Academy's Drunk Fighter-Chapter 16: The Training Begins (2)

"Alright, this is the training room."

The place Professor Philia led us to was absolutely massive, with everything from ordinary workout machines to a rock-climbing wall visible in the distance.

"Each of you might have your own strengths, but before all that, you need basic physical strength and bodily ability. I’m going to build that up for you."

“Ooh...”

It’s true that if my body were a bit stronger, dodging an opponent’s attacks might be a bit easier.

“Um... so are we all doing the same training?”

“No, of course not.”

She shook her head and looked at the male student like obviously not, then continued.

“That bastard Isaac—no, that guy—already used that device last time to scan your physical stats and abilities, so we can move forward based on that. Alright, the first one I call, step up.”

And so, the first student who was called stepped forward, and the first training he received was...

“You... you're the type who strengthens his arms, huh. Then try lifting this.”

“Uh? This?”

THUD!!!

What landed in front of him was a giant square cube.

A solid block of metal. Even without touching it, I could instinctively tell it weighed at least several tons.

What was even more shocking was that the professor had just casually brought it over like a feather with one hand.

“...Her grip strength is insane.”

The part of the metal cube she had held was slightly crumpled and bent from her fingers.

“How... °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° how the hell...”

“That’s your assignment for this week. Don’t use levers or weird tricks—just push it at least one meter.”

“...Understood.”

The male student wore a face full of despair, but couldn’t bring himself to protest against the professor.

Honestly, I doubt it's even possible for a human to do that with just brute strength. But maybe it is possible, and that’s why she gave it to him.

Still, all the following trainings were just as absurd.

Most of the physical types were dragging or pushing weights that ranged from several tons to tens of tons. No exaggeration.

The magic or mystical types were forced to repeatedly exhaust all their firepower until complete collapse, then down potions to recover and do it all over again.

“Gyaaaaah!!!”

“Eeeeeek!!!”

Guys who probably considered themselves decent-looking back in the previous world were now red-faced, veins popping out, and practically dying. It was truly a tragic sight.

And then, before I knew it, it was my turn.

I was terrified of what they were going to make me do, but since I was the last, there was no one left around. Nowhere to hide.

“Ugh...”

“Our proud recommendation student!”

“Ugh...”

The professor’s words made the other students in training glance over at me.

“You’re... hmm? Incompetent? That can’t be right. Did I bring the wrong paper?”

“No, that’s probably right.”

It came out as ‘Incompetent’ twice last time too.

“Hmm... that really shouldn't be the case.”

I don’t know why I got marked as Incompetent either.

Normally, if you have even a little talent, you’d at least get classified as Physical. But getting ‘Incompetent’ literally means [Incompetent].

It means there’s no difference between you and some average person walking down the street.

I’ve thought about this a lot, but I still don’t know the exact reason.

Maybe that machine just couldn’t detect my traits—but that seems unlikely.

“Hmm... that thing. It’s actually got some talent, even if it’s broken... Let’s try an experiment.”

“An experiment?”

“Yeah.”

The professor bared her teeth in a grin, and for some reason, those sparkling fangs looked terrifying.

.

.

.

.

PANG!

...What the hell was that sound?

She just clapped her gloves together, but I could feel the wind pressure from here.

“Ugh...”

The place where the professor and I stood now was the same dueling room as before.

Except this time, it was inside the training facility, which was a little different.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Not too badly.”

“That’s not reassuring at all...”

This is coming from someone who crumples iron with bare hands and lifts dozens of tons with one arm?

Even if she really did try not to hurt me, I couldn’t help but feel instinctively terrified.

“...Alright. Fine...”

If I want to survive in this world, I can’t keep running away forever.

Even if I want to avoid straight-up fights as much as possible, running away from even this kind of training isn’t gonna cut it.

“I’ll try...”

[Current Intoxication: 3%]

I’ve gotten used to the drunkenness, so I don’t slur my words anymore. Nobody will notice I’ve been drinking.

My head still hurts, though...

If we talk face-to-face, they might smell the alcohol, so I keep my mouth shut.

“Then...”

THUD.

“...Huh?”

I blinked once.

And in that blink, the professor vanished from my sight.

Where the hell did she—

.

.

.

.

KRAAAAAAASH!!!

“Oh—Fajing??”

And immediately, the counter technique activated.

The explosive sound ringing through the training room turned all heads toward us, and the shockwave was so intense that people way off in the distance lost their footing.

It wasn’t quite as strong as the counter I used on the giant before, but it was definitely a powerful strike.

But even after using Fajing, I still couldn’t see the professor anywhere.

Too fast?

That too—but if I can’t see her at all, that means she’s moving entirely through my blind spots right now.

“Behind—!!”

I immediately kicked behind me—but she wasn’t there either.

Shff.

My head instinctively ducked.

And right above me, I felt an immense force bearing down.

KRAAAAAASH!!!

That sound meant that if I hadn’t dodged just now, I would’ve been seriously hurt.

“You... You said you’d go easy!!!”

“Ohho?”

As I shouted in a trembling voice, I heard the professor’s amused tone.

Only then did I take a swing at the muscular body in front of me, but—

THUMP!!

“Ugh!!”

Just like with Yoon Siwoo last time—no, it was even harder than that—my hand collided with a texture so solid that the shock ran back through my arm.

Why the hell am I the one in pain when I did the hitting? That’s so unfair.

“Interesting.”

Foll𝑜w current novels on fɾēewebnσveℓ.com.

She twisted her body to dodge the next incoming strikes, but the pressure she gave off was overwhelming.

There was a moment where I thought I had an opening.

‘This time—!’

But it wasn’t an opening at all.

It was just a trap—luring the prey into range, perfectly positioning the hunter.

‘A trap.’

Even so, I went for the attack to try and accumulate some damage—but the professor didn’t care at all. Instead, she stepped in with full intention.

KUUUUNG!!

The shock from her foot rippled through the floor of the dueling room.

“Let’s see how you respond to this.”

“...!”

You know how in anime, sometimes a massive fist fills the background?

I think it was from a story about some bald hero or something—I don’t really remember.

But back then, I didn’t get it.

Even if it’s a killing blow, does the fist really have to look that huge?

Now I know the answer.

“...”

That pressure—it’s real.

If Yoon Siwoo was an impossibly steep cliff, then the professor is the actual sky, with no place to grab onto.

The difference in level hits me hard.

There’s nowhere to dodge.

No matter how I move, I’m going to get hit.

And the moment I get hit, it’s over.

In that case—

“Give up on what you need to give up on.”

Sacrifice the flesh to save the bones?

No. Forget the bones, I can’t even save the flesh. All I can choose is which part to lose.

I chose to give up the flesh.

I minimized the damage from the unavoidable attack. The target: my left arm.

I made that decision and acted on it in the shortest time possible.

“Guh...!”

As I braced for the incoming pain—

PAAAAAAAAANG!!!!!!!

The professor’s fist stopped right in front of my left hand, and she smiled brightly.

“What? Did you really think I’d hit you?”

“Ugh... H-Haaa...”

Only then did the tension in my body finally release.

I was so overwhelmed by the pressure that I completely forgot this was a test and fought with everything I had.

Well... it wasn’t even really fighting—it was more like flailing to survive. But the fact that I did survive? That deserves some credit.

“Yeah, as I thought... you’re kind of a weird one.”

And then, as if she’d gotten a rough read on me, the professor began explaining as I lay there sweating and trembling from all the tension.

“What do you mean...?”

“That first attack—I didn’t throw it to test your reaction time. I just wanted to see how well you could judge distance between us.”

So basically, it was a fake-out jab?

No wonder the professor’s attack, which was so fast I couldn’t even see it, didn’t have much punch behind it.

“But then, without even realizing what was happening, you countered it. Isn’t that strange?”

“...”

“And it kept happening after that, too. Your eyes weren’t even tracking my movements, yet you dodged attacks from your blind spots.”

That was probably one of the support evasions from Drunken Fist.

“That’s why I tried hitting you in a way that was literally impossible to avoid—and you gave up on dodging entirely. That surprised me, too.”

“Why?”

“Most people who are good at evading will try to find an escape route even when there isn’t one, and then die trying.”

“...”

You’re talking about dying from training...? That’s brutal.

“Yup, I’ve seen plenty like that. But you? You gave up a part of your body without hesitation. Even veterans in this field struggle to make that kind of call.”

“Really...?”

To be honest, if you want to put a nice spin on it, it’s ‘give up on what you need to give up on.’ But if you say it differently, it’s a reckless decision that maximizes loss over gain.

This time it happened to work out, but who knows about next time.

“Still, take care of your body, alright? Even with today’s tech, fixing a shattered arm still hurts like hell.”

“...Sorry.”

“No need to apologize! You just need to train more so that something like that never happens again!”

The professor answered me with a cheerful smile.

“Anyway, I’ve come up with a training method that’s perfect for you!”

“What is it?”

“Come with me!”

“Okay.”

And so, I began walking, following behind her waving hand.