I'm the Crazy One in the Family
Chapter 101: The Talent of Being Able to Give Up (4)

Chapter 101: The Talent of Being Able to Give Up (4)

For the first week of Keter’s training, Luke, Anis, and Taragon sprinted around the training ground like crazy. Their stamina increased daily, to the point where even a hundred laps posed no challenge.

They assumed this meant there would be no more running, but they were wrong.

“From now on, you'll take turns playing tag. I will chase Number One, Number Two will chase Number Three. If you're caught, you switch roles. When the clock strikes six in the evening, whoever is ‘it’ will receive a punishment, while the survivor will earn a reward. Sounds fun, doesn't it?”

Tag was a game that both commoners and nobles alike played in childhood. But the version they remembered was nowhere near this brutal.

The Seventh Training Ground was an artificial mountain range, designed to mimic real mountainous terrain. There were uneven hills, dense forests, trees, and even boulders. And here, they were expected to play tag for more than seven hours.

There was no room for slacking. Keter had made the rewards and punishments clear. Not that they needed incentives to push themselves—the trio would have done it for the sake of growth alone—but with stakes involved, their gazes sharpened. Keter hadn’t revealed what the punishment or reward would be, but everyone knew his punishments were always merciless, and his rewards were exceedingly generous. For example, Gyro, who trained against the trio, received five hundred gold per session and free medical treatment.

“When do we start...”

Tap.

Taragon, Number Three, was about to ask a question when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned to see Anis, Number Two, already sprinting away.

The rules of tag were simple: once tapped, one became “it.”

Taragon's face twisted in frustration.

"Ugh, damn...!”

Whoosh!

He immediately took off, closely following Anis. Things might have been different on open terrain, but in the forest, where visibility was limited, losing sight of an opponent was the end. Luke, who had a misfortune detector, was already fleeing. It was natural, as he was against Keter.

But the rough environment made it hard to stay focused. Running in a straight line was impossible with trees and slippery rocks blocking the way. He had to weave through in a zigzag pattern, but changing direction at high speed was harder than expected.

Then Keter must be struggling too, right?

Luke glanced back and was shocked.

“He's running with his eyes closed?!”

Yet, despite his lack of vision, Keter evaded obstacles with ease, striding effortlessly through the treacherous terrain.

Closing one’s eyes would cause disorientation, even on flat ground. It would be difficult to run in a straight line, but here was Keter, dashing through a mountainous forest as if it were nothing.

For Keter, this was merely another form of training. If he didn’t, it wouldn’t train him.

This wasn’t just an exercise for the trio—it was training for Keter himself.

If he played tag normally, catching Luke would take less than a minute. That wouldn’t help him improve. Slowing down on purpose wasn’t an option either. So, he deprived himself of sight—a training method that heightened his other senses to the extreme. Instead of vision, Keter tracked Luke through sound and used scent to identify trees and rocks. As his other senses were doing what his eyes should be doing, slowing down was inevitable.

Sure enough, Luke began pulling ahead. The distance widened. But Keter had already memorized Luke’s movement patterns. Still running, he nocked an arrow. Without opening his eyes, he let it fly.

Whoosh!

“Agh...!”

Luke ducked in panic as the arrow whizzed past his head.

How is this tag?! And is he really keeping his eyes shut? He’s not peeking?

Luke also carried a bow, but there was no way he could shoot while running. To fire, he would have to twist his body. Looking away for even just a second felt impossible on this terrain, as all his senses were reliant on his sight.

“Ugh!”

He had been distracted for a mere moment, but Keter took that chance and fired an arrow at Luke’s ankle, grazing him.

With his focus now broken, Luke twisted to dodge the branch in front of him. However, he rushed and ended up slipping on some wet leaves. He tumbled to the ground, rolling twice before he could react.

When he stumbled back up, Keter thumped him in the head.

Thwack!

“Ow!”

Keter immediately ran away, still with his eyes closed.

Clutching his throbbing forehead, Luke clenched his teeth.

Keter already knows my weakness. That’s why he doesn’t hesitate to attack.

During his time at Liqueur, Luke had learned much about his abilities. His reflective ability had a clear weakness—it only worked if there was another person besides the attacker within thirty meters, and it didn’t activate against self-inflicted damage.

There was no time to dwell on it. Ignoring the pain, Luke sprang back to his feet and began chasing after Keter.

* * *

Ring—!

The bell signaling six o’clock in the evening echoed throughout the Seventh Training Ground. Some laughed, while others punched trees in frustration.

Keter glanced at the trio. Their expressions alone revealed who had won and who had lost.

Taragon looked frustrated, and it seemed like Luke had already come to terms with it. For the two of them, their punishment came in the form of round pills that resembled candy.

Anis, on the other hand, was smiling in satisfaction, but he was also given a pill. Contrary to expectations, all three of them were given a pill. However, the difference lay in their colors.

“Eat before it gets cold.”

Luke and Taragon looked down at the purple pills in their palms.

“My hand is tingling, Instructor. This isn't poison, is it?”

“It's not poison.”

“If it's not poison, then...”

Telling himself that as long as it didn’t kill him, it was fine, Luke threw the pill into his mouth. Taragon, too, shut his eyes tightly and swallowed it.

“Ack!”

“Ugh!”

The moment they swallowed, they clutched their throats and collapsed. Then, they began writhing on the ground, as if dancing in agony.

“Number Two, ignore them. Just take your reward.”

Anis placed the blue pill he received into his mouth, wondering if it might be a miraculous elixir.

“Hm?”

If it were a true elixir, it should dissolve instantly upon touching the tongue, just like the famous Pure Spirit Pellet. However, the pill Keter had given him was firm.

“W-wait, could this be...?”

A sweet taste spread across his tongue, followed by a slight tartness. This was candy.

Keter, popping one into his mouth as well, remarked, “I made it. Is it not good? Spit it out if you want.”

“N...no, I’ll eat it.”

Is this really the only reward for running around for seven whole hours?

Sure, the candy was delicious, especially after sweating so much and working up an appetite. But it hardly felt like fair compensation for their suffering.

Or maybe it is.

Anis glanced at Luke and Taragon, still writhing in pain.

Compared to their state, simply rolling a sweet candy around in his mouth was a thousand, no, ten thousand times better.

What Luke and Taragon had swallowed was a drug Keter had concocted, known as the Self-Punishment Pellet. It induced excruciating pain throughout the body without causing any actual harm. Because it inflicted only suffering and no physical injuries, the drug was often used to torture nobles who couldn’t be physically harmed.

“Boss! I'm here!”

At that moment, Gyro arrived at the training ground.

Anis had a bad feeling.

Keter nudged Taragon and Luke, who were both collapsed on the floor, with his foot.

“Get up, Number One, Number Three. Break time is over.”

“Uuuugh....”

The pain was unbearable, but it wasn’t physically exhausting. So, the two of them managed to stand.

When they saw Gyro, they blinked in disbelief.

“Why are you all looking at me like that? Did you really think today would end with just a fun game of tag?”

“But, Instructor... we've already used up all our energy playing tag. Even when we were in peak condition, we couldn’t beat Gyro. Now that we’ve exhausted our internal energy, we don’t stand a chance.”

“Enough whining, Number Two. If you complain about your condition one more time, you’re disqualified. Whether you're in top shape or not, if I tell you to fight, you fight.”

Without hesitation, Gyro demonstrated exactly what Keter meant. He lunged at the trio.

Unprepared, they were immediately knocked down. Moreover, now that they knew their injuries wouldn’t be treated, they hesitated to attack. Instead, they focused on dodging and defending, desperately trying to endure.

“Where did all that confidence from day one go? If it weren’t for the boss’s orders, I would never have agreed to train you lot.”

Gyro was rarely harsh, but he scolded them before stepping back.

A thirty-minute rest was granted to recover their depleted stamina and aura.

Keter, however, gave the trio no advice. Instead, he silently focused on his own rigorous self-destructive training method, making good use of the time.

“Lord Taragon, may I have a word?”

During the break, everyone usually rested separately, but Luke approached Taragon.

“Luke. I was actually about to say something myself. Do you have another candy?”

“...Please ration it. I don’t have many left.”

Handing him a candy, Luke got straight to the point.

“About fighting Sir Gyro. If we continue like this, we’ll never win. We have to work together.”

“Aren’t we already fighting together?”

“I mean beyond just attacking the same target. We need to go beyond cooperation—we need synchronization.”

“Beyond cooperation? Like what?”

“We’ll need to figure it out step by step. Along with Lord Anis.”

“Hmm... You’re right. As things stand, I can’t see any way to defeat Gyro. Even trying to copy the techniques Keter taught us is difficult. Charging at him recklessly won’t work either. Alright. I’ll talk to Anis.”

Taragon went to find Anis with Luke, relaying exactly what Luke had said.

“Anis, let's try to defeat Gyro through coordination beyond simple cooperation. Even if we fail, it's worth attempting.”

Anis, who had been resting while sitting on a rock, glared at Taragon.

Taragon was taken aback by Anis’ reaction. He had expected at least some interest, if not praise, but instead, Anis looked at him as if he were pathetic.

“Is this Sir Luke’s idea?”

“Luke did suggest it first, but I agreed with him, which is why I’m bringing it up.”

“Then you're both fools.”

“...?!”

“Do whatever it takes to win: I understand that completely. If we coordinate as you suggest, we might be able to corner Gyro and win. But tell me, have you forgotten why we're enduring all of this hardship?”

“To become stronger, of course.”

“And what does it mean to be strong? Have you learned nothing from watching Keter? The strong are the ones who win. The reason we call Keter our instructor and endure this absurd training is all to win. Specifically, to win in the Sword of the South Tournament.”

Taragon looked upset. He, too, wanted to become strong enough to place in the tournament.

Anis shook his head.

“You've misunderstood. We're not training to defeat Gyro. We're training for the Sword of the South Tournament. What good would it do us to win against Gyro in a three-on-one fight? Especially when Sir Luke isn’t even competing in the tournament?”

“..!”

Taragon’s eyes widened.

Luke, realizing his mistake, massaged his forehead in frustration.

“Of course, I still have much to learn myself, but I didn’t expect you two to misunderstand so completely. Keter didn’t train us so we could beat Gyro as a group. He trained us so that each of us could defeat him individually. That’s why he taught us techniques and concepts—about applying both intent and will simultaneously.”

The reason Anis had fought in a three-on-one match despite knowing this was simple: if they fought Gyro one-on-one now, they wouldn’t even last a few seconds.

Hearing Anis, Luke, and Taragon felt ashamed. They had been so focused on the immediate goal of beating Gyro that they had lost sight of the bigger picture. In a real battle, they couldn’t count on comrades to watch their backs. This wasn’t a lesson in teamwork or cooperation—it was about personal growth and individual strength.

“I'm sorry, Anis. I completely misunderstood. Thank you for setting me straight.”

Despite his embarrassment, Taragon didn’t forget to thank Anis for his guidance.

“I appreciate it as well, Lord Anis,” Luke added, bowing his head.

Anis stood up.

“No need. Listening to you both made me realize something too—we’ve been too complacent because there are three of us. From now on, we'll fight Gyro one-on-one.”

Luke and Taragon had no objections. They agreed it was a good idea, and when they returned to training, they deliberately put some distance between themselves.

And so, another sparring session began.

Gyro rushed toward Luke—only to notice something odd.

Taragon and Anis should have been firing arrows at him, yet no attacks came.

Glancing to the side, he saw that the two weren’t intervening. No, they were observing.

“Haha! So you’re actually trying to fight me one-on-one? Have you all gone insane?!”

Though his words were harsh, Gyro’s grin was wide.

Mornings were spent in grueling games of tag, and evenings were filled with relentless sparring against Gyro. Like that, a week passed in the blink of an eye.

Squelch!

An arrow struck Gyro’s shoulder. Though it was a shallow wound, it was the first time Gyro had ever taken a hit.

Among the trio, Luke, Anis, and Taragon, the one who first managed to wound Gyro was an unexpected individual. It was not Luke, an ability user, nor Anis, who was called a genius.

“Not bad, kid.”

Taragon, the ordinary one, had overcome everyone’s expectations and succeeded in injuring Gyro first.