The Bastard of Swordsmanship

Enlightenment. Baurer's Sword. Although I had never encountered it directly in the game, I remembered what it was because I had read such an impressive description of it on the wiki.

"The Bastard of Swordsmanship.""The Hybrid of Assassination Arts and Swordsmanship.""As one can tell from these harsh terms, it faces blatant contempt and discrimination among nobles, especially swordsmanship families." If nothing else, I remembered that one phrase clearly: "the hybrid of assassination arts and swordsmanship."

I focused on that. A swordsmanship style combined with assassination arts. If I, who possessed the talent of an assassin, looked at it, wouldn't I gain some kind of enlightenment? I felt a vague yet powerful conviction. And so, leading up to this very moment—the instant Miz showed me Baurer's Sword—

Bingo. I cheered inwardly. My prediction was spot on. The moment I witnessed Baurer's Sword, enlightenment washed over me. It wasn't just a simple realization; it was a massive breakthrough, a stroke of absolute serendipity.

I didn't expect it to be this profound. It was said that Baurer's Sword had abandoned its identity as an assassination art in order to integrate into polite society. Indeed, even to my assassin's eyes, Baurer's Sword looked close to standard ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠swordsmanship. No, it was swordsmanship itself.

The identity of Assassination Arts lies in 'interference'—or rather, 'negation' of the opponent. While swordsmanship is entirely a technique to make oneself stronger, assassination arts make oneself stronger and then go a step further to make the opponent weaker. To achieve this, it directly interferes with the opponent's presence-detection, senses, and mana through mana manipulation and physical movements. It thoroughly negates the opponent.

The difference between assassination arts and swordsmanship was clearly revealed in the footwork Miz had just shown, the Shell Drawing, and Aidrin's reaction to it. "Oh...!" Aidrin had gasped in admiration. But what if Shell Drawing had been a footwork technique rooted in pure assassination arts? "Huh...?" Aidrin's reaction would have been one of sheer bewilderment.

Just like that, Baurer's Sword superficially appeared to take the form of assassination arts, but its foundation was thoroughly set in the realm of swordsmanship. Even so, scattered throughout Baurer's Sword were the subtle principles of assassination arts that could not be completely erased—lingering fragments. To my eyes, those fragments were visible. It was even possible for me to assign meaning and connection to those fragments, linking them together as one.

Once I did, a skeletal framework was formed. The principles of Baurer's Sword adjacent to that framework were absorbed into it, fleshing it out. Right now, within me, Baurer's Sword was taking shape moment by moment. Slowly, but surely.

For instance, at this very moment, I had grasped a rough understanding of Baurer's Sword and swordsmanship in general. And all it took was witnessing the foundational footwork of Baurer's Sword—just once, right before my eyes.

Does this even make sense? Even to me, it was utterly absurd.

The sheer weight of those simple, dry words felt as though it had materialized, pressing down heavily on my shoulders.

"..." I caught sight of Miz, her expressionless face practically screaming with a thousand unasked questions. How much effort had Miz poured in to reach the level of achievement I had just casually attained? Surely, her effort was as vast as the shock she was feeling right now.

And what about my effort? All I did was sit in front of my computer with my chin propped on my hand, clicking away during character creation, thinking, Whoa, this trait is insane. A bitter taste coated my mouth. It felt like using a cheat code in a game where everyone else was competing fairly.

Though, it is pretty thrilling. It would be a lie to say I didn't feel a single shred of superiority.

Can't I just think of it as being born with a silver spoon? Rich kids brag about their inheritance all the time. I tried to rationalize it to fully enjoy the superiority guilt-free. Yet, the bitter taste lingering in my mouth wouldn't completely fade.

It was fine when I got a free pass on assassination arts and black magic through my traits. Assassins and black mages were all complete bastards anyway. But getting a free pass on swordsmanship and Baurer's Sword? There was no excuse for that. It dealt direct damage to my conscience.

After agonizing internally for a moment like someone suffering from mental constipation, I gave up. Ah, screw it. Who cares. If something is good, it's good. What could be stupider than pretending to be deep and righteous, forcing myself to feel guilty over something I didn't need to?

I'm just going to be shameless. Ignoring the pangs of my conscience, I decided to focus on my bright future.

If I could maintain this rate of growth, I might be able to secure a decent score on the entrance exam and, by extension, establish a respectable position within the Academy.

Before the exam, I thought just getting admitted would be enough. That was a mistake. The events of this exam flashed through my mind. The bastards who tried to drag me down by any means necessary when I ranked first—wait, Lady Aidrin, why are you in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that group? Anyway.

On top of that, those who targeted me, the relatively weak one, just to drag Aidrin down. Those who spread malicious rumors about me. Those who readily believed those rumors, looking down on me and discriminating against me. In this exam, I was the target of all kinds of injustice. In this Academy, I was the target of all kinds of injustice. It was because I had nothing. No prestigious family to back me up. No outstanding abilities to show off.

Injustices that I thought I would never have to deal with again once I somehow entered and graduated from the Academy. Those injustices were aggressively rubbing up against me like drunk guys hitting on girls at a club.

Getting into the Academy somehow, following the quests somehow, graduating somehow, and living a mediocre, ordinary life. That life, which I had believed would be perfect, might actually turn out to be incredibly pathetic. It might be riddled with all kinds of injustice, discomfort, and absurdity.

Therefore, maintaining my current mindset was a bad idea. "Oh, I have black magic and assassination arts, so I'll get by somehow~" That kind of complacent attitude had to go.

What I needed right now was power. A power I could proudly display in public, unlike assassination arts or black magic. Three main things came to mind: Academy grades, swordsmanship skills, and magic skills.

Therefore, a change of plans. I would establish the highest possible standing in this entrance exam—no, in the entire Academy. By achieving the absolute best results in both swordsmanship and magic.

First, the entrance exam. First, swordsmanship.

"How was it? I tried copying it." Sillon, who had returned to his original spot after performing the footwork, asked Miz.

"..." Miz replayed his movement—the Shell Drawing—over and over in her mind. Each time she did, her head tilted further in confusion. Finally, she nodded as if she had barely managed to make sense of it.

"Hmm. A fluke. You just got lucky." It was a highly reasonable ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠conclusion. The complex principles of Baurer's Sword, which blended assassination arts and swordsmanship, were incredibly difficult to grasp. Even those born with the perfect aptitude meeting the Baurer family's standards took years of training to internalize those principles and manifest them in their movements.

Furthermore, the principles of Baurer's Sword were fundamentally different from those of any other swordsmanship style. No matter how outstanding a swordsman was, they had to learn it step-by-step from the very beginning. Even an Academy instructor wouldn't be able to perform the Shell Drawing overnight. Yet, this goofy man had done it? It was impossible.

But— "Just in case. Do it again. Retry. This time, I'm going to focus completely." Miz concentrated all her senses on Sillon's movements. Her petite frame leaned forward slightly, as if trying to watch from as close as possible.

She swept back her light blue hair that had fallen over her shoulders, then crossed her arms. She looked as though she wouldn't budge an inch until Sillon moved.

"Shall I?" Sillon shrugged and executed the Shell Drawing once more.

"..." Soon, Miz's eyes, which had been wide open for a long time, blinked rapidly as if to make up for it. Very intensely. She had been certain that Sillon's Shell Drawing this time would be different from his previous attempt. That prediction was only half right.

The Shell Drawing Sillon displayed this time was indeed different from the last. It was a Shell Drawing that had evolved to an even higher level.

"Miz! Is he... is he actually doing it right?!" Aidrin's eyes went wide as she watched Sillon's footwork. Even to Aidrin, who was a complete novice to Baurer's Sword, Sillon's movements were clearly extraordinary.

"Unbelievable..." Miz muttered blankly, far more shocked than Aidrin. "What... are you?" Miz stared at Sillon, her face showing a rare display of emotion.

"Oh, this reaction?! Did you two—by any chance—just see me in a new light? Hahaha. Gosh, this is a bit embarrassing." He scratched the back of his head with a goofy grin. His frivolous, lighthearted demeanor was exactly the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠same as always.

"..." "..." Yet, to the two girls, he seemed incredibly foreign right now. The way he remained so nonchalant, as if nothing had happened, after pulling off something so utterly impossible.

"Why on earth is it doing this..." Her hair, which she had painstakingly tied up, was almost completely undone, with stray strands sticking out everywhere. It was a lifeless grey, like dusty silver. Her hair was damp (?), and her skin was dry and flaky. Dark circles hung heavily beneath her glasses. Her entire appearance was a testament to how much work she had been saddled with for this Academy entrance exam, and how severely she was being overworked.

Miyen, the assistant to Professor Megan of the Academy's Magic Engineering Department. She was squatting down, staring at something with an incredibly grave expression. It was the golem used specifically for measuring mana sensitivity during the first exam.

"You said it suddenly ended up like this after measuring Drin Libringer's mana sensitivity, right?" Miyen asked the proctor who had been in charge of the golem during the first exam.

"Yes, that's correct. When we measured Lady Drin Libringer's mana sensitivity, it emitted an incredible light, and then it suddenly shut down as if it had exhausted all its power. Ah, as expected of Lady Drin Libri—"

"Is that all?"

"Pardon? Yes?"

"I'm asking if it shut down immediately after measuring Drin Libringer's mana sensitivity and emitting that bright light." Miyen, her face exhausted, asked in a lethargic yet irritable tone.

"Ah... Ah! Well, I think we did run one more mana sensitivity measurement before it completely shut down."

"Then, the golem breaking down didn't actually happen after measuring Drin Libringer's mana sensitivity. It happened after measuring the next participant's, correct?"

"I-I suppose so?"

"What number was it?"

"Pardon?"

"The participant. What was their number?"

"Uh..."

"...What number was Drin Libringer?"

"Ah, I believe Lady Drin Libringer was number 347."

Miyen stood up and immediately headed somewhere. "Number 348..." she muttered the number with a grim face.