Carmen Gasps
Carmen was panting for breath. It was the first time she'd ever felt this level of pressure from a student. She stared at the girl with the deep blue-black hair standing before her.
"You've grown so much. It's incomparable to before."
Just one month. In the single month since enrolling at Solemnute Adem, Princess Ashytara had become astonishingly strong. She definitely hadn't been at this level before admission.
"I had to. But I'm still not enough. The road ahead is long."
Ashytara spoke matter-of-factly. Carmen was dumbfounded. Her opponent was just a fresh seventeen-year-old girl. And yet, she had pushed an imperial knight like herself to this extent.
She recalled the spar they'd just finished. From the start, Ashytara had cloaked her entire body in Solem's flames, kicked off the ground, and unleashed her greatsword techniques at full power, pressuring Carmen relentlessly. It was a clear bid for a quick decisive victory. Though Carmen had recognized it as such and blocked with her fundamentals and honed divine power, the violent whirlwind of flames combined with the terrifyingly sharp greatsword work had chilled even her seasoned knight's liver.
She tried to smile and praise Ashytara, but the princess shook her head, saying it wasn't time for compliments yet.
"I still need to work harder."
Her gaze shifted to a boy with dark gray hair standing a short distance away—Ludenberg Lavante.
Carmen followed her line of sight to where the final spar was unfolding.
When Martin raised his sword, Ludenberg felt overwhelmed by the momentum surging toward him and the resulting pressure.
'As expected of Sir Martin Taylor. Chilling presence.'
Martin Taylor. The knight who'd served longest in the imperial guard, second only to the captain in skill. He disliked stepping forward and preferred immersing himself in the sword, so he'd stubbornly refused the next captain position and remained a regular knight—a bit of an oddball. But his prowess was the real deal.
Ludenberg had long known of his exceptional skill from his father's endless praise—a man who rarely complimented others. Seeing it firsthand was truly awe-inspiring.
No matter how much Ludenberg had grown irrationally in a short time, it only made the gap between him and Martin crystal clear.
'Abandon any thought of winning. The difference in our levels is vast. Victory's impossible. This is just to gauge how much my skill holds up against someone far superior.'
His opponent was a knight of distant prowess. Dominating was out of the question; even seizing momentum seemed unlikely. But surrender without a fight? Not a chance.
Ludenberg gripped his sword, assumed his stance, stepped forward, and swung at Martin.
Martin couldn't hide his admiration as he watched the young student before him. He'd heard the boy had no divine power. Indeed, he sensed no flow of it from him. So all these strikes charging at him were pure physical ability?
'Unbelievable.'
Martin fully understood the sentiments everyone who'd faced Ludenberg before had felt. He twisted his waist to parry upward, sometimes twisting locked blades to aim for the throat, every step deliberate and cautious.
But what astonished him most were those eyes. It felt like his swordsmanship was being dissected. The direction of his feet, the angle of his arms, the flex of his muscles—Ludenberg anticipated it all a step ahead, predicting and disrupting the flow of his blade bit by bit.
Nearly precognitive insight. No martial artist, sword or otherwise, could escape those eyes.
To grasp swordsmanship more thoroughly than its master.
'No wonder they called him the greatest genius once.'
Regret tinged his thoughts. What if this student had divine power? A chill ran down Martin's spine. This absurd boy, who could read every human movement and technique, with divine power added? The empire would turn upside down. A violently talented prodigy. If a god of swordsmanship existed, Ludenberg would surely be its favorite.
Martin channeled more divine power. No matter his disregard for reputation, he couldn't lose to a powerless student.
Ludenberg sensed Martin's momentum shift dramatically. The pressure grew more horrific. But he gritted his teeth, meeting Martin's strikes head-on. Thank goodness the blade paths were visible; otherwise, one swing would've ended it.
He saw the paths, but his body couldn't fully keep up. Even anticipating ahead, he was scrambling to block—proof his skill fell short. Forcing his body to match Martin's speed pushed it past limits, creaking in protest.
'Still not enough. I see the paths, but my body lags. Need more training.'
Kaang! Harsh metal clangs echoed repeatedly. Ludenberg checked his blade mid-clash—cracks spiderwebbing, on the verge of shattering. He deflected Martin's sword as best he could to minimize damage. More adept now at handling blades, even slicing foes' weapons, yet Martin's was a burden.
Transcendent talent let him grasp the swordsmanship fully, but lacking divine power and raw physique, he was steadily pushed back.
Yet to onlookers, it was miraculous. The knights were especially stunned. Carmen, Maha, and Tir gaped in disbelief.
Tir glanced at Eden. "That the guy you mentioned earlier?"
"Yes."
"Haha, no way. A first-year?"
Maha laughed hollowly; Carmen reacted similarly. Nearby students were puzzled. They knew Ludenberg was strong—impressively so—but not enough to fluster knights like this. He was clearly being overwhelmed, his sword cracked and one shock from breaking.
The three knights treated his inevitable loss as astonishing. Students stared questioningly; Carmen explained.
"Sir Martin, whom Ludenberg faces, is the strongest imperial knight after our captain. We're not just surprised. He solos high-grade erosion beasts. Trading blows like that is impossible."
Students' eyes widened in shock. Maha, watching, chimed in incredulously.
"And he has no divine power? Holding out like that is insane. None of us could last that long against Sir Martin without it."
That was it. The spar intensified, nearing its end. Ludenberg's sword was mangled beyond recognition, unable to withstand Martin's mighty divine power. Yet he didn't yield. The clash continued—him blocking desperately for openings, Martin pressing relentlessly.
Then Ludenberg made his gamble. He deflected a blind-side strike, diving into Martin's guard.
Kagak! Blades scraped with a chilling screech; sparks flew. Wincing with one eye, Ludenberg twisted his wrist to redirect Martin's trajectory, aiming for his throat—but Martin pulled back briefly at the clash point. In that split second as Ludenberg's wrist turned, he amplified divine power and smashed down, shattering the boy's sword.
"……!"
A sharp crack rang out as Ludenberg's blade fragmented. Martin's sword at his throat, Ludenberg said calmly,
"I lost."
No trace of frustration in that flat tone—it chilled Martin instead. After such intensity, regret or disappointment should've shown, but Ludenberg's eyes stared blankly, not at him but some distant point.
Martin knew that gaze well. The so-called "spark"—reflecting on one's shortcomings, stepping forward. Ludenberg's skill had advanced through this duel.
His absurd talent for grasping and internalizing movements shone against a formidable knight like Martin. Though Martin's techniques paled against future Ludenberg's shown by Raha, they were comprehensible now—clues to that future swordsmanship.
Parts he'd not understood from his future self's blade began clicking.
'So that's how you moved.'
Ludenberg blankly recalled his dream visions, ignoring Martin entirely.
Martin was speechless. He'd held back, but nearly slipped against a much younger student even using divine power. Without it, it might've been even. Divine power? Irrelevant. No superhuman gift, but this monster expanded human limits inherently.
Martin was certain.
'Any martial artist seeing this boy would despair. Duke Leonard raised an unbelievable monster.'
He corrected himself. Divine power would've upended the empire? Wrong.
'Things are about to get noisy.'
Martin couldn't think otherwise.