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“Next!”
“Y-yes!”

Despite his childish outbursts, Instructor Barnaby’s ability was the real deal.

First up was the butcher’s kid. Shouting things like, “What’s with that half-assed stance?” and “You’ve got a big mouth at least!” he provoked him into swinging his sword wildly. Forced to move at full strength under that pressure, the boy—who was obviously lacking in exercise—went down in no time.

After that, he sparred lightly with each person for about a minute each, and soon only the younger group—the kids who had spoken to us earlier—and us remained.

“You’re stepping in too deep. Don’t rush it!”
“Y-yes, sir!”

It seemed the boy who had first spoken to us was their leader. The two boys and one of the girls had already finished and were sitting on the ground. Now the braided girl was challenging him with a wooden practice spear.

From the side, it looked like she could at least manage the basics. But still… hmm.

“You don’t have talent for long weapons. There are different kinds of training weapons, so try a few.”
“Th-thank you very much.”
“Now then…”

When the spar ended and the braided girl stepped back, Instructor Barnaby turned his gaze to us. Noche and Sufi both looked eager, so I obediently got off her back and sat on the ground.

“Good enthusiasm. Which one of you is first?”
“Me, nya!”
“Sufi is!”
“Rock, paper…”

If I left them alone it would drag on, so I cut in—only to get glared at by both of them.

The result was: Noche first, Sufi second, Filia last.

I’m abstaining. I’m not dying today.

“If I beat you, that means I’m C-rank level, nya.”
“That’d be how it works. And I’m twenty-three.”
“Got it, old man, nya.”
“……”

…Well, from an eight-year-old’s perspective, sure. Honestly, even I kind of think he feels like an uncle. I won’t say it out loud, though.

He didn’t seem angry—more like depressed. Instructor Barnaby slowly raised his wooden sword. The real sword he had drawn earlier was already sheathed; he’d apparently only drawn it to intimidate the butcher’s kid. Childish.

While I was thinking that, Noche dashed out. As usual, her acceleration to top speed was absurdly fast.

“Shaah!”
“Whoa!?”

She skimmed over the ground and swung her wooden sword upward from below with tremendous force.

**Clang!**

The sound rang out as the instructor blocked. Startled, he cried out, and Noche slipped past his feet… aiming to sweep-kick the back of his knees from behind.

“Close one!”
“Tch!”

The instructor quickly stepped forward to dodge, then turned and swung his sword in one motion.

Noche avoided the blade with a backflip.

But the instructor recovered his sword quickly and flowed straight into a follow-up attack.

“Your evasive moves are too big—whoa!?”
“Too slow, nya!”

Noche’s kick grazed his nose just as he tried to press the attack. She had stopped her backflip halfway, supporting herself with one hand, then lashed out with her legs while upside down.

The flurry of kicks looked like breakdancing. Even the instructor reflexively created distance. Thank goodness all four of us wore shorts today instead of one-piece outfits—there was a real chance we’d be exercising.

“Nice! A big rookie for once!”
“Fshaa!”

Overwhelming agility and raw physical potential—that was Noche’s weapon.

But it only worked at first.

Once he’d gotten the idea, the instructor became cautious, always staying one step outside her range.

He switched to a counter style, waiting for her to strike and then landing a blow in return. He measured her distance, read her reactions… his attack accuracy gradually improved.

Noche started failing to dodge cleanly, and when that showed on her face, the instructor stopped attacking.

“That’s about it… honestly, you’re scary, cat girl. With a proper weapon, you could probably handle E-rank monsters without a problem.”
“Haa… haa… I was gonna knock you down, nya…!”

Noche has plenty of stamina, but real combat seems to hit differently. Even though it hadn’t even been a few minutes, she was sitting down, breathing hard.

She looked really frustrated.

“Hahaha, it won’t be that easy. Next—come on!”
“I’m going!”
“You too!?”

Called out, Sufi dashed forward next. Maybe she’d built up a lot of stress—her momentum was incredible.

Unlike Noche, it takes Sufi a bit to reach top speed.

“Hyaa!”
“Good power and momentum, but your moves are way too simple!”

Where Noche had skillfully used her wooden sword as a weapon, Sufi just ran straight in and slammed it as she passed by. It was a rough, brute-force style that relied entirely on physical ability.

She ran past the instructor, turned around after a short distance, and repeated another heavy strike. For fighting people, it was a bit too reckless.

“At that rate, you’ll run out of stamina fast.”
“Hyaa! Hyaa! Hyaaa!”

What she was doing was basically: maintain acceleration, turn, then dash-slash again. Constant full sprints. Normally you’d gas out almost immediately.

“Hey, if you keep moving like that, your stamina will—”
“Hyaa! Hyaa! Uryaa!”
“…your stamina—”
“Take this! Yah! Toh!”

Normally.

About two minutes in, Sufi was still moving at full speed without slowing at all. If anything, she looked more warmed up and was moving better.

“Hyaa! Ryaa! Tyaa!”
“See? Your form’s getting sloppy. You’re wasting stamina—”

Her attacks were simple and kept missing, and maybe she was getting bored, because even her shouts were getting half-hearted.

But her movements never slowed.

“Uryaa!”
“…Huh? Wait a second. Break time.”
“Sufi! Big sis—*cough*—break time!”
“Eeeh!?”

She wouldn’t stop anytime soon, so I stopped her. I couldn’t imagine her landing a clean hit anyway, and going further felt pointless.

“I can still go!”
“I know.”
“…You’re not even out of breath. What kind of stamina do you have?”

The attacker normally burns more stamina. That’s why there are tactics like deliberately letting the opponent attack to tire them out, or countering when they pause to breathe.

Sufi does need to breathe, but her base stamina is absurd. She’d been moving at full power for over three minutes and wasn’t even winded. Her lung capacity and endurance are off the charts.

Filia is the fastest runner of the four. Noche is the fastest in obstacle-heavy terrain. In pitch darkness, I’m the fastest—even without night vision. But for long-distance endurance, Sufi is in a league of her own.

“Cat girl, wolf girl, you’re both exceptional. Train properly and you’ll make a name for yourself.”
“Obviously, nya!”
“Heheh!”

As I watched the two of them puff out their chests proudly at the praise, I met Filia’s teary-eyed gaze as she looked our way.