Chapter 7: The First Letter (7)
Chapter 7: The First Letter (7)
Seria Yurdina was afraid.
It had been that way since she was a child. To a girl who grew up ignored and walking on eggshells because of her low birth, fear was a survival skill—a mixture of longing and terror toward those who held the power of life and death over her.
To avoid returning to such a miserable life, and to shed her weak past, she had devoted herself to the sword.
Fortunately, it didn't take long for her efforts to bear fruit.
On the day she received the Yurdina name, seeing the servants of the lord’s castle—who had secretly looked down on her—fidgeting in her presence gave her a strange sense of catharsis.
Yes, this is how a predator looks at the world.
Only the weak concern themselves with the moods of the strong. Every time a powerful person’s gaze falls upon them, they stiffen, tremble, and stammer, desperate to discern the other's intent.
Since picking up the sword, she had been able to leave that feeling of weakness behind.
There were only two exceptions: her father and her half-sister. And even her father was now drained of strength by illness.
That was why, when she stood before Ian again after their last duel, she felt a sensation that was utterly foreign.
Every time Ian’s eyes swept over her, she flinched. Her muscles stiffened, and her heart, remembering the brutal violence he had inflicted, raced uncontrollably, forcing her to gasp for breath.
She was terrified. Terrified of the helplessness she had felt last time, the pain etched into every one of her sensory cells, and his sword strikes that hadn't contained a shred of hesitation.
She couldn't stand it. It felt as if she were being dragged back to the miserable state of her childhood, so Seria grit her teeth and gripped her wooden sword.
She would win. She would overcome this and prove her worth once again.
Her enemy, Ian, looked a bit reluctant, but he readily accepted her request for a duel. Then again, he had overwhelmed her so completely last time.
Challenging him again after only a week must have seemed laughable to him, but for Seria, it was the most urgent matter in the world.
Only victory mattered. Her mistake last time had been misjudging her opponent's capabilities. Today, she would face him at full strength while her body was in peak condition.
And so, before Professor Derek could even finish saying "Start!", Seria lunged forward.
It wasn't a straight line. She moved slightly diagonally, yet just enough for her sword to make contact with his body.
Though her body was stiff with tension, her years of training did not betray her. Her sword struck his form cleanly.
Thwack!
With a sound like a club hitting leather, the man’s body flew through the air. Seria’s movements came to a halt. She looked visibly bewildered.
This shouldn't be happening. She had already calculated her next move and the one after that with meticulous detail. But among those countless possibilities, she hadn't expected the man to be sent flying by the very first blow.
After all, wasn't he the opponent she couldn't even graze no matter how hard she tried?
She thought that even if she managed to land a hit, it would only be after several exchanges of blows based on his superior physical abilities and mana capacity. But now, Ian was rolling on the ground from a single strike.
Is even this a trap? Suspicion began to cloud Seria’s deep blue eyes.
Regardless of her thoughts, the man merely groaned, "Uuugh," as he staggered to his feet.
"Ugh... take it easy, will you? Easy... okay?"
Seeing him stand up despite the staggering, it seemed the blow had landed but wasn't fatal. It was only natural, considering she had struck a non-vital area with a wooden sword.
The man groaned and took his stance again. Seria continued to watch him with wary eyes.
It couldn't end like this. This was the man who had handed her a miserable defeat just last week. Seria charged once more.
Crouching low, she unleashed a flurry of strikes from within his guard. A clean diagonal slash from the bottom left to the top right followed. Ian tried to defend, but the result was the same as before.
Boom! A sound closer to an explosion rang out as the man’s posture broke. Seria bit her lip.
Should she aim for the opening? It was a tempting choice, but she quickly abandoned it. He might be looking for a counterattack using that mysterious footwork again.
Instead, she pressed forward, driving her body into him. The moment she reached Ian’s exposed chest, she slammed the pommel of her sword into his solar plexus.
Thud. A clean, solid hit. Ian couldn't even let out a proper groan. His waist buckled under the impact, and he was sent flying, rolling across the ground several times.
The man couldn't even catch his breath. It took a long time before a ragged, broken gasp escaped him.
Something is wrong. That was when the doubt began to take root in Seria’s mind.
The flow of the fight was the same as last time, but the results were the exact opposite. Actually, this was how it was supposed to be. Even if he was a year her senior, she was the top of the department, and her opponent was barely mid-to-low rank.
It was only natural for Seria to have the upper hand. And yet, she still couldn't shake her fear.
It was because the man stood up yet again. Ian somehow managed to rise, taking a staggering stance.
It was like looking at herself from their previous fight. Because of that, Seria stared at Ian with even colder eyes.
She knew. Until he admitted defeat, he wasn't truly defeated.
And if he didn't admit defeat, she couldn't truly win. Because at any moment, he could turn her back into the weakling she once was.
Seria wanted a perfect, absolute victory. A hint of impatience crept into her eyes.
She dashed forward. A sprint so fast it seemed to compress space itself. As her blade flew toward his side, Ian raised his sword and barely managed to block it.
Thump! His body swayed precariously from the shockwave. Seria didn't miss the opportunity.
Thud, thud, thud! Like an axe hacking at a tree, Seria’s sword hammered relentlessly against the man’s blade. It was a feat made possible by her overwhelming physical strength and mana.
Ian couldn't hold out for long. With a faint groan, his posture broke again, and Seria struck him in the ribs with the length of her sword.
Oof! The man rolled across the floor once more. The spectators, who had been watching with secret expectations, now looked visibly disappointed.
I knew it, their mocking voices seemed to say. Seria found it almost funny—the ridicule of those who didn't even have the courage to step onto this sparring ground.
But that was the extent of her interest in the crowd. If anything, she almost wished they would jeer more.
The sooner the man’s spirit broke, the closer her victory would be.
But the man stood up once again. He groaned, his face pale with obvious pain.
Seria’s face contorted. Even for her, beating someone one-sidedly wasn't a pleasant feeling.
"……Are you still going?"
"Yeah. You did the same thing last week, didn't you?"
It was a logical point, though it sounded pathetic coming from a senior to a junior.
Seria eventually steeled her heart again. A cold hostility returned to her gaze. If that was what he wanted, she had no choice but to oblige.
For some reason, Ian was significantly weaker than he had been last week. If she didn't secure her victory now, she might never get another chance.
That thought made Seria desperate.
She would charge, the man would try to counter, and eventually, he would take another hit and roll on the ground. It was a repetition of the cycle.
It was a repeat of last week, just with the roles reversed.
However, as time passed, it was Seria who grew more anxious.
The number of exchanges the man could handle was increasing. At first, he couldn't even parry, but at some point, they began trading two or three blows. Now, it took several exchanges before he was sent rolling.
Is he regaining his senses? It was an illogical thought, but driven by desperation, Seria felt the theory made sense.
That was why Seria made a reckless move.
While locked in a struggle of strength, Seria suddenly pulled her sword back. The man’s body lurched forward, off-balance, and in that moment, a vital spot entered Seria’s vision.
His temple. Without thinking, Seria swung her sword.
Crack! With the sound of something breaking, the man staggered and collapsed. It was inevitable after such a heavy blow to the skull. The man’s body, having lost consciousness for a moment, twitched slightly.
Only then did Seria realize what she had done. She had hit him too hard. She had tried to pull her strength at the last second, so he probably wasn't dead, but it was an incredibly dangerous move.
What if he suffers permanent damage? The hair on Seria’s neck stood on end. At the same time, a scream-like shout erupted from outside the sparring ring.
"Hey!!!"
Startled, Seria looked toward the source of the voice. There stood a girl, glaring at her with burning eyes.
"You... you... are you crazy?! Whose head do you think you're hitting! If something happens to Ian-oppa, I'll... no matter what it takes, I'll...!"
As the girl’s tirade continued, Seria grew more flustered. She wanted to say it wasn't intentional, that it was a mistake. She wanted to apologize, but being socially inept, her mind was a jumble, and she couldn't even form a proper excuse.
She just lowered her head and fidgeted. Not knowing how to interpret her silence, the black-haired girl grit her teeth and looked ready to storm onto the sparring ground.
As if she were going to slap Seria herself.
It was a single phrase that stopped the furious Celine.
"……That's enough."
It was the man, speaking as he staggered to his feet, the dizziness seemingly still lingering. Fortunately, there appeared to be no lasting damage.
I'm glad I pulled my strength at the end, Seria breathed a sigh of relief internally.
"It's loud, and my head hurts... I'll handle this, so stop."
"No, are you crazy?! Professor Derek!"
Celine was now stomping her feet, looking at Professor Derek imploringly. But Derek gave a heavy shake of his head.
"In last week's duel, Seria also stood up after being hit in the temple. If he has the will to continue, I wish to respect that. However, we cannot allow serious injury, so I will set a limit from here on. If Seria scores two more points, she wins."
It was a decision that would have been unthinkable if not for Derek, who valued practical experience above all else. To keep a man who was staggering from a blow to the temple in the fight.
But for Seria, it was a good thing. She had been worried about injuring him further anyway.
Her body stiffened again. In addition to her tension, the series of events—striking his temple and being screamed at by his friend—had made her shrink back.
Blood was now trickling down the man’s head. He might have hit it when he rolled on the ground, or perhaps something had burst when she struck his temple.
A heavier sense of guilt settled in Seria’s heart. She bit her lip.
Just two more times. Two more, and this would be over. Then she would be the winner again. The rumors spreading through the Academy would die down.
Only then could she face her half-sister with a little less shame.
Whew. Taking a breath, Seria pointed her sword at the man once more. There was a faint hesitation, but it was brief.
She kicked off the ground again, and her sword strike shot out in a straight line with a sharp whistle.
Clack.
A familiar resistance met her blade, and a flash of confusion crossed Seria’s eyes.
Her gaze dropped to her sword. There, her wooden sword was held firmly in place. And gripping the blade was a hand covered in scratches.
That's impossible, Seria muttered to herself. She knew because she had been in the same situation last week.
He should have been a wreck by now, his body barely able to move. So, how?
Seria’s jewel-like eyes slowly moved to the man’s face. Their eyes met.
The man, his face a bloody mess with blood streaming down from his head, was smiling.
"……Gotcha."
As if he had finally figured it out.
Entering the duel with Seria, I had resolved two things.
First, even if it was a bit petty and pathetic, I would win.
This was a duel with a junior. Even if I couldn't win as overwhelmingly as I had last week, I had to at least secure a victory to avoid humiliation.
I had talked big to Teahn, and it was also a matter of pride between senior and junior. Honestly, if I hadn't dueled her last week, people would have just said, "I expected as much," but the milk was already spilled.
It was just frustrating that I wasn't the one who spilled it.
Second, I would endure the beating and look for an opening.
I was inferior to Seria in physical ability, mana, and even effort. To bridge that gap, I had no choice but to take the hits.
Since Seria had apparently taken her fair share of hits last week, I decided to consider this as paying for those sins.
Of course, those weren't my sins either.
It wasn't easy. I could handle the first strike, but when she hit me in the solar plexus, I felt like I was going to vomit.
A numbing pain paralyzed my muscles, my vision narrowed, and my breathing became ragged.
Was Seria like this last week? If so, she was one tough girl. Though I wasn't exactly a pushover myself, grit-teeth-and-bearing it as the spite built up.
I don't know why, but the pain I felt throughout my body today felt strangely familiar. If it were the usual me, I might have given up, thinking I couldn't go on.
More importantly, after rolling on the ground a few times, I learned a few things about Seria.
One, Seria was nervous. The more I got used to her stiff movements, the more clearly I could see it. It was strange, but my eyes were gradually picking up on Seria’s "signs."
If she hadn't been nervous, I might not have noticed. But perhaps due to the trauma from last week, she couldn't show her usual fluid combinations.
Another thing: as time passed, Seria was hesitating.
She wasn't like that at first, but every time I staggered back to my feet, I could see both impatience and hesitation in her eyes.
It was around this time that I decided to see this through to the end.
It was a cowardly tactic. Using the opponent's trauma and guilt to aim for a single opening—a pathetic way to act.
But as the exchanges continued and I became more familiar with Seria’s movements and "signs," the situation began to turn in my favor.
The decisive moment was when I was hit in the temple.
The moment I was struck, white sparks flew before my eyes. It wasn't an exaggeration or a joke. Literally, my vision went dark and something flashed.
When I came to, I could hear Celine shouting and pointing at Seria. My head throbbed. Through my blurred vision, I checked Seria’s expression.
She looked panicked. More than ever before.
So I forced my uncooperative body to stand. Since I couldn't compete in terms of mana anyway, I used my saved-up mana to bring my body's condition as close to normal as possible.
My joints creaked with every movement. My muscles screamed. My hands trembled, telling me to stop.
But the moment Seria took her stance again and pointed her sword at me...
I barely managed to suppress a laugh.
I could see it. Where she would come from, and where that sword would stop.
Eyes trembling with impatience, muscles stiff with tension, judgment clouded by hesitation.
Everything was flowing in one direction.
It was the "signs." I finally understood what Professor Derek meant.
If I were facing a mindless demonic beast, or even an enemy with intelligence but lacking skill, I would never have noticed these habits.
Muscles are always honest. Not just the muscles that move the arms and legs, but the eyes, the breath, the organs—everything.
So when Seria kicked off the ground again and thrust her sword like a bolt of lightning...
Clack. My hand gripped the blade. My palm felt like it was being torn apart. My judgment had been quick, but my body was slow. Even so, it was enough to stop Seria’s sword.
Seria stared at me blankly. Her eyes were full of disbelief.
So, I gave her a smile in return.
"……Gotcha."
What followed happened in an instant. Before she could snap out of it, I applied force, wrenched the sword from her hand, and tossed it away.
Thud. As her sword was cast aside, a look of despair washed over Seria’s face. She probably realized her mistake, but she had no means of resistance left.
One strike now, and it would be over. Even if I couldn't make up for all the hits I'd taken, I had to land the most critical blow possible. Only then could I claim victory.
A chilling killing intent flickered in my eyes. It was an unknown reaction that even I didn't notice.
And as I raised my wooden sword high into the air...
"……Hic!"
Seria let out a pitiful sound and covered her head with her arms. Her body was trembling violently. It was as if she were remembering the violence inflicted on her last week.
In that moment, I suddenly snapped out of it.
What am I doing?
Against a junior who couldn't resist, after already disarming her, I was thinking of dealing a "critical blow."
Seria had her eyes squeezed shut, her body shaking. Seeing her even covering her ears, she seemed terrified of the violence to follow.
Well, it made sense. Even just based on what I'd heard from Celine, she had more than enough reason to react this way.
So, I relaxed the arm that was holding the sword high.
Instead, I gave the shivering Seria a light flick on the forehead. Ttak! Seria stiffened, seemingly thinking the brutal assault had finally begun.
"A-Ah, ow……?"
But what she felt was only a faint sting echoing in her head.
Seria let out a cute yelp but opened her eyes in confusion. She looked at me with a bewildered gaze.
I met her gaze and laughed, finding the situation absurd.
"What are you looking at? Did you think I'd brutally beat a junior who doesn't even have a sword?"
"……B-But."
With confused eyes, Seria’s lips parted as if she wanted to say something.
Didn't you do that last week?
And didn't I do the same today?
So why?
It was likely those kinds of questions. Valid questions. But I had no intention of answering them.
It would be too exhausting to explain in detail that the "me" from last week wasn't really me, and that I wasn't the kind of guy who beats up his juniors like that.
Instead, I just gave her some advice.
"You, it's really obvious when you're nervous. Your movements get stiff, so I can see exactly where you're coming from. And practice hiding your gaze a bit."
Then, thud, I tossed my wooden sword aside. It was a declaration that I had no intention of fighting further.
Only then did the spectators, who had been watching my actions in a daze, snap out of it. Some looked impressed, some looked puzzled, and some looked dissatisfied.
It didn't matter. How many of them would have the courage to challenge me? I silently looked at Professor Derek.
Professor Derek nodded with a satisfied smile.
"……Good, the duel is over. We'll call it a draw."
I didn't win in the end, but not losing was a sufficient achievement.
I began to trudge away from the sparring ground, but then I remembered something and turned back.
There sat Seria, staring at me blankly.
"And, one more thing."
Meeting Seria’s dazed gaze, I gave a slight smirk.
"Fix that attitude of yours from now on. Let's try to be polite when we see each other, okay?"
Heh, now this is the dignity of a senior.
Satisfied that I had upheld my honor as a senior, I continued walking.
I acted like it was nothing, but I felt like I was going to collapse at any moment. Whether she knew how I felt or not, Celine ran over and started making a fuss, pounding on my back.
For someone who had lost a week's worth of memories, it was the best possible start. Above all, settling the score with the Yurdina brat was the greatest gain.
Vowing never to get involved with the scions of influential families again, I checked myself into the temple's Concentrated Healing Room.
Then came the next day.
Seria started following me around. And she was doing it in secret.