Change of Approach

[WP] A mentor, who is used to teaching poorly behaved, bratty and insecure teenagers how to be a proper hero, faces their biggest challenge yet: teaching a mature, well-mannered, and mentally stable teenager.

*****

"The world is a cruel, unfair place. My job is to make you even more cruel and unfair, so that you can fight back the terrors that haunt us. Be warned, however," I took off my glass eye for dramatic effect. "What you've lost can never be recovered."

Most of the squires either nodded along with determination or remained unimpressed, too jaded by their trauma to care. They looked like a good batch of recruits. I could work with this.

One of them, though, slowly raised his hand, hoping to ask a question.

Everyone widened their eyes and took a step away from the boy, not willing to associate with him.

The squire had a good build for a warrior, but his eyes betrayed a sense of naïveté that was rare among recruits. By my estimation, people like him never lasted more than a week.

I frowned. "What?"

"Should you really be doing that with your eye, sir? Can't it get infected?"

The other recruits started laughing.

Great. A comedian. There's always one of them in the class.

I walked up to him, looming over his head. "You think my missing eye is funny?"

"N-no! Never!"

"Why did you joke about it, then?"

"I didn't! It was a genuine concern!"

"And why, pray tell, would you be worried about me?"

The squire looked away. "Well, uhh... Aren't we supposed to protect people?"

I arched an eyebrow.

The squire flinched.

I sighed. "Get this through your head, you aren't here to save people. Nobody can truly be saved. Your job is to fight monsters. That's it. Leave the self-righteous nonsense for the fairytales. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

"What's your name, son?"

The squire smiled. "It's-"

I smacked him across the face. "Wrong! You're squire thirty-seven! Keep that in mind next time you question me!"

"Yes, sir!"

I paused. The squire didn't react how I expected. They usually scowled, suppressing the urge to fight back, or straight up tried to attack me. This one simply took it. His lip was busted open but his face showed no resentment. I carried on with my introductory speech, never taking my eye off Thirty-Seven. There was something strange about him.

As the first month went by, the recruits started passing the obstacle course with relative ease. That didn't usually happen. Most classes took an entire year to learn it, with plenty of injuries along the way. This year, there hadn't even been a broken bone. Somehow, they quickly learned the location of all the paralysis traps and memorized the optimal route around the flame labyrinth.

I couldn't believe it. They had to be cheating somehow, but no, after monitoring them closely, I realized they were all doing it legitimately. It wasn't until later that I discovered the truth.

Thirty-Seven had organized the squires and encouraged them to share their experiences. As a group, they easily identified all the pitfalls and illusory paths, pooling their knowledge together so that everyone could succeed.

I wanted to snap his neck. The obstacle course was supposed to be a filter. An individual challenge that separated the weak from the strong. Now we had more recruits than normal at this time of the year. I never had to worry about this before.

The squires, being angry teenagers, were always eager to compete with each other. This class was different, and I didn't like it. If an unworthy person were to graduate, they could easily cause more trouble than they're worth.

My solution was simple. Not only did I rearrange the obstacle course, I also made an example of Thirty-Seven by giving him a cursed amulet. It made him five times heavier, barely allowing him to stand straight.

"If you don't pass the obstacle course while wearing that," I said, "you will automatically fail the class."

"Y-yes, sir!" he said, falling on his face.

"Furthermore," I turned to the other recruits, "if he actually succeeds, all of you will fail."

The squires grew tense.

I smiled. That should keep them in check. Nobody would be willing to help him now. They had all suffered great loss and wanted nothing more than to avenge their families. Thirty-Seven wasn't more important than that.

The next half of the year went by without anything noteworthy occurring. Usually, at this point, the squires approached me with their troubles. It was my favorite part of the process, since I got to bond with the students a little. They saw me as a parental figure, given the fact that they were orphans, and they needed guidance to navigate their inner turmoil.

That didn't happen this time.

I felt rather disregarded by them. Nobody entered my office, crying about their dead parents or asking for help with their anger.

And, of course, it was all Thirty-Seven's fault.

Despite the fact that his success would mean their failure, the other squires still saw him as a friend and went to him with their troubles; not me. Thirty-Seven was all too happy to listen. I couldn't exactly punish that so I had to contain my rage behind doors. Why were they drawn to him?

I'd never felt more inadequate as a mentor. Thirty-Seven was supposed to have given up by now, but he still tried the obstacle course every day, fighting against the cursed amulet with all his strength. He wasn't close to finishing it, but he seemed to go a little further every day. I had to approach him one day and say:

"Pathetic. At some point, you have to realize you can't avenge your parents. Give up and live a peaceful life. It's what they would've wanted."

Thirty-Seven fell on his knees, panting. The amulet was crushing him. "My... parents... are... alive."

"Your village, then."

"Nope. It's still... standing."

I squinted. "Your siblings?"

Thirty-Seven shook his head. "They're fine."

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

Thirty-Seven raised his gaze with resolve. "To protect them."

"That's not a good excuse. This profession eats people alive. Only those with nothing to lose should walk the path of a hero."

"No!" shouted Thirty-Seven. "Since when does a person need an excuse to do the right thing?"

I needed to hide my shock. The squire's determination felt completely foreign to me. He seemed to overcome the amulet's curse for a brief second. I had never seen something quite like this. It didn't matter, though. Thirty-Seven would be out of my hair eventually.

After a year had passed, their graduation day was on the horizon. Thirty-Seven never gave up. He was incredibly muscular now due to the amulet, but still hadn't passed the obstacle course. It appeared he was going to fail.

To my surprise, on the last day before the deadline, every squire showed up to the obstacle course and cheered on Thirty-Seven.

I didn't understand what possessed them. It didn't make any sense. Didn't they want to graduate?

Thirty-Seven made it to the final part of the obstacle course, rolling around the swinging guillotines and jumping over the pits with grace.

I clenched my fist. He was going to make it.

Then he fell on his face, like usual.

I started laughing. Very few things gave me as much joy as seeing him fail.

And yet, everyone screamed loudly in order to encourage him.

I shook my head. How cruel. They were just indulging their friend in a delusion.

Thirty-Seven, however, let out a guttural shout and rose to his feet yet again, finishing the test with a mighty leap.

The squires went quiet, then exploded with applause.

I facepalmed. An entire class of squires had just flunked the hero course.

After they finished celebrating, Thirty-Seven approached me and said:

"Thank you, sir! I couldn't have grown this strong without you!"

"Sure..." I wanted to die. "Just... leave me alone."

Thirty-Seven shrugged and went back to his friends.

I couldn't fail this entire class. They were some of the finest recruits I'd ever taught. Keeping them from being knights would be a crime against humanity. Together, they could take on any monster. And a big part of that was because of Thirty-Seven's leadership. As I saw them raising him over their shoulders, I couldn't help but feel like I had been wrong all this time.

Maybe, the key to fighting this world wasn't more cruelty. Maybe, just maybe, the answer was kindness all along.

*****

THE END