Chapter 135: Chapter 135: Physical and Mental
Open eyes. Half-open mouth.
"..."
Professor Morgue Banshee had an expression on his face that he hadn't made in years.
If you didn't know him, you might think he was a little surprised, but someone who did know him would think otherwise.
For Professor Banshee, who was so expressionless that he was nicknamed ``Wax Figure,'' adopting this expression was one of pure wonder.
Everyone in the room was stunned and speechless.
Professor Banshee was the first to break the silence.
"...Hmm. Correct."
But then he added
"But your answer raises many controversial and unreported points that have not yet been considered by the academic community."
Admittedly, Vikiel's answer made a few points. Words that even Professor Banshee had never heard beforeHowever, Professor Banshee did not think that Vikir's answer was so incredibly accurate that he could simply ignore it.
How does he know about Battles 14 and 27, battles that even professors, let alone graduate students, should not study or research?
And the Battle of the 306th Parallel is a historical fact recently discovered by scientists, and research has just begun.
"Isn't this information only known to high-ranking Imperial military officers or members of the Baskerville family?"
Professor Banshee wiped his forehead with his hand to find out. . It was hard for him to control his facial expressions.
Actually, this question was not something his first-year students could answer.
Cold-class Tudor and Bianca would be considered good newcomers, as long as you know the 1st, 7th, 8th, 75th, and 27th races.
Here in the hot class, Sinclair memorized the battles of the 4th, 5th, and 30th Highlands, which was beyond the level of an undergraduate.
But how should I explain this newcomer in front of me?
This is where Professor Banshee's confusion begins.
"How do you know something that hasn't been reported in the literature? And why do you answer as if it's true?"
Professor Banshee asked Vikir.
Vikir, on the other hand, remained casual.
"I can't say I've experienced it. It's troublesome."
When it comes to the enemy and Barak of the Black Mountains, Vikir knows more than anyone. Perhaps no one in the Empire knows more about Barak than Vikir.
Vikir avoided Professor Banshee's questions, and for good reason.
"Trade between the barbarians on the Western Front and the Empire has recently begun. Many traders are vying for deals. Now, Do is just a stock market idiot. If you sound confident,.
Vikir took a step back, but even Professor Banshee found it difficult to urge him further.
In the end, he got more than he asked for.
However, the way Professor Banshee looked at Vikir was a little more intense.
"..."
The difference is that the intent of his gaze has changed from contempt to curiosity.
``You're very interested in economics, aren't you?''
``It's no big deal. I just have a sensitive side.''
``How humble.'' Professor Banshee He pinched it and narrowed his eyes at Vikir's face.
He opened the attendance register, flipped through the pages, and wrote down the personal information of his students.
After a while, Professor Banshee started dripping with his spit.
"...Okay. Your handwriting score is perfect."
Professor Banshee murmured quietly, and the entire classroom fell silent.
``Oh, does he have perfect handwriting?''
``But he also has perfect handwriting; is that possible?''
``This academy's handwriting is really bad. ``It's crazy; I was fourth overall in this handwriting, and I failed.''
Everyone looked at Vikir as if they were seeing a monster.
But there was one person who was most surprised.
"A perfect result?"
The girl looks at Vikil with rabbit eyes.
She was the runner-up to Sinclair in the handwriting test.
An honor student who scored 931 points out of 990 points.
It was a far cry from the 700 points in 3rd place and the 500 points in 4th place.
However, just when he thought that second place was strange, Sinclair became a little dazed when he heard the difference between his score and her first place score.
The opponent's perfect score meant he could have scored more.
The breaking point was 990 points, so he only got 990 points, but no one knows where his skill level is.
This is a perfect result.
On the other hand, Professor Banshee looked away from Vikir.
"Vikil, I will give you 10 points for your excellent answer, but I do not approve of you closing your eyes during my class. Therefore, I will deduct 10 points again for your attitude and give you 1. Add points.
Professor Banshee taught as usual again.
Vikir was able to continue quietly without any additional credits or penalties. It became brighter.
But that doesn't mean her reaction to Vikir was particularly positive.
"What an arrogant bastard! Just because you passed the written exam with flying colors, are you still sleeping in class?"
"You could have failed the entire class."
``I was worried that I would fail the grade because of my attitude. I'm glad I got extra credits at the end.''
``When I see those sandals studying, I give them free credit.''
Despite the heat and cold, all the students applauded.
Many students did not recognize Vikhil because the academy's academic culture emphasized her practical skills over written work.
This was especially true for students in cold classes.
This is because students in the hot class represented by "Magician" tend to place more emphasis on handwriting, while students in the cold class represented by "Warrior" tend to place less emphasis on handwriting.
Next. A few callous students began talking about their evil plans.
``He seems like a studious person, so let's see if he can be just as cocky in his after-school classes.''
``Maybe there's a physical education lab in the after-school liberal arts class?'' Whoa, whoa. Oops, "Naftali" is a real gym class. It's even an anti-war concept."
``That's a great way to break the arrogant bastard's mouth.''
``Everyone shut up; I got him.''
And then a fierce war of nerves began. among new students.
* * *
Don Quixote Tudor.
As the leader of the Cold Warrior A class, he currently belongs to the Academy Sports Center.
"This course is for me!"
This afternoon's class was a practical "Naphtali.".
Naftali is a sport classified as a ball game.
A total of 40 players divided into two teams aim to score points by throwing the ball into the opponent's goal.
There are goals at each end of a wide field 50 meters long and 100 meters wide, and players from both teams must carry the ball in every possible way to get it into the opposing team's goal.
You can kick it, throw it, pick it up, and throw it.
In the mid-game, you can body-slam your opponent or attack them with your fists or feet.
Either way.
It's all up to you whether you want to dodge the ball, fight it, or pass it to your opponent's goal.
He's only forbidden from doing two things. Mana usage and weapon usage.
"Hahaha, that's what Naphtali is best at. Let's go somewhere!"
Tudor came forward as the representative of Class A. Even though he had no mana or weapons, he was confident.
And the three B-class members stood in front of him.
``What are you talking about? I'll kill you.''
``I'll kill you.''
They were the Baskerville triplets.
Thus began the back-and-forth between the A and B teams.
``Pass! ``My ball!''
Tudor waved enthusiastically to his classmates from the start of the game.
Immediately, an oval leather ball flew out and landed in Tudor's hand.
Tudor picked it up and ran forward.
"This is the real deal!"
What's the point of memorizing theory for a written exam?
A true dragon, a true knight, must be able to run like the wind, blow away his enemies, and reach his destination.
Tudor was in the runner's position and was running fast.
Then.
Three linesmen blocked his path.
"You cocky bastard. "How dare you try and get through?"
"How dare you?"
"How dare you?"
A highbrow, a midbrow, and a lowbrow stood before Tudor.
No mana, no weapons, just pure physical combat.
The iron Baskerville and the spearman Don Quixote were about to confront each other.
...But.
"I'm sorry, but I have no intention of confronting iron-blooded monsters."
Tudor turned around.
In an instant, it tore through the mid-brow and low-brow and slipped through the gap.
It was ghost avoidance and an all-out attack.
The rest of the class cheered at Tudor's great game.
"Hmm, Tudors? This is amazing!"
"I can't believe he didn't have mana or weapons."
"I heard that Don Quixote had a genius in his family."
"That's what you get when you get to the top of the Cold Warrior class!"
However, the cheers did not last long.
"I'm going somewhere."
A shadowy figure chases Tudor as he runs through Trident Baskerville and once again stops him.
"Here's the ball. Give it to me."
Then, Heisblau's hand and Tudor's hand collided, and the result was...
Phew!
Tudor lost. Arms from Highbrow, leaving deep palm prints on the arms of his chest
"Boom!"
As Highbrow stumbles back half a step, Tudor goes as fast as he was running. Rotated him.
"Hahaha, block if you can!"
The Tudor was unstoppable, even outrunning the B-class ace, Baskerville's Trident.
Pow! Boom, boom, boom, boom!
No one is taller or heavier than a Tudor.
With the waist of a leopard and the back of a bear, Tudor ran fast, trampling anyone who stood in his way.
Speed for speed, power for power.
Don Quixote Tudor is the world's strongest runner and lineman.
After defeating or overcoming every obstacle in his path, Tudor stands before the gates of the B-Class.
The goal is a large Y-shaped iron cage, and you can score points by throwing the ball into it.
Something caught his eye, and Tudor pulled his arm back, ready to score.
"...!"
It was Vikil standing near the gate.
It appears that he was not assigned any particularly important position and had a modest defensive role.
For a moment, Tudor's grim smile widened.
``Isn't that the boy from Professor Banshee's lecture this morning?''
He remembers Vikir going on and on about that theory.
His first answer sounded like a stupid answer.
``Let me give you a little push.''
Tudor stopped throwing the ball and jumped forward a little.
He will collide with Vikir's shoulder and be knocked to the ground.
"Hey guys, I hope this inspires you to exercise more than just study!"
And.
...Pack!
That was Tudor's last thought.
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