The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld-Chapter 178

[Translator - Pot]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]

Chapter 178: Brothers’ Training

The next morning.

Just as I was leaving for Ulbhild’s training, an unexpected guest showed up.

“Speak of the devil.”

“What?”

Barclava stood there with a scowl.

“Nothing.”

I had cursed at him last night, wondering what the hell he was up to—did he really have to show up at the crack of dawn? Was this bastard spying on me?

“Then again, he doesn’t have the skills for that.”

“You have a real talent for making your muttering sound insulting.”

I ignored Barclava’s grumbling and asked,

“So, what brings His Highness Barclava all the way out here?”

“……”

Barclava’s face twisted with humiliation and discomfort before he finally spoke.

“After some thought, I realized now isn’t the time to cling to my pride.”

“So? What do you want?”

Barclava made a face like he’d eaten some shit and forced out the words.

“I want you to help me train.”

“Huh? What was that? Speak up—I couldn’t hear you over the sound of an ant’s footsteps.”

I leaned in closer, deliberately provoking him.

“Damn it! Help me!”

Finally, Barclava exploded.

“Whoa, you almost blew out my eardrums. What’s with the yelling?”

I rubbed my ear and smirked.

“So, you’ve hit your limit on your own?”

“Yeah. I can’t break through. No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I recall Sister’s advice.”

“Oh? And how much effort have you really put in to say that so confidently?”

I stifled a laugh.

“Let me see your hands.”

Barclava’s hands were a mess—covered in calluses and scabs. They looked just like mine had not long ago, back when I was still swinging a sword with bandaged palms.

“Ugh, disgusting.”

“You’re the one who asked to see them.”

Barclava grumbled.

“Did you at least use potions?”

“Didn’t seem worth it.”

“Oh?”

Meaning they’d just get wrecked again the next day from sword practice.

“Hmm.”

I studied Barclava again. Had he finally had a change of heart?

“You’ve lost some flab.”

“……”

“But your muscles are overworked—they haven’t grown in proportion to your effort. Force yourself to eat more meat.”

“…Got it.”

Good. His obedient response made me feel a flicker of brotherly affection.

“Fine, I’ll give you some praise.”

I said loftily.

“You crawled out of your cave on your own and swallowed your uselessly inflated pride to ask for help.”

That was the difference between him and Somerset. Had he not met that terrifying brother, Verdzig, he might’ve grown into a far more respectable man by now.

“And it makes sense. I, Allenvert, have already reached the 5th tier, while you’re still lingering in the late 3rd.”

“…Stop rubbing it in.”

“My bad.”

I raised a hand in mock apology.

“Good thinking. If you’d asked Sister, she’d have gladly agreed. So starting today, you’ll be rolling in the dirt with me.”

“Thank—”

“—Did you really think I’d let you off that easy?”

“?!”

I wagged a finger and clicked my tongue.

“There’s something you have to do first.”

“What now?”

“What did I say at dinner?”

“…?”

“Terrible memory. I clearly said I’d help if you called me ‘Elder Brother.’”

“!”

Barclava stared at me in horror.

“Did you really think I’d help you for free? Pay up.”

“…Damn it.”

Barclava sighed, his face twisting in disgust—but then, surprisingly easily, he spoke.

“Brother.”

“!”

Goosebumps erupted down my arms.

“Ugh, chills. Not just ‘brother’ but ‘elder brother’?”

“If I’m doing it, I’m doing it right.”

Barclava’s face was unreadable.

“Kinda takes the fun out of it when you say it so casually.”

“Fine, let’s just go already… elder brother.”

I kept rubbing my arms.

“Ugh, gross. Maybe I should just cancel.”

“……”

“Nah. A noble house must uphold decorum. From now on, you’ll address me with proper respect.”

“You bastard…”

Barclava muttered.

‘Good move, Barclava.’

With this, Barclava had taken another step closer to our side. How Verdzig would react remained to be seen.

‘About a month left until the showdown with Valkenhain.’

And two weeks to master Ink Soul Sacred Shadow Technique.

Until then, I planned to forget everything else and focus solely on training.

---

The Days of Training Begin

Day 1 –

“Harold here. For the first day, we’ll be focusing on pure endurance training.”

Surprisingly, it wasn’t sister but Harold who stepped up as the instructor.

His face practically screamed, ‘You dare take training from the 2nd commander? I’ll make you regret it.’

“Your Highnesses, I must warn you—even if you vomit or collapse, do not stop running. I’ll be running alongside you, and if you fall behind, I’ll encourage you with this stick.”

“That’s ridiculous. How do you expect us to keep running if we collapse?”

At my reasonable question, Harold only grinned ominously.

“You’ll understand soon.”

His boast wasn’t empty.

“BLARGH!”

Barclava looked ready to vomit up everything he’d eaten in the past week. After being beaten 300 times, puking 50 times, and collapsing 20 times, he barely finished the run.

As for me?

“Hey, this is actually a good workout. Not bad.”

I wasn’t about to collapse from something this light. With my foundation in footwork and cardio, I matched Harold stride for stride.

“Huff… huff… GACK!”

Ironically, Harold looked closer to death than I was.

“You alright, Lieutenant?”

“Don’t… talk… I’m dying.”

By the end, I suspected he was secretly using mana, but I let it slide. What a merciful man I am.

---

Day 2

“Today is mana control and sensory training. Complete five tasks, and you’ll be sent home. Fail, and you get no food or water.”

Barclava trained until he probably considered drinking his own piss out of thirst—only being released near dawn.

But for me, who had already trained under Ulbhild and reached the 5th tier, the tasks weren’t difficult.

“I’m done. Mind if I meditate for a bit?”

“Uh… sure.”

The Special Operations Division, who had effectively spent two days training only Barclava, stared at me awkwardly.

---

Day 3

Perhaps because of that, Ulbhild took over personally.

“Today is hunting training. Find and bring down an Aero’don bird—using only three arrows. Using mana isn’t allowed.”

The test evaluated archery, detection skills using mana sense, and the stamina and persistence needed to track a flying target.

Using Scarlet Cloud Ghost Path or Whispering Snow in the Night would’ve made it easy, but I played along, hunting the bird the traditional way.

Two hours to find it.

One hour to chase it.

One minute to bring it down—with a single arrow.

Around Lunchtime

I finished the task just in time for a late lunch.

“Sister, since this is a spirit beast, can we roast and eat it?”

“Just leave me a leg.”

“Got it.”

Barclava, who hadn’t even managed to track down the Aero’don by noon, could only drool as he watched us eat before disappearing back into the forest.

“Haaah.”

After sparring with Ulbhild using wooden swords, I returned to the annex by evening.

And Barclava?

Rumor had it he finally found the bird by sunset, wasted two arrows, then waited until dawn to stab the sleeping Aero’don to death with an arrow.

“That vicious bastard.”

By this point, even his eyes had started to look a little unhinged.

“Barclava, you’ve finally got the eyes of a warrior now.”

Ulbhild looked pleased, but it made me reflect on myself.

“Peter, do my eyes ever look like that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Noted.”

---

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Day 4 – Real Martial Training Begins

From the fourth day onward, we finally moved into proper martial training.

“The Grunewalds are renowned swordsmen, but in real combat, you won’t always have a blade at hand. That’s why you must learn to wield other weapons—and how to take down an enemy barehanded.”

At last, it was time to learn the unarmed combat Ulbhild had promised.

“The martial art you’ll learn today is called Flowing Cloud Thunder Fist. Just as soft, gentle clouds can sometimes unleash lightning that burns everything in its path, this art combines fluid defense with swift, devastating strikes.”

Ulbhild demonstrated a series of movements against an imaginary opponent.

“This discipline is divided into three domains: Strike, Flow, and Lock. Strike is exactly what it sounds like—using fists, elbows, palms, and fingers to deliver blows.”

CRACK!

The sound of her strikes through the air was unreal for something coming from a human body.

“Flow refers to techniques that redirect an enemy’s attack, disrupt their balance, and ultimately throw them down.”

At her signal, the Special Operations Division, acting as assistants, began grappling—throwing, sweeping, and tripping each other with practiced ease.

“Finally, Lock involves breaking arms, legs, and choking out a downed opponent to incapacitate them.”

The soldiers promptly demonstrated by twisting arms and locking necks.

“Damn, brutal.”

“From now on, you two will practice these techniques against each other.”

Barclava’s face lit up.

“Look at that face. Thrilled he finally gets to hit me ‘legally,’ huh?”

As if. No street brawler could take down this Allenvert.

“Of course, in a real sword fight, Lock techniques are limited. So you’ll focus first on Strike and Flow, but you’ll also learn Lock for situations where subduing an enemy is necessary.”

Ulbhild pointed at two men.

“Harold, Chase—front and center.”

Chase, wielding a wooden sword, slashed at Harold.

“Hoh.”

Harold crossed his arms, hooked Chase’s wrist, and flipped him onto his back.

“Ghk—!”

With a pitiful grunt, Chase hit the ground. Harold twisted his arm and stopped his fist just shy of Chase’s face.

“…Something like this. Even when both are armed, you can disrupt their balance and disarm them.”

“Impressive.”

I nodded.

Truthfully, these were techniques I’d already used instinctively in fights—just now being refined into a formal system.

“Master it to its peak, and you can even channel weak thunder energy into your strikes—though it won’t compare to specialized thunder-based arts. Still, if you learn this well, it will save your life more than once.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sister.”

“Good.”

Ulbhild grinned, cracking her knuckles.

“Now, both of you—step up. You learn fastest by getting hit.”

***

Meanwhile…

“Legs! Your stance is too wide!”

“If you fall for a feint, you’ll be helpless against the follow-up! Get up and reset!”

From his annex, Somerset occasionally watched Allenvert, Barclava, and Ulbhild train.

“GYAAAH!”

Sometimes, it was Allenvert getting knocked flat by Ulbhild.

“P-Please, once more.”

Other times, it was Barclava—overwhelmed and struggling, yet refusing to give up.

“No, like this!”

And always, Ulbhild pushing them relentlessly.

Why did the sight of siblings sweating and laughing together feel so foreign… and so enviable?

“……”

And what about him?

How long had it been since he’d neglected his training?

Somerset glared down at his own body—softened by neglect, muscles slack, edges dulled.

“Damn it.”

For the first time, he was starting to see himself clearly.

The fog of delusion lifting, Somerset finally stepped into reality.

And for a long time, he just stared at the brother who had dragged him out—Allenvert.

[Translator - Pot]

[Proofreader - Kawaii]