On My First Day Undercover, the Organization Collapsed - Chapter 362

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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First Day of Infiltration, The Organization Was Destroyed Episode 362
Time to Hold a Real Sword (2)
A pitch-black blade!
The silence was absolute.
No one dared to speak.
‘The first time…… isn’t it?’
‘Re, really?’
This was the first time Ziel had instructed the class to draw a real sword—one with a blade so blue it gleamed in the light.
He’d had them hold one during demonstrations on rare occasions, but in every other situation, they’d used practice swords only.
“Practice swords have their limits. Without thinking, you assume you won’t be hurt, so without thinking, you apply more force. Since even a direct hit won’t cause serious injury, you can’t anticipate what result will follow from how much strength you put into it and when.”
But that would change now.
By having them pick up real swords, Ziel had one intention.
“Now that you’ve each chosen the direction your swordsmanship will take, you need time to grow accustomed to your own style.”
In other words—to truly learn swordsmanship by using real blades.
“So everything we learned until now was…….”
“Foundational conditioning? Something like that…….”
It was half right.
In Ziel’s estimation, the students still had a long way to go before mastering the fundamentals.
There would be more repetitive practice ahead, more tumbling and falling to come.
The difference was simple: what they held in their hands now was no longer a blunt training blade—it was a real sword with an edge.
“Se, sir. Isn’t that dangerous……?”
Ann’s careful question drew a matter-of-fact response from Ziel.
“More dangerous still is for your swordsmanship to stagnate.”
“Ah.”
Ruthlessly precise.
In the end, Ziel had made this decision with the future in mind.
If they only swung practice swords, they’d never learn how to handle a real blade in actual combat.
They were students now.
War and real combat felt distant.
At most, they’d face magical beasts.
They were unlikely to be thrown into brutal, blood-soaked battles where flesh was carved away.
But no one knew how long that would hold.
“None of you can predict what kind of trials await you after graduation. More than anything, only when you wield a real sword can your swordsmanship truly find its direction.”
That was the essence of it.
The time to abandon standardized practice blades had come.
From now on, they would each use their own sword and grow familiar with it, developing a style suited to their own weapon.
“So there was a reason the Boss let us exchange equipment with praise cards…….”
“Se, sir.”
Gilbert murmured vacantly while Kelvin marveled aloud.
Swords were consumable.
Now that they’d be using real blades in lessons and practical training, weapons would break down quickly.
Which meant…….
“Hey, Kelvin.”
“Huh? Y, yeah?”
“I think we’re finished for.”
They’d be the ones receiving the brunt of those real swords.
“…….”
Kelvin found himself lost in thought.
He’d given up his mercenary work.
He was earning a small salary now.
Room and board were guaranteed.
Thanks to the Boss, he was growing stronger by the day.
It was a happy life, and all he needed now was a family—so why……?
‘Should I run? Should I bolt?’
Why did he suddenly want to flee?
“So they’re all going to be carrying real swords from now on…….”
Gilbert felt it too—the urge to disappear.
One hundred students growing stronger by the day!
And now they’d all come charging at him with real blades?
Getting wounded once a day would be the least of his worries.
‘I’ll have to get that strong, at least…… wait.’
Gilbert slapped his knee and stood up.
“That’s right.”
“A, are you finally serious?”
“No, the Boss designed it. We’re just going to get stronger!”
“……?”
“Look. If a hundred of them came at us in earnest with real swords, what would happen to our skill?”
Kelvin finally wondered if Gilbert had lost his mind.
In truth, he was halfway there.
“Of course, the Boss! Incredible—a decision that even accounts for our skill improvement! Master Grade isn’t just a dream anymore!”
Watching him shout with such exaggeration, it actually started to feel real.
For the first time, Kelvin felt pity for Gilbert.
And pity for himself as well.
Soon enough, he’d have to dash into the space between a hundred swords those students were about to swing.
‘I will get stronger, won’t I?’
He clung to this fragile hope.
And then, at last, Ziel made his declaration.
“Begin.”
The lesson that followed was, naturally, overwhelmingly one-sided.
One hundred to one.
Naturally, Ziel’s dominance was complete.
The problem, if there was one, was that the students no longer voiced complaints or regrets during the class.
Clang!
The sensation, sound, and tremor that rippled through hand and arm and entire body when real steel met real steel—it was a completely different dimension.
Top-tier students like Delev and Celia had experienced this through the Swordsmanship Tournament, but those opponents had been at roughly their own level.
“Your left side is exposed. Focus, Maris Sopen.”
Clang! Clang!
“Ugh!”
Maris blocked a couple of sword strikes before scrambling backward in panic.
Now she understood.
‘So this is what the aura of the strong feels like.’
Teacher Ziel had never once drawn a real sword until now.
He’d only faced them with practice swords, and even then, hadn’t needed the blade itself to subdue them.
But now it was different.
A sense of crisis and oppression dominated her entire body—the fear that one wrong move meant meeting the black blade.
The other students felt the same.
‘This isn’t how it usually is. Even if we combined all our strength…… I don’t think we could win.’
Celia had been brimming with confidence lately.
She’d finally grasped her own shortcomings and had begun to shine during the Kundel Family Practical Training.
But the moment her attack was blocked by Ziel—
“Student Celia Rihart, your rightward attacks have many openings. Your wrist trembles slightly.”
She understood.
‘I still have a long way to go.’
Delev felt it, and Ando, and Yurio as well.
“Student Yurio Harmatan, your swordsmanship has changed. But that last attack had far too much force behind it.”
With each clash of blades, Ziel was feeding back every shortcoming he sensed in the students’ sword techniques.
They stopped questioning now.
Even wondering how it was possible ceased to have meaning.
“Student Quantus Hopel, use the sword, not brute strength. Feinting with the blade while pushing forward with your body lacks tactical precision.”
“So my strength is insufficient!”
“No. Everything is insufficient.”
“Ah.”
Though Quantus was an exception of sorts, the students as a whole took the lesson far more seriously in this altered atmosphere.
Gone was the sound of laughter at another’s mistake, the teasing and mockery.
Clang!
“Ugh!”
Clang! Thud!
“Ah!”
The sound of steel striking steel.
And short cries of pain, bodies tumbling across the ground.
“Lydia Rojas, the direction you’re pursuing doesn’t suit who you are right now.”
“Yes? Then I should…….”
“Build muscle. You need to strengthen your entire body. Stay after class today.”
“Yes…….”
Only cold, meticulous feedback reached their ears.
The students were changing distinctly, though they didn’t realize it themselves.
Their posture.
Their attitude.
Even the way they approached their swords.
There were inevitably injuries.
“Ow!”
During training, students had been scraped, bruised, even broken bones, but there were definitely some who had never been cut or pierced by a blade until now.
Of course, Ziel had never actually cut or pierced anyone.
“You tensed up the hand holding the sword. Be careful.”
“Y-yes. Ow, it stings.”
“The bleeding’s stopped now. Bandage it.”
Handling a blade with an edge sharpened to a pale gleam was dangerous work like this.
It was common to drop the sword from tension, or for your hand to slip and wound yourself.
Something was definitely different.
Clearly different from before.
“That concludes today’s class.”
And Ziel declared it coldly.
“There are no recipients of Praise Cards today.”
“…….”
“You’ve shown progress in swordsmanship, but you haven’t demonstrated that swordsmanship with the real blades you’re holding. Get used to them.”
Class ended there.
The usual cheers were absent.
They couldn’t have been otherwise.
“……Something feels off about the atmosphere, doesn’t it?”
“Getting used to it, maybe…… I’m not sure.”
“Real swords…… This is no joke.”
They’d all had to wield them.
Not a single Sword School student was without their own blade.
But actually wielding one against a ‘person’ was a completely different matter!
They’d faced magical beasts in practical training and sparred with real swords during the royal invitation training, but the atmosphere was utterly incomparable to that!
This was the first time they’d faced a ‘person’ radiating such an aura.
“Is this what they call killing intent?”
“From the teacher? Toward us?”
“No, not killing intent exactly. More like an aura, I’d say. The kind of aura where you feel like you’d get cut or slashed if you got too close…… if that makes sense?”
As evidence, they all looked thoroughly exhausted the moment class ended.
Nearly exhausted, one might say.
Some students even complained of headaches from the mental strain.
Karen looked completely blank.
“Real combat would be even worse than this…….”
In real combat, they’d experience blood and flesh flying, the crossing of life and death firsthand.
Confidence was hard to find.
The shield of being a student would vanish someday.
Someday, as a knight, they might have to fight someone, even kill someone.
“Still, we have to do it.”
Yurio was shaken too, though not as badly as Karen.
The difference was that, having grown up watching the harsh environment of the Northern Region since childhood, he adapted a bit faster than the other students.
“Right. We have to.”
Karen came to terms with it quickly.
She’d begun learning the Renfield Family’s swordsmanship.
As a result, she was growing rapidly.
Now that they held real swords, there was only one thing to do.
Grow.
“But what if we actually cut the teacher…… what then?”
At Karen’s concern, Yurio tilted his head quizzically.
“Would that even happen?”
“True. But what if they threw in ten Praise Cards for success?”
“That’s harsh. How about three?”
“Is that so?”
Ziel, who’d been listening from a distance, flinched.
He’d been just about to tell them in the next class that he’d award three cards to anyone who sustained an injury for the sake of motivation.
‘They’ve caught on.’
These days, the students seemed remarkably perceptive.
Gilbert approached hesitantly.
“Boss, you’re quite fierce.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well… when dealing with the kids, you never once let up. But when you counterattack, you never inflict a scratch. How do you manage that?”
“It just works.”
Ziel added a comment to his brief answer.
“Starting next week, you two will take over.”
Of course.
It was an unavoidable fate.
Ziel offered a warning.
“Watch for when the students get excited. They’re still clumsy with emotion control, and especially if they see blood, they can develop killing intent.”
Both Gilbert and Kelvin knew this well.
In real combat, seeing blood naturally stirs excitement.
How well you manage that determines the outcome of actual engagement.
“With you here, what’s there to worry about?”
“If a hundred of them unleash killing intent simultaneously, I can’t stop that either.”
……
Still, it was clear caution was necessary.
Real swords.
Like Ziel, the two of them understood well what that carried within it.
“You face them each with your own blade.”
“Yes, understood.”
What was certain was that from today onward, the students would set the direction of their swordsmanship.
Which meant they were now treading the true path toward becoming knights.
“The kids will grow tremendously this semester.”
There wasn’t much practical training left now.
It was a moment when the results were anticipated.
And drawing near was the external exchange tournament with Telvir Academy that would prove those results.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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