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The midday sun shone brightly, yet it couldn't dispel the chill that had settled over everyone.
They all stared blankly at Ghislaine—even Allen, who had initially been looking forward to the chaos.
Though he was the one who had steered the conversation in this unexpected direction, his stunned expression was genuine.
In the original story, Ghislaine only mentioned eating monster dung out of desperation—not this horrifying detail about human flesh!
Sure, dungeon crawling was no picnic, but this was downright nightmarish.
And he wasn't the only one reeling.
"Bleh—!"
Even Edna, who usually remained unshaken, finally cracked. Covering her mouth, she bolted out of the classroom.
From the corner of his eye, Allen noticed something peculiar—despite her visceral reaction, her eyes still carried that ever-present gentle smile.
Ah. So she does have emotions. She just keeps that smile plastered on out of professionalism.
Even a seemingly ordinary tutor in House Boreas is extraordinary.
Truly befitting of the Asura Kingdom's elite nobility.
What a den of monsters.
Once again, Allen realized how limited his perspective had been when viewing this world through Rudeus' first-person lens in the original story.
Ghislaine, oblivious to the mood, merely glanced at Edna's retreating figure before continuing flatly.
"Then I got sick. Stomach pain, then diarrhea, then a fever. By the time I could barely move…"
"A pack of monsters surrounded me."
Gulp.
The three kids swallowed hard in unison.
"What… happened next?" Eris asked, her voice trembling.
Ghislaine tilted her neck slightly, her expression relaxing as if recalling a fond memory.
"I ate them."
"Felt better after that."
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
"So the lesson is clear: avoid food tainted by monster stomach acid, and you won't get sick."
"And since I'm a beastfolk, raw meat doesn't bother me much."
She glanced at the pale faces around her and suddenly remembered the original point of this discussion.
Clearing her throat, she concluded:
"In summary."
"My dungeon experience taught me one thing."
"In a labyrinth, your sword isn't the only thing that matters."
Her gaze swept over the three children, making them stiffen.
The final line landed like a hammer.
"Arithmetic is just as important."
Silence.
Allen clutched his hair in despair.
…Well played, Ghislaine.
Absolute legend.
Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention.
"Long story short—arithmetic is vital. Master it, and you'll thrive anywhere, including dungeons."
"Got it, Eris?"
Eris stayed quiet for a moment. Ghislaine's story had certainly driven home the importance of math, but the accompanying imagery—eating monster waste, raw flesh—was far from heroic.
It left the young noblewoman visibly conflicted.
Then, unbidden, a memory surfaced:
A rain-soaked night. A towering figure stepping in front of her, taking the blow meant for her, then returning with a severed head.
Her eyes flicked to Allen. Instinctively, she sought something to restore Ghislaine's "heroic" image in her mind.
"Allen! What about you? Any dungeon stories? Tell us!"
Allen blinked.
I've never even been in a dungeon.
But Eris clearly just wanted thrilling tales—and this was an arithmetic lesson. He needed to pivot back.
That said, if it was about calculations…
As a Water God swordsman, he had plenty to share.
"Dungeons? Nothing special. Just slashing monsters. But arithmetic is deeply tied to swordsmanship—at least in the Water God style."
Everyone turned to him.
Even Ghislaine straightened, adopting the demeanor of a student. Her respect for those stronger than her was genuine—evident in how she'd sincerely called Rudeus "teacher" in magic. Beneath her fierce exterior lay a refreshing honesty.
Allen continued, his voice calm.
"The core of the Water God style is 'perception.'"
"To sense all environmental data, calculate it, and 'capture' every detail—anticipating your enemy to execute flawless counterattacks."
Then, to everyone's surprise, he closed his eyes.
His hand hovered above the desk as a spring breeze danced around his fingers.
"Perceive…"
"Wind direction—southbound, three meters per second. For novice swordsmen, this causes slight blade deviation. Iron swords experience ~0.1mm drift; wooden ones, ~0.5mm. Beyond beginner level, the effect is negligible."
His palm flipped.
"Sound sources—birds, rustling leaves, your breathing and heartbeats… and…"
Still eyes shut, his finger pointed toward the door.
"Footsteps. Edna will arrive in three seconds."
"3."
"2."
"1."
Right on cue, Edna hurried in. She glanced at Allen but maintained her professional smile, moving to Rudeus' side.
Allen's voice carried on.
"Based on her stride, she'll reach Rudeus after four steps. At her third step, one could—"
Sunlight flickered.
Click.
A soft sound—his scabbard.
Edna blinked, unperturbed, and took her seat.
As she sat, a few strands of hair fluttered free, caught by the breeze—
"—enter the range to sever her head."
Silence.
Edna's smile strained as she discreetly wiped sweat from her brow.
Ghislaine's eyes narrowed dangerously at Allen's waist.
Eris, meanwhile, stared at Allen with sparkling eyes.
Sylphie and Rudeus, long accustomed to Allen's theatrics, barely reacted.
They hadn't seen the blade's path like Ghislaine or Eris (now a novice Sword God practitioner), but they knew:
Allen had just executed a Nijūren—twenty strikes in one motion.
Eyes still closed, he leisurely rested his hand on the desk.
Then, as if timed perfectly, Edna's stray hair landed on his index finger.
He opened his eyes, holding it up.
"Air vibrations, object shapes—the hair's movement creates 'ripples' in the air. Those ripples touch my skin, allowing me to calculate its position and intercept it."
"Of course, this level of precision requires the 'Sensing Flow' secret technique."
Eris wriggled excitedly, her chair creaking.
Her mind flashed back to that rainy night—Allen catching an arrow midair.
Allen flicked the hair away. Ghislaine finally looked up from his sword, tracking its flight.
"Killing intent—one of you emitted it just now. Ghislaine. Defensive, focused on my hilt. The 'Sensing Flow' made it obvious. But this 'calculation' relies more on instinct than classroom arithmetic."
"That's the gist."
He turned to Eris.
"Understand?"
She blinked.
"Nope!"
"Impressed?"
"Very!"
"Want to learn arithmetic now?"
"Nah!"
Rudeus twitched. Sylphie facepalmed, about to interject—
Then Allen spoke again.
"Expected. My explanation was too abstract. Let me simplify—using 'division' as an example."
"In swordsmanship, 'equal division' means…"
He pointed out the window.
At that moment—
A leaf drifted inside, dancing on the breeze.
It landed perfectly on Allen's fingertip.
Then—
Sshink.
The leaf split down its central vein into two perfectly symmetrical halves, fluttering onto the desk like fledgling wings.
Allen's voice was soft.
"To make 'cutting' beautiful."
"That's what 'division' means in swordsmanship."
Eris stared at the leaf, mesmerized.
"Get it now?"
"Nope!"
"Want to learn?"
"Yes!"
"Then start with division."
"Okay!"
Sylphie smiled, watching the leaf. The familiar "pretty words" warmed her heart.
Rudeus, however, froze.
The scene reminded him of that rainy night—
The moment he peeked out of the carriage, he saw it:
A charging assassin, arm outstretched toward the window—
Then, in a flash of steel, that arm was sliced into perfectly even segments.
Like delicately arranged sashimi.
Now, as spring sunlight replaced the memory's downpour, Rudeus met Allen's eyes.
That same smile.
And suddenly, he understood the unspoken truth behind Allen's words.
It wasn't about "making cutting beautiful."
What Allen truly meant was—
The meaning of 'division' in swordsmanship?
To make death beautiful.
Arithmetic Class: Results
Against all odds, Eris didn't master single-digit division by the end of the lesson.
But she did grasp fractions.
1 ÷ 2 = 1/2.
Absurd.
Yet fitting.
It started with a question during exercises:
"If you split one leaf into two, that's two leaves, right?"
Rudeus, baffled: "I… guess?"
Eris beamed. "So 1 ÷ 2 = 2!"
Sylphie gently corrected her. "Mathematically, it's 1/2."
"1/2?"
"One 'half' of a whole."
Eris frowned. "Why split it at all?"
"To share."
"Why share? I'd keep it all!"
Sylphie tilted her head. "What if it belonged to Ghislaine?"
Eris paused, glancing at Ghislaine. After a long moment, she mumbled:
"Then… I'd let Ghislaine have it!"
Sylphie nodded. "As you should. It's hers."
Then, softer:
"But… what if you wanted it badly?"
Eris crossed her arms, genuinely stumped.
"If it's Ghislaine… I'd ask for half! But if she refused, I'd back off!"
Ghislaine's ears twitched. "I would share half with Lady Eris."
"Really?!"
"Really."
Sylphie watched them, smiling faintly.
"When you want to share…"
"That's when '1/2' has meaning."
"Sylphie, you're amazing!" Eris hugged her, laughing.
Sylphie's gaze drifted to where Allen was (very half-heartedly) inviting Edna to lunch. The tutor declined with a strained smile.
Watching them, Sylphie's expression remained calm.
Last night, she'd thought deeply.
So her heart was at peace.
'But if you don't want to share…'
'That's fine too.'
'Because…'
'It was never my '1/2' to begin with.'
Note: So far this story is published up to chapter 190 on my patreon, go check it out and remember that if we reach the goal of 50 power stones I will publish the next chapter.