The Game Difficulty Went Crazy
The next day, Glen headed to the Great Training Ground, not the Small Training Ground he usually went to.
The apprentice knights and instructors were already there, running laps around the field.
“Run, Cheryl! Ost! Three more laps left!”
“Claire! Don’t bend your waist!”
Two instructors raised their voices as they pushed around fifteen trainees.
Even with their faces red and burning, the trainees clenched their teeth and kept running forward.
Glen casually looked over them.
There were kids who looked younger than him, and there were also rough-looking men who made him wonder if they were really under twenty.
‘That guy could be knighted tomorrow and it wouldn’t be strange.’
Just then, someone placed a hand on Glen’s shoulder. It was Tris.
“They’re all working hard, right?”
She smiled brightly and started telling him their names one by one.
“That one running in front is Bataille. The girl right behind him is Tasha. And behind them is—”
“How old is that one, Sister?”
Glen pointed at the rough-looking man from earlier.
“Oh, you mean Bolli? He’s one year younger than you.”
“…What?”
Glen’s face twisted in shock.
Sixteen? With that face?
He wondered what kind of childhood could create an appearance like that.
“He’s bigger than kids his age, but he’s very kind. The others are the same.”
Tris smiled faintly.
Then she slowly lowered her gaze.
“Normally, I’d want to train them step by step until they become full knights… but half a year is far too short.”
‘Three months and fifteen days, Sister.’
The words almost slipped out of Glen’s mouth, but he swallowed them.
“Break time!”
“Break!”
At the instructor’s command, the trainees collapsed where they stood.
Children not even twenty years old panted roughly.
Some sat down completely, while others stood straight and quietly caught their breath.
“What do you think?” Tris asked.
“Think about what?”
“The kids you’ll be training with now.”
“Ah…”
Glen rubbed his chin.
‘They survived Sister’s hell training, so there’s something to expect.’
Glen planned to make these apprentice knights his first subordinates.
To control the battlefield the way he wanted in the coming war, he needed at least a minimum number of hands and feet.
‘Their basics are already polished by Tris, so I just need to teach them things that will actually help me.’
If they followed him well, Glen was confident he could turn them into the strongest force of the Wordsworth family.
Of course, only if they followed him well.
“Sounds fun. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Then that’s a relief.”
Just then, an instructor approached them. He was a middle-aged man with a thick beard.
“You’ve finally returned to the Great Training Ground, Miss Tris. And…”
His gaze moved to Glen.
“Welcome as well, Second Young Master.”
Cold eyes. A flat tone.
He clearly wasn’t as welcoming as Tris was.
Glen just shrugged.
‘As expected.’
He already knew he wouldn’t be welcomed anywhere in the Wordsworth territory.
“This is Sir Gregory Porter, Glen. You remember him, right? He’s served the family for forty years.”
“Yes, of course. I look forward to working with you, Sir Gregory.”
Glen gave a polite smile.
Gregory, who had been staring at him, twitched his eyebrows.
“Is there something on my face?”
“My apologies. It’s just… your build, and your presence. You seem different from the Second Young Master I knew.”
Gregory bowed his head.
It was a natural reaction.
During the last fifteen days of change, Glen had only met Tris and a few maids.
‘My body and my atmosphere both changed.’
“You’ve changed a lot, right? And he follows training so well too. He was just lazy before. He’ll fit in well here too.”
Tris smiled warmly.
“I’ll look forward to it. But please be careful not to fall behind. Even though they are apprentice knights, they are all children of noble families. They are outstanding trainees, far above ordinary people.”
Gregory looked down at Glen with confidence.
Glen raised an eyebrow casually.
‘Good. That just means better subordinates for me.’
“Everyone, assemble!”
Gregory called the trainees together.
They quickly lined up in front of Tris and Glen.
“Starting today, Miss Tris will train you again. Do your best to keep up.”
“Yes!”
The trainees’ faces lit up.
Even though Tris was known among them as a devil instructor wearing an angel’s face, their reaction was surprisingly good.
But then—
“And Young Master Glen will also train together with you from now on. He’s close to your age, but he is still a Wordsworth young master. Do not be rude. Understood?”
“…Yes.”
The air turned cold when Glen was mentioned.
Fewer people answered than before.
‘Look at this temperature difference.’
It was understandable.
A delinquent who had never touched a sword suddenly took their instructor away for over fifteen days. There was no way they’d like him.
Glen shrugged and stepped into the group.
Cold stares followed him.
Some trainees openly glared at him.
One of them was the boy who had been leading the run earlier.
‘Bataille, was it?’
The boy met Glen’s gaze without backing down.
His immature, challenging eyes looked almost amusing.
Glen snorted lightly and focused on Tris instead.
Even though he could still feel Bataille’s glare, he ignored it.
“We’ll have a simple test to see how much you’ve improved while I was gone. The event is sparring. Sir Gregory will explain the details.”
Tris spoke gently, and Gregory stepped forward.
“One sparring match per person! Same rules as before. Completely suppress your opponent or render them unable to fight. That’s all. I’ll call names. For convenience, names only.”
As Gregory read the list, the trainees paired up.
Glen was paired with a girl with a blank face named Tasha.
“Isn’t this sudden?”
“Yeah. We sparred just last week. Again?”
The trainees murmured.
In truth, this sparring test was something Glen had suggested to Tris the day before.
He wanted to see the potential of the subordinates who would move for him.
‘And it’s time to set the hierarchy.’
Handling emotional, hot-blooded kids was simple.
Just show strength.
Show them he was above them.
“First, Cheryl and Bolli! Come forward with wooden swords! The rest, warm up and wait!”
At Gregory’s command, two people stepped forward.
A sharp-eyed boy and a muscular boy who didn’t look sixteen at all.
‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’
Glen watched them with interest.
Then someone approached him.
“Young Master.”
It was Bataille, the boy who had been glaring at him earlier. He bowed his head.
“I am Bataille, third son of Baron Giorgio. If you allow it, may I spar with you instead of Tasha?”
‘Oh?’
Glen raised an eyebrow.
So that look earlier—
‘He just wants to beat me up using sparring as an excuse.’
Seeing his bold eyes, Glen almost laughed.
But this was perfect.
‘Taking down a guy like this makes setting the hierarchy faster.’
After calculating briefly, Glen turned to Tasha.
