The One I Must Crush Underfoot
The day after our public confrontation, while I sat through basic swordsmanship lectures, I once again felt it in my bones.
I realized my lack of talent for the sword wasn’t just a bit lacking—it was nonexistent, and I still didn’t know how to break through.
If I had truly known nothing, it wouldn’t have been this frustrating.
Right now, every movement of my opponent was clear to me: how they would shift, which path their attack would take, whether to defend or strike at the exact moment.
Yet the moment I tried, my body went soft like damp cotton.
I was clearly moving at full speed, but before I could finish my motion, their blade was already slashing at me, or they’d locked into defense and every strike I launched was parried away.
I wanted so much, but I simply couldn’t do it.
I wanted a 10, and all my body could manage was a 1.
I had felt this since childhood, and it had been true up to now.
This was simply too much. Calling it a “genius” was already being generous.
“Alright, that’s enough for today. Thank you all for your hard work. Even as a member of the Literary Division, you need at least some basic defensive techniques to protect your body, so don’t take this lightly and train seriously.”
Professor Stafen Salz von Burg wrapped up the basic swordsmanship lecture.
It wasn’t exactly a lecture; it was more like training, but since swordsmanship’s true value lay in practice rather than theory, the very act of swinging our blades together at each other was the lecture itself.
I greeted my peer who had been sparring with me, both of us breathing hard.
Swordsmanship wasn’t just about measuring who was stronger—it was also about learning a little about manners and magnanimity: the grace of the winner and the graciousness of the loser.
As expected, defeat had again fallen to me.
“Student Lucian.”
I was stepping forward to reset my stance when Professor Stafen caught my arm.
It was so unexpected that I wondered if something was wrong.
Had I made a mistake during the swing?
Or was it because of yesterday’s duel with Rie?
“You seem a little different from usual.”
“Huh?”
“Different from what you’ve shown in every previous class.”
“P-professor… I don’t quite understand…”
“Your posture was firm, your mind clear, no trace of anxiety or impatience—until today. Something happened? Did you learn something from the duel with Rie?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I just… realized how completely lacking my skills are.”
As Professor Stafen had said, my swordsmanship was still terrible, but there had never been a hint of despair in my eyes.
I simply couldn’t achieve the impossible, no matter how hard I tried.
Instead, I focused on everything I truly could improve, switched my path, and gave my absolute best in swordsmanship and magic.
However, I had been whispering sweet nothings to Rie in secret—words far too intimate for anyone else to hear—and since yesterday I had learned that Forbes, that madman, kept harassing her.
From the very moment I decided I had to defeat that Martial Division idiot once and for all.
My body had begun filling with an unnatural power, my mind growing restless.
Even knowing that adding desperation to an already wretched level of ability would only make the result worse, Rie’s face kept flashing before my eyes and I couldn’t calm myself.
Meanwhile, Professor Stafen approached and studied me for a moment before speaking.
“First-year representative Rie Arche von Haniel is clearly a remarkable student. She matches the level of a knight who has already been knighted for some time. That is talent, Lucian.”
“Talent… yes.”
“Physical strength—the driving force that makes you swing a sword and clash with an enemy—can grow however you want through your own effort. That’s not really talent; it’s the result of pure hard work. But swordsmanship inevitably follows a bit of talent on top of effort.”
“Then, Professor, does that mean I have no talent at all?”
“I can’t say for certain. I’m neither a Sword Master nor a knight or master swordsman of that caliber. But I will say this one thing clearly: the advice I’m giving you—the one you’re receiving now—is because you’re showing real passion for the sword and the same kind of urgency.”
Professor Stafen reached out and gently took the wooden sword from my hand.
He spun it once in the air, set it back down, and continued.
“The proverb says, ‘When you’re in a hurry, turn around.’ Some people call it nonsense, but in a situation like this, the advice is exactly what you need, Lucian. No desperation. Concentrate instead. Remember how far you’ve come, the path you’ve already walked. Leave room to look back. It’s not ‘I just want to become stronger.’ Why do you want to become stronger? Why do you want to go further? That’s the important part. Don’t look too far ahead—set your eyes on the goal right in front of you, the one you can see. And take one steady step at a time.”
It wasn’t empty encouragement.
I understood that Professor Stafen truly cared about me and was offering advice without reserve.
It wasn’t just to become strong—I had to understand why I wanted to be strong, and then move forward.
I nodded repeatedly while murmuring the professor’s words to myself.
The fog that had filled my mind all day had finally begun to clear.
“Thank you, Professor. Your advice has been very helpful.”
“If it helped, then I should thank you. I’m grateful that a student as talented as you received it.”
I wondered whether, even if not to the extent of the old days, everyone at Minerva Academy was now singing the song “Minerva Academy, Minerva Academy.”
Some professors even found the title “Professor” too cheap, like Egmast, but the rest—given their reputation as the kingdom’s finest educators—were clearly excelling at teaching and guiding students.
I would have to send something as a gift to the von Burg barony, Stafen’s family.
If the professor had been watching over even a genius like me with such care and offering advice, then as a student I had to try even harder, and as a noble I had to repay him.
*It would be a bribe if given directly to him, but sending it through the family name with a fitting reason would count as a mutual exchange between noble houses.*
After the basic swordsmanship lecture ended, I stepped back inside and my eyes immediately fell on the shimmering golden hair.
Looking down, I saw a girl standing with her usual stiff lips and sharp eyes.
Rie was holding the wooden sword out silently, expression locked in place to avoid any misunderstanding.
Yet beneath that rigid face, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was smiling.
“You said you were a little injured yesterday, but you don’t seem to be in any discomfort. Shall we train today as well?”
She was speaking so stiffly that anyone watching would have mistaken us for a pair of ill-matched enemies growling at each other.
Because there were always some Literary Division students who hated sword training, I used that excuse.
I was trying to appear as though I were genuinely teaching my peer a lesson about complaining during sword practice.
Even though my acting skills weren’t excellent, Rie was pouring every ounce of her effort into the performance.
I couldn’t add fuel to her “flame” without sympathy, so I matched her tone.
I looked rather annoyed and irritated, wondering why I had to do this at all.
To make sure the other Martial Division peers who knew Rie well wouldn’t worry—“She’s going to get beaten up for real!”—I made sure to sell the act perfectly to everyone.
I led the way to the sparring hall where we could swing our swords freely together.
Watching another person’s swordsmanship openly without even being the one facing it was rude, so Minerva Academy had carefully arranged private training spaces.
Given Rie’s level of skill, it would be easy to tell if anyone was secretly following us and watching.
I faced her exactly as I had yesterday.
Before drawing my wooden sword, I lightly loosened my body.
Rie, who had been staring at me, suddenly spoke.
“…You seem different today.”
“Hm?”
“Different. Lucian, there’s something different about you compared to yesterday.”
As expected from the academy’s genius and prospective Sword Master, she had read my mind just from my posture.
In truth, nothing had really changed—I had simply thought a little differently.
A sudden thought crossed my mind: what future would unfold if I lied to her right now?
…It would be better not to think about it.
When Rie gripped her wooden sword, I corrected my own grip on the one she had handed me.
Yesterday I had swung wildly, gotten a lucky strike to the head, and blacked out, but now that I had a clear goal, I felt a new spark of passion.
“Rie.”
“Yes, Lucian.”
“I don’t know about the rest, but one definite goal has appeared.”
“A goal?”
Rie tilted her head, clearly confused.
I couldn’t imagine her saying something ridiculous like “I want to surpass you.”
She looked at me with curious eyes, wondering how I could have gained a goal in just one day.
“That mad senior. Forbes Eel von Crescent. You said he’s in the Martial Division?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“How is he? Be honest. Don’t give me any abstract answers like ‘he’s not bad for a senior.’ Tell me straight from the perspective of the academy genius and prospective Sword Master: what do you think of him?”
“I wanted to tell you honestly…”
Rie blinked slowly.
Then she let out a very heavy sigh, the kind that carried real weight.
It was as if she were muttering, “Do I really have to say this? If I do, it’ll just ruin the mood…”
“If there’s something bothering you, you don’t have to say it…”
“It’s the worst. No, maybe even worse.”
“…?”
“Being in the same Martial Division feels shameful. The very fact that I have to swing the same sword with someone like that is ridiculous. Without talent or effort, yet he acts and speaks as if he has them. It makes me sick.”
“….”
I had never seen Rie express such raw disgust before.
I knew she could soften it and rephrase it politely if she wanted.
Even I knew how cultured and morally upright Rie was at the academy.
For her to curse so freely, that mad noble from the Crescent family truly deserved the title.
Had my words carried even the tiniest spark of hope, I would have felt a pang of guilt.
But fortunately, our Forbes wasn’t normal enough to reach that level, so I was glad.
“You seem unusually angry.”
“You would be too. Men who can only show incompetence no matter what they do, who keep annoying me, and on top of that, you dare to speak so rudely to me…”
Rie’s face showed pure excitement, the kind that could erupt into outright violence at any moment.
The thought crossed my mind that she might suddenly snap and yell, “I’m going to smash that madman’s head open!”
“Calm down, Rie. Calm down! Don’t get too worked up.”
“Huuu… Anyway, when I have the chance, I plan to contact my family formally. I cannot accept the engagement. Forbes senior is completely unsuitable for the Haniel family. And why did you ask that all of a sudden?”
“I want to step on him.”
“Hm?”
“That idiot who claims to be the worst, yet still has the pride of being a Martial Division student. The one I used to hear slandering me as a defeated soldier, a worthless coward. I want to step on him myself.”