Oujin looked up at the towering Bernald with eyes that didn’t match his youthful face. His expression was as gentle as ever.

“This might take a while, but do I need to explain everything in detail, Bern?”

Bernald slowly shook his head from side to side. Then, in his usual deep, weighty voice, he murmured softly.

“……No, it’s not necessary. I understand. —Is that acceptable, Leader?”

Ilga clapped his hands once, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Hey now, don’t take my role away from me, Bern. Besides, I’m not even mad at Oujin or Eremia. If anything, I’m grateful.”

“Grateful?”

Curious, I asked. Ilga wiped the smile from his face and lowered his gaze to his hands.

“Think about it, everyone. We were able to slay monsters that threaten humanity with our own swords. Despite being mere students—not even knights—we fulfilled the role of a true knight. Even if the situation was deliberately orchestrated, I genuinely feel like I got closer to becoming a real knight.”

He clenched his fists and looked up, then turned to address both groups.

“We fought. We stood toe-to-toe with an ogre that even full knights struggle with. That’s exactly what I came to this knight academy to learn.”

Then, with a somewhat exaggerated gesture, Ilga extended his hand toward me and Oujin.

“The only difference is that our teachers weren’t instructors but fellow classmates. —Isn’t that right, everyone?”

Everyone fell silent. But it wasn’t an expression of dissatisfaction—it was confusion.

Ilga looked at each person in turn and continued slowly.

“Everyone here is a noble. And nobles are meant to fight. As long as we are nobles, we cannot escape battle. Sooner or later, crises like this will come. But today, here, we experienced it firsthand while being protected by two skilled fighters. This was an invaluable experience for our futures, wasn’t it?”

Except for the ever-stoic Bernald, everyone—including the students from both groups, Oujin, and even myself—stared at Ilga, dumbfounded.

For the first time, I felt like I caught a glimpse of what Ilga Freiges had been thinking.

Indeed, nobles exist to protect the nation and its people, to fight in times of war. Commoners and lower classes might have the choice to serve or not unless conscription is in place. But nobles do not have that option. In exchange, they are granted titles—the very definition of privilege.

Letis muttered.

“Oh… When you put it that way… Yeah, that logic about it being natural for the third group to save us just because they’re not instructors… That doesn’t really make sense when you think about it rationally.”

I could feel the heat of anger dissipating among the students. In fact, many of them began to hesitantly express gratitude or apologies toward us. They probably weren’t completely convinced deep down, but still.

At least I had avoided outright hostility. I finally let out a breath of relief.

However, something about Ilga’s words lingered in my mind.

He seemed to view nobles and commoners as distinctly separate. Yet, when it came to Instructor Lili and us students, he made no distinction. Did he not care about status as much as I thought?

I stole a glance at Ilga’s profile.

I still don’t get him. The more I learn, the more I don’t understand.

Unaware of my thoughts, Ilga smiled at the group.

“Alright. Let’s resume our exploration. The formation stays the same—Ryoka and I will lead, followed by the first and second groups, with Bern and Eremia covering the rear.”

“Wait. Before that, a short break, Leader. Even small wounds can lead to serious illness if untreated.”

Bernald’s words made Ilga nod.

“Good point. Let’s take a short rest. Everyone brought their medicine, right?”

The group nodded.

Bernald sat against the wall, and the entire second group, including Letis, gathered around him. They seemed to admire him quite a bit. He almost looked like a father figure to them—though that was a silly thought.

The first group, on the other hand, was more carefree. Each sat wherever they pleased, taking out food and drinks from their packs, or tending to their wounds.

Fighting monsters meant dealing with claws, fangs, and often poison. Even if there wasn’t poison, infections could turn minor wounds into life-threatening conditions.

Bernald was right. Disinfection was crucial.

As I scanned the area, I noticed Ilga standing alone a little farther ahead, keeping watch.

Without thinking, I walked over to him.

“Ilga. You should rest too. I’ll take over the watch.”

“No, I’m fine. I can eat while standing. At least let me do this much. I owe you all another one.”

Ilga lowered a pouch of military rations—hardtack cookies—to my eye level, offering to share.

I took one and popped it into my mouth.

Unlike Riona’s treats, these had a salty tang mixed with the sweetness. They were biscuits. Not the best taste, but given the blood and sweat of battle, the salt intake was welcome.

I washed it down with water from my leather flask.

“Again?”

“Including the homunculus fight. I was taken out immediately and couldn’t do anything. You all saved my life, and I don’t even remember it. It’s pathetic.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. That thing was a monster. Even with four members, the third group struggled against it.”

“I’m not being pessimistic.”

Ilga stared into the darkness beyond the glow of the magic lamps, a slight smile on his lips.

“Listen, Eremia. Rack up as many favors from me as you can while we’re students. Because I will become a full knight, inherit the Freiges house, and rise to the rank of marquis. I will repay every single one.”

“You’re awfully serious about this. If you consider this a debt, you can repay me right now.”

“……?”

After making sure the others were far enough away, I asked Ilga directly.

“Why are you so obsessed with being a noble? Once we graduate from Lehan Knight Academy, we all get knight peerage anyway. Even if it’s honorary, that’s still basically nobility.”

Graduates of Lehan Knight Academy automatically receive a knighthood—a temporary title proving they’re a noble for a single generation. Of course, in return, they are expected to serve in wartime.

At graduation, students can choose whether to accept the title or not. Even without it, a diploma from the academy opens many career paths, making it a reasonable choice for many commoners.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so fixated on separating nobles and commoners within the class. What are you really thinking?”

As for me, I had already decided—I would decline the title.

I had no interest in being bound by the rigid status of nobility or the constraints of knighthood. The same went for royalty and the ducal title Kilpus would likely try to grant me.

My goal was to become a Sword Saint—a warrior whose blade is his own to wield.

I alone would decide who I fought for, just as I had in my previous life under Kilpus.

“Of course, if you don’t want to answer, you can always pay me back in the future.”

Ilga leaned against the wall, staring silently into the darkness beyond the magic lamp’s reach.

He seemed unwilling to respond.

Just as I turned to leave—

“……I was adopted.”