Chapter 145
Chapter 145
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Guidance
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Is that for real?
That's our master?
That master who was always so incredibly stern?
The two disciples were deep in thought as they watched Dwen gaze at Rishir with boundless warmth.
Even amid all that, the conversation between Dwen and Rishir continued.
"May I ask one question?"
"Please do."
"You mentioned learning the sword on your own. I'm curious about the process—how exactly did it unfold?"
"As you probably suspect, it was a method far from efficient or specialized. I got my hands on a swordsmanship manual anyone could easily access and read it. I'd compare my form in the mirror, or just swing the sword wildly without any direction or standards. Looking back now, it might fit the word 'stubbornness' better than self-study."
"Stubbornness..."
"Or perhaps childish whims. At first, I had what I thought was my own ambition. To become a great swordsman and shock everyone. To make them turn their eyes back to me. Childish greed like that. But it didn't take long to face reality."
"Few fields are as inefficient for self-study as swordsmanship."
"Exactly as you say. It felt like flailing in water. While everyone else moved forward, I was just spinning in place. Once I realized that, everything started going wrong. Sword training became a performance to draw eyes, and physical conditioning turned into self-torture."
"..."
Before long, Dwen was completely immersed in Rishir's story.
Like most who had reached her exalted level, she had shown talent from the moment she first gripped a sword—a genius, they called her.
That described not only Jane and Felix, but most swordsmen Dwen encountered.
Birds of a feather flock together, after all.
In that sense, Rishir's tale felt refreshingly novel to Dwen.
The story of an ordinary person born without environment or talent.
-He's an incredible guy. Even Master will be shocked when she sees him.
Such an ordinary person had now earned praise from a hero blessed with both environment and talent beyond measure.
Dwen pondered Rishir's words as she looked at him.
"I never would have imagined. No wonder—no shadow of hardship shows on you."
A brief moment of contemplation.
Rishir replied with a bright smile.
"No law says people have to die. From some turning point, luck just kept coming my way. Good people. Good opportunities. I got lucky. Call it talent I discovered late. Honestly, if I'd aimed to be a gambler instead of a swordsman from the start, my life might have been smoother."
"Opportunity comes to everyone, but only the prepared seize it."
"...Ah, you're right. If I hadn't gone to the library that day like usual, I wouldn't have met that person."
"That person... The way you speak of them, they must be remarkable."
"Oh, no, not at all."
Rishir grew serious.
"?"
"They're a good person, but remarkable...?"
Rishir trailed off with a complicated expression.
"Anyway. To me, they're an irreplaceable benefactor. Without them, I wouldn't be who I am today."
"...I see."
Dwen still wore her signature stern expression, but the atmosphere had softened noticeably.
A sight even rare for her two disciples.
Crack.
That sound echoed from within Dwen once more.
Grading complete.
Dwen's evaluation of Rishir was near perfection.
His refined looks and unpretentious demeanor.
The help he'd given her disciples.
And the character revealed even in their brief exchange.
All of it combined into this result.
Comparable to her cherished disciples right then.
That was why.
"A fruitful conversation."
Dwen's demeanor shifted abruptly.
Like the iron gates of a fortress slamming shut after a brief opening.
"Shall we begin?"
Until now, she had treated Rishir as her disciples' benefactor, in her role as their master.
Now, she intended to face him as one swordsman to another.
Former Swordmaster, Iron Sword Dwen.
As a sign of utmost respect to Rishir, she resolved to give her all, per his request.
"You asked for my insight on the sword."
"...Yes."
Rishir steadied himself in her stern presence.
"What form of insight do you seek?"
"You just said it yourself. Few fields are as inefficient for self-study as swordsmanship. So, I request a spar."
"Not quite what I meant, but not entirely wrong. Some gain nothing from a spar, while others gain everything."
At Dwen's glance, Rishir drew the Blue Lotus.
Dwen followed, unsheathing her sword.
"Hm?"
The two disciples, relieved to see Dwen back to her familiar self, suddenly felt a sense of wrongness.
Dwen's drawing motion was oddly awkward.
"Ah."
Soon, they realized the source.
Dwen.
She was originally left-handed.
But now, she gripped the sword in her right hand.
Moreover, she excluded her left hand entirely in her stance.
As if preparing for a future not far off.
Recalling their master's worsening hand condition, the disciples' faces twisted.
Sensing their gazes, Dwen spoke to Rishir.
"A heads-up: I'm actually left-handed. Fighting at full strength with only my right is inconvenient."
Rishir nodded.
He too had sensed the oddity in her stance.
"However, due to personal circumstances, I insist on using only my right hand for now. I ask your understanding."
"..."
Rishir observed Dwen.
A chuckle escaped him involuntarily.
For someone apologizing for not being at full strength, her stance looked far too perfect.
'Don't downplay it like that. You look plenty strong.'
The skill gap was palpable, even before blades clashed.
Rishir consulted another superior.
'Klana.'
-Listening.
'Any openings in her right now?'
-As I said, the missing left hand is huge. If she showed up like that before me, she'd drop the sword and clutch her throat in seconds.
Rishir was quite shocked by Klana's response.
By his standards, no gap existed to exploit with her signature footwork.
He'd half-expected something like 'bad matchup'.
'Then, by your standards?'
-Asking me in reverse? What do you see?
'Honestly, no answer in sight.'
-Look again.
'Pardon?'
-What's in your hand?
'...A sword?'
-And?
'And...'
As Rishir mulled Klana's words, realization dawned in his eyes.
-Basics. Fundamentals. Don't get bogged down in that nonsense. It traps you in a box. Especially for someone like you.
'...How did you usually put that into practice, Klana?'
-I favored dual-wielding. Hidden daggers in the bosom are always right.
Rishir, etching Klana's lesson, let out a chuckle.
A murder ghost urging to exploit gaps without regard for means.
A hero's master striving for an ideal stance despite losing a hand.
Her teachings contrasted fantastically with Dwen's poised form.
'You teach some great stuff.'
-...
Klana smirked in her signature way.
She realized Rishir wasn't just mocking.
As he'd said, he'd truly learned something valuable from her guidance.
Rishir felt a sudden self-loathing.
'Murder ghost swordsmanship. Why does it fit me so perfectly?'
Rishir's stance began to change.
His mental image of himself shifting.
He no longer envisioned breaking through Dwen head-on with Klana-style.
"..."
Rishir's pupils, fixed on Dwen, seemed to dilate.
"..."
Dwen observed him with fortress-like sternness.
A faint crack appeared in her expression.
Curiosity.
In that short time, a clear change had come over Rishir.
"Come."
Dwen urged him to sate her curiosity.
"Here I go."
He stepped forward.
How much time had passed since Rishir and Dwen crossed blades?
In the backyard of Goose Manor where they sparred, a figure appeared with hands clasped behind their back.
It was Palrag, the former Blue Tower Lord, drawn by the mana flows from the bout.
"As expected, Rishir again."
Upon arriving, Palrag first scanned for a certain face, nodded in satisfaction upon finding it, then turned to the others.
"Hm? Jane and Felix. What brings you here—... Wait. Who's this?"
Noticing Rishir's opponent late, Palrag's thick brows twitched.
"Iron Sword. I see. That's why you're all gathered."
"Lord Palrag. Well met."
"No, not well at all."
"Pardon?"
A displeased reply to Jane's polite greeting.
"Holding a spar between Rishir and Iron Sword without me."
Jane and Felix panicked and added hastily.
"P-Please calm down, Lord Palrag—"
"We know you favor Rishir, but this isn't some serious duel—"
"Keeping this spectacle to yourselves?"
"..."
"..."
"Explain. How did Rishir end up crossing swords with a former Swordmaster?"
The grumpy archmage's eyes gleamed as he pressed for details.
After the explanation—
"I see. So Rishir and Iron Sword..."
Palrag's curiosity was sated.
Yet for some reason.
His expression had darkened compared to before.
Due to the spar's progress during the explanation.
"Hmmm..."
Palrag commented while watching the ongoing duel.
"Rishir... holding his own would be fair. Against Iron Sword, no less."
"Y-Yes."
"Against our master, that's—"
Despite their words, their voices and eyes wavered.
The bout fell far short of their expectations for Rishir.
Rishir's sword never once touched Dwen.
That alone wasn't strange.
Even accounting for Rishir's uniqueness and Dwen's issues, a Swordmaster's prestige endured.
They hadn't expected victory from him anyway—just a 'good fight in defeat.'
A special loss that showed why he was Rishir, even in clear inferiority.
Even if he ended up dust-covered on the ground while Dwen stood sweatless, shocking her so much she couldn't even offer a hand.
But.
After watching awhile, they realized it was hopeless.
Rishir wasn't improving moment by moment—he was regressing.
His attacks.
His sword.
His movements.
The holes in all of it grew clearer, not patched, over time.
Undeniable flaws.
Ahem.
Palrag coughed awkwardly.
"Don't forget—he's originally a Gray Tower mage."
"Oh? Ah. Right!"
"Yes! Rishir's a mage, after all."
Jane and Felix hurriedly agreed with Palrag.
"The sword's just his side talent."
You should have seen what I saw.
Palrag grumbled repeatedly in a trembling voice.
In that awkward atmosphere, the viewing continued.
"Oh no."
Jane squeezed her eyes shut.
Rishir, lunging at Dwen, was repelled in his clumsiest stance yet, slamming into the ground.
The clearest manifestation of the 'holes' he'd shown repeatedly.
"..."
Disappointment flickered clearly in Dwen's eyes, which had gleamed with interest before the spar.
Rishir's next action only fueled it.
"Good! Let's call it here!"
His usual positive, upbeat tone declaring surrender.
"..."
As Palrag forced a calm face to applaud—
"A satisfied look."
Dwen said to Rishir, her disappointment plain.
-Do you find meaning just in the effort?
Dwen swallowed the sharp words.
Too pointed for her disciple's benefactor.
Aware or not of her thoughts.
Rishir nodded eagerly.
"Yes. As you said, spars are best for the sword. Especially against strong opponents. I had a concept in mind, and thanks to you, I got a feel for how to use it in real combat."
"Real combat..."
Dwen trailed off.
Show those deficiencies in a life-or-death fight?
It was suicide.
For his sake, she couldn't end the spar like this.
Dwen reset her stance.
"From now, it's real combat."
"Pardon?"
"Treat it as real. Show me everything."
It might be harsh, but for him.
Dwen planned to make him face reality through the exchange.
"Uh... it won't be standard swordsmanship. You okay with that?"
Dwen nodded curtly at his cautious question.
"Understood."
The standoff resumed.
Rishir steadied, and Dwen inwardly sighed.
Footprint.
Crouched ambush stance as before.
No difference from prior moves.
Snap!
Even the follow-up was the same.
That trajectory.
That speed.
Too straightforward for an ambush, registering clearly in Dwen's perception.
As if hiding ulterior motives.
No, there must be ulterior motives.
'Were my expectations too high?'
As Dwen moved to parry—
"..."!
-Whoosh!
Sudden sandstorm winds hindered her.
-Fwoosh.
Ashen flames obscured vision.
Create a gap with something, then strike it.
Simple strategy.
But if that something is magic.
And the strike is sword.
Dwen hadn't been careless.
She'd considered every means Rishir could employ.
But not this.
The flaw Rishir hadn't fixed. The hole.
She hadn't realized its purpose.
Through that setup, sword and magic unleashed together.
The magic swordsman's blade at the Swordmaster's throat.
"Yes! That's real combat!"
Seeing the awaited scene, Palrag shouted in excitement.
"..."
This is real combat?
The Swordmaster and hero, experiencing (??) real combat's brutality for the first time, couldn't collect their wits.