Chapter 4: The First Letter (4)
Chapter 4: The First Letter (4)
Seria Yurdina was swinging her sword from the break of dawn that day, as she always did.
Her day always began like this. Ever since she first gripped a sword at the age of six, she had never missed a day of training. Whether it rained or snowed, her blade always traced its familiar arcs.
Some called her a genius of the sword. It was a fitting title. She had begun subjugating demonic beasts in her early teens, earning a reputation in the process.
By the time she turned eighteen, a formal invitation arrived from the Academy. It was a transparently obvious proposal, inviting her to take the entrance exam for the continent's finest educational institution. Naturally, Seria had been more than happy to accept.
Even at the Academy, where geniuses of every stripe gathered, few could stand as her equal. Among her peers, there were perhaps only one or two. That was how she had managed to maintain her position as the top student of the Swordsmanship Department.
Thus, the epithet "genius" attached to her name was neither exaggeration nor flattery. She was, quite literally, a genius.
However, she was a "hardworking" genius.
Seria was not so young as to grumble about people not recognizing the blood, sweat, and tears she shed in private. Nevertheless, she often looked at those who only saw the results and wondered:
Have they ever swung a sword as desperately as I have?
Ever since her father drove out the mother who gave birth to her, Seria’s days within the Yurdina family had been a constant struggle for survival.
She had to prove her worth to avoid being cast out, and it was only after she began to show prominence in swordsmanship that she was finally allowed to take the name "Yurdina."
She had nothing. Even the Yurdina bloodline she had been forced into at birth would be stripped away the moment her usefulness ran out.
To survive, she cut everything away.
She had heard that mysterious lizardmen lived in the jungles of the Southern Kingdoms. In that place teeming with poisonous insects and herbs, the lizardmen had developed a peculiar habit to survive.
If a limb or a tail became poisoned, they would sever it themselves. It was a way to preserve their lives before the venom could spread through their entire bodies.
In time, the arm, leg, or tail would grow back, but a life, once lost, could never be regained. Some might mock it as a humiliating way to live, but the young Seria had been filled with admiration when she heard that story.
To survive, that was exactly what one had to do. And so, long ago, she had cut away everything except what was absolutely necessary.
Hobbies, excessive sleep, human relationships—even desire and affection.
By melting down and stripping away all that scrap metal, a single masterpiece of a blade named "Seria Yurdina" was forged. Naturally, she was qualitatively different from other swordsmen, and she had to be.
Of course, no matter how much one wished to cut things away, there were some things that simply could not be shaken off.
At times, she would feel depressed all day from loneliness, and there were moments when she craved unconditional affection and validation.
But it was already too late. For someone like her, who had never undergone a normal socialization process, human relationships were an impossibly difficult puzzle.
The more she struggled, the deeper she sank into the world of the blade. When she swung her sword, she could at least ignore external problems. She could even forget herself.
Since she was a woman who lived such a life, it was only natural that her morning began with the swing of a sword. As she inhaled the cold dawn air and moved her blade, Seria’s mind was more tranquil than ever.
That is, if that man hadn't suddenly stepped into her training space.
Concentrating on her practice, Seria flinched at the sudden presence. Her startled eyes darted toward her back.
This was a forest located in a remote corner of the Academy. Specifically, a clearing that was not well-known to others.
At the very least, in all her daily visits, she had rarely felt another presence this early in the morning. At most, a camping club might have wandered by once or twice, prompting her to move her training spot.
What made Seria even more flustered was the fact that the presence was much closer than she had expected.
Seria was not only exceptional in swordsmanship but also possessed a vast amount of mana. Having gone through numerous real battles since childhood, she was also highly skilled in its control.
When one reaches such a level, their senses become incomparably sharp, and they constantly maintain a thin web of mana—consciously or unconsciously—to detect surrounding threats.
Yet, Seria hadn't even noticed someone's existence until they were right next to her. This meant one of two things.
Either the opponent was vastly stronger than Seria, or they had hidden their presence with absolute intent.
For a moment, she hesitated. If this was an assassination attempt, should she strike first?
However, Seria’s worries were soon proven groundless. The man who trudged into the clearing gave her a brief glance before moving toward the center of the space with indifferent eyes.
Then, he drew his sword. It wasn't aimed at anyone. He simply faced the empty air.
It seemed he, too, had come to swing his sword. Seria didn't lower her guard, but she soon realized the man's face was somewhat familiar.
Black hair and golden eyes. He was one of the seniors who attended the same lectures as her.
Was his name... Ian? In her memory, he had a somewhat softer impression, but today, he exuded a sharp, piercing aura.
And above all, those eyes where deep fatigue lingered.
Those eyes, swirling with such intense emotion, were almost chilling. The moment Seria met that gaze, she felt her blood freeze, like a mouse before a cat.
They were the eyes of a killer. The kind of eyes possessed only by those who had taken countless lives and did not hesitate to end another's existence.
Seria’s body twitched. Her instinct to point her blade at him reared its head. It was a warning from a survival instinct honed over many years.
But the man didn't pay Seria any mind. He simply swung his sword a few times.
With the sound of air being torn—whoosh—the sword traced bizarre and wondrous trajectories.
At first, the paths were simple and linear. But as the trajectories overlapped, an increasingly complex sword path began to be drawn.
It was a sight like magic. Seria stood mesmerized, watching the few minutes of his swordsmanship demonstration.
She was a swordsman too. Naturally, she took pride in her ability to judge an opponent's skill.
That was why she was even more bewildered. If she imagined herself standing before that sword path, how many moves would it take for her to be defeated?
Ten moves? No, it might be even fewer. A clash of blades was like solving a puzzle in an instant. Even watching from a distance like this, it was a sword path where an opening was hard to find. In a real fight, it would be even worse.
But that shouldn't be possible.
She had seen his swordsmanship a few times during lectures. Back then, his technique was faithful to the basics, but that was all.
Was I mistaken? she murmured to herself. It was then.
"...Seria Yurdina."
"Ye-yep?!"
Startled by the man's low voice calling her name, she bit her tongue while answering.
She felt like she could die of embarrassment. Her face turned beet red, and she quickly lowered her head.
Perhaps it was because it had been so long since she'd had a conversation. Lately, she rarely spoke more than a word or two a day.
However, the man didn't seem inclined to blame or tease her for her mistake. He simply spoke in a voice that couldn't hide its exhaustion.
"There's a limit to swinging a sword alone. If you can't rely on anyone, you'll eventually break."
He muttered those words as if lamenting, then turned around and left the clearing. Seria just stood there blankly until he was gone.
However, as the man brushed past her, she caught a whiff of an unpleasant scent.
The smell of alcohol? Her gaze followed the man's back. Come to think of it, his staggering gait hadn't been normal from the start.
Was he still drunk? The moment that thought occurred, Seria felt a surge of indignation.
There's a limit to swinging a sword alone?
Is that something a man who drank his fill last night and is just swinging a sword for exercise should say to me?
Her sword was far more desperate than his. It was a path she had walked alone because no one understood her, and she had no intention of being understood.
It was foolish. She felt ashamed of herself for being momentarily captivated by the sword of such a man, feeling like an inadequate swordsman.
Come to think of it, she remembered there was a specific word for people like that.
After brooding over it for a long time, she finally managed to recall the word she was looking for.
Right, a "kkondae." Senior Ian was a preachy jerk!
She didn't know the exact definition, but she remembered people calling those who gave unpleasant advice "kkondae." Therefore, Senior Ian had to be one.
To devalue someone else's effort like that... Seria ground her teeth and began swinging her sword again.
However, the connection between Seria and the man did not end there.
During the swordsmanship practical, Professor Derek of the Swordsmanship Department, having gathered the students, made a bold declaration.
"Today, we will conduct pairing for senior-junior exchange!"
At those words, the atmosphere among the students turned subtle. Even if the Academy was a place where skill was everything, a school was still a school. No junior was comfortable around an unfamiliar senior.
Of course, this was the same for Seria. She was someone who had abandoned human relationships from the start. It was obvious that being paired with a stranger would be an awkward and painful time.
However, Professor Derek—a legendary adventurer who had hunted famous demonic beasts across all sorts of dangerous lands—was a man who placed exceptional value on camaraderie. There were even rumors that despite being over fifty, he thought of his fallen comrades every time he looked at the scars etched into his rugged body.
No matter how much the students objected, it didn't seem like he would retract the decision. Seria let out a silent sigh.
Even if they were paired, she could just ignore her partner and train alone. Just as she was barely managing to comfort herself, she was faced with an even more difficult situation.
Of all people, the person she was paired with was the man from this morning.
"Ian Percus." Only then did she learn his full name. Of course, it wasn't interest in a positive sense. Seria’s mood had remained sour since that morning.
Perhaps that was why. Even though she was already known as "The Rude Brat of Yurdina," she ended up giving an even more insolent response.
"I don't want to train with a senior," she said, tossing the words out bluntly. As if she were stating a very obvious fact. "I don't think it will be much help. With your skills, Senior... well."
At her words, the surrounding atmosphere froze instantly. A moment later, the sounds of clicking tongues and sighs could be heard, as if they had expected this.
The moment the words left her mouth, Seria thought, Oh no.
It was always like this. She wanted to speak more softly, but being unskilled in human relationships, she often blurted out excessively honest words.
Of course, her resentment toward the "preachy senior" probably played a part this time as well.
As expected of the Yurdina brat, mocking voices whispered, but Seria tried her best to ignore them.
Everything except swordsmanship was meaningless anyway. She comforted herself with that thought.
However, Ian, the target of the verbal abuse, simply stared at Seria without saying a word. Just as someone was about to step forward to comfort Ian, thinking he was in shock—
"Come out."
That single phrase suddenly popped out of his mouth. In fact, those two words had a much greater impact than Seria’s insult.
The man gestured with his eyes toward the dueling arena located in the center of the training grounds and said:
"...Let's see you try and test me."
Who was testing whom? Seria testing Ian? Or Ian testing Seria?
Based on their revealed skills, the former would be correct, but Seria, now meeting Ian's eyes, couldn't bring herself to think that way.
Those golden eyes, unreadable and filled only with fatigue.
Because they felt as if they were looking down on her.
"...Fine."
Seria gritted her teeth and spoke.
That was the beginning of the incident that would shake the Academy.