Chapter 210: I’m Really a Pacifist (3)

Despite Ascon's desperate pleas, Ghislain's fists didn't stop. Gradually, Ascon's mind began to drift.

'Why am I even getting beaten here?'

The line between dream and reality started to blur, and the pain slowly subsided.

He welcomed this strange sensation with relief.

'Ah, finally. It doesn't hurt anymore. See? No matter how hard you hit, anyone would pass out after this much. Haha, I've won. I've won!'

As Ascon began to lose consciousness, a vision of a dignified, middle-aged male elf appeared before him.

'Grandfather!'

It was his grandfather, someone he had only ever seen in an old portrait. He'd passed away about a hundred years ago.

'I knew it. My good looks come from my grandfather. Haha!'

The elf in his vision smiled warmly and beckoned him closer with a wave of his hand.

'Ah, I'm coming, Grandfather.'

Ascon's spirit seemed to move toward him. If he could just grasp his grandfather's hand, everything would become peaceful.

Then, behind his grandfather, a massive, radiant blue tree appeared, as though it were encompassing the world.

'At last, it's time for me to unite with the World Tree.'

Overwhelmed with joy, Ascon stepped toward his grandfather, ready to rest in the embrace of the sacred tree revered by the elves.

But suddenly, the scene darkened to a crimson hue, and everything began to tear apart.

Ascon's shock was palpable as he heard a voice whisper in his ear.

"Where do you think you're going? Stay with me."

Snap!

"Gaaaah! Grandfather!"

With a sharp, soul-wrenching pain, Ascon snapped awake. His grandfather and the World Tree were gone.

Reality hit him like a brick—he was still being relentlessly beaten.

He had been sure he was about to pass out, but instead, his mind was sharper than ever.

This was hopeless. He couldn't even die or lose consciousness to escape the pain.

At this point, survival seemed the better option.

Overcome by a sudden, overwhelming desire to live, Ascon, shocked by his own thoughts, muttered weakly.

"Please… please let me live… you crazy lord…"

But Ghislain's fists still didn't stop.

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Ascon's endless screams finally quieted. Only then did Ghislain's punches halt.

"Wow, look at the time! I got so into it because the feel of it was just perfect. Elves… no, humans really are something else."

Ascon slumped to the ground, sobbing. He couldn't understand why he hadn't passed out.

To endure pain without dying or losing consciousness—this was truly the worst punishment for an elf with their long lifespan.

"I'll be the representative, I'll be a soldier, I'll cooperate. Why couldn't we just talk this out instead of beating me? Sniff…"

"Ah, sorry about that. I got a bit too focused on testing a new treatment method and forgot to stop."

Hearing this, the other elves looked utterly horrified. He'd beaten someone all day long simply because he forgot to stop? And he even admitted to experimenting on a person's body?

Most of the elves had, at one point, rebelled against nobles and managed to carve out easier lives. Unable to handle them, those nobles would eventually sell them off again.

At first, they had assumed they could live the same way here, but their thoughts were beginning to change.

'We can't cross this guy. He's a real lunatic.'

A tense seriousness settled over the previously lax elves.

Seeing that discipline had been restored, Ghislain looked down at Ascon and asked.

"Starting today, you'll live as a human, right? You're ready to be reborn, correct?"

After a moment of hesitation, Ascon shut his eyes tightly and replied.

"Yes, I'm just a human with pointy ears. Honestly, I'd rather cut them off."

He abandoned even his racial identity. Survival was paramount. If the man before him demanded a change in race, then so be it.

"Has your anger management problem been resolved? That's something that really needed to be treated."

At this, Ascon replied with a firm voice.

"Yes, I am now an expert in anger management. No further treatment is necessary."

Under Ghislain's supervision, Ascon not only overcame his condition but also reinvented himself, even embracing his newfound ability to manage his temper.

***

Having straightened out the elves, Ghislain found himself deep in thought.

Creating a new type of soldier that didn't already exist in the territory would take time. For now, training the elves too rigorously wasn't feasible, given their abysmal physical condition.

They needed at least a baseline of fitness to carry out the role he envisioned for them.

"Hmm, who should I put in charge of their physical training? Everyone's so busy; there's no one obvious."

Gillian was already in charge of knight training and management. Kaor would just slack off if given the job.

Ghislain needed someone who would dedicate themselves fully and train the elves seriously and efficiently.

After some thought, Gillian cautiously suggested.

"What about Gordon?"

"Gordon?"

"Yes. Whatever else he may lack, he's the most passionate about building muscle. He could certainly teach them the basics."

"Hmm, that doesn't sound bad."

If Gordon was known for one thing, it was his dedication to exercise. Even when the other mercenaries drank and fooled around, Gordon never skipped a workout.

After all, to him, "muscle loss" was the ultimate sin.

Even just working out alongside Gordon would likely improve the elves' stamina significantly.

"He might not build them into combat-ready physiques, but he can definitely teach basic fitness. Alright, let's go with Gordon."

Having made his decision, Ghislain went to find Gordon.

At the moment, even the knights were actively participating in rigorous training sessions—essential for survival.

During their rest periods, most of them avoided alcohol and focused solely on recovering through sleep.

But not Gordon. He spent even his rest time working out. Neither mana cultivation techniques nor swordsmanship training alone could satisfy his quest for bigger muscles.

Thanks to his relentless effort, he quickly regained the muscle he had lost while learning cultivation techniques.

For him, large muscles were both a life goal and his greatest pride.

"Hmm? Gordon's not here?"

Ghislain was surprised not to find Gordon in the training grounds where he always worked out. Curious, he headed to the knights' quarters.

"Ah, my lord! What brings you here?"

Gordon greeted him with a slightly tired expression. He also seemed a bit smaller than usual.

Looking him over briefly, Ghislain asked.

"What's this? You, of all people, taking a break? Weren't you the guy who said muscle loss was terrifying? Looks like you've lost some muscle. Are you that tired lately?"

Gordon smirked and replied.

"I don't work out as much anymore. I've been busy."

"Busy? What's more important than muscle? What are you busy with?"

"I've started writing, and it's opened my eyes to a whole new world. These days, I spend my time writing. Missing even one day causes 'writing loss.'"

"What? You're writing now? What are you writing about?"

"A literary novel. It's based on classical works, but I've added my own creative touch to it. It's full of life lessons and truths that will inspire and teach people. Haha."

Gordon ran a hand over his shiny bald head and wore an arrogant smirk, as if he were a legendary writer descended from the heavens.

"Wow…"

Ghislain looked at him with a mixture of amazement and disbelief. Gordon, writing?

All that talk about literature and classical inspiration—he must've been studying hard.

'Teaching him to read really turned his life around!'

Even Gillian, usually stone-faced, seemed slightly surprised as he glanced at Gordon.

Sensing Gillian's gaze, Gordon's smirk grew even more arrogant.

"I haven't finished it yet, but would you like to read it? I'm curious about your literary insight, my lord. Feel free to offer any opinions."

His tone even sounded a bit cocky. Ghislain, wearing a sour expression, nodded reluctantly.

Gordon reached into his crotch and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a small book.

'Why does he always pull things out from there? How does anything even fit in there? Does he have some kind of spatial pocket?'

Looking slightly disgusted, Ghislain accepted the book.

The moment he read the title on the cover, he froze.

[The Invisible Sword Master]

"…That's quite the title."

"Haha, the content is even better. Go ahead, read it."

"I'm busy right now, so I'll look at it later. But… Do you really know much about sword masters? Being invisible doesn't seem all that meaningful."

"What? What do you mean? If you're invisible, no one can see you! That makes you ridiculously strong."

"Even if you're invisible, people can sense your presence. At a certain level, visibility doesn't matter. It's a bit lacking in plausibility—"

Before Ghislain could finish, Gordon cut him off, flustered.

"This invisible sword master has no presence either! Their presence is also invisible! So they're completely undetectable! That's the setup! Plausibility my foot!"

"…Sure."

If the author says so, what else can be said? Ghislain fell deep into thought.

'Invisible and undetectable? Then perhaps enclosing them within a mana field to identify inconsistencies might work… though it would require enormous mana. Wait, could there be another method?'

If such a being existed, it would indeed be terrifying. If Ghislain ever encountered one, he couldn't bear the thought of being helpless.

The fighter in him burned with curiosity about how he'd counter such a foe.

But as he imagined battling this theoretical opponent, Ghislain suddenly stopped himself, feeling a pang of self-awareness.

'What am I doing? This is ridiculous! Invisible sword master? This is absurd!'

He tried to push the idea away, but a nagging thought remained.

His mind itched with the sense that something important was within reach. If he just delved deeper, he might uncover something valuable.

Finally, Ghislain decided to be honest with himself.

'Hmm, when I have time, I should use this novel for some mental training. I might discover a new way to utilize mana. This could be fun.'

Having found an unexpected source of entertainment, Ghislain tucked the book away and spoke.

"I've got a new job for you."

"Huh? What job? I'm busy training and writing… If I miss a day, I'll suffer 'writing loss'…"

"You're going to be the fitness instructor for the elves. If you don't want it, I'll find someone else."

"Oh? I'll do it! Absolutely, I'll do it!"

Gordon grinned widely, clasping his hands together eagerly.

Though he was technically a knight, he didn't hold any particular position within the territory.

Taking on this role would give him status, recognition, and—most importantly—a chance to show off. Knowing Ghislain's penchant for rewarding hard work, there might even be extra pay involved.

Gordon had often envied Gillian, who managed knight training, and thought he could do even better.

'If it were me, I'd drill them harder than that old codger!'

Now presented with the opportunity, Gordon wasn't about to let it slip away.

"But… aren't elves supposed to be all about using spirits and stuff? Can I really push them in physical training?"

"Spirits, my foot. They don't know how to do anything. Just work them hard."

Elves were typically known for their strong connection to spirits. It made sense for Gordon to assume they'd excel in that area.

But these elves, dulled by years of alcohol and smoke, had long since lost such abilities.

Ghislain raised a fist as a warning.

"Don't you dare slack off or get distracted by their looks. If you don't take this seriously, you'll be the one undergoing special training."

"Yes, sir! Leave it to me!"

Gordon exhaled through his nose, radiating confidence.

Soon, the elves were gathered at the training grounds. For Gordon, who had never trained anyone before, this was an exciting moment.

"I'm Gordon, your new training instructor! I'm the strongest man in this territory after the lord himself, so trust me and follow my lead!"

The elves wore expressions of despair. For beings accustomed to idling their lives away, the idea of physical training was pure torture.

Their representative, Ascon, sat in a daze, looking as though his soul had left his body.

Blissfully unaware of the atmosphere, Gordon immediately launched into the session.

"Now, just do what I do! Got it? Why aren't you answering?"

"Yes…"

"What's that? Louder! Everything must be loud! Like this! 'Rah! Rah!' Say it like that!"

"Rah!"

"Good! Put some spirit into it like that!"

Gordon was clearly thrilled. Having people follow his commands was immensely satisfying.

"Alright! Since it's the first day, we'll start light with just 100 push-ups! Watch me and copy exactly how I do it! One! Two! Three! Four! Why are you just standing there? Get down and follow!"

True to his simple-minded nature, Gordon showed no consideration for the abilities of his trainees and focused solely on showing off.

The elves awkwardly mimicked him, lowering themselves to the ground.

"One…"

"Two…"

"Three… I can't do this!"

Most of the elves collapsed before even reaching ten push-ups. Their delicate physiques weren't built for such strenuous activity.

Gordon was visibly frustrated.

"What the hell? Why can't you even manage 100? Damn it! You useless weaklings! Get up! Fine, let's start with running! Just 100 laps!"

He forced them to their feet and made them run with him. By the second lap, elves were dropping like flies.

"Damn it! You useless lot! Old man Gillian drills us way harder than this! Take a quick break, then we're starting again!"

Gordon's growing panic made him more aggressive.

He had finally been given a role, a chance to prove himself. The thought of failing and being dismissed terrified him.

The elves, on the other hand, were reaching their limit. The thought of enduring such training regularly was unbearable. Worse, they began to suspect that Gordon only knew the number 100.

Something had to change. As the exhausted elves slumped to the ground, they exchanged glances, silently communicating.

And then, with sly expressions, they began to direct subtle temptations toward Gordon.

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