Both men wield training swords—real iron swords, though not sharpened. Moreover, no one mentions protective gear, so being hit could definitely cause injury. In severe cases, death isn't out of the question.
The Northern knights' swordsmanship is mostly practical. They abandon flashy moves, focusing instead on basic techniques like slashing, thrusting, and blocking from the very beginning. The training involves telling you when to attack, retreat, slash, or block. After repetitive practice until muscle memory forms, it's time for real combat. Those who survive and recover from injuries build a strong foundation. The rest is about greater strength, faster speed, more agile reactions, and stronger willpower.
Virut held his sword and performed a formal salute. But Derek's sword tip jabbed sharply into his wrist. Virut flinched in pain, nearly dropping his sword, and looked at Derek with confusion, not understanding the reason for the sudden attack.
"Is your head stuck up your rear? Did your grandfather ever tell you he bowed on the battlefield? Have you ever seen a Northern knight bow his head and wait for a response?" Derek's usual gentleness was replaced by a bull-like rage. "We are Northern knights; we are the fearsome dragons. We don't need others' approval; our swords are our confidence. Only the southern women would try to bind knights with such rules. Next time you encounter an idiot like that, aim for his forehead and see if he's full of dung."
The knights-in-training were stunned. This was the new generation of Northern knights? In truth, Northern knight training might not have slackened, but the lack of wars had led to the rise of various useless practices among the nobility, affecting even the Northern knights.
Virut's expression shifted, showing some signs of displeasure. Derek wasn't interested in guessing his thoughts; no issue couldn't be resolved with a good beating. If one wasn't enough, there would be another.
Humans are naturally impressed by strength. Powerful force is the greatest persuasion, and strength is never wrong.
"Now, grip your sword tightly. I'll give you another chance."
Virut gripped the knight's sword firmly and charged with a roar. Derek parried from below.
Clang!
Virut, who had the advantage in slashing, found himself pushed back.
"Are you a woman? I can't feel your strength at all!" Derek roared like a dragon.
Virut was shocked and disbelieving. Despite his considerable talent—evidenced by his level 6 knight status at his age—he was far outmatched by Derek.
Derek didn't show any mercy, advancing quickly and relentlessly using techniques to humiliate him.
"Your reaction is like a woman's. I have to be careful not to knock you over. You're weak with the same strength, and your swordsmanship is far from good. Your footwork—are you just a wooden post? Your feet—are they crippled? Kick me."
Virut was struck everywhere, with Derek showing no leniency. At this point, all complaints and confusion were replaced by pain, making it impossible to think of anything else. Finally, Derek kicked him over and tossed the training sword to a nearby squire.
"Pathetic, truly pathetic. Is this how weak the younger generation of Northern knights has become?"
This provoked discontent among many. Virut struggled to rise, still defiant. Derek's reputation and achievements were known, and his ability to teach Virut a lesson was acceptable. But that didn't mean the younger Northern knights were weak. In fact, Northern knights had always held an advantage in exchanges with foreign noble knights.
"Feeling unsatisfied?" Derek turned to see a group of discontented faces.
"Speak up if you're dissatisfied. If you lack the courage to resist, don't call yourself anything but a coward."
Concerned about his title as a viscount and his reputation? That wasn't a problem for him; his men wouldn't be silent.
"Viscount, I'm dissatisfied," Virut spoke up.
The young knights, fired up by the challenge, responded in kind.
"Good, showing some Northern knight spirit," Derek said with a sly smile. He wasn't interested in toying with weaklings; now was the time for real fun.
"Virut, I know you're called a knight prodigy. Look at these knights; each one comes from the most ordinary background, with no formal knight training. Now, pick any one of them and show me if the title of 'knight prodigy' is deserved."
Virut scanned the group, noting their impressive physiques. Although the knights' appearances were imposing, their skill couldn't be judged solely by their build. Unable to defeat Derek, did that mean he couldn't beat the other knights?
Virut, a bit arrogant, chose the strongest-looking knight, at least based on appearance.
"Heh, not bad, choosing the strongest among them," Derek commented.
The knights gathered excitedly. Even though many had received honorary knight titles, they were still common knights, with the next generation needing to strive for more. Seeing these noble knights get beaten was highly satisfying.
Forget any camaraderie talk; there was none after only a few days together. The chosen bear knight was both pleased and a bit irritated by being picked out of so many. "Kid, the Augusta family has no geniuses, only fools. Let me show you that today."
Virut stopped playing games and attacked directly. Despite his injuries, his foundation was solid. His movements were intact, and his strength and speed were impressive. Few of the knights-in-training could withstand his strikes.
However, the bear knight, being straightforward, used his strength to knock the knight's sword away and struck Virut's waist.
Virut, unable to stand, had the training sword placed on his neck.
"Heh, typical noble son."
The bear knight, grinning triumphantly, began showing off to his companions. The noble knights were stunned. It wasn't surprising that Virut lost to Derek's subordinates, but losing so easily was shocking.
"Continue! Pick another one," Derek's voice echoed with malicious pleasure.
Virut almost challenged every knight present, ending up so sore he could barely hold his sword. Yet, his relentless spirit made a deep impression, as not everyone could keep challenging after repeated failures.
What left a stronger impression on the new knights was Derek's subordinates. Each was a top knight, with many holding knight titles. Any one of them could easily outclass the young challengers.
Everyone was dazed, wondering if they were dreaming. Had the knight world become so intense? Or were they just too weak?