# Enhanced Translation
Ivan slowly stepped toward the ring. Thud, thud. Though his footsteps were ordinary, there was something about their calmness that drew attention.
The students' initial impression was simple: Here's a guy who knows how to set the mood.
Even when Ivan pulled an axe from his waist, the students didn't think much of it. After all, this was the Knight Department.
Most students were trapped in the equation that "ultimate weapon = sword." In most cases, this was correct.
Swords were easy to carry, versatile, and well-suited for intricate techniques.
But axes were simple. Due to the weight concentrated in the axe head, an axe's attack direction always moved in a single path.
This meant its trajectory was easy to read and intercept. Therefore, most students underestimated axes.
"Enrique."
Ivan stood still on the ring and spoke. His voice was deep and heavy.
"Yes?"
"How far am I allowed to go?"
"Just don't kill anyone. We have the Saintess here anyway."
The Hero Party's Saintess Patricia currently served as the head of the Theology Department at this university. This meant that someone better than a Healing Potion—a trauma specialist—was always on standby.
Good. Ivan nodded.
"Eriksson."
"Now that I see you up close, I'm certain. Your face remains exactly the same as back then."
"If I win, you'll do volunteer work."
"...What?"
This guy is an intelligence agent from the Droan Kingdom. On the surface, he's a freshman in the Knight Department, and officially Asidis's personal bodyguard. But essentially, he's a spy planted by King Einar.
This means he could take the position of an "unofficial diplomat" at any time and join hands with either the Princess faction or the Crown Prince faction. He's a variable.
Therefore, I need to keep him tied down until Asidis's course of action is determined. The easiest way is to keep him close.
During all his free time outside of school and his duties guarding Asidis.
"I'll have you do laundry at the orphanage."
Volunteer work is good for character education. This is an undeniable truth. Taking care of orphans greatly helps in developing one's character.
Therefore, this is an opportunity to teach "civilization" to this Droan berserker Huskarl.
"That's bullshit."
"Come."
Ivan raised his axe. Now, the two warriors (average age 40, first-year university practical class) needed no further conversation.
When the two first clashed, the freshmen were somewhat bewildered. What's this? Why are they fighting so well?
-CRASH—!!
Then, when the two axes sent sparks flying against each other, the freshmen were shocked. What the hell? How can they move like that from there? Did anyone see that? No one?
-CLAAANG! CRACK!!
Finally, when the freshman champion (in his 40s) fell to his knees gasping for breath, the students could properly see the man standing straight.
Two eyes glowing bright blue and an expressionless face.
Despite his intense movements, his breathing remained perfectly steady without the slightest tremor.
"Huff... Petrovich... as expected... Little Ivan. Huff...! What exactly are you plotting here...?"
"Safety management."
Ivan walked past Mord, who had been reduced to a rag.
Safety...? Management...? Another big question mark appeared in the students' minds. What exactly is the safety I've known until now...?
"Next."
"Um... Professor, the test range is too broad. This is our first class today...?"
A young man who had flinched at Ivan's words raised his hand and spoke. It was the same noble youth who had initially mocked Ivan.
Enrique nodded with a grin.
"Next order decided. Come on, we don't have time. Let's move quickly."
"Uh... uhh...."
Since no one wanted to step into the ring, the young man was dragged onto the ring with the help of his kind classmates, sweating nervously as he backed away.
"Come."
Ivan raised his axe.
"Alright, just land one knife wound on our assistant and I'll give you an A+ right away. How about it? Hmm? Or better yet... I'm feeling generous! One-on-one private lessons with an active beautiful instructor from the Hero Party!"
Ivan didn't bother pointing out the error in Enrique's last sentence. He was a sensible person.
Instead, he raised his axe. He was a man who took recruit training seriously.
"Next."
After clearing away five corpses (not really), no one was willing to step into the ring.
"Argh! If you all give up like this, you'll fail as a group! Hmm? How about this? If you all get F's and retake the course, next year's class will start the same way. Better to take your beating sooner rather than later, right?"
Looking at the smiling Enrique, the students gritted their teeth.
Alright. Even if we can't be certain... at least we won't die.
If they could land just one successful attack, a high grade was guaranteed.
This was a mandatory 3-credit major course. It would obviously have a significant impact on their GPA management, and the Knight Department students naturally had strong competitive spirits.
They had all grown up being called prodigies of martial arts and geniuses of swordsmanship in their respective hometowns.
Just once.
Just once!
And so, the students didn't give up until 30 corpses (not really) had been cleared away.
"Next."
And finally, it was Yuri's turn.
Yuri trembled as she held her sword. Never in all her time wielding a blade had the sword felt so heavy.
Onto the ring where intense killing intent swirled, over the chilling wind and the bloody stains on the floor.
She took one step forward with courage, but shrank back again when she looked at the man before her.
Because every time she saw that shabby work clothes and the old towel around his neck, something came to mind.
"Yuri Franck."
"Yeek! Y-yes! Yes?!"
Ivan quietly looked into Yuri's eyes. His sharp gaze, which seemed to penetrate her mind, dug into her vision.
Yuri's pupils shook wildly from side to side. Her head felt dizzy, and strength kept draining from her hands.
"Top student in the Knight Department."
"Yes!!"
"Lee Yuri?"
"...Hiccup?!"
"Kim Yuri? Park Yuri? Choi Yuri?"
"W-what? What do you mean...?"
"In Krasilov, Yuri is a male name."
"Y-yes... what? I have circumstances that..."
"Come."
Ivan raised his axe.
"I'll listen to your circumstances later."
"No no no. I, I want to forfeit, okay? I'll, I'll just fail the course! Kyaaaah!!"
Before Yuri could drop her sword, Ivan's body lunged forward.
Reflexively raising her sword to deflect the axe blade, Yuri desperately swallowed her scream.
It coils around. Like a snake...! The axe blade climbs up along the sword as if it's about to bite into her neck!
-CLANG!
This was the same attack pattern she had seen reduce the previous students to rags. But even so, it was an onslaught she could never get used to.
Ivan's axe seemed to have reached some kind of mastery.
Each strike wasn't particularly heavy. Mord Eriksson's were actually more intense. But they were fast. Before she knew it, she was already entangled in his attacks.
He was proficient in utilizing the axe. Not just swinging it, but striking the blade, using centrifugal force to reattach, striking downward, and then immediately driving in at an angle.
-CRACK!!
Using the curvature of the axe head to pull the sword, then twisting the handle to extract the blade. If she lost her grip on the sword from the impact, it would be over.
Ivan looked down at Yuri, who was kneeling, and nodded.
"You fight well."
"Thank... you...."
"I'll be watching you. Next."
Yuri staggered down from the ring on weakened legs. Miraculously, she had no physical wounds, but that only gave her the feeling that the monster had gone easy on her.
She looked at Ivan with a terrified face, then squeezed her eyes shut.
'What the hell, Kim, Lee, Park, Choi—what's that about?! K-Korean? He's Korean...?'
Lee Yuri was an illustrator.
Her last job had been freelance work for an academy-themed adult game involving violation, called [Masterpiece 3].
The kind where you flee from a gardener who blackmails students and does... those... extremely... extreme things.
That gardener was a middle-aged man who wore an old work uniform with a towel around his neck.
And now she had landed in that cursed world. Right after sending the first rough draft of her freelance work, pulling an all-nighter.
In a world where an axe-wielding, bearded gardener glared at female students (a misunderstanding) with lustful eyes.
'If I'm discovered... I'll suffer... something extremely extreme...!'
She trembled as she recalled what happened to the "students" who had been blackmailed. The "gardener" was watching her.
If he even found out she was from the same country, another transmigrator, the genre might change to blackmail through some means.
She was... the protagonist... Of course, an orphan with a full scholarship and sword genius? How could an illustrator who had only drawn pictures her whole life be such a thing?
Of course she was the protagonist....
She wanted to go home.
Isabelle lasted three moves, and Oskar lasted two exchanges.
In terms of ranking, it would be Mord, Yuri, Isabelle, and Oskar. Setting aside Mord, who wasn't really a student to begin with. The hierarchy had been established exactly as he had expected.
My eyes haven't dulled yet. Thinking this, Ivan nodded with satisfaction.
"Are you smiling right now?"
"That's a misunderstanding."
"It looked like you were smiling."
"I naturally have a smiling face."
"Pfft...! You crazy bastard...!"
Hearing the voice from directly in front of him, Ivan had to manage his expression again. Beside him stood Enrique with both hands raised. Enrique was trying hard to suppress her laughter while hiccupping.
Ivan, being a sensible person, did not react to his elderly mentor's silliness.
While Yuri was terrified, at that moment, Ivan and Enrique were being scolded by the Saintess.
The price for sending 50 patients to the Theology Department head's office.