Chapter 24
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Elective Subjects (3)
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"Alright, Libia. Let's see if you can at least protect yourself now?"
As I stepped into the sparring arena, those provocative words slipped from my mouth.
"Hah... Aden, I'll shut that mouth of yours for you."
The taunt landed perfectly.
She adopted a stance, her face twisted in fury.
'Whoa...'
Just like after that taunt at the entrance ceremony, her expression warped into something demonic.
I spoke as I watched her take her ferocious stance.
"Then let's begin."
The moment the words left my mouth, Libia charged at me like she'd been waiting for it.
Infused with mana, she closed the distance at incredible speed and swung her sword at me.
It was a clean strike, embarrassingly superior to her previous opponent's.
Clang-!
'Her sword path has become more refined and stronger.'
Blocking her swing, I felt the clear increase in power compared to before.
The follow-up strike came immediately.
Clang-!
The attack connected with uncanny speed,
yet there were hardly any openings in between.
'This is...?'
Each successive strike targeted positions that would prove fatal if they landed.
Clang-!
Clang-!
The onslaught continued.
If I tried to create distance, she closed it in an instant and pressed the attack,
all while minimizing her openings with impeccable swordsmanship.
It was a style that radiated madness in its relentless pursuit of combat.
{A sword infused with obsession for battle and frenzy for offense.}
Now that I'd clashed blades with it directly, I understood.
That single line from the game captured everything about this swordsmanship.
Obsession with battle and frenzy for attack—
unleashed without restraint upon the opponent.
The pinnacle of offense that disregarded defense entirely.
The Sword Saint's sword.
The Asura Sword.
That was the true nature of the swordsmanship Libia wielded now.
The Sword Saint's sword was undeniably powerful.
Libia's attacks came with minimal openings, executed with near-perfect proficiency,
Clang-!
However...
It didn't suit Libia.
[Title {Pioneer} assists your actions.]
With the Pioneer's aid, my sword traced the optimal path to exploit the faint—but unmistakable—opening in her minimized guard.
Screeech-!
Libia's precise, stable sword path twisted abruptly with a grating scrape of metal.
"Ugh-"
Her wrist couldn't handle the sudden deviation; she lost her grip, a faint groan of pain escaping her lips.
As her sword flew helplessly from her hand and clattered to the ground,
"Sparring ends-!"
Kael's shout echoed across the training ground, signaling the conclusion.
The Asura Sword was the pinnacle of offense—
more precisely, offense that completely ignored defense.
Having forsaken defense,
it demanded unrelenting pressure to deny the enemy any openings—the most crucial aspect.
'But it's no good for Libia.'
It wasn't a matter of talent.
The Asura Sword was crafted by the Sword Saint solely for himself, tailored to his nature.
Just as everyone has their own fitting swordsmanship,
the Asura Sword simply didn't suit Libia.
"Argh... Yeah, it still doesn't work..."
Rubbing her slightly sore wrist, Libia spoke with evident regret.
She didn't voice that the sword style was ill-suited to her.
It was a fact she knew, and so did her master, the Sword Saint—
which was why she'd enrolled in Imperial Swordsmanship Studies.
To experience various styles and find her own.
"You okay?"
"This much is fine. Still, I thought you wouldn't break through that level... You're amazing as always, Aden!"
Her Asura Sword was impressive indeed.
Those minimized openings were incredibly hard to pierce with my current physical abilities,
and probably few among the first-years could do so.
"Mm! Excellent sparring from both of you! That said, Libia cadet, that swordsmanship looks quite dangerous for real combat-!"
As the spar ended, Kael hopped onto the arena and spoke up.
He began warning Libia about the risks of her style.
A swordsmanship that abandoned defense for ceaseless offense was perfect for getting yourself killed in actual battle,
so cautioning his cadet was only natural for a professor.
"Good thing you seem aware of it! Now, both of you, continue sparring with the other cadets-!"
With a brief warning to Libia, Kael resumed patrolling the training ground to oversee the other matches.
"He's so full of passion!"
Libia sidled up beside me, and I nodded in agreement.
He really was brimming with enthusiasm.
"Um... Excuse me! Libia, would you spar with me...?"
"Sure! Be right back, Aden!"
A timid-looking girl approached Libia for a spar, and they headed to an arena together.
'She's grown a lot, though.'
Watching Libia go, I replayed our match.
Compared to last week, her mana manipulation had improved markedly, and her sword paths were more refined.
Her slump resolved, Libia was steadily progressing.
"Aden. Spar with me."
As I reflected,
a challenge came from behind, turning my head.
'Ah... This is bad.'
No hostile glares awaited me.
Just people fired up from watching my spars.
Despite my efforts to look intimidating to deter them...
Rest during this lecture seemed impossible.
'Whatever... Just enjoy it!'
Accepting the inevitable, I decided to have fun.
'I'll slam them into the ground one by one.'
Right now, I was the professor of Practical Combat Studies.
After Imperial Swordsmanship class ended,
Libia Clawit and Aden walked back to the dorms together.
"Wow... I've never sparred with so many people at once before..."
The first lesson of Imperial Swordsmanship featured sparring.
Far more students than expected had swarmed them for matches, leaving her utterly exhausted.
"Yeah... Such incredible passion..."
Aden replied in a weary voice, feeling the same.
Of course, neither had struggled against individual opponents.
She'd ended her spars swiftly with her master's style, just like against Aden,
while Aden dodged the first strike like Professor Elina and slammed foes down for quick victories.
The issue was sheer numbers.
They finished matches rapidly, drawing endless challengers eager for glory.
They'd faced 16 in total—15 excluding Aden—nearly half of the 40 students.
Exhaustion was inevitable.
Still, she'd gained insights from the spars.
'Master's sword just doesn't suit me.'
Most crucially, her master's style didn't fit her—
a fact she'd heard from him and vaguely sensed herself,
but confirmed starkly in her bout with Aden.
'It's impossible against stronger foes...'
No other cadet had pierced her openings,
but conversely, those stronger than her could.
'I need to find my own swordsmanship soon...'
To prepare for the looming crisis alongside Aden,
she thought, trudging wearily beside him.
The dorms came into view before long.
"The dorms already!"
She spoke brightly, but inwardly felt regret.
'Ah... I spent the walk lost in thought and barely talked...'
Wasted time thinking had cost her conversation with Aden, leaving her wistful,
but with no excuse to stall, she prepared to part ways...
'Confess and tell me how it goes.'
Isabel's words flashed in her mind, and she instinctively called out.
"Hey, Aden...!"
"Yeah?"
Aden turned back at her call.
'Why the hell did I call him-!!'
Even she hadn't expected the impulsive outburst; she wanted to scream.
She'd called out from reluctance to part, but her mouth wouldn't open easily.
'Afraid to confess, huh?'
Isabel's teasing voice echoed in her head.
'Who's afraid...!'
"Um...!"
Steeling herself against the mental taunt, she started to speak,
but Aden's questioning gaze—those empty eyes—froze her.
What if they turned to bewilderment or annoyance?
What if rejection spilled from those lips? Fear gripped her...
"Uh... Never mind! See you tomorrow! Bye, Aden!"
She couldn't say what she wanted.
"Pfft... Yeah, bye, Libia."
Aden gave a faint smile and resumed walking to the dorms.
"Ah..."
A sigh laced with quiet regret escaped her.
'Afraid to confess, huh?'
Isabel was right.
She feared confessing to Aden out of sheer cowardice.
Rejection terrified her,
and losing even their friendship afterward scared her more.
Crushed by those emotions, her mouth had stayed shut before him.
"Pfft... What a coward I am..."
A hollow laugh mingled with regret and self-deprecation as she muttered,
then turned toward her dorm.