When he opened his eyes, he saw the sky.
An open expanse of blue filled his vision completely. The sky was clear as a freshly washed windowpane.
And below it, something large cast its shadow over that blue, overlapping it like a silhouette.
"Oh, you're awake. Mati?"
"…Tiana. Noona."
A voice warm as early spring blossoms drifted down from above.
Only then did Matyos understand. The blue he had mistaken for sky was Tiana's eyes, and the something blocking his view was her ample chest.
"…Tiana. Noona."
His voice came out hoarse.
Matyos slowly took stock of his condition.
Thighs. Warm. Soft.
He was lying flat on his back across Tiana's lap. He must have been completely unconscious.
Tiana pulled his head into her embrace.
The moment she squeezed him tight, the air was forced from his lungs. His breath cut off entirely.
And yet, strangely, it wasn't unpleasant. If anything, it felt oddly comfortable — like being buried in a pile of blankets. There was a pleasant scent, too.
"Thank goodness… I gave you a blessing and you still wouldn't wake up, so I was worried. I'm really glad you're okay."
Tiana let out a breath of relief and drew his head even closer to her chest.
She stroked his ash-grey hair with the gentle patience of a devoted mother.
What lived in her green eyes was nothing but pure worry and relief.
In that moment, Matyos felt strangely as though he had become a newborn, and the sensation was thoroughly disorienting.
"Embarrassed?"
Tiana smiled, her eyes curving, and tidied his hair — brushing the strands that had fallen across his forehead back behind his ear with a touch that was far too tender.
"…Embarrassed."
Matyos nodded honestly.
"Oh, how adorable. I wish Taibeon were as cute as Mati."
"Don't say something so horrifying, Noona."
Taibeon protested immediately from beside them.
"Why not~? You used to cuddle up to me all the time when you were little."
"…Ugh, that was ages ago!"
Even Taibeon's ears had gone red.
Tiana laughed out loud, clearly delighted by his reaction.
Matyos squirmed in her arms.
"Hey, I want to get up now."
He shifted slightly within her hold.
Every movement changed the sensation of her thighs beneath him, and that fact only made it more mortifying.
"No! Patients need to rest."
The moment he tried to carefully extract himself, Tiana's arms snapped around him like a hand snatching up a fleeing kitten.
"It's not that serious."
"It absolutely is. You were unconscious for twenty minutes."
"Twenty whole minutes?"
"Mm-hm. So stay in Noona's arms, okay?"
Tiana treated Matyos exactly like a real baby — holding him tight and rocking him back and forth as he squirmed.
Matyos was mortified. But he didn't dislike it. Which made him feel even worse about himself.
The jealous stares coming from the people around them weren't his imagination.
"I'm sorry, Matyos."
Yuri, who had been sitting beside Tiana, offered an apology.
"I didn't mean to knock you out. I'm sorry."
Yuri dipped her head.
Matyos waved a hand from inside Tiana's embrace.
"It's fine. It wasn't on purpose. But what actually happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"You were completely still the whole time. I couldn't see your sword move at all. And then I blinked and I was on the ground."
"Oh, that! Let me explain!"
Joi materialized from the side, raising one finger as though about to deliver a lecture.
Matyos furrowed his brow.
The hell do you want.
"Miss Ayende didn't actually attack, you see?"
"She didn't attack?"
"Nope! Instead, she deflected your strike. Your sword swung down with full force, bounced back from the impact, and hit you right in the forehead!"
Smack!
Joi slapped her own forehead with her palm. The sound rang out with remarkable crispness.
In other words, I got taken out by my own attack. A rather humiliating defeat, that.
He rubbed his forehead with his hand.
No bump or cut, it seemed.
"…I'm sorry. I should have softened the deflection. I reacted by reflex."
Yuri hung her head, looking like a sullen puppy.
"Why do you keep apologizing?"
"Sorry."
"If you're sorry, make it up to me by sparring with me more."
At that, Yuri lifted her head. Her eyes went wide.
The gloom from a moment ago had vanished as though it had never been there.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Understood."
Yuri's expression settled back into its usual blank-puppy look. In her own way, she was genuinely guileless.
"You're up."
Thud. Thud.
Professor Vilhelmine walked toward me as I finally managed to extricate myself from Tiana's arms.
The professor looked down at me, then drew a pocket watch from her coat. The silver lid clicked open with a faint metallic ring. She checked the time, then addressed the students as though nothing were out of the ordinary.
"That will conclude today's lecture."
The classroom fell quiet.
"Oh… so we can go?"
"Yes."
"Ah. Right."
The students filed out in a rush.
"Mati, let's go."
"Go ahead. I have to stay behind."
"Oh, right. See you tomorrow!"
Tiana, Taibeon, and Joi all left the classroom.
The room emptied in an instant. Professor Vilhelmine watched them disappear, then popped a candy into her mouth.
"Um… Professor. What should I do?"
Professor Vilhelmine had told me to stay behind.
I stood before her with a faint knot of nerves in my chest.
"You may go."
"?"
"To be honest, I was annoyed that you were late to the very first lecture, so I intended to have you help tidy up."
"…Help tidy up?"
What surprised me was the word 'help.' The professor was going to clean up herself?
Wasn't that what the custodial staff was for?
"I can't very well make a student do it and then stand around with my hands behind my back. Of course I should help."
"I see."
"So you may go."
"And you'll tidy the classroom alone?"
"It won't take long."
Professor Vilhelmine picked up a sword that had been lying on the dirt floor. She set it on the display rack without any particular fuss.
I watched her for a moment, then rolled up my sleeves and stepped forward.
"It'll be faster with two people."
I moved through the classroom, gathering scattered debris and returning weapons to their proper places.
"You didn't have to do that…."
"In exchange, I have a request. Would it be all right if I used this space when there are no lectures?"
"Why?"
"I want to train swordsmanship on my own."
Professor Vilhelmine considered it briefly, rolling the candy around in her mouth. Then she gave a straightforward nod.
"Go ahead."
Permission granted.
After finishing the cleanup alongside the professor, I picked up a sword again. I stood alone in the center of the wide classroom.
But Professor Vilhelmine didn't leave. She leaned against a pillar with her arms folded, watching me in silence.
It was a little distracting, but I ignored it.
I took up the sword and focused.
—[If you are picking up a sword for the first time, I have only one piece of advice to give you. Grow accustomed to the sword. The feel of the grip in your hand, the sense of distance along the blade, the balance of its weight. You must become familiar with all of these. The method is simple. Repetition. On the first day, swing the sword one thousand times. With a single form, without slacking — do it seriously. Do not give up because it is hard. When your effort and suffering accumulate in the body, the muscles will temper themselves in time.]
Rosuka of Egasi.
He had left no record of his own swordsmanship. Not out of possessiveness — not because he refused to share — but because it was simply too difficult to convey.
Swordsmanship means the technique of wielding a sword. But by his own account, Rosuka's style was so free and unbound that committing it to paper would have been meaningless.
Instead, Rosuka had left behind his finest counsel and hard-won insights in writing — for whoever might one day read the story of his life.
Rosuka's Epic was that book.
Within it, the essence of swordsmanship and practical combat were laid out without concealment, written plainly enough that even someone as ignorant of the blade as I could understand.
Rosuka's Epic wasn't a hidden item for nothing.
It was the most precious thing you could obtain in the early-to-mid game.
Whoosh.
I swung the sword from overhead down to the ground. The air split apart.
That single swing was enough for my arms and legs to begin protesting.
"Hff—!"
One.
I raised the sword again and swung.
Whoosh.
Two.
My muscles ached.
I gritted my teeth. Raised the sword. Swung.
Raise and swing.
I repeated the motion ten times and staggered.
At first it had been a faint tingling in the muscles. Now it was outright pain.
'…Can't even manage ten swings.'
To be fair, there were reasons.
I had been up all night.
I was exhausted. But even so, being unable to swing a sword more than ten times was a considerable shock. It made me acutely aware of just how feeble I was.
"You're putting far too much tension in your shoulders and trapezius."
"Pardon?"
I was about to attempt the eleventh swing when Professor Vilhelmine, who had been leaning against the pillar the entire time, finally spoke.
"Swinging a sword blindly like that won't get you anywhere. Keep just enough tension in your lower body, and let your upper body stay loose."
"Understood. I'll try."
Whoosh.
I swung the sword.
Still no sense of it.
"…Like this."
Professor Vilhelmine pushed off the pillar and strode toward me with long, unhurried steps. Her dark hair swayed. She came to a stop right in front of me. A faint scent drifted from her.
"Your body is far too tense. You've got tension locked into every muscle. That doesn't make your strikes stronger — it makes them choppy and unnatural."
"Does it?"
"Not 'does it' — it does."
Professor Vilhelmine drew a short wooden rod from her belt and took it in hand. Then, starting from my shoulders and working down to my legs, she pressed it against each point in turn as she continued.
"First, release the tension in your shoulders and trapezius. The sword is swung with the wrist, not the shoulder. Your lower body needs to be planted firmly in the ground. Strength comes from the earth."
"I… see."
I was caught off guard by Professor Vilhelmine's sudden intensity.
What's gotten into her.
Professor Vilhelmine was known for her blunt, reserved nature.
She was the type who paid little attention to others and simply went about her own business in silence — so this sudden interest in me was more than a little disorienting.
"Do you understand?"
Her crimson eyes blazed with fierce, burning enthusiasm.
Honestly, I hadn't quite grasped what she meant — but I nodded anyway.
"Then again—"
"Professor Vilhelmine."
Someone appeared at the entrance to the classroom. It was Sister Ofilienne.
"What exactly are you doing with my brother?"
Her smile was outwardly pleasant. Her eyes were not.