"...That's unusual."
Father answered that way and nodded.
There was nothing more for either of us to say. He was a very taciturn man, after all.
I stepped into the center of the training ground and lightly swung the real sword.
Whoosh!
The sound of it tearing through the air stirred up a chilly atmosphere.
'It still doesn't feel familiar in my hand.'
In the first round, I had swung a sword hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of times and crossed the line between life and death.
It had been only days since I far surpassed the level of Swordmaster.
Well, I don't mind it much.
It wasn't as if I had a physical defect, and in swordsmanship, understanding and experience mattered far more than the body.
"Now then."
The trainee knights were all red-faced and fuming.
I pointed the tip of my sword at each one of them.
"Who wants to come first?"
"I'll go!"
"No! I'll be the Young Master's first opponent!"
"Are you lot not getting out of the way?"
The trainee knights in formation all raised their hands at once.
That lasted only a moment before they started fiercely shoving each other, claiming it was their turn.
This was a chance to legally beat that good-for-nothing thoroughly.
Every single one of them had impure intentions; it was a truly grim sight.
"You all really hated me, huh."
No one denied it. That hurt, truly.
I keenly realized anew just how wretchedly I had lived.
After the scuffle, a large man pushed out from the front.
He looked like one of the trainees who had taken a fair share of sword blows.
"Look at that swagger. You've got some experience, huh?"
"I am Squad 1 Leader Garten."
"Neither of us seems to have more to say. Don't expect me to go easy on you just because I'm the Young Master. Do it properly."
"Don't regret this, Young Master."
Ting-!
The coin flipped up and hit the ground.
Taat-!
Garten kicked off the dirt floor and shot forward.
His bear-like massive frame rushed right up close in an instant.
Whoosh—!
The real sword cut through the air, drawing a vicious trajectory.
Movement and sword strikes that couldn't be called those of a trainee knight.
But to my eyes, it was dull and slow enough to be obvious.
I lightly twisted only my wrist in place.
Kaang-!
With that, I deflected Garten's sword diagonally.
A tingling vibration spread through my grip. I almost dropped my sword.
'Would you look at the difference in strength?'
I felt it from the first exchange.
If I fought strength against strength head-on, only damage would accumulate in my wrist.
If a knight's sword seems slow, it isn't actually slow. It's heavy.
For now, all-out defense. The right answer was to redirect the opponent's force and let it flow away.
"Kuh...!"
Kang! Kang! Kaaang-!
Garten's sword came down fiercely.
Three exchanges, five exchanges, seven exchanges.
I kept parrying with only minimal movement, unchanged.
Only the clash of metal against metal echoed through the training ground.
And then, on the tenth exchange.
It was the moment Garten's center of gravity tipped forward as he attempted an upper slash.
I drew a short horizontal slash. A simple blow without much force behind it.
Kaaang—!!
They say accuracy overwhelms power. That's absolutely right.
"Gah?!"
The sword flew from Garten's grip. He screamed and fell backward.
The sword spun through the air and thudded into the dirt floor.
"....."
Garten stared blankly down at his own two hands.
Only then did he grasp the situation and grind his teeth.
"What was that just now?"
"The Young Master knocked the squad leader's sword away? The Young Master won?"
"You believe that? He must have gone easy. The Young Master has his dignity, after all."
They must think I can't hear them, but I hear them perfectly.
Until recently, I was a good-for-nothing who didn't even know how to grip a sword properly.
They must be utterly unable to accept that someone like me beat the squad leader.
I approached Garten, who had plopped down on the ground.
He hung his head and clenched his fists as if in frustration.
"You must be very pleased, Young Master. You don't even realize I lost because I let my guard down. If not for that, you would be...."
Swoosh-
I held out my hand toward him.
Garten looked up at me with widened eyes.
"When you drive down an upper slash, your blade alignment is completely off."
"Huh?"
I gestured with my chin at his sword stuck in the ground.
"You have a habit of shrinking your right shoulder first. That keeps you from putting your weight all the way into the sword tip. Start by practicing pulling power from your lower body through your waist and driving it out through your shoulder. Otherwise, your shoulder will get taken off in a real fight."
"....!"
"Still, your stance and raw strength are good. Aside from that, everything else was good. You? You've got talent. Keep at it."
Garten's mouth hung open blankly. A fly could fly right in.
I grabbed his hand and pulled him up.
"Good grief, look at him giving advice after winning once by luck."
"What's with him, seriously."
A mocking voice struck my ear.
So there are still some feelings left, huh.
I lightly loosened my stiff neck.
"Next."
"Yes, sir!"
The second trainee knight stepped up right away.
The sparring matches were short, and both the process and the result were the same.
Kaang! Chaeng! Kaaang-!
I stuck strictly to defense and whittled away at my opponent's stamina and composure.
Then, in the single moment an opening appeared, I ended it with one strike.
"Kuhk...!"
"Your footwork when measuring the distance to close in is too big. Your next move is obvious. Cut your stride in half and learn the feeling of gripping the ground with your toes. Don't focus only on upper body strength; be conscious of your lead foot."
"Huh? Ah, no. I did hear something like that from the commander, but how did you...."
"Then fix it. Knowing and not fixing it is a bigger problem than not knowing. Fix it quickly. Once that's solved, becoming a full knight will be soon enough."
At some point, the whispering among the knights stopped.
It's a beginner's fluke. The opponent went easy on him.
Those who had said that were now just staring blankly up at me.
I think some of them noticed.
That my advice was far removed from mere secondhand knowledge.
"Next!"
"Yes, sir!"
Chaeng-! Kaang-!
Thud!
One went down and another came up, and after a few exchanges that one would be knocked out.
That wasn't the end of it.
"Your situational judgment is complacent. You blindly trust your quick sword and only press forward without thinking of pulling back. You still don't seem to realize I gave up the center line and opened a blind spot on the side. I lured you into letting your guard down. You lost the psychological battle too."
"Ah...."
"With that, I made your sword's trajectory cross off course, and if I'd wanted, I could have smashed your jaw with Crossguard. Keep that in mind. Just because you've found a blind spot doesn't mean you're outside your opponent's range. It's only because this is a spar; in a real fight, it wouldn't be strange if your head came off."
Third opponent, fourth opponent, fifth opponent.
Seven people, eight people, nine people.
"You're so focused on the sword itself that you call it swordsmanship. Swordsmanship isn't a simple sword fight; it's a fight to control space and angles. Watch not just the opponent's sword tip but their whole body broadly, and when blades lock, read the direction of force from the pressure that transmits through. Someone who reads an opponent only with their eyes will never escape third-rate status for life."
"I-I see...."
I pointed out the problems I had felt from each fallen opponent with a sharp tongue.
That, too, was an extension of the sparring. That was the main purpose of sparring.
"Whether it's a vertical slash or a horizontal slash, your sword tip shakes every time you swing. It doesn't seem to be from injury, so you must have just neglected physical training. Do you think muscles grow just from swinging a sword? You need to do proper strength training as well to grow as a knight. Work hard on strength training, and when you train, hang sandbags from the tip of your sword."
"Hah...."
"You're so buried in the thought of ending it in one blow that you can't even control your own body. If you drag out the force of a downward strike to your limit, would you have any strength left to pull it back if it misses? Just now, when I stepped back half a step and let it slide, you nearly lost your balance and fell. In a real fight, only your back would have been struck."
"Then how...."
"Good grief, why ask that? Maintain your lower body balance, and save 20 percent of your strength so you can stop your sword at any time. Isn't that obvious?"
Whenever our swords met, the knights let out exclamations loud enough for everyone to hear.
Whenever I opened my mouth, everyone fell silent as if by agreement.
Kaaang-!
Before I knew it, the tenth opponent's sword was rolling on the ground.
"Whoa! Ten wins in a row already!"
"We had it all wrong. That person is Kardenos after all!"
"What nonsense—doesn't the Young Master even get tired?"
"Did you hear the advice the Young Master just gave? It's exactly what the commander pointed out!"
You couldn't hear my advice even if you paid for it.
And it wasn't dismissive or half-hearted toward the knights.
I gave their swordsmanship due respect and honored the sweat they had shed.
They felt that clearly as well.
"I'll go! Please grant me a match, Young Master!"
"No! Me first! Please teach me the sword!"
The atmosphere in the training ground had completely flipped.
The trainee knights no longer saw me as a good-for-nothing.
Disgust disappeared and respect took its place.
The knights rushed at me like students burning with academic zeal.
Past ten, twenty, twenty-five.
My breath rose to the tip of my chin, and my grip split open and bled.
I wrapped bandages tightly around the wound and took up my sword again.
My whole body was soaked with sweat, and dirt clung to me.
I threw off my shirt and pointed to the next opponent.
And finally, the thirtieth opponent stepped onto the training ground.
Bwaaam-!
On the tenth exchange, the blunt side of my sword slammed into the opponent's abdomen.
The opponent rolled disgracefully across the ground and was knocked out.
Ironically, his expression was filled with far more anticipation than before the spar began.
"Um, Young Master. How was my sword?"
"Everything was good. Except for one thing. When swords clash, you try to push back with brute force. What you should do then isn't show off strength but read the opponent's pressure. If the opponent's force comes in stronger, don't force yourself to hold. Tilt the angle of your blade and cut into the open side. Like how I just let the direction of your force flow and struck your wrist."
I held out my hand and helped him up.
Even after I left the sparring ground, everyone's attention followed me.
"""Waaaaaaah-!!!!"""
Thunderous cheers erupted as if the training ground would be torn apart.
The faces that had once held contempt were now flushed with joy and respect.
The knights applauded with all their hearts and raised their swords high.
"Thirty wins in a row! The Young Master beat them all."
"Young Master! I've seen you in a new light!"
"Shouldn't we hold a banquet or something? You can't leave out drinks on a day this good!"
"You little punk. You just want to drink."
The man everyone had ignored had easily defeated thirty knights.
Normally, they would have been jealous of me or fallen into self-loathing.
These people were not like that.
Because they were all knights of Kardenos.
A knight order united under the banner of the Black Lion.
If Kardenos's flesh and blood defeated them, that too became the pride of Kardenos.
They were Kardenos as well.
I roughly wiped the sweat running down my forehead with my sleeve.
I lifted my chin toward the trainee knights lined up and offering a sword salute.
"I'm dying from dealing with thirty opponents. Don't you all think you should suffer a bit like I did?"
"""Yes, sir!!"""
"Fifty laps around the training ground! How many laps?"
"""Fifty laps!"""
"Look at that spirit in your voices? 100 laps! Run right now— Gah!"
"Everyone, left turn! Begin 100 laps at a run!!!"
Not a single one complained as they turned on their feet.
With faces still flushed from the lingering excitement, they began running around the training ground.
Soon dirt kicked up and created a thick cloud of dust.
"Phew...."
The breath I had held escaped as a hot sigh.
I tossed my sword onto the rack and rolled my stiff shoulders.
Feeling a gaze from above, I raised my head.
My father, standing watch with the elite knights, was staring at me with a dazed face.
I shrugged shamelessly.
"You haven't forgotten your promise, have you?"
"......."
"I'll escort you. Let's go, Father."
***
Rattle-
Inside the swaying carriage.
The woman looked out the window and let out a deep sigh.
So I ended up coming here after all.
"Stop! There will be a brief identity check!"
The guard stopped the carriage.
He was about to approach slowly, then suddenly stopped.
He had noticed the family crest a beat too late.
"C-Confirmed! Loyalty!"
The carriage moved smoothly onward again.
The woman buried herself in the seatback. Worry clouded her face.
She had hardly any good memories of coming here.
Only memories of laughing brightly and merely catering to their moods.
Azelin took out the letter she had carefully kept against her chest.
Whenever her feelings grew complicated, she periodically took it out to look at it.
The love letter he had written for her.
[To my love, Azelin]
Azelin took in every syllable carefully.
She read aloud the words she wanted to hear.
At the last sentence of the letter, Azelin tenderly traced his handwriting with her fingertips.
[—A man who loves you, Julian]
"Ah, Julian. I miss you...."
As a child, she believed blind love was true pure love.
It wasn't true.
That man's love for her was obsession wearing the mask of pure love.
Her feelings for him were the true pure love.
"...."
The woman looked at her ring finger.
She slid the ring off that finger and put it in her pocket.
"Astin."
If he saw the ring, he would think she had kept the gift he gave her. Without even knowing it was only his own delusion.
"I don't particularly feel sorry for you. We were destined to end up like this anyway."
Astin had long since disappeared from Azelin's heart.
In fact, he had never been there from the beginning.