“Didn't Instructor Calm require everyone to be at least sixteen?” Matthew asked, voicing his doubt.
“It was just changed yesterday. Now, anyone over fourteen can join the training,” Edmond replied, a hint of excitement in his voice.
Hearing this, Matthew stopped chewing. The slight joy he had felt about being able to participate in the training was instantly washed away by a sudden chill.
“Fourteen? That's a huge drop.”
This was highly unusual.
Although Stone Mill Village was poor, its definition of “adulthood” and “combat readiness” had always been conservative.
Sixteen was already the absolute bottom line for the village training. Usually, the ones expected to step up in times of crisis were able-bodied men over eighteen who had undergone long-term training.
There were only two explanations:
Either the situation had become extremely dire, or the village had acquired a new method of training.
However, this change was actually a good thing for Matthew.
Seeing Matthew fall silent for so long, Edmond's excitement cooled down. He scratched his head, looking puzzled. “What's wrong, Matthew? Isn't it a good thing that we can train earlier? My dad said it's always good to learn more skills.”
“It is indeed a good thing. Let's head over there later.” Matthew did not want to voice his suspicions.
After all, he was too weak right now; even if he knew the truth, there was nothing he could do about it.
With these thoughts in mind, Matthew finished his two pieces of black bread with the vegetable soup to fill his stomach, and then went with Edmond to the square in the center of the village.
The village square was not large, only about three to four hundred square meters. The ground was dirt, packed hard from years of use.
At this moment, a bonfire blazed in the center of the square, serving as the largest and almost only source of light in the village at night.
A few people had already gathered in the square. A rough glance showed about twenty to thirty people, naturally divided into two distinct groups.
Standing relatively loose and closer to the bonfire were a dozen or so young and middle-aged men. Most of them were stocky and dark-skinned.
Slightly further out, huddled at the edge of the bonfire's light, looking somewhat crowded and uneasy, were a dozen or so teenage boys.
Their ages ranged from what looked like just turning fourteen to sixteen or seventeen. They varied in height and build, but the common thread was the excitement written all over their faces.
Matthew and Edmond naturally stood at the edge of the teenage group.
Matthew could feel the limits of his current body: about five feet eight inches tall and weighing less than a hundred and thirty pounds.
Although he was no longer skin and bones after a month of recovery, he was still on the thin and weak side compared to these boys who did farm work all year round.
However, with the support of his cheat, Matthew had plenty of confidence in himself.
The crowd waited a little longer.
Finally, a tall figure emerged from the shadows beside the square and stepped into the firelight. It was Instructor Calm.
He wore worn leather armor, his empty left sleeve hanging loose.
Matthew knew of this man.
According to rumors, Instructor Calm was a powerful adventurer who had left the village to make his way in the world. However, due to an accident, he had lost an arm, which led him to return to the village to serve as the resident instructor.
Still, no one present dared to look down on him. After all, he was the strongest man in the village!
The moment Instructor Calm stepped into the firelight, the atmosphere among the young men, who had been loose and talking in low voices, abruptly shifted!
“Whoosh!”
“Swish!”
“Hum—”
Different sounds of cutting through the air rang out almost simultaneously!
In just two or three breaths, these men, who had looked like ordinary farmers moments ago, completed their transformation from villagers to “warriors.”
The teenage boys present were somewhat surprised to see this, but they all tacitly kept their mouths shut, remaining silent.
They saw Instructor Calm walk up to the front of the crowd, his eyes scanning everyone. When his gaze swept over Matthew, Matthew felt a faint chill, whether it was psychological or the presence of actual killing intent.
“Since you're standing here,” Instructor Calm's raspy voice broke the silence, “don't treat this place as a show. Take it seriously!”
He paused, waving his single arm. “Byrne! Drag the things out!”
Byrne the blacksmith gave a shout of assent. Together with another young man, he dragged two heavy-looking wooden crates out from the shadows at the edge of the square, placing them on the ground near the bonfire with a loud clatter.
“Open them,” Instructor Calm ordered.
Byrne pried open the lids. Illuminated by the firelight, the items piled inside the crates made the boys' eyes light up: weapons!
Though they were still crude, they already had basic standard designs.
There were mainly two types: one was about eyebrow-high with a silver-gleaming iron spearhead mounted on top. The other was a one-handed sword about a meter long.
The boys were stunned by this sudden “reward.” A few of the bolder ones had sparks of excitement in their eyes.
Matthew focused his gaze, only to suddenly realize that there were only about a dozen weapons in total.
‘It's not enough... It seems a few people won't get a weapon.’
Instructor Calm took in everyone's reactions and said, “Next, those whose names I call, come up and choose a weapon.”
“Once you take it, it's yours. Return it when you're no longer willing to serve the village. If you lose it, you might as well drown yourself in a manure pit. Don't waste my time.”
“Jerry, Edmond, Tom...”
Calm called out eight names in a row. Edmond was the second one called. After exchanging a look with Matthew, he stepped out of the line.
Matthew's heart gradually began to race. He could feel that the order in which Instructor Calm called the names was not random, but rather a selection based on observation.
Most of those called first were the relatively sturdier boys.
By now, only two one-handed swords and three spears remained in the wooden crates.
Matthew felt unwilling to accept this. If the selection was based on physical build, his chances this time would be extremely slim.
Just as his thoughts were churning, with worry and unwillingness intertwining, Instructor Calm's gaze happened to sweep over.
Their eyes met.
Instructor Calm's brow twitched imperceptibly, recognizing this poor child while also seeing the hope in his eyes.
There was a slight pause, almost imperceptible.
Then, that raspy voice rang out again, clearly pronouncing the next name:
“Matthew.”
As the voice fell, the other boys were somewhat surprised, followed quickly by displeasure. Had it not been for Instructor Calm's towering authority, someone would have surely spoken up to question it.
But Matthew did not care about what the others thought, nor did he want to know. He walked up to the wooden crate.
Two one-handed swords and three spears remained.
Without hesitation, he reached out and grabbed one of the one-handed swords.
The reason was simple: the scene he had witnessed when he first transmigrated had left a deep imprint on his heart.
Secondly, it was because Instructor Calm right in front of him was a one-handed sword user.
The moment he gripped the hilt, the familiar small words appeared before his eyes.
Rate on N.U.
