Serena Yohayden (3)
A night bathed in the clear, silvery glow of the full moon.
Serena, changed into her training attire, and Zeke, in his usual military uniform, stepped out into the courtyard.
Zeke crossed his arms and scrutinized her form.
Her entire body was rigid with tension.
"Don't tense up so much. This is just a light check. Show me your swordsmanship first."
"Y-yes, sir!"
With a soft shing, a sword slid from the sheath at Serena's waist.
She closed her eyes deeply, steadied her breath, and assumed her stance.
She had never formally studied swordsmanship under a master.
But the White Tiger Knights of the Yohayden Dukedom were one of the empire's premier elite forces.
She had eavesdropped on their training methods and routines, committing them to memory.
She had stolen glances at the training grounds, memorizing their techniques.
For seven years, every dawn when everyone else slept, she had slipped into the backyard and sweated buckets.
She had gritted her teeth through the grueling hours, swinging her sword relentlessly.
Now, performing that hard-earned swordsmanship before a true master filled her with tension,
but she was confident.
Effort never betrayed her.
Suuup—
Her sword traced an impossibly fluid arc from above down,
slicing smoothly through the empty air as her sword dance began.
Her body bent like a reed in the wind.
Taang!
She stomped the ground.
Serena's form shot skyward, sword whipping through the air.
The blade thrust sharply three times in midair before curving gracefully.
Shwaaak!
"Haat!"
Serena let out a spirited cry, arms spread wide as she spun in a whirlwind.
Like a bird unfolding its wings mid-dive, her sword flowed seamlessly.
Taak.
She landed lightly, dropping low and stamping the earth.
A predatory strike to rip at an enemy's ankles—like a beast in combat!
'Yongmaeng Hotu!'
Without pause, she released the sword from her right hand,
catching it in her left and swinging again.
Once, twice, three times, four.
Spinning her body, she unleashed a brutal barrage that would grind foes to dust!
'Hota Cheon!'
Undeterred, she thrust backward to guard against rear enemies,
twisting the hilt to finish them utterly.
The blade evoked the fangs of a white tiger, dripping with a predator's menace along its path.
'Baek-a!!!'
Serena fought her imaginary foes as if they stood before her,
gnashing her teeth and unleashing killing blows.
A few more vigorous swings followed.
Moonlight lingered at her sword's tip,
making it seem as if light itself flowed along the edge.
Hah—
Hah—
Suuup—
Serena steadied her heaving chest and sheathed her sword.
'Weird... my sword path felt so clear tonight? Is it because Instructor's watching!?'
Her body extended perfectly as intended,
and the power in her sword tip was the finest she'd ever achieved in her dances.
She'd worried about mistakes, but honestly, even she thought it was flawless.
Moves that usually faltered flowed like water.
'If Father saw me like this... maybe he'd change his mind!'
Serena's eyes sparkled as she looked at Zeke.
"H-how was it?"
*
'Hmm... what the hell is this?'
Zeke struggled to grasp what Serena had just done.
He furrowed his brow, trying his best to comprehend the sword intent.
'...Wait, could this be!? Flailing Swordsmanship!?'
He couldn't understand it.
Why waste movements so pointlessly?
Why pull back a drawn sword path instead of committing fully?
The swinging tip wobbled, its target unclear.
One moment she spun, exposing her back—enough to make some inner voice scream.
'A wound on the back is a swordsman's shame!!!'
Zeke swallowed a rising sigh.
This was... truly painful to watch.
Even in a romance fantasy world, sword basics should hold.
Just looking pretty or flashy didn't make a good sword.
Flashy techniques had ranks, and even simple thrusts needed meaning.
'It's not even meant to dazzle foes... what is this...'
This swordsmanship...
'Hell, can you even call it swordsmanship?'
Zeke tilted his head.
How to fix this total disaster?
Confirmation first.
He asked Serena, who was catching her breath.
"Serena, just one question first."
"Yes, Instructor!"
"Did you learn swordsmanship from anyone specific?"
"No! I self-taught by stealing the knights' techniques!"
"Ah, so that's why... No, even then..."
Serena grew uneasy at Zeke's furrowed brow and mumbling.
'Hmm. I thought my White Tiger Swordsmanship was pretty good... But to a master's eyes, it's lacking, huh...?'
After pondering, he dropped a bombshell.
"First off, you need to change your sword."
"Pardon!?"
"That sword's probably made for men, right?"
"...Yes."
Serena gazed at the sword in her hand.
The first gift she'd bought herself with saved pocket money on her birthday.
Seven years of daytime studies and predawn secret swings with this blade.
Its sky-blue hilt, like her eyes, was wrapped in well-worn cloth,
and the polished blade gleamed mirror-smooth from daily care.
'This sword's precious to me...'
"It doesn't suit you."
"..."
Serena couldn't meekly accept Zeke's words.
Even self-taught without a master, it was seven years.
Changing swords now?
How could he say it so casually?
It felt infuriating.
Unaware or uncaring of her feelings,
Zeke continued coldly.
"Wield a rapier."
"How can you tell just by looking!!!?"
For the first time, Serena raised her voice—even during lessons, her tone had been gentle.
Zeke had ruthlessly struck her reverse scale.
'A rapier, of all things.'
A rapier sacrificed slashing for thrusting, thin and light by comparison.
Even as a one-hander, it wasn't that light in practice.
Rapiers suited duels or small groups of humans.
Not knights facing monsters or hordes.
She aimed for a true knight's sword,
yet his words sounded like treating it as a noble hobby.
"I'll never use a rapier."
*
'This is tricky.'
Did Zeke not understand Serena's reluctance for a rapier?
But he'd recommended it thoughtfully.
It wasn't about build or strength.
Her sword was fundamentally incompatible with her.
Bones, reflexes, flexibility, muscles.
Nothing suited heavy swinging.
She'd likely sensed it subconsciously.
That frustration drove her aimlessly to the academy.
'But with my help, it's possible.'
Zeke had collected and mastered countless sword styles in his dark fantasy days.
Among them: women's rapier arts.
Heavenly Flow Sword.
'One of those angel bitches used it. Tried learning it myself—nearly neutered in the process since it was women-only.'
Zeke shuddered at the memory.
A rapier style relying little on the body, augmented by magic for movement.
Mana use essential, of course.
'On Earth, no chance... but here.'
Zeke could sense mana in this romance fantasy world, unlike Earth.
He'd wondered if it was his dark fantasy origins,
but no.
His studies included magic theory,
and here, mana existed—recognized, if rare.
Mages were few,
and mana tools exorbitantly pricey for royalty only,
but mana was usable.
Mana: power wrought from mana, a miracle transcending racial limits.
'Teach proper mana cultivation, master it with Heavenly Flow Sword...'
Even mismatched for swords,
she'd wield any blade,
and a thin rapier would gain durability and power.
'With mana here, why's the swordsmanship such shit?'
Romance fantasy vibes—knights overlooked it.
'No, then swordplay should be cleaner, simpler. What's with swinging without mana...!'
Zeke realized why he'd possessed here.
This world's swordsmanship was a mess.
Damn romance fantasy.
He glanced aside.
Serena still gripped her sword stubbornly.
'...How to handle this.'
If she were a stranger, Zeke would've ignored her.
No need to force a sword change.
But Serena was the one who'd reached out in this world.
'...Without her, that granny general would've fleeced me, leaving me homeless and starving. Saved me from being the academy's first vagrant instructor. Taught me common sense too.'
Keep flailing like that, her body would break.
He couldn't stand by.
Zeke made a ruthless call.
'Gotta break her completely once.'
"Serena."
"..."
Zeke called, but she puffed her cheeks, silent.
"Sulking?"
"I'm not!"
She trembled, eyes reddening like she'd burst into tears.
'She's sulking...'
Zeke smacked his lips.
"I didn't say it to bully you."
"Then what!"
"You can be a knight with a rapier. Strong enough for any monster."
"Liar!"
Even truth fell on deaf ears— this would take longer.
Zeke sighed, pondering.
Haa—
'As long as she drops the sword... Just this once, exception. She's my benefactor.'
Zeke plucked a small flower from the wall.
He approached Serena, flower in hand.
A man holding a flower against the moonlit backdrop. A woman before him, sword raised in confusion.
To an outsider, it might look like a confession.
Knowing what his sword could do, Zeke had no choice.
"Come at me, then."
*
'What is Instructor doing right now?'
Serena panicked. Rapier knighthood? Now plucking flowers and challenging her?
Was he a con artist?
'But the academy roster had Zeke Clayman as sword instructor.'
She'd confirmed it herself.
Still, facing a sword with one flower? Unheard of in tales.
Flowers were flowers—common wall decoration, no less.
A light swing would snap or slice it.
Common sense.
'Some deeper meaning? Dodge and land no hits? No, not Instructor's style.'
Doubt filled her eyes, but
their time together urged one more trust.
Though no rapier switch.
Zeke held a dainty purple flower seriously.
A matching violet flower pinned her hair.
'Violets... my favorite...'
Serena met his gaze.
"Instructor."
"Yes."
He nodded understandingly.
"Honestly, I have no idea what you're doing."
"Figured."
"But I don't think you'd act without reason. So, trusting you so far, I'll go for it."
"Good. Come on."
Words done, Serena stomped and charged.
"Haat!"