayed where they were, outside the circle.

----------------------------------------

Once the other children finished sitting down, forming a ring around the middle of the training ground, Donovan — who was now floating above the makeshift fighting ring — gestured at Hector to step forward.

"You're up first, boy."

"Me...?"

"Need I repeat myself?"

"N-no, sir..." Hector's shoulders slumped as he stepped forward. But his eyes widened as he remembered something. "What about weapons, sir...?"

Donovan's brows creased as he dismissively waved the boy off. "You can pick one out from the rack. Or you can use what you have inside your ring. Decide quickly."

"Okay, sir..."

With a light flourish of his right hand, a wooden spear as long as he was tall appeared in Hector's grasp. There was a bundle of cloth wrapped around the "speartip", and Hector gave it a few pulls here and there to make sure it was secure. Afterward, while heaving a sigh of resignation, Hector made his way over to the ring.

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Some of the squires tried to get up and give way for him to get into the middle of the ring, but it was pointless.

"Hup!" Hector easily jumped over the heads of the sitting knight cadets. With a casual brush of his clothes, he surveyed his surroundings, uncertainty etched on his face. He rested his spear on his shoulder, with a crease in his brows. "Now what...?"

Donovan also scanned the surrounding children before speaking. "Who wants to try sparring with this boy?"

'Why even ask that...?'

What little experience Reivan had with school in his past life told him that kids hated volunteering for things — especially if they were first. And in this particular instance, it was a fight against someone that your teacher outright said was better than you.

Naturally, Reivan expected to hear crickets after Donovan's question.

"Me! I'll do it!"

"No, I raised my hand first!"

"It should be me!"

"I'm also a spear user, so I should obviously go first!"

Reivan's jaw slackened a little at the sight of numerous hands flying into the air.

'The hell...? Was everybody in my elementary school just a bunch of lazy bums?'

Contrary to his thoughts, there were numerous volunteers. A cursory glance told Reivan that about seventy percent had their hand raised. And even those who didn't, looked like they gave up because they couldn't raise their hand fast enough.

'The hell are these guys...? Are they masochists? All of them!?'

"Eh? So many..." Hector stood there, dazed at all the volunteers. He looked up at the old knight, his expression unconfident. "Uhm, sir? I don't have to fight all of them, do I...?"

Donovan ignored the boy's question and looked at a tall young man with blonde hair and a face full of freckles. "Spots. You're up."

"Yes, sir!" The youth bolted up and rushed to take a spear from one of the weapon racks. Once he'd obtained one that suited his size, he ran back to the ring.

"Good luck, Brett!"

"Be careful! Don't mess up like last time!"

"Hey, Brett! Don't forget to hit 'im with the pointy end!"

'Oh, so his name isn't Spots...'

The freckled blonde boy — Brett, apparently — smirked at his friends' cheers and jeers, stepping up to face Hector in single combat. He dipped his head with a smile. "My name's Brett. Squire to Sir Balkhand. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I'm Hector Mer— Uh, never mind..." Hector stopped himself, then also bowed with a strained smile. "Anyway, I'm not anybody's squire. Please treat me well too."

Brett raised an eyebrow and seemed like he had questions to ask. But he eventually shrugged, then settled into a steady stance, his speartip facing forward. "Let's have a good fight!"

"Uh...sure." Hector also started to get into a stance. "It's just a spar though, so take it easy, okay...?"

"Hah!"

Hector didn't even get to finish his words before he had to move his head sideways to evade Brett's spear thrust. With tremendous force, he also countered with a strike of his own.

Unfortunately, Brett had already begun his retreat and Hector's speartip barely grazed the freckled boy's stomach.

"You fight dirty, huh!" Hector remarked with a smirk. "Just the way I like it!"

With fluid and practiced movements, Hector scooped up some sand with his foot and sent it flying toward his opponent's face.

Brett stepped back and closed his eyes just in time to avoid getting sand sprayed into his eye sockets. With a sweep of his arm, his spear slashed sideways in an attempt to preemptively deflect a strike he couldn't see.

The squire had performed all of those acts in one fluid motion. It was too bad that it had been the wrong choice.

By the time Brett was able to open his eyes again, Hector was in a different stance — one where the arm holding his spear was pulled back like a bow ready to fire.

Hector hadn't gone for a strike; he'd prepared for a spear throw.

"No!" Brett's face paled as he saw his inevitable loss. His footwork had been messed up, so he couldn't evade to the side even if he wanted to.

He could only accept his fate.

Fwoosh!

The next moment, Hector's spear pierced through the air and landed on Brett's stomach.

"Agh!" Brett cried out in pain as his body was thrown backward from the impact. With a wheeze, his lungs desperately cried out for the air that had been forced out of them.

"Enough." Donovan's voice cut through the crowd's excited muttering. "The pretty boy wins."

With that announcement, the rest of the children let out oohs and ahhs, expressing their admiration for the easy victory.

"I'm not a pretty boy..." Hector muttered while scratching his cheek, failing to hide the grin on his face.

It was obvious that he liked the attention.

----------------------------------------

'Hmm... The gap in their might is almost double, but it didn't really have much of an effect...'

Reivan rubbed his chin while reflecting on the fight he'd just witnessed.

Brett the freckled blonde boy was slightly better than most of the squires since he had thirty-eight Might. However, Hector had sixty-four. And yet, the fight didn't seem all that one-sided.

'Well, I guess there weren't a lot of chances for Hector to use his superior physical abilities...'

Thinking about it carefully, there were no opportunities for Hector to leverage his superior physical prowess to overpower his opponent.

'Wait a minute, did that Brett guy start the fight off that way intentionally...?'

The match had started with Hector getting caught off guard. As for the exchange that followed afterward, it had gone in Brett's favor since he'd almost struck Hector while retreating at the perfect time to evade the stronger boy's counter.

As for the next, it was composed of one of Hector's favorite moves; scooping up dirt and chucking it at the opponent's face. Hector had done it so frequently, that his skill in throwing things with his foot had eventually evolved into a work of art.

If the opponent merely closed their eyes or turned their head to avoid getting sand in their eyes, Hector would pounce forward for a downward strike. And if they retreated, Hector would simply get into a stance to throw his spear at the hapless foe — something incredibly hard to deal with since stepping backward positioned a person's feet in a way that made moving sideways extremely difficult.

If they tried to force it and move sideways right after stepping back, the most common result was tripping and falling to the ground.

At that point, Hector's victory was assured.

Reivan himself had fallen for it on numerous occasions before he figured out a counter; he simply had to move forward and a bit to the side. After all, even If he got hit by Hector's downward strike, it wouldn't matter if only the shaft made contact. Alternatively, as long as he dodged the incoming spear throw — a feat that Reivan's excellent dynamic vision made easy — Hector would have lost his weapon through his own actions.

Basically, Reivan just had to exploit the spear's inherent weakness of being terrible at extremely close range.

'For the spear throw... Losing his weapon won't be a problem once he has a Soul Armament. So I'll have to think of another solution in the future...'

He could, of course, just swat the projectile away with [Formless Will] or force a dodge with his augmented physical abilities. He could also simply tank the hit with his fraudulent healing capability.

But since it was a spar, using his special abilities somehow felt like cheating. If he kept depending on them even when sparring, he'd never improve his basic techniques and skills. This was why he kept on limiting himself.

Of course, the fact that Donovan ordered him to do that was also a very small factor in why he always did it.

"Hm?" Reivan was broken out of his thoughts when Helen lightly tapped his shoulder. He looked at her with an eyebrow raised. "What is it? Are you hungry?"

The girl pointed at the man in the sky. "He's calling you."

"Who...?" Reivan followed her gaze and saw that the old bastard was looking at him. However, he hadn't heard his name getting called — he hadn't heard anything.

'Fuck. I really need to stop zoning out...'