# Enhanced Translation
# St. Yansk University has no garden. I've mentioned this before, but it's important enough to emphasize twice.
This means that even after receiving pruning shears from the administration office, Ivan had nothing to do.
However, for Ivan who had now decided to "live life," or at least try his best, there was no other choice.
This is what happened when he was butchering a street tree with those pruning shears.
"I've been watching what you're doing. You've made it look worse than the bonsai at my house."
"...Hmm?"
Enrique snickered behind him. Ivan briefly looked at the sky, then at the tree, and finally turned around to look at Enrique.
"Isn't it time for you to sleep?"
"Surprised to see a beauty who isn't a sleepyhead?"
"You're clearly sleep-deprived."
Ivan, a normal person who had never felt anything but respect for someone 70+ years his senior, shook his head at Enrique's words.
Enrique's eyebrows furrowed sharply. She tried to maintain her composure and said:
"Is your job title 'gardener'?"
"For now."
"It certainly seems like a job that would be good for mental health. Not bad, but my prescription is a bit different."
Elizabeta probably intended to give this bearded monster (in his 30s) a leisurely activity to take care of his mental health while earning some pocket money.
But Enrique had different ideas. This guy needed practice interacting with people.
Not the kind involving axes or guns. Well, strictly speaking, that too. But normal human relationships.
"Follow me. I was just in need of an extra hand."
"...Hmm?"
"Starting today, I'm going to be a guest lecturer for the Knight Department. I was already an honorary professor, but I was getting so bored."
"...Knight?"
"Unfortunately, there's no Assassin Department."
Of course, the world doesn't need universities teaching such things.
This is how Ivan ended up standing at the podium, glaring at the freshmen.
## Episode 7: The Saintess and the Woodsman
St. Yansk University is an international prestigious university with extremely modern facilities by this era's standards.
Like the Theology Department's main building that looks like a perfectly transplanted cathedral, or the Magic Department's main building that mimics the environment of the Kalion Archipelago, or the Physical Education Department's Knight Faculty building.
The freshmen were busy gaping and looking around everywhere. "Just like little chicks, reminds me of the old days," Enrique chuckled.
Standing on the podium in the gymnasium, which was neatly arranged with a large ring and various training equipment, Enrique slapped the lectern and shouted vigorously:
"Nice to meet you, little ones!"
Was this her way of establishing dominance? The freshmen began to look at the unfamiliar professor before them.
Knight Department required course, [Understanding Close Combat 1].
As a mandatory course for all Knight Department freshmen, it must be an important class, but that slender woman was completely unfamiliar.
Students could be heard murmuring as they tried to recall the faculty roster.
Enrique grinned and puffed out her chest.
"My name is Enrique. Enrique Sergeyevika. If that name sounds familiar, you're right. That's me."
"The Hero Party!!"
"Kyaa!!"
"The Shadow Sword!!"
Enrique grinned as she heard the scattered screams and cheers. Yes, this is it. This is what "fame" means. This reputation that even the royal family wouldn't dare to casually violate.
Enrique continued with a playful smile.
"There's only one thing I can teach you this semester. Defeat! You've all chosen to someday take up weapons and fight at the forefront, and this class is the first gateway to prepare for that!"
Those who wield swords can never win every battle. Defeat will inevitably come someday. And in most cases, that defeat comes with death.
Therefore, you must become accustomed to it. To being defeated. You must learn this before learning the techniques of fighting.
How to lose. How to survive despite losing.
And if possible, how to gauge your opponent's skill before being defeated.
"Teaching each of you individually wouldn't be difficult, but class time is too tight. Therefore, I'll divide you according to your abilities and teach you accordingly."
Even if they're all freshmen, they can't all take the same class.
It's only natural. You can't teach the top entrant and someone who barely made it off the waitlist at the same level.
Those who fight better need more rigorous classes.
Therefore, class divisions are necessary. Teaching 50 students in 3 hours is too difficult to begin with.
"Now, freshmen. If I fought with you all, I couldn't gauge your abilities. You'd all be finished in one round anyway."
Despite her arrogant words, no one dared to object.
The Hero Party had slaughtered the Demon King and the Seven Dragon Generals. In other words, they were the strongest in the entire United Kingdom.
"So I'll provide education at your level. Here's our teaching assistant!"
Following Enrique's gesture, the students could see a strange man standing with his arms crossed in the shadows.
Eyes burning bright blue, sharp features, expressionless face.
However, his lower face was completely covered by a bushy beard, making his age impossible to determine.
Add to that his worn work clothes and the towel around his neck. (It was the gardener set hastily prepared by the administration office.)
As large question marks appeared above the students' heads, Enrique grinned and said:
"The assistant is this university's gardener. I hastily invited him this morning. Now, let me give you his profile."
Age: thirty-four. (Most students were shocked at this.)
Position: gardener. (Two students were shocked at this.)
Income: none, a pitiful pauper living on state welfare. (Since Lieutenant Colonel Petrovich was officially deceased, there was no way for him to receive military pension. He was living off donations while running an orphanage.)
"This assistant will gauge your abilities. I'll grade you as I watch you fight, and by the end of this class, I'll finalize the divisions."
"I have a question!"
A student raised his hand high. Neatly dressed in light athletic wear with refined features. He was clearly a nobleman's son.
When Enrique nodded, the young man opened his mouth with a sneering expression.
"What if that poor gardener gets hurt too badly?"
"What? Ahahahaha!!"
Enrique burst into laughter, shedding a few tears.
"Then I'll give a reward! Extra points based on how badly you hurt the assistant! Ahaha! My goodness!"
"...??"
"Don't misunderstand, students. I'm not doing this because I want to see someone dying. But at least maintain proper etiquette. Whether it's respect for your elders or respect for those who have experienced more than you."
If you want to live, Enrique concluded with a smile.
During that time, Ivan was glaring at the students.
It wasn't surprising that he was brought in as an assistant for the practical evaluation.
After all, it's "common knowledge" that the first academy class is a skill assessment.
I have no idea why a skill assessment is included as the first class in a university curriculum, but that must be due to the primitive education system of this pre-modern fantasy world.
Anyway, there were four noteworthy individuals.
Oskar, Isabelle, Yuri, and that muscular old monster sitting at the very back. Asidis's bodyguard.
Wait, why is that guy sitting down? Is he sitting because he's a student? Has he no shame?
It's bizarre to see a muscular monster in his 40s sitting among students half his age.
That guy, his name was probably Mord. Mord Eriksson. I remember encountering him during my service. He's one of King Einar's closest confidants.
He was one of the more intelligent ones. Now that he's old enough to be retiring and training disciples, he's enrolled as a "freshman."
'And that kid.'
Yuri. Yuri Franck. Top freshman in the Knight Department. Highest score in swordsmanship evaluation and perfect score on the written exam. Full scholarship student.
That kid's behavior is suspicious too.
As soon as the kid saw him, he quickly averted his gaze, broke into a cold sweat, and showed signs of restlessness. (He even looked shocked when he heard the word "gardener.")
Ivan's eyes grew sharper.
'A transmigrator...?'
If not, why would he be afraid of someone with a completely ordinary and harmless appearance?
In Ivan's mind, two red underlines appeared beneath the name.
"Well, who wants to go first?"
After Enrique's lengthy explanation, many students began looking at each other.
Understandable. For students in their early twenties meeting for the first time, putting yourself forward would be quite embarrassing.
It wasn't because they lacked skill or feared humiliation against Ivan. It was simply shyness.
Pathetic.
Ivan silently glared at the students.
Then, a student sitting at the very back raised his hand high.
The muscular monster in his 40s, Mord.
"We meet again, right?"
"...Hmm."
"And no matter how I look at you, you seem like someone I know."
Mord cracked his shoulders and gave a hearty laugh.
"Come up. We need to see this through. Oh, and if I win."
With one leap, Mord jumped onto the ring and said:
"I'll give you a shave."
"Go Mr. Eriksson!!!"
Isabelle, who had been anxiously watching Ivan, suddenly shouted in surprise.
It was a blatant betrayal from the Hero Party's child.