Chapter 213: In Dork’s Point of View (3)

The fourth division of the Order of the Galaxy should have been disbanded. After all, they had supported Elder Reganon, who had walked down a road of betrayal. Even if Reganon himself were pardoned and absolved, knights who broke their oaths were usually forced into dishonorable retirement or lost their lives.

However, Reganon was not one to simply watch that happen, and it wasn’t the outcome Besil wanted either. Though betraying the patriarch was indeed a grave crime, but...

“At the time, we believed that it was the best choice for Sefira, so we hold no regrets. We will gladly pay the price for our mistake. But please, do not cast us out. Grant us the chance to live our lives for Sefira.”

The Order of the Galaxy admitted that their choice had been misguided, and they were willing to accept whatever punishment came of it. They insisted it had been a misjudgment, not betrayal. While that was true, betrayal was still betrayal. If knights who had turned against their patriarch went unpunished, the discipline of the family would crumble. And so, the fourth division of the Order of the Galaxy was officially dissolved and stripped of their knighthood.

However, their wish was respected: instead of exile, they were reassigned with new roles, such as chief supervisor of wall repairs, captain of the border watchtowers, or assistant inspector to the Sacred Order of Sefira. All harsh or dangerous duties, normally left to low-ranking men, were entrusted to them.

Among them, Gant, the division captain, was made responsible for the Celestial Archery Hall, a training facility where the fundamentals of archery were taught. Overnight, he had fallen from a knight of Sefira’s strongest order to an instructor for fledgling recruits, with his pay cut in half. But he bore no resentment.

“Just being given the chance to serve in a place where new archers are raised is more than enough reason to be grateful.”

Even if the raw, clumsy trainees made him shout in frustration daily, Gant was still thankful, still content, until...

“What? That bastard—no, Lord Keter became the Bow of the South?!”

...he heard the news that Keter had returned.

Keter ended up being Gant’s savior, and he knew this too. But when he heard that Keter was thriving, his teeth clenched on their own.

“Everything is working out for you! Hah! Well, it makes sense because you’re so brilliant! Damn it!”

His anger toward Keter clashed with his gratitude for being the one to revive Sefira, twisting into a conflicted, maddening storm of emotions. Gant felt as if he were going insane.

“You idiot! Put some strength in your fingers! Haven’t I told you a hundred times that if your aim line shakes even the size of an ant’s backside, it’ll throw your shot off by the size of a head at a hundred meters?!”

He vented his frustration at the trainees, but his advice was sound. Just as he was correcting the recruits with a hawk’s eye, Gant suddenly felt an unfamiliar presence behind him. Turning, he saw a boy lingering at the entrance, peering in through the window.

Who the hell is that?

He had never seen him before. Of course, there were thousands living in Sefira’s estate, so he couldn’t know everyone, but something felt off.

Why is an outsider loitering here?

Gant gestured sharply to his students and ordered, “One hundred practice draws, start! Instructors, drill anyone who slacks off.”

“Yes, sir!”

Stepping outside, Gant fixed his gaze on the golden-haired boy. Though it was his first time seeing him, he felt a strange sense of deja vu.

He gives off the same air as Lord Keter...

They looked different, but they had the same energy—the arrogance, the unshakable composure. Gant felt an instinctive disgust.

So he barked out at the boy immediately, “Who are you? I’ve never seen you before. Why are you loitering here? Suspicious!”

* * *

One only saw as much as they knew, so to Daat, Gant was laid completely bare: the flaring nostrils, the bulging veins on his neck, the clenched jaw, and the thoughtless shouting.

He’s angry, but why? This is the first time I’ve seen him, and the first time he’s seen me. Is he just naturally short-tempered?

There were different kinds of anger—the rage that boiled up when things went poorly was different from the fury that came from facing a parent’s murderer.

He’s scanning me from head to toe. That means I remind him of someone he despises. But seeing that he’s looking at all of me, I must remind him of someone not just in appearance, but in energy. So, who in Sefira could give off a similar air to me?

However, there was no way for Daat to know. It was natural, as he didn’t know who lived in Sefira. However, there was only one person in Sefira that had a similar energy to his.

It has to be Big Brother.

The servant also told Daat that Gant and Keter didn’t get along, which sealed it.

Gant saw Big Brother in me, and since he still hasn’t resolved his grudge, his anger is boiling over.

It hadn’t even taken a blink of an eye to piece it all together.

“It’s an honor to meet you. My name is Daat. I am an advisor that Keter invited here to Sefira.”

“...!”

Daat couldn’t go around introducing myself as a younger brother or business partner to everyone; it would make him look small. As such, he stuck with the advisor title he used with Hissop.

The look in Gant’s eyes changed. The hostility in them became clearer.

Just as I guessed, he still hates Big Brother. Perhaps he is holding himself back. How ridiculous. Who does he think he is to think he's restraining himself?

Daat believed Keter had forgotten that Gant still needed to be dealt with. It happened sometimes, even back in Liqueur; Keter would just simply overlook someone too insignificant to bother with.

Maybe Big Brother gave him a pass for being part of the same household, but... He doesn’t have any scars. He really just forgot, like I thought. His clothes didn’t look shabby either, so he didn’t lose his wealth either.

“An advisor personally invited by Lord Keter... What business do you have in the sacred Celestial Archery Hall?”

Gant crossed his arms, his whole posture screaming that he had no intention of cooperating.

“To advise Sefira, I need to understand archery. But I know nothing of it. I heard this was the place that teaches the basics, so I came. I want to learn a little.”

Grind!

Gant clenched his teeth and said, “Learn a little...? Archery?”

“Yes. Ten minutes, maybe.”

“Ten minutes?!”

Gant staggered, clutching the back of his neck. His face flushed red.

Maybe he thinks I’m joking?

“Advisor or not... I have nothing to teach some brat who shows no respect for archery. Get lost!”

“Are your eyes just for decoration? Do I look like a brat to you?”

Maybe before, but Daat had grown a whole three centimeters after drinking the elixir. He wasn’t a little kid anymore.

Gant only snorted and waved him off.

“With hands that have never known a callus, you’ll bleed trying to draw a bow. You’re not afraid?”

“Seems your eyes really are just decoration.”

Voong...

Daat let aura flow into his hand. The change in Gant’s gaze told him he knew what that meant.

“So you’re an aura user. Hmph! Fine, you won’t get hurt, but it’s obvious you won’t be able to control your strength and you’ll snap a bow in half.”

“Why are you talking so much? Is it because you’re past your prime?”

“P-past my prime?!”

“Let’s make a bet about whether I can learn archery in ten minutes or not. Loser admits defeat in front of everyone and takes a blow to the forehead. Deal?”

“

Tch

, for a knight like me to stoop to such thug-like antics...”

“Then forget it. You scared? Can’t live up to your size?”

Daat immediately turned and walked away without waiting for an answer.

Huh? He’s not stopping me? Can he really swallow this?

“You bastard! Stop right there!”

I knew it. He didn’t have the face of a patient man. And of course, you must be confident too. Bets are only accepted when you think you can win.

“Fine, I’ll bet. But the terms are vague, so let’s do it about whether you’ll be able to hit the bullseye of the hundred-meter target or not in ten minutes.”

Clap!

Daat couldn’t help but applaud. He liked bets too, though maybe not as much as Keter.

“But you’d better teach me properly. I do mean to learn seriously.”

“I swear, I’ll teach without holding back. But only for ten minutes, not a second more. And you’ll swear not to make excuses.”

“I swear on my father and mother: no excuses. Now, shall we begin?”

“Heh. Follow me.”

Ah, yes—this is fun. That overconfident face, so certain of victory. I can’t wait to see how it will twist. Will he accept defeat like a true knight, or will he throw a tantrum, crying that I cheated?

Keter enjoyed the act of winning itself, but Daat was different.

The moment a human is crushed and the instant despair sinks in—that’s the most entertaining thing in the world.

There was no greater satisfaction than finding fun in one’s work.

* * *

In the Celestial Archery Hall, fifty trainees were repeatedly practicing archery stances without arrows. Just then, when Gant returned with Daat, curiosity made them stop what they were doing.

“Cease movement! Line up against the walls now!”

“Yes, sir!” the trainees shouted in unison as they pressed themselves against the walls.

It wasn’t just discipline; they sensed something entertaining was about to happen.

“Gant. Who is that?”

At that moment, a man who clearly wasn’t a trainee approached Gant and Daat.

“Sir Merak, this is...” Gant explained, but Daat cut him off.

“I am Daat. And you are? You don’t seem like someone who belongs here.”

“Daat, is it? I like that name. People call me Merak of the Seven Stars, but I would prefer it if you just called me Dudu.”

Merak was so unique that it was impossible not to notice him. His pineapple-like hair immediately drew attention, and his low, booming voice was unforgettable. Most of all, however, what kept Daat’s gaze constantly shifting was his presence, even though he wasn’t revealing it outright.

At least a Master... I can’t discern where he’s looking. Are people like this common outside Liqueur?

There were some times when Daat, because of his own genius, would recognize another’s extraordinary nature so clearly that he ended up discouraging himself. But in Liqueur, there were at least hundreds of people like Dudu. Meeting someone in the outside world who felt like he belonged to Liqueur was surprising but not overwhelming.

“Mr. Dudu, what are you doing here?” Daat asked.

“Hey! It’s Sir Merak to you!”

Gant tried to scold him, but Dudu didn’t mind and replied, “Dudu sometimes observes the trainees here. When someone who knows nothing of archery picks up a bow for the first time, in that fleeting moment, you can glimpse the most potential.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to just take a student, then?”

“Dudu prefers things this way.”

“I see. Well then, maybe I’ll be of help to you, Mr. Dudu. I came here to learn archery.”

Daat gestured at Gant to get on with it.

“Hmph! Let’s see how long that composure lasts.”

Gant fetched a trainee’s bow and arrows and handed them to Daat.

“Left-handed or right-handed?” he asked.

“A genius is ambidextrous.”

“...Stand here. That’s your target, the one you see straight down the range.”

“I can already tell that I can’t step over the line. What about extending the arms beyond it?”

“That’s fine. First, I’ll show you how to grip the bow. Watch carefully and don’t claim later that you didn’t see it.”

Standing beside Daat, Gant gripped the body of the bow.

“Keep your eyes aligned with the bow’s center where the arrow rests. Don’t hold the grip like a fist but extend your thumb forward.”

The explanation was simple, but it wasn’t in practice. The bow was heavier than it looked, and maintaining a straight line with one’s gaze was harder than one would think without experience. Yet Daat reproduced the stance exactly on his first attempt.

“Is this the standard grip? Feels a little uncomfortable, though.”

“...There are more ways to grip a bow than a sword, but what I just showed you is the most stable and accurate.”

“Mm. Fine. And foot position?”

“Don’t rush, I’ll show you.”

Gant grew slightly uneasy. A beginner should never have been able to master a bow grip in one try, yet Daat had mimicked it after just seeing it once.

Was he telling the truth about never touching a bow before?

Daat’s form was so perfect that he started to grow suspicious. However, it really was Daat’s first time holding a bow; his restless fidgeting showed he was uncomfortable, something no veteran archer could fake.

“Spread your feet shoulder-width apart. Step forward with the same side as your grip hand, turn your back foot slightly outward.”

“You should demonstrate, not just talk.”

Caught trying to subtly test Daat, Gant cleared his throat and demonstrated the stance himself.

“Oh, like that?”

Daat glanced once, then mirrored the stance perfectly.

Gant’s eye twitched.

A flawless stance... It’s as if he practiced it for decades.

The trainees here had been practicing archery stances for a full three months. That was how difficult and grueling it was to build a proper foundation in archery. Yet, Daat had only watched the stance once and managed to assume a perfect stance on the very first try.

Even for a genius, is something like this really possible?

Gant didn’t want to believe it, but he felt sweat run down his neck from the anxiety.

But posture alone doesn’t mean you can shoot well. Even prodigies have a hard time learning archery.

Gant, who took pride in archery, steadied himself and moved on to the next stance.

“This time, we’ll set the arrow on the bow. Like this.”

He deliberately gave no explanation and swiftly set the arrow on the bow. In truth, even placing an arrow on a bow involved incredibly complex theory. One might imitate it roughly, but if the arrow was set carelessly, it wouldn’t fire properly. Even if it did, the result would just be the arrow crashing uselessly to the ground.

It would be nearly impossible to mimic this from watching from five steps away and only seeing it from the side, but...

“So the little groove on the riser fixes the arrow in place, huh?” Daat asked.

“...!”

“And next? You’re not stalling, are you?”

“No one’s stalling... Hold the string between index and middle finger, support the fletching with your thumb, then draw,” Gant explained sourly.

“Not pulling with the wrist, but the elbow, right?”

That wasn’t a question. Daat had already drawn smoothly.

Thunk!

He released the arrow as soon as it was fully drawn, and it plopped onto the ground. He picked it up, smacking his forehead.

“So it matters when I release it too, huh? Harder than I thought. Chief Instructor Gant, could you also show me the shot itself?”

“...”

“Don’t want to? Then, Mr. Dudu, you’ll show me?”

“Wait. I’ll do it.”

Gant had unleashed countless arrows in his life, so shooting an arrow was nothing. However, this time his fingers trembled from anxiety, and this kind of anxiety was usually right.

Daat repeated every motion and...

Thwack!

...on the first try, he struck the bullseye at one hundred meters.

“This is fun.”

Thwack!

Another bullseye.

“Let’s try with a different posture. Bending the knee forward... Oh, this is less stable, but better for moving.”

Despite having learnt archery mere minutes ago and even switching stances, he never missed.

“...”

“...”

The trainees were stunned.

“Was that really his first time with a bow?”

“Feels like Chief Instructor Gant brought him just to motivate us.”

“Motivate? More like crush our spirits.”

“Honestly, he looks better than the Chief Instructor... right?”

Gant trembled. His throat burned with words he wanted to shout.

You liar! This isn’t your first time!

But he knew the truth. Daat’s hands weren’t those of an archer, and he had seen his clumsy fumbling just five minutes earlier.

How can anyone absorb archery fundamentals in a single attempt?

To know and to master were two very different things, yet Daat did both at once.

“That’s no genius... That’s a monster,” Gant said unintentionally.

Daat dusted his hands and smiled.

“Archery, well learned. And since I clearly won the bet, you’ll uphold your end, right?”

“Defeat... Urgh... I admit it. I lost.”

Gant had a short temper, but he was still a model knight. And so, he accepted defeat with integrity. Normally, this was where one offered a handshake, perhaps a word of gratitude. But instead...

“Forehead. Put it here.”

Rolling up his sleeves, blowing on his palm, Daat beckoned Gant forward, grinning.