The Way to Grip the Sword
Unlike in the game, the festival proceeded as scheduled. They'd killed the monster that fed on fear and grew stronger in one shot, after all. The academy didn't seem to have figured it out completely either.
"But Master, is it really okay for you to be sitting this out while everyone's having fun?"
"Of course. I've had my fill anyway."
The club had exceeded the minimum membership, and they'd dealt with the intangible bastard too. Letting Luel—who hadn't gotten to enjoy yesterday properly—rest, while he took a break himself? Couldn't ask for better.
He answered Lilia naturally as he glanced down at the staff in his hand and set it aside.
Even the hell-spawns went out to play on festival days, it seemed. The usually bustling physical training room held only him.
Feels like I rented out the whole gym. Not bad at all?
Above all, no sign of that protein villain bastard. The guy from the knight department was always churning out handmade protein shakes like it was his job.
"But you've gotten a lot stronger in such a short time."
"Yeah, well. Been a lot of incidents."
He hadn't expected this growth rate himself. He'd thought hitting 5th Circle before the semester ended would be fast. Who knew the Seal of Original Sin—a trait he'd never seen before—would have him eyeing 6th Circle already.
At this pace, could I really reach Star Manifestation?
Star Manifestation. A truly distant realm. Even in the game, you barely hit it right before the ending.
Once there, he could live without a care in the world.
Sigh... Anyway, time to start prepping the physical side too.
Magic as a one-trick pony had worked fine so far... but without Star Manifestation, there'd definitely be limits. Plus, wasting his Heavenly Martial Body would be a shame.
"Lilia."
"Yes?"
"Can't teach me swordsmanship or anything?"
"...Nah, that's not my specialty."
"Figured as much."
Demons didn't use non-magic combat skills to begin with. Magic was plenty, and they were born strong enough not to need techniques. Outside a few oddballs, most stuck to spells.
Gonna have to carve out time during break for the Valley of the Dead or something.
Grab a sword manual there, and he could train solo...
Clank.
As he shook off stray thoughts to resume his workout, the training room door swung open. An unfamiliar voice echoed in his ears.
"Here, just as they said. The kid was right."
A voice heavy enough to make his body tremble just from hearing it.
"Master. That human's dangerous. We can't win..."
"I know. No fighting."
Steadying his breath, he locked eyes on the lone man approaching. Towering over 190 cm, with white hair tied back and a long scar slashing under his eye. The bare-handed dragon-slayer vibe left his jaw hanging.
"You know who I am."
The man let out a mad grin at his reaction.
"I do."
"Good?"
In an instant—snick. The grin cut off cold, eyes sharpening like blades.
Why the hell is this crazy old coot here?
If the continent had to name its top swordsman, folks picked one of two.
Luel's master, who rose to the peak with a single blade.
The Sword Star.
And...
Unlike the benevolent, righteous Sword Star, the one who wielded a notched, rusted sword and butchered a dragon.
The sword-mad old coot.
The Sword Demon, Reinhardt.
That man was staring right at him.
"Unexpected."
"Pardon?"
"Folks who know me usually tremble."
Reinhardt rolled his eyes with interest.
Crazy old bastard.
"I'm too tense to tremble right now."
"That so? Tense, eh..."
Reinhardt stroked his chin beard with his left hand, resting his right on the hilt.
Shing.
In a flash, the sword whipped out.
Whooooosh!!!!!!!!!!!!
A massive wind pressure hit, his left arm feeling sliced clean off with the chill. Just one swing, and a shallow cut bloomed on his cheek.
"Tense? You call that tense?"
"Ah."
Caught off guard, he'd instinctively spun up his circle. Aside from the cheek, not a scratch anywhere.
Too many close calls lately—body reacted on autopilot?
"Interesting. Very interesting. Now I get why the kid sent you my way."
"The kid...?"
"Luel. Heard she's your friend?"
Ah. So the old coot had gone to Luel.
In the game, Sword Demon kept trying to poach Sword Star's disciple Luel.
Her talent was that brilliant.
No option to join Sword Demon, but... this was a golden chance, right?
He'd planned to learn the sword anyway. Why not apprentice under the Sword Demon?
Best pick, considering he rivaled the Sword Star.
"Elder."
"Hm? What?"
"I want to learn the sword from you."
In a flash, Reinhardt's stiff expression cracked into that mad grin again.
"Kahahahaha!!! The sword? From me?"
"Yes."
"Smart kid."
Best call, even by his own judgment.
Swordsmanship would grow with proficiency, sure... but basics were key. No solid foundation, no real progress.
"Fine. But..."
"Yes?"
"Endure 10 minutes from now, and I'll teach you my secret arts."
"...Endure 10 minutes?"
Sword Demon's secret arts? No way.
He'd figured basics at best. 10 minutes or not, he had to grab this.
"From the moment you spoke, it's on."
Reinhardt fixed him with killing-intent eyes.
Hand on hilt, aura coiling.
Won't kill, but no holding back.
"Lilia."
"Yes."
"Wanna sync up after so long?"
"Hehe. Sounds fun!"
*******
A single notched, rusted sword.
The man called the Sword Demon began with it.
A reality where he struggled not to die.
A reality where comrades dropped like flies.
In that brutal world, all Reinhardt had was that rusted sword.
'All meaningless. Gonna die anyway.'
From some day, that's how he thought. He found meaning in swinging the sword.
If everything died and left nothing, at least he'd find himself in the blade that started with him.
Not some rusted junk—his last shred of humanity.
From then, Reinhardt became sword-mad.
Swinging daily without fail, seeking out other sword wielders.
Learning swords, finding life's meaning in the swing.
One day, it hit him.
'No sword, no fun.'
The world bored him. Fun faded quick, back to the blade.
The one thrill: crossing swords with a worthy foe.
So he clashed with the Sword Star.
So he slew the dragon.
A journey to soothe boredom and purpose.
He'd sought Luel for that reason too.
To fully inherit his sword.
'But that quick-footed bastard snagged her first. Thought it was over.'
Reinhardt couldn't help but admire Dante dodging his blade.
He knew nothing deep about swords. Basics nonexistent. Just a typical mage facing a swordsman.
Yet...
"Dodge this...!!"
New swing, and he moved like he knew it coming.
Even as a mage, using his body with veteran savvy.
Soon, parrying lightly with a wooden sword.
'Even absorbs the motion after one swing?'
Like a golem flawlessly learning. Zero errors, zero variance.
No trace of the 'effort' humans needed.
A talent utterly beyond Reinhardt's grasp.
"Fun. So much fun."
Was this what others felt facing his own gift? Not defeat—exhilaration. He reset his stance.
Basics? Dante had devoured them all.
How about this, then.
Dragon Slayer Style.
First Form.
Overlapping Scale Slash.
His sword, honed over years of swings. Perfected slaying the berserk dragon. His secret art.
The blade carved straight through empty air.
Defense irrelevant. Perfect slash.
Not even Dante's freak talent could block it.
Quagagagagagang!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A deafening roar shook the building like collapse.
"Ah, damn..."
Too hyped in the moment?
Worried he'd killed him, he stepped over.
"10 minutes. Endured, right?"
There stood Dante, wiping blood from his mouth, gripping the broken wooden sword.
Deflected it? With a wooden sword?
Unthinkable scene. Sword Star's best was dodging—even weakened, the idea of deflecting...
Hitting the exact power's end. A feat of madness.
"Pass.......... PASS!!!!!!!!!!"