I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple

After our meal, we returned to the clearing to find that many hero disciples had already gathered. It appeared we were among the last to arrive.

Skull stood prominently in the center, and though a few familiar faces—those we had befriended over the past few days—were present, they averted their gazes as we approached.

An awkward tension filled the air, prompting Evan to force a bitter smile. Despite the brevity of our time together, it seemed he had come to regard them as friends.

As for me, I felt an odd detachment. It wasn’t that I lacked any regret about how things had unfolded. After all, we had gotten along well. Perhaps I was simply cold-hearted by nature.

The instructor on the platform cleared his throat. It was Juan, the Martial Arts Master, and he wasn’t alone. Behind him stood all the Great Masters.

Juan scanned the crowd of hero disciples and asked, ”Hero Disciple Charon, is everyone present?”

”That’s correct.”

Come to think of it, when did it start?

The instructors had started treating Charon like the hero disciples’ leader. Beyond this headcount, any brief instructions were relayed through him. Charon always positioned himself at the forefront during mobile classes, and he seemed to take this role for granted.

”The rankings... hmm. Judging by your expressions, it seems you’ve all checked them,” Juan remarked with an awkward smile. ”Now that you’re aware, let me clarify something. The rule Hero Disciple Charon added states that ’points trading between hero disciples is permitted.’”

”Is there a reason you are telling us this now?” Hector demanded, his voice thick with suppressed anger.

Juan met his gaze and replied bluntly, ”No.”

”Excuse me?”

”Just as there was no reason to withhold the information, there was also no reason to share it earlier.”

Hector fell silent, and Juan smirked. ”Hero Disciple Hector, if you were hoping for kind explanations and systematic education, you should have enrolled in the Imperial Academy instead of the Badnikers’ training camp.”

For the first time, I found myself agreeing with something that Juan said.

”If that’s all, let’s proceed with the selection of subjects. You see the instructors standing behind me? Each will oversee a separate subject. Listen to their brief introductions, then choose the one that best suits your aptitude.”

The Great Masters stepped forward one by one to introduce themselves.

Tanko was the first. ”I am Tanko, the hunting instructor. Naturally, I’ll be teaching hunting. If you’ve gone three days and nights without sleep and still want to slit a church member’s throat, come to me.”

It was a quintessentially Tanko-like introduction.

The others followed suit.

Soymond, the survival instructor, stepped up next. ”I’ll teach you how to survive. If you’re willing to roll through a field of dung to stay alive, come running to me.”

”I am Ainsburn, the law instructor. Though we live in one empire, imperial law does not govern all lands. I will teach you the laws that must be observed in the outer reaches of the empire and in the territories of foreign races.”

”What I will teach you is the history of the empire, from its founding to the present day. If you wish, I can also share stories of your favorite among the twenty-one heroes or delve into the age of the gods that preceded them.”

”I am Junian, the theology instructor. Not everyone here aspires to be a hero. If you feel called to the Sun Church, come to me. I will gladly explain the Sun God’s doctrines.”

Finally, Juan stepped forward. ”I am Juan, the martial arts instructor. Whether it is a sword, spear, axe, blunt weapon, dagger, or bow, I can teach you the use of most weapons.”

The hero disciples’ eyes sparkled at this. They were still young, after all, and naturally drawn to classes that felt more practical and exciting than dry theoretical subjects. Above all, Juan seemed to captivate their attention.

In contrast, few students flocked to Tanko or Soymond, regardless of the subject. Perhaps it was due to the instructors’ personalities or teaching styles.

”Luan, what class are you going to take?” Evan asked.

”Let’s see...” I paused briefly to consider his question.

What did I need most right now? The answer came easily: blessing.

It wasn’t about mastering the blessing itself but understanding how to use it. Of course, no such subject existed. I couldn’t openly ask for guidance on this, either. I had received a blessing, but I had to conceal the fact that I couldn’t use it.

Therefore, my choice was—

”I have a question,” I said, raising my hand.

Juan smiled at me. ”Hero Disciple Luan, what is it?”

”What happens if I don’t choose any subject?”

”We can’t allow that. If you don’t choose, you’ll have nothing to do during elective classes.”

”I can study independently.”

”That isn’t possible.”

My mouth felt bitter. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. After considering for a moment, I approached one of the Great Masters.

”Hmm,” she muttered, tilting her head as she studied me. ”Luan Badniker.”

”Yes?”

”I didn’t expect you to choose me. Is there a particular reason?” she asked.

Was this unusual? Apparently so. It seemed to be the least popular class among the hero disciples.

I looked at Junian—the theology instructor, a Great Master of the Badniker family, a priest of the Sun Church, and an inquisitor of heretics.

”I thought you were the most knowledgeable about the Dark Church,” I replied.

”That’s true, but...” Junian muttered, her expression slightly annoyed. ”This means I won’t be able to slack off.”

”What?”

”Nothing.”

I stared at her in disbelief, but she maintained a perfectly calm expression.

The Sun Church worshipped the Sun God, Aton. I had chosen this class hoping it would inspire me in mastering the First Fire Technique or the White Sun Eclipse. Had I made a mistake?

In any case, the course selection concluded, and the Great Masters returned to their building.

We were about to take a break, but Juan remained on the platform. Did he still have something to say?

”Hero disciples, it has been a week since you joined the training camp. The Badnikers’ training camps attract individuals with remarkable talents, but this year’s batch seems particularly exceptional,” Juan said.

Though the statement felt like empty flattery, some of the more naive hero disciples puffed up with pride, as if it were true.

”One week. Now that you’ve settled into life here, you can start the training camp in earnest.”

”In earnest?” Evan repeated, his tone laced with unease.

The hero disciples also seemed to sense something ominous in Juan’s words and fell silent.

As all eyes turned to the platform, Juan spoke again, his voice measured. ”You will now form groups.”

”Groups?” someone echoed.

”Yes,” Juan replied.

”What are you talking about all of a sudden?” a skinny hero disciple blurted, clearly baffled.

His tone bordered on disrespectful—something he likely wouldn’t dare if it were any other instructor standing on the platform.

Juan, however, maintained a gentle expression despite the disciple’s rudeness. ”Is there anything strange about this? In the future, when you become official heroes, you will undertake missions as a team far more often than you will act alone. Cooperation is one of the most important virtues of a hero.”

”I-I know that...” mumbled the disciple who had questioned him, his defiance faltering under Juan’s reasoning. ”It’s just so sudden.”

”Haha. My apologies for that,” Juan said with a chuckle.

At least pretend you’re sorry, I thought, eyeing Juan’s shameless face.

”Let me explain how the groups will work,” Juan continued. ”First, once a group is formed, it will remain unchanged until the end of the training camp, barring special circumstances. I hope the members of each group will learn to work well together.”

”What are the special circumstances?” someone asked.

Juan smirked. ”Unintentional reductions in team size, for example.”

The hero disciples stiffened, the word ”death” likely flashing through their minds.

”Each group will consist of four members,” Juan went on. ”With thirty-nine participants in this camp, that makes ten groups in total.”

”But ten teams of four would account for forty people. We’re one short,” someone pointed out.

”Exactly. So one group will have only three members.”

I considered this for a moment. Was having fewer teammates necessarily a bad thing?

”Finally, from now on, your group’s performance will affect your individual scores. For example, if one team member earns bonus points, the rest of the team will also benefit.”

A murmur of unease rippled through the group.

Juan had framed it positively, but our week in this hellish training camp had taught us not to take things at face value.

If someone loses points, we all lose points, I thought.

This was a recipe for conflict. Fewer teammates would actually be better.

Charon, who had been silent until now, spoke up. ”How are the groups determined?”

Juan smiled at him. ”The instructors have fairly decided the groups based on objective indicators.”

I had my doubts about this. While I acknowledged the Great Masters’ capabilities, I wasn’t entirely sure what some of them were up to. Juan was undoubtedly the one calling the shots.

Charon fell silent, his expression pensive.

It was understandable. He’d added a new rule and secured the overwhelming number one spot. However, if he ended up grouped with weaklings, all his accumulated points could go to waste. If the groups were truly assigned fairly, someone like Charon would likely be paired with weaker disciples to balance things out.

”That concludes the explanation. I’ll now announce the groups in order. Then, the first group. Luan Badniker, Evan Helvin, Charles Rubieta, and Mir Giant.”

”What?” I muttered under my breath.