A Witch That Is Good at Hunting

Chapter 14: New Hunters (2)

“Show respect to the instructor and talk informally, you brat.”

“What? No. I don't listen to someone weaker than me!”

“…”

The instructor glanced at Rowen, demanding an explanation with his eyes.

“This guy is… the one Vigo brought in?”

Meeting a true lunatic, the instructor looked slightly shaken. Rowen wiped her sweat and answered.

“Um, he is a bit unusual…”

“Not just a bit.”

The instructor rubbed his eyelids as if he was already tired.

“…It’s just as the Captain said.”

“You were already informed?”

“Yes. I was given all the necessary details.”

Rowen let out a quiet sigh of relief. Explaining Nike piece by piece would have been a nightmare. As expected, Captain Morgana’s handling was flawless.

“…Still. For the Captain herself to manage him directly. Live long enough, you see everything.”

“Agreed. First time in Order history, isn’t it?”

“At least as far as I know.”

Instructor Carlton had trained recruits for decades, yet had never seen such privilege.

A boy brought personally by a great hunter, managed directly by the Captain, and granted special treatment?

Judging from his words and actions, he seemed like a fool, one that was impossible to understand.

‘No matter how I look at him, he’s just a strange brat.’

A body smaller than his peers. A suspiciously low mental age. Speech and behavior light as air.

For someone who should have sworn bloody vengeance on witches, he seemed far too careless.

Could this brat truly fight witches and be loyal to the Order? That was hard to believe.

Amid his doubts, Carlton asked Nike.

“Hey, brat. What are you good at?”

Nike answered instantly.

“Hunting.”

Pfft.

Carlton let out a snort at the cheerful reply. Nike scowled at his reaction, insulted.  

“Hah?”

“I was wrong. I like your spirit.”

Even if it was bravado, a witch hunter had to be brave. On that point, Nike passed.

‘Or maybe he just has no thoughts at all.’

Carlton jerked his chin.

“Well. I guess we will see. Follow me, brat.”

“Brat? Do you want to die!”

“…You are so dead.”

“Nike. Remember our promise?”

Rowen caught him and gave a final warning, whispering so only he could hear.

“Don't cause trouble. And most importantly, never use magic. Obey the instructor. Don't act rude like you did just now.”

“…Ughhh. Ngh!”

The strict life was hard for Nike to adapt to.

But a contract was a contract. Breaking trust meant abandoning humanity.

“I will buy you more meat.”

“…Keep your promise.”

“Mhm. Of course.”

Nike trudged after the instructor.

When they reached the yard, the instructor roared like thunder.

“Worms, gather!”

The cadets running laps rushed over.

Sweating and panting, they stared at the unfamiliar boy. It was natural, given his striking looks, and since the instructor brought him.

Nike’s reaction was the same.

‘Peers.’

Three kids his age, something he had barely ever seen. Rowen had called them training peers.

Nike quickly observed them.

The one on the left was taller than Nike by a head, brown haired and broad shouldered. His gaze was sharp, unfriendly.

The one beside him looked similar, perhaps a younger brother. Smaller, hunched, timid.

The one on the right was the only girl. Her beauty stood out, with platinum hair falling softly just above her shoulders.

Her face was expressionless, almost cold. She was the only person who didn’t gaze at Nike there.  

Nike finished his scan in seconds.

His heart pounded for some reason.

For the first time, he thought he might make friends. Maybe life at the training ground would not be so bad.

“Listen well. This is Nike, the new trainee joining today. From now on he will train with you―”

“Massacre!”

Perhaps it was because of his excitement.

His first greeting went a little too far.

* * *

An abrupt declaration.

Reactions varied. Annoyed. Amused. Unmoved.

“Ah… He does not mean to fight. He meant hello! Who greets like that you ask? …Here he is. Haha.”

Rowen quickly covered for him.

Only then could the instructor continue.

“It has been a week since training started, but Nike will join you. You lot were useless in the first week anyway. Any complaints?”

None. All three cowered under the instructor’s glare.

“So now we have four worms. All of you may be trash, but get along together.”

Carlton shoved Nike into the group.

“Now finish the thirty laps. We are back to zero.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Loyalty!”

Carlton glared at Nike.

“The answer is only yes or no! Foolish brat!”

Pfft!

One cadet burst out laughing.

“…L-Lo…!”

Nike stuttered. Yes and no were words he never used.

He tried to follow since it was part of training, but it was hard. The humiliation stung.

‘I will kill him!’

Carlton sighed and waved him on. The cadets resumed running, Nike stumbling after them.

“By the way, can that brat even talk properly?”

Leaning on the fence, Rowen recalled her first meeting with Nike.

“No. He cannot converse normally. Only in words.”

“Is his head broken or something?”

Rowen shook her head, repeating Vigo’s words that maybe he was too brilliant, and so unbalanced.

“He lived alone since infancy. The fact he communicates at all is surprising.”

“You think that’s really possible?”

“…No.”

“Hmm.”

Carlton eyed Nike suspiciously. The boy ran with ease, smiling like a deer in the forest.

“He is a mystery. Well, I just need to drill his stamina and teach basic hunting anyway...”

“Yes. The real teaching will be done by my master and Captain.”

Carlton grunted in agreement and fell silent. Rowen kept her eyes on Nike, fearing trouble.

The recruits had run ten laps. Their breathing was ragged, speed slowing sharply.

It was tough for kids with no prior training.

“Uwaaaah! I will kill you!”

Of course, there was always an exception.

Nike vented his humiliation and anger by running harder. He was way too fast.

“Is that even training? It feels like watching a wild beast.”

Rowen shrugged.

“…It is more like social training, maybe?”

* * *

“Witch! Massacre! Witch! Massacre! Witch! Massacre!”

“Hah, hagh! Slow down…!”

“Jeez, hey! Run with us!”

“…”

Nike pulled three laps ahead of them, but even that wasn’t enough to relieve his anger. Only after doing ten more laps, did the running end.

The two boys who had boasted earlier looked pale, on the verge of vomiting.

‘That lunatic! what has this bastard been through?’

A perfect face like it was art.

Beastlike stamina.

Unstable and certainly abnormal mind.

In every way, Nike left an extreme first impression.

“B-Bleghh!”

“Cough! Cough!”

“Huff, huff…”

The recruits collapsed on the ground, one vomiting.

Nike, cheerful, called out to Carlton and Rowen. He looked as if it had only been a warm up.

After all, for a boy who ran mountains daily, this flat ground was nothing.

“Hey, jeez… let’s rest a bit more…!”

“God… someone shut that bastard’s mouth.”

Even the quiet girl wiped her sweat and glanced at Nike.

She had ignored him before, but now she wasn’t able to. After all, what kind of trainee would urge the instructor for more training!

‘…That kid.’

He definitely had to be insane.

“Oho… New trainee Nike, you handle this quite easily huh. And you even called the instructor right away after finishing. That’s an excellent attitude.”

“This much is nothing!”

Nike pounded his chest, grinning. The running had cooled his anger. Being praised felt good, even encouraging.

‘Training, praise!’

If he trained hard, he would be praised.

Nike learned something good today.

His eyes blazed with new fire.

‘What a crazy brat.’

Carlton smirked inwardly, then glared at the fallen recruits.

“You… trash. Be ashamed. Beaten by a new recruit on his first day. Are you seniors or parasites? Ten more laps for you three, now.”

The unlucky ones panicked.

“Wh-Whaaaat!?”

“Twenty laps.”

“…Fucking- Yes, sir!”

The recruits dragged their feet back to the track, glaring daggers at Nike.

It was maddeningly unfair. It wasn’t that they were showing poor performance, Nike was just an exception.

In the end, they were driven to collapse, crawling to finish.

* * *

After a simple dinner, the cadets were ordered to repair the training ground.

The field was badly damaged, proof of the harsh training.

But the recruits’ real headache was elsewhere.

Clang, clang!

Swinging pickaxes, Ginter grumbled.

“Man, I hate that brat already.”

Lou Gehrig sighed, watching Nike dig dirt with his bare hands.

“Y-Yeah…”

If Nike had not shown off, they wouldn't have been forced into more laps today.

The newcomer stood out too much. His looks, his actions, his mind.

It felt like he was showing off on purpose.

“We need to put him in his place. Or else we will be compared to him every day and live in hell.”

“But… big brother, let’s not. Please?”

They were brothers, dreaming of avenging their parents. Each other was all they had.

The older brother Ginter gripped his younger sibling’s shoulder tightly.

“Get a grip. If we can’t handle one brat, how can we avenge ourselves on witches?”

“…I-I just want to go home.”

Ginter pinched his brother’s arm and stood.

“Hey. Stop whining. Lou Gehrig, who are we?”

“…”

“Answer.”

“T-The strongest brothers…”

“That’s right.”

“…So cringe.”

Ginter’s eyes were fierce which didn’t really suit him at the age of eighteen.

“Remember. Whoever challenges us, witch or brat, they all die. The instructor is not here. It’s time to deal with him.”

“Wait, really…?”

Dragging his brother, Ginter approached Nike and picked a fight.

“Hey.”

“Hey!”

“Do you not hear me?”

“Are you ignoring me right now?”

Nike, still digging, sighed deeply and stood.

He brushed dirt off his hands and faced the two boys. Their eyes burned with hostility.

Nike scowled at them.

“War?”