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“Sir Wellinger!”
Knight Wellinger opened his eyes at the sharp voice digging into his hearing. He saw many of his colleagues crowding before him.
“What should we do now, sir?”
“…”
What a bemusing situation this was.
The Knights of the Round Table should be peak existences representing the best of their nations. Which meant they were supposed to be overachieving geniuses among geniuses.
But Wellinger could not spot any hints of such excellence in these people anxiously waiting to hear his thoughts.
As a matter of fact, watching these supposedly noble people acting like anxious little puppies itching to relieve themselves roused this disgust, this unmentionable contempt, from deep within Wellinger's heart.
‘However, I’m sure they can’t help it.’
When he thought about it, their behavior seemed unsurprising.
A middle schooler might look like a grown-up to a kindergartner. But the same middle schooler would look like a little kid in the eyes of an adult. To accurately measure someone's capabilities, they should be given a task that exceeded their skill level to push them to their limits.
However, these Knights never had to handle any task that did just that.
Although them being geniuses played a part in that, the fundamental issue was the powerful organization called the Round Table having their backs.
The best genius a country could produce even enjoyed the support of the powerful Round Table. In such an environment, nothing must've seemed insurmountable...
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