Flying Sword (5)
Norde sat atop the back of a lower knight performing push-ups, sword in hand, bellowing at the top of his lungs.
“TRAINEE!!! YOUR VOICE IS TOO WEAK!!! WANT TO RUN ANOTHER LAP AROUND THE TRAINING GROUNDS, DO YOU?!!!”
“NOOOOOOO──!!!!!”
Of course, the proud Flying Sword Knights of the illustrious Armaals family weren’t the type to scream over a few extra pounds of weight during push-ups. Gaius noticed the lower knight’s uniform was caked in dirt and froze, utterly bewildered.
……Is he forcing them to expend maximum mana while doing physical conditioning?
In a sense, it was an effective approach. The stronger the body, the greater the reinforcing effect of mana. It was precisely why monsters became such overwhelming threats without any special techniques or tactics. For the same reason, humans who exhausted their mana reserves before engaging in physical training could strengthen their bodies with surprising efficiency.
But how in the world was he making knights talented enough to join the order burn through so much mana that they trembled during simple push-ups? And three of them at once?
Gaius, unable to make sense of it at first, took one look at their faces—mangled like potatoes yanked out with a hoe—and immediately understood. They’d been beaten. Thoroughly. Like dogs.
“Ah, Knight Commander. You’ve arrived.”
Norde spotted him and rose to his feet. The lower knight he’d been crushing beneath him—Poet, if Gaius remembered correctly—briefly brightened before his face hardened like stone.
“Maintaining body temperature is crucial when exercising in cold weather. The trick is to keep it as consistent as possible. Understood?”
With those words, Norde conjured a massive block of ice directly onto the man’s back. It was an impromptu spell combination. The fusion of Freezing Hand and Water Creation pressed down on Poet’s spine with more weight than a full-grown man.
“Feels good, right? Doesn’t the coolness feel refreshing after all that sweat?”
“YES!!!!! THANK YOUUUUUU!!!!!”
Well, the logic wasn’t wrong, but shouldn’t one maintain warmth on a day like this? Gaius thought so, but decided it wasn’t his place to meddle in another man’s training methods. Even if those men were his own subordinates.
“What… what happened to those men over there?”
“Oh. They kindly observed my training and volunteered as sparring partners. I was simply repaying their kindness by teaching them the proper way to grow stronger. Is there a problem?”
“N-no, none at all. So… is the training proceeding well?”
For a split second, an expression that clearly said Are you seriously asking me that? flickered across Norde’s face. But before Gaius could dwell on it, the man broke into a bright smile and nodded.
“Of course. I’ve roughly absorbed the swordsmanship you demonstrated, and while training with them I’ve managed to imitate several techniques.”
“……Pardon?”
Did he truly claim to have mastered the family’s sword art in a single morning? Gaius doubted his own ears. The man had only been training in the grounds for half a day. Even Gaius lacked the confidence to fully grasp an unfamiliar martial style—especially one that used a completely different weapon—in such a short time. It was only natural. Understanding something and truly mastering it were entirely different realms.
Imitating the stances might be possible, but…
Whether he sensed Gaius’s lingering skepticism or not, Norde snapped his hand out behind him with a crisp sound.
“Sword.”
“YES SIR!!!!! HERE IT IS SIR!!!!!”
The response was instantaneous. Gaius watched with subtle eyes as his subordinate sprang up to deliver the practice blade. Should he reprimand the man for letting an outsider order the family’s knights around like mere squires?
Hmm. No… if they’ve received guidance from a master of his caliber, it’s understandable that they can’t suppress their overflowing respect.
Gaius chose to accept that explanation. Paying no mind to his internal debate, Norde took the sword and executed the forms at twice the speed Gaius had demonstrated—if not faster.
The seven stances unfolded in a rapid blur. Gaius’s eyes flew wide open. Though Norde had wrapped his body in mana and deployed the techniques at terrifying speed, the dynamic vision of an honorary noble was more than capable of following along.
He really has mastered it…!
The seven stances weren’t perfect. Some even carried the faint trace of having been learned rather carelessly. Yet Gaius found nothing strange about that. After all, what would a man like Norde gain by devoting himself to the family’s sword art? To Gaius it was a point of pride—the Armaals Flying Sword. To Norde, it was nothing more than a passing exercise to spark fresh inspiration. There was no reason for him to learn it desperately.
To him, this half-day was merely an attempt to extract hints that might elevate his own realm from another family’s techniques. Nothing more. If he were deeply analyzing the art, that would make sense—but devoting himself to mastering it? That would be absurd.
Yet he learned this much while simultaneously training his subordinates? In just a few hours?
Just how much genius did it take to accomplish such a feat? It was to the point where even a puppet capable of controlling every muscle down to the fingertips might struggle to replicate it.
The lower knights, who had been reduced to living torso-raising machines, couldn’t hide their shock either. From their perspective, Norde’s swordsmanship seemed to pluck out only their strongest points and reproduce them perfectly.
Gaius swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. If he taught the man intermediate knight techniques, could Norde then easily unfold even the true Flying Sword or Leap?
And if that were possible, perhaps that innate genius would offer insights into the family’s sword art from an entirely different perspective than his own. If that happened—
“Knight Commander?”
“Yes? Ah, um, yes! My apologies.”
Gaius cleared his throat, snapping back to reality. Norde stared at the flustered commander for a long moment, then chose the perfect timing to speak.
“If possible, could you provide me with direct instruction starting tomorrow?”
“Instruction… to you, Sir Norde?”
Teach a genius of this caliber? Was that even something his own talent could manage? Gaius let out a skeptical groan. Of course, the Flying Sword he had mastered contained far deeper and more complex martial principles, but that depth only revealed itself in mid-to-upper level techniques. If he couldn’t teach those, he couldn’t confidently claim superior understanding over Norde even in the basics. Wouldn’t his limits be exposed within hours?
Norde’s smile deepened at the commander’s obvious reluctance.
“Of course, if it’s difficult then there’s no need. But it was such an outstanding sword art that I would be delighted if I could at least discuss its profundity with you, Knight Commander.”
—Twitch.
Gaius’s shoulders stiffened as if his inner thoughts had been laid bare. Norde grinned knowingly, as though he’d expected exactly that reaction.
So he noticed my desire to discuss martial arts…
Gaius smiled bitterly, caught between embarrassment and shame. Those eyes seemed capable of seeing straight into a person’s heart. As far as he knew, the only other person with such piercing insight was the elder of Romania whom he served.
“……Very well. I cannot teach you, but sharing my thoughts on the sword should pose no great problem.”
Once he overcame his embarrassment, Gaius found himself genuinely pleased by this unspoken understanding. Was this the sense of kinship between those stalled at the same wall? Norde and he were rivals racing to see who would reach the next realm first, but if they shared their insights like this, that competition would become a noble one.
“I’ll seek permission from the family head. Let us aim for the Master Class together.”
—Twitch.
This time it was Norde whose eyes darted wildly at the smiling handshake Gaius offered. His expression was that of a devout believer who, only after getting thoroughly drunk, realized the establishment wasn’t a tavern but a black mages’ rendezvous point. Once again, Gaius had no idea why the man was making such a face.
“Y-yeah…… Master Class. Quite a distant goal, isn’t it?”
“A genius like you, Sir Norde, would reach it with the slightest spark of inspiration.”
“Ah, aah…… Y-yes, of course……”
Thus the two Mithril Class warriors shook hands. The exhausted lower knights gazed up at them with pure envy and longing.
But they still didn’t know. They had no idea what future awaited them until the day Norde departed—that they would continue to be dragged into his training regimen.
“Huk.”
—THUD!!
Only Poet, who had kept his head deeply bowed, was crushed beneath the heavy ice block and immediately regretted opening his mouth.