Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: In Earnest (4)
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I quickly assessed the situation.
The kids staring at me with dumbfounded expressions.
Professor Navian, with a somewhat flushed, excited face.
Her beloved sword, Manwol, drawn from its sheath.
And me, with my sword drawn and extended straight forward.
…….
…….
What?
“How interesting.”
While I was still dazed, Professor Navian spoke.
Just by the way her eyes curved up, I could tell she was in a very good mood.
Or, maybe it was the opposite.
“Do it again.”
Despite her urging, all I could do was stare blankly.
I don't even remember what I did.
“That sword technique from a moment ago, I want to see it again.”
So, she was saying that I, without even remembering it, had attacked Professor Navian.
“……?”
I was dumbfounded.
A training spar that began and ended with her Simgeom.
It was something impossible to do without breaking through the Black Knight's Simgeom.
And yet, apparently, I had done it.
Even though I don't remember it.
“Um, Professor. Professor Navian…?”
I tried to find a way out of the situation, but it wasn't easy.
“I can tell by your expression. You weren't conscious of it.”
Seeing me flustered and stammering, the smile in Professor Navian's eyes deepened.
“It's not unheard of. When you repeat something thousands, tens of thousands of times, your body learns to move before your mind does. Of course, I've never experienced it myself.”
She added that with her talent, such training was unnecessary.
With a talent acknowledged even by the stars, that was probably true.
Anyway, it was a relief.
Now that she knew it was an unconscious act, she wouldn't push me to do the exact same thing again, right?
That's what I thought.
I was dead wrong.
“But do not worry, child.”
An ominous smile appeared on her lips.
“You need not worry about being unable to repeat your recent accomplishment.”
Professor Navian slowly stepped toward me.
“I know very well how to draw the unconscious into the realm of the conscious.”
Screeeech.
Her lowered sword scraped against the floor, making a grating noise.
“The wind, the light, the temperature surrounding you.”
Through the noise, her benevolent voice pierced my ears.
“Your breathing and posture, your balance, the subtle reactions of your muscles.”
Professor Navian drew closer.
“And even the strike you received.”
At the same time, a gentle breeze rustled around me.
“If everything is the same, your sword will naturally flow as it did before.”
Her claim that she could freely control not only the surrounding environment but also another person's body did not sound like a bluff at all.
“And even if, by some chance, it doesn't go as planned, there is no need to be disappointed.”
She stopped in front of me.
“For I am willing to repeat this as many times as it takes for you to remember.”
At the same moment, her sword, which had been pointed at the floor, shot up like a lightning bolt.
Leaving a pale trajectory in the air, just like the Simgeom that had cut me down countless times.
“Ah.”
When I came to my senses, her sword was touching my chin, as if about to split it open.
“Please do not consider this a nuisance.”
Finishing her words, she returned to her original spot.
And began to approach again.
The same stride.
The same speed.
Screeeech.
Even the sound of her sword scraping the floor was identical.
“Gasp.”
A sword strike flew at me as if to pierce my chin, leaving no time to react.
There was no time to dodge.
Retreating was also impossible.
An unseen force was blocking my back.
“Ah.”
The sword touched my chin.
Ssk.
Professor Navian withdrew her sword and returned to her spot once more.
And the same situation repeated itself countless times.
* * *
Professor Navian's training spars were, to put it nicely, practical, and to put it bluntly, excessively aggressive.
Her attitude, devoid of any explanation, was also far from kind.
But not a single cadet in Group 3 under her instruction complained about it.
“Heugworui Gaznae.”
Ranked first among the Empire's Eight Great Sword Families.
The universally acknowledged greatest sword family in the Empire.
Considering her background, this was only natural.
Considering that the Black Moon Knights rarely ventured outside their family, her teachings were all the more precious.
Even though those "teachings" were closer to a cycle of being struck down one-sidedly, no one cared.
Who cared? It was Professor Navian, after all.
The cadets of Group 3 were actually proud of it.
The wounds they received from her were medals of honor.
They all even refused the medical support provided to every cadet.
“I’m so jealous. A Black Moon Knight of Gaznae is their supervising professor.”
“I wonder what it feels like to have a training spar with Professor Navian every day.”
The more scars that were carved into their bodies, the more envious the cadets from other groups became.
This wasn't limited to just the Eunsuri class.
Even cadets from the fourth-year Baengrinma and the second-year Heuksaja classes admired her, frequently visiting the Eunsuri class's training grounds.
“Ahh, Professor Navian.”
“Just look at that dignified figure.”
Most of the time they came up empty, but on the rare occasion they caught even a distant glimpse of her, they would be overcome with excitement.
It was the result of her background as a young knight from the Empire's greatest sword family, combined with the inhuman and mysterious aura she exuded.
Even though she hadn't been at the Cradle for long, a fanatical group of followers had already formed.
“Nahmyeon.”
The Alliance of Those Who Admire Professor Navian.
The main members of the alliance were female cadets.
The female cadets, who were relatively few in number compared to the male cadets, idolized Professor Navian.
Of course, Nahmyeon wasn't composed solely of female cadets.
Inquiries about membership were flooding in not only from the Eunsuri class but also from the Baengrinma and Heuksaja classes, and even from among the faculty.
And the president of the rapidly growing Nahmyeon was, surprisingly, not from the Baengrinma or Heuksaja classes, but a cadet from the Eunsuri class.
Selma and Emma.
The two of them were the founders and first presidents of Nahmyeon.
[Professor Navian's graceful form, as subtle as the night sky, was as elegant as ever today.]
[Today, the professor’s opening words were, ‘Well, let us begin.’]
The members were ecstatic about the trivial daily details of Professor Navian that the sisters posted on the group's message board.
It was inevitable.
Unlike other professors who each taught a single subject to an entire class year, Professor Navian was in charge of training only Group 3.
On top of that, she would vanish like the wind after her duties were over and only reappear for the next class, so it was rare to even see her face unless you were in Group 3 and receiving her direct instruction.
Rumors were rampant, but little was actually known about her.
That was also part of the reason why the sisters Selma and Emma, mere freshmen cadets, were able to maintain their positions as presidents of a Nahmyeon that spanned all class years.
“Professor Navian must be as dignified as ever today, right?”
“Of course, where would her brilliant, night-sky-like class go?”
The two sisters were quite displeased that their training time with Professor Navian had recently been shortened due to the descent training.
However, they dropped their complaints after belatedly hearing that she would also be joining them for the field training in the lower world.
Real combat alongside Professor Navian—just the thought of it made their hearts pound.
“Professor, did you also undergo descent training?”
They asked out of excitement, but as expected, Professor Navian didn't answer today either.
It wasn't something to be disappointed about.
Their idol never spoke unnecessarily.
She had never uttered any words other than those that marked the beginning and end of class.
“How interesting.”
It was the first time.
“That sword technique from a moment ago, I want to see it again.”
The first time she had evaluated a cadet's swordsmanship, and the first time she had pressed one to perform again.
“It's not unheard of. When you repeat something thousands, tens of thousands of times, your body learns to move before your mind does. Of course, I've never experienced it myself.”
Speaking to a cadet with such a benevolent expression—all of it was a first.
They couldn't understand what on earth had just happened.
“That… that guy countered Professor Navian.”
Only after hearing another cadet's words did they finally grasp the situation.
The Mage Slayer, Yan.
Group 3's problem child, who had been attracting trouble nonstop from before his admission to the present, had apparently attacked Professor Navian.
Unfortunately, she hadn't seen the moment it happened.
But it wasn't hard to guess what had happened.
The coward must have gotten scared and flailed his sword around.
It was a classic case of a blind squirrel finding a nut.
“But do not worry, child.”
At the sound of Professor Navian's gentle voice, the sisters bit their lips.
“Why only him…?”
“Why?”
They were jealous.
They couldn't stand the envy.
But on the other hand, they had a thought.
For Professor Navian, who was so devoted to the knight's code, the existence of a coward who couldn't even swing his sword properly must have weighed on her mind.
To Professor Navian, that boy was like an ‘aching finger.’
Yes. This wasn't favoritism.
It was just the benevolent and compassionate Professor Navian's knightly code in action.
Thinking that way, it wasn't difficult to accept the current situation.
“For I am willing to repeat this as many times as it takes for you to remember. Please do not consider this a nuisance.”
No, that was impossible.
“He’s taking away time that other cadets could be receiving instruction.”
“What a nuisance.”
This was absolutely not some low-level jealousy or envy.
It was merely righteous anger toward a problem child who couldn't keep up with the training and was harming the other cadets.
“How dare he monopolize Professor Navian.”
“To think she’s going to all this trouble over a lucky fluke.”
Their true feelings finally slipped out, but the sisters paid it no mind.
In this situation, no other cadet would be paying attention to their muttering.
But they were wrong.
“Tsk.”
Lian, the leader of Group 3 and a direct descendant of the Kart family, shook his head at the sisters' words.
Having watched the entire scene from the beginning, he could not agree with them at all.
That was no lucky fluke.
“That sword just now…”
It was, without a doubt, a sword of ascension.
The Ascending Sword.
A sword art that embeds complex martial principles within simple movements, naturally guiding the practitioner to a higher state.
The biggest difference between a prestigious family and a common one, as the world sees it, is the presence of an Ascendant.
However, this was merely a distinction as seen from outside the prestigious families.
The true difference that separated prestigious families from common ones was the existence of the Ascending Sword.
The heirs of prestigious families train in the Ascending Sword from a young age, naturally shedding bad habits and building bodies suited for wielding their family's sword style.
At first, this change is not very noticeable.
But upon reaching a certain point, the difference becomes stark.
Those who were preoccupied with haphazardly filling their innate vessel are bound to hit a limit someday.
Whether that limit stems from innate physical differences or from bad habits accumulated over a lifetime.
The heirs of prestigious families prioritize honing the shape and material of the vessel before filling it.
Their initially sluggish growth rate explodes the moment the vessel is complete.
It was obvious who would be laughing in the end.
It was something one couldn't know unless they were from a prestigious family.
This was also why the sisters and the other group members thought Professor Navian's treatment of him was simply magnanimity toward the weak.
Lian, too, had trained since childhood in the historic Ascending Sword passed down in his family.
To obtain a robust body befitting the name ‘Kart of the Iron Wall,’ he had swung his sword day and night.
At the same time, he had honed his eye for observation just as keenly.
In the first place, the very reason he had come to the Cradle was to witness as many different sword styles as possible.
To avoid an early death before completing his Iron Wall, he had no choice but to compensate for his lack of toughness with a refined eye.
For that reason, a considerable gap existed between Lian's discerning eye and that of the other cadets.
That's why he could tell.
Just how incredible the Ascending Sword that Yan had displayed was.
From the way he breathed to the way he stepped, to the way he used his muscles.
He couldn't even begin to fathom how many martial principles were melted into that simple thrusting motion.
And not a single one of them was low-level.
Moreover, it didn't show the non-combat-oriented nature characteristic of Ascending Swords, which are created solely for physical optimization.
Yan's sword was, in itself, also a superb practical sword art.
Lian suddenly became curious.
The saying ‘you see as much as you know’ must have been meant for times like this.
And that logic would apply equally to himself and Professor Navian.
What on earth did Yan's sword look like in Professor Navian's eyes?
And he was intensely curious about the form of the vessel that would be completed through that sublime Ascending Sword.
It was still small and shabby for now.
After all, a great vessel always takes a long time to both make and fill.