THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

31  Chapter 31: VICE CAPTAIN

David studied the instructor, a flicker of curiosity sparking in his blue eyes. "Before we begin," he said, his voice surprisingly steady, "may I know your name?"

The instructor, Sir Sendric, puffed out his chest, a show of dominance meant to intimidate the young noble. "Absolutely, young master," he replied, a touch of condescension dripping from his words.

"You'll be learning respect today, and it's best you know the name of the one who teaches it." He paused for dramatic effect, then declared with forced grandeur, "Sir Sendric, Vice Commander of the Seventh Platoon under His Lordship, the Earl of Aethelwarin!"

David blinked, unimpressed. The air of self-importance surrounding Sendric was comical compared to the raw power he'd witnessed from the Blood Alpha back in the dimension tower. This display was like a flickering candle trying to compete with the midday sun."Good," David acknowledged, his voice devoid of awe.

A memory sparked within him. The guard that led him here had mentioned this was the Seventh Platoon. A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes. He remembered these men from his days devouring "Trials of Valor" back on Earth.

They were considered the laughingstock of the Earl's army, known more for their tavern brawls than battlefield prowess. But David, privy to the hidden potential buried beneath their rough exterior thanks to the novel, saw an opportunity. He needed men, and the Seventh Platoon, with the right guidance, could be moulded into a force to be reckoned with.

A sly smile played on his lips. It was the start of something much bigger, the laying down of the first thread in a web he would control.

Sendric, fueled by misplaced arrogance, barked, "If that's all, young master, let's get on with it!" He gripped his hefty wooden greatsword, the air crackling with his theatrical challenge.

David, a picture of nonchalance, remained with his hands buried in his pockets. He offered a slow nod, a silent agreement that only served to further infuriate the instructor.

Sendric, wasting no time, launched into a furious assault. He lunged, his greatsword swinging down in a wide arc, aimed to cut David down to size and close the distance before his opponent's agility could take hold.

But David, with eyes that seemed to anticipate every move, sidestepped effortlessly. Sendric, a seasoned warrior, saw this coming. To anyone with experience, he was momentarily exposed, a delicious opportunity for David to exploit.

David, however, saw deeper. This wasn't just an attack; it was a trap. As Sendric anticipated the dodge, he planned to exploit the momentum and bring the sword back up for a lightning-fast thrust.

David, a grin flashing across his face, recognized the gambit instantly. With a burst of unexpected agility, he didn't just dodge – he vaulted. He leaped over the returning blade, twisting in mid-air, and unleashed a ferocious kick with the force of a battering ram. It connected squarely with Sendric's head, the sickening thud echoing in the sudden silence.

Sendric, a towering figure a moment ago, crumpled like a felled oak. The blow, delivered with the precision of a master and the power of a beast, sent him sprawling, his body contorted in pain.

The gathered men, jaws agape, witnessed the scene unfold in a single, breathtaking moment. Their Vice Captain, a fourth-ranked swordsman, lay humbled, overpowered by a pampered noble. There was disbelief, confusion, and a rising sense of awe.

How was this possible? This young man, who supposedly never trained a day in his life, moved like a seasoned shadow and hit with the force of a warhammer. Sendric, his head throbbing, scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with disbelief. He, a respected fighter, was outsmarted and outmatched by a newcomer.

The question echoed in the stunned silence – who, in the name of the Goddess, was this unassuming newcomer?

Sendric, cheeks burning with the sting of defeat, finally conceded. "It seems I've made a grave miscalculation, young master," he rumbled, a hint of grudging respect lacing his voice. "For that, I apologize. But underestimating you won't happen twice."

David simply shrugged, a mocking smile curling his lips. "Do whatever you need, old man," he quipped, the disrespect hanging heavy in the air.

Sendric, surprisingly unfazed by the taunt, studied David with newfound interest. This wasn't just any pampered lordling.

This was a force to be reckoned with. Deciding to test the full extent of David's abilities, he raised his mighty wooden greatsword, its bulk dwarfing David's slender frame. As he tightened his grip, a surge of crimson aura erupted from him, bathing the training grounds in an ominous glow.

One of the seasoned soldiers gasped, his eyes widening in recognition. "By the goddess," he rasped, "that's… the Blitz Thrust!"

A murmur of shock rippled through the ranks. Sendric's legendary technique, known for its devastating speed and overwhelming power, was a sight rarely witnessed.

With a thunderous stomp that cracked the earth, Sendric vanished in a blur of crimson light. This wasn't a mere attack; it was a living thunderbolt aimed straight at David's heart.

But where Sendric expected to find resistance, he found only empty air. In a feat that defied gravity, David had vanished. Before Sendric could even contemplate his opponent's disappearance, a searing pain erupted in his side. A powerful kick, delivered with the precision of a striking viper, stole the air from his lungs.

Disoriented and reeling, Sendric looked down just in time to witness a spectacle that would forever etch itself in his memory.

 David, below him, performed a gravity-defying spin, balancing on a single hand on the ground with his body contorted in impossible angles. The setting sun glinted off his fierce blue eyes, burning with a cold intensity. In that moment, David embodied both lethal grace and raw power, a warrior born from another world.

Sendric crashed to the ground, his legendary attack countered with breathtaking ease. A deathly silence descended upon the training grounds. The soldiers, frozen in shock, barely dared to breathe. Finally, one of them mustered the courage to approach Sendric, checking on his fallen leader.

David, his face devoid of emotion, cast a single, chilling glance at the stunned gathering. No challenge, no taunt – just the cold indifference of a predator surveying his conquered prey.

 With a silent swagger, he turned and walked away, leaving behind a training ground in chaos and the echoes of a battle unlike any they'd ever witnessed. The arrival of the unassuming noble had shattered their expectations, leaving them awestruck and questioning everything they thought they knew about the young master.

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