There was no lunch break. After finishing chores, Zhang Da Ye had to start class with Teacher Artoria.
It was the same sword training as yesterday. Zhang Da Ye's movements were very precise, but thanks to the morning's real combat experience—getting hit—he knew that most of the time, except for the first move, enemies wouldn't let you pose dramatically, call out a flashy name, and calmly strike.
The purpose of practicing basic moves was to get familiar with the force and technique of each strike, so he could maximize the power of each move in battle.
Of course, achieving this required long practice and actual combat.
"Ha!"
"Ha!"
Zhang Da Ye felt that shouting while swinging the sword added momentum, reminiscent of early martial arts films.
Artoria didn't care; in fact, she didn't need to. Soon his throat would give out—being dramatic had a cost.
As for Tom, he waved his small bamboo sword a few times, got impatient, and ran off to sleep.
They both knew that even if forced to continue, he would find some ridiculous way to slack off, so they let him be.
"Da Ye, stop for a moment," Artoria said.
Zhang Da Ye lowered his sword. "Something wrong?"
Artoria looked at him for a moment and said, "Take off your shirt."
"Huh?" Zhang Da Ye was confused.
"The swelling on your forehead is gone. I want to check your other injuries," she tilted her head. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing… please don't say things that make it sound weird." Zhang Da Ye lifted his shirt, revealing the increasingly defined abs he'd developed over these days.
Artoria didn't overthink it. She poked a spot where bruises had been. "Completely gone. Was the medicine you used some kind of miracle cure?"
"No, just ordinary anti-swelling and pain relief medicine," Zhang Da Ye said, touching the old injuries himself. They felt fully healed.
The first-aid kit only contained normal supplies. Even when Tom got hurt, treatment wasn't necessary for healing—bandages were just for reassurance.
"Before coming to this world, I was just an ordinary person. I'm sure I don't have any super-regeneration powers…" Zhang Da Ye raised his left hand. "If there's anything different, it must be this."
He had tried using it. The magic circle on his hand was only visible to him, Tom, and Artoria. Now he suspected it might have altered his body somehow.
Artoria nodded. "That could be the reason. Pay attention to any abnormalities in your body. For now, it seems like a good thing."
"Alright, since I'm healed, let's spar!… Wait, first let me finish basic training." Zhang Da Ye still had arm-strength exercises planned and didn't want to be crippled mid-training.
During this, he drew from the lottery again when his energy was full. This time, he waited for it to fully recharge, thinking maybe the drop rate would be different.
He probably overthought it. Summoning still consumed 80% energy, and the items weren't anything special:
[Congratulations, you have obtained the Emiyas' kotatsu and Tom's rolling pin.]
[Stored in inventory.]
The rolling pin was unremarkable. This magic circle seemed incompatible with kitchens; either it sabotaged the Emiyas' kitchen or Tom's. It was unclear whether the items disappeared or were copied from their world.
He hadn't seen a real kotatsu. It was rumored to be a winter temptation that made people lazy and reluctant to leave—typical anime magic.
Maybe he'd try it in winter… does the Sabaody Archipelago even have winter?
He hadn't asked. Weather in the Grand Line was unpredictable; sudden winter wouldn't be surprising.
After a brief rest, Zhang Da Ye and Artoria clashed their bamboo swords.
Having endured morning beatings, Zhang Da Ye had improved. At least the frequency of getting hit decreased.
From being defeated in two moves to lasting three in the afternoon, he improved by 50%—a reason to celebrate.
Training ended with injuries, naturally. Zhang Da Ye couldn't help thinking of Zoro, who had endured 2,000 beatings as a child—would he need to endure thousands too?
"Ouch… ouch… ouch…"
He still needed medicine to temporarily ease pain. The tavern would open again in the evening; he couldn't let injuries hinder him.
Lifting his shirt to expose scars, Zhang Da Ye stood properly—or stiffly—leaving all the ointment work to Artoria.
She wouldn't hold back during sparring; she was serious about teaching. Later, to apologize, she wanted to do something within her ability.
At first, Zhang Da Ye refused, embarrassed, but eventually accepted her kindness reluctantly.
"If you don't want to trouble me, just get stronger quickly," Artoria said.
He didn't know how many more beatings awaited him. To lessen her burden while teaching, he grudgingly adapted—perhaps secretly pleased about it.
"Artoria."
"Yes?"
Half-joking, Zhang Da Ye asked, "Have you heard the saying 'Playing chess with a bad player only makes you worse'? If you train with me every day, will you get weaker?"
Artoria continued applying ointment, explaining seriously, "Not at all. I can't speak for others, but for me, every swing is an experience. Whether practicing or fighting, against strong or weak opponents, every sword I swing is sincere. Even the tiniest effort improves strength."
"…" Zhang Da Ye paused. "I feel beaten just hearing that."
She had innate sword experience. Beautiful, strong, with cheat-like skills—Artoria in a novel would be treated like a protagonist. Truly a hero knight who became strong by her own power.
"Alright." Artoria tossed the cotton, put away tweezers and medicine, and encouraged him. "Don't belittle yourself. Even I rarely see someone as diligent as you. With your regeneration, Da Ye, you might even surpass me one day."