From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 18
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 18
Berak liked learning new things.
Even more so when it was a combat skill that would help him survive.
There was just one thing that bothered him.......
"I haven't even fully mastered the axe yet. Is it all right for me to learn something else?"
Varkan nodded.
"That's exactly why."
Varkan continued.
"If you were already a finished warrior, I wouldn't recommend anything else. Once your habits are set, changing them is more dangerous. But you're still young. Your body and your habits haven't fully hardened yet. Right now, broadening your options is the greater gain."
"That makes sense. Then who will I learn the sword from?"
"I will."
The old man who had been watching raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Oh? You, personally? Weren't you busy with one thing and another?"
Then he looked Berak over once.
"Well, if it's this one, I suppose he could swing even that brutish greatsword of yours. Are you raising him as a disciple?"
"He's not a disciple. I'm just showing him the way."
Varkan gave a brief cough and added.
"Anyway, if he's going to learn the sword, a greatsword is right. It can properly make use of his strength, so there's no reason to avoid it."
"Yes."
The old man cut in with a snort.
"Hah, what do you mean he's not a disciple? The way you dote on him is exactly that."
"Old man. I said he isn't."
"Enough. What kind of greatsword should I make? Surely it won't be exactly like the one you use."
"Correct. He could swing this one, but it's too large, so his form would inevitably break down. Make it to fit his current build."
The old man nodded and gestured.
"Come here."
Berak took a few steps closer.
The old man's hands moved first. They rested on his shoulders, ran down his arms, and then gripped his wrist once.
"Hm... those arms don't look like they should be able to bend an iron bar like that. Truly remarkable."
He lifted Berak's arm slightly to check the angle, then this time pressed around his waist.
"Length... about this much will do. If he's going to push through with strength, the blade width can be increased more than usual......."
Berak stood still beside the muttering old man.
Varkan called out to him.
"That's enough. You can go now. It's done."
"...That was a quick measurement."
The old man began rummaging through his tools without a word. Varkan asked.
"Old man! How long will it take?"
Instead of answering, the old man spread one palm wide open. Varkan lightly tapped Berak on the shoulder.
"Let's go. Come back in five days."
Berak nodded and left the smithy. The hot air receded behind him.
After walking a few steps, he absently glanced back once. The old man was already hammering at something.
Berak watched for a moment, then looked away.
What he held in his hand was still only an axe.
But he looked forward to the sword that would be forged to fit him in a few days.
* * *
"Vice-Captain! There's been a change to the wasteland schedule. It needs your confirmation."
A mercenary hurried over.
"I'll be going back up to the smithy this evening. I'll find you then."
Berak wondered why it would be today rather than five days from now. But Varkan immediately fell into conversation with the mercenary and moved away.
Berak, axe in hand, did not go to the infirmary.
A faint pain remained beneath the bandages wrapped around his side, but his steps naturally turned elsewhere.
This place was relatively safe. There would be no immediate fight for his life.
Still, he wanted to see how far he could fight in this condition. That felt like it would put his mind more at ease.
It was the training ground he had first come to. There were a few faces who recognized him. Those who had gone on the operation with him were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the mercenaries who had watched his arm-wrestling match with the Vice-Captain were scattered here and there.
"Hey."
Someone raised a hand lightly.
"Heard you came back from a pretty big mission?"
Another glanced at the axe in Berak's hand and said.
"Nice axe."
Berak nodded.
"Thanks."
Berak took a spot in the corner of the training ground and gripped the axe. The weight was good. He swung it once, cutting through the air. The motion continued into a chain of strikes.
Whoosh—whoosh—
As he moved violently, the pain became distinct. The sensation he had considered bearable turned uncomfortable. Berak steadied his breathing and reset his stance.
He could feel heat rising from his body. Each time he kept moving with the wound, something squirmed inside him.
「Regeneration + 1」
'This is.......'
It was an ability that had appeared when he had been driven to the brink of losing consciousness.
The current situation was not as extreme as then. But there were similarities. He was wounded, and he was continuing to push his body hard.
Berak tightened his grip on the axe.
'So it reacts when my body is hurt or strained.'
He couldn't be certain. Berak shook his head once and swung the axe again.
In that moment, a scene suddenly flashed through his mind.
It was the first time he had swung an axe and split open a person's chest. At the time, it had passed without any particular feeling. The situation had been what it was, and survival had come first. Yet even after quite some time had passed...... the sensation that had remained in his hand was clearer than he expected.
Berak did not frown, nor did he hold his breath.
He simply swung once more. Faster, as if pushing the thought away. The trajectory the axe had traced in real combat came back to him naturally.
Why had it gone in at that angle back then? Had there been any other option?
The form of his swings began to change.
Whoosh—
Whooosh—
The moment he had clashed with Mud came to mind. That force and stance that had driven forward. Berak drew in a breath, then exhaled as he brought the axe down hard.
The wind rang out briefly.
「Axe Proficiency + 1」
「Axe Proficiency + 1」
「Regeneration + 1」
"I considered stopping you, but it looks like you just finished."
Berak raised his head.
Demein's shadow stretched long against the training ground wall, though Berak had no idea how long he had been standing there.
......It was dark.
When he looked around, the daylight was already gone. Only a few torches at the edge of the training ground flickered in the darkness.
"The Vice-Captain is looking for you. He said to meet at the smithy."
* * *
When they arrived at the smithy, Berak saw Varkan talking with the old man. It was night, but the inside of the smithy was bright with firelight.
"You're here."
"Do you work at night too?"
The old man glanced toward the forge for a moment, then said calmly.
"Sometimes. Not today. They said there was a procedure, so I just left the fire going."
Varkan came over beside Berak.
"Berak. It's the initiation ceremony."
Berak recalled the Captain's mention of "tradition." It was sooner than he had expected.
He followed Varkan toward the back of the smithy.
Two people were waiting in the open yard outside.
The Captain and a man he had never seen before.
"You're a little late."
The Captain shifted his gaze.
"Greet this one first."
"I'm Berak."
The taciturn-looking man answered briefly.
"I am Calvern, Fourth Wing of the Silver Hawk."
The Captain nodded.
"With this, a majority of the officers are gathered. Let us proceed."
The surroundings were quiet.
Firelight touched the low stone floor, and the heat from the forge faintly spread with the wind.
A single dagger lay on the stone.
It had no ornamentation. The blade did not gleam like new, either.
It did not seem to be an object meant simply for display.
The officers looked at Berak. With all their gazes settling on him in the darkness, he felt a strange pressure. The captain stepped forward first.
"Berak. Is that your name?"
"It is."
"You said you would put your name on the Silver Hawk. Is that still your choice?"
Berak lowered his gaze for an instant, then raised it again.
"Yes."
"Then I will confirm it."
As those words ended, Varkan came up beside Berak and whispered.
"Just draw blood on your palm. It doesn't need to be deep."
Berak nodded and stepped forward. He picked up the dagger. The feel of it in his hand was cold and distinct.
His hesitation did not last long.
He opened his left palm and made a short cut with the dagger.
Blood welled up quickly. It ran down along the path the blade had traced.
Berak looked at his hand for a moment.
...He hadn't meant to cut this deep.
「Regeneration + 1」
As Berak lowered his hand, Varkan stepped forward.
In his hand was a small iron badge.
It was a piece simply engraved with the Silver Hawk's emblem.
"Grip it with that hand."
Varkan held out the iron badge. Berak took it with his bloodied hand. The cold metal touched his palm. Blood smeared onto the edge of the badge.
At that moment, the Captain spoke.
"From this moment, Berak stands beneath the wing of the Silver Hawk."
More than the sting in his palm, the sensation of the cold metal was clearer to Berak.
It didn't feel real that he belonged somewhere. Still, for the time being, wherever he went, there was now one place to return to. That was how he thought of it.
"Let us go down."
At the Captain's words, everyone began to move. Varkan came over beside Berak.
"Are you all right? I told you to cut lightly."
Berak silently raised his palm to show him. The blood had mostly dried.
Varkan looked it over once and nodded.
"It's not too bad. Still, stop by the infirmary."
"Yes."
The light of the smithy was drawing near again.
* * *
The next day, every mercenary who met Berak told him to prepare for a terrifying "initiation."
When he asked if it was like the induction ceremony, they said it was similar but would be harder.
But Berak wasn't particularly worried. Hard and grueling work had been worse, if anything, when he was a serf.
It was funny even to himself, but it was also a kind of pride that he had come through a difficult life.
Of course, the initiation he faced that evening was completely different from what Berak had imagined.
A drinking party attended by most of the headquarters personnel. That was what the initiation turned out to be.
"Come on, drink!"
"You bastards. Berak can't drink yet!"
Demein blocked the cups coming toward Berak.
Someone asked as if genuinely curious.
"Right. Berak, how old are you?"
"I'll be twelve this winter."
Berak, who didn't know his birthday, had no choice but to answer that way.
"Twelve? You can drink from thirteen anyway... that's only a year off. Come on, drink!"
"You lunatics!"
In the end, a few cups did get through, but it wasn't overwhelming. Demein seemed to have made a bit of a fuss.
Actually, the drinks weren't pushed on Berak all that insistently. There was another main character at that gathering.
It was Hans, the mercenary who was now leaving the Silver Hawk.
Even though Hans had lost an arm, he didn't look dejected. Instead, he ate and drank his fill and made a racket.
"Since I can't hold a cup in both hands, I can drink even longer!"
He even made jokes like that.
Later, he talked with Berak as well.
"...Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Mud, was it? Just coming back alive after meeting a bastard like that is lucky enough. I'll have to think a bit about how to make a living from now on......."
Then he ruffled Berak's hair with his remaining arm.
"You'll do well."
And so, someone's initiation and someone's retirement ceremony came to an end.
Berak began learning the mercenary company's regulations and combat manuals in earnest from Demein.
「Intelligence + 1」
「Sensitivity - 1」
「Intelligence + 1」
「Sensitivity - 1」
His body had also fully recovered. Through steady training, his abilities rose as well.
It was only one point at a time for results over a few days, but simply being able to fight in his best condition was enough.
「Regeneration + 1」
「Body Proficiency + 1」
「Axe Proficiency + 1」
Before he knew it, the day the sword was to be finished had arrived. It was the end of the time he had fought with only an axe.
* * *
After receiving the sword, Berak stood in the main training ground at the center of the base.
It was a quiet time of day. Only the occasional sound of metal clashing came from the far side.
In front of him, Varkan stood like an iron tower.
"Well? Do you like the greatsword?"
Berak looked down quietly at the greatsword in his hand.
The weight was definitely greater than the axe. He could feel that a lot of iron had gone into it.
But it was strange.
The burden on his hand was actually less. The weight wasn't concentrated toward the tip. Even without applying force, the center of balance settled into his hand.
Berak moved his wrist just a tiny bit in that state.
It was different from the axe.
Even without swinging it yet, the balance shifted immediately with a single angle of his wrist.
"I like it. I'm not used to it yet, but..."
"Good. You'll adapt going forward."
Varkan suddenly asked a question.
"Why do you think mercenaries use swords the most?"
Berak thought it over. Things he had vaguely heard while living here came to mind.
"Because knights use them a lot?"
Varkan nodded.
"You're about half right."
Shing—
He stepped back and drew his own greatsword.
"What mercenaries look toward their whole lives is wielding Anima. Once they have it, their treatment and circumstances change from being lives that are easily scattered on the battlefield. So they imitate the weapons knights use. They raise a sword, hoping that someday they'll reach that realm. But that's thinking about cause and effect in reverse."
Varkan lowered the tip of his sword lightly.
"The reason knights use swords a lot is because it's a versatile weapon. Thrusting and cutting exist within the same line of motion, so you can switch between offense and defense smoothly without greatly changing your grip. It means it's easy to respond in a variety of situations."
「Swordsmanship Proficiency + 1」
Berak's eyes widened slightly in surprise. This was the first time a combat-related ability had risen just from listening, without moving his body himself.
"I heard you've never learned the axe from anyone."
Varkan looked at Berak as he spoke.
"At your age, that level of skill is remarkable. But advancing alone can hit its limits sooner than you think. If you learn the sword, the path to the goal you've set will become much easier."
"The goal I've set...?"
Berak had never told anyone, but Varkan said it as if stating a certainty.
"Anima, of course."
"......."
It was true. It was one of the goals Berak couldn't deny.
"Anima is a power that is carried on a weapon, but it's also a power that raises the output of the body. Yet you, without even wielding Anima, cut down several trained adults with ease."
He took a step toward Berak.
"Imagine it. If someone like you were to wield Anima as well. How far you could go. Who... could stop you."
There was no pretense in those words.
They seemed to truly carry a desire to see that sight.
Berak's heart pounded along with it.
"Yes. I definitely want to learn."
"Then you understand."
Varkan angled his sword toward his torso.
"That even if the method is rough, you have to follow to the end."
That solid stance showed that the teaching by words was over.
Berak silently adjusted his grip on his sword as well.
"Come. Show me everything you have."