A New Realization
Sian scraped together every last drop of the mana he could gather.
By S-rank standards it would have looked pathetic, but for him, this was the best he could do.
Yet just as he braced himself for Tiana's attack—
“…?”
Her attack never came.
Tiana stood with her palms still pressed together, exactly as she had been.
Come to think of it, it was strange. Normally, the sword should have been swinging the very instant her palms met.
But the attack still hadn't arrived.
Mana was rising from around her body like heat haze, so he could tell she was concentrating—but on what?
…A delayed strike? Or…
Was she gathering her focus, pooling her mana for something bigger?
Either way, it was bad news for Sian. He was supposed to time his protective mana to the exact moment of her attack, and his reserves could barely sustain a defense as it was.
And worse—
If Tiana was building up mana, that meant the attack, when it came, could be far stronger.
One clean hit from even a single strike in the Gratitude Sword Draw: Basic sequence could break his bones—what would a charged slash do?
Wasn't that a bit much?
He even clung to the hopeful thought that maybe the attack had already been swung at a speed he simply couldn't perceive—but that didn't seem to be the case.
And so, as confusion mounted in Sian's head, the standoff stretched on.
“…”
Tiana, for her part, was staring at Sian, frozen in her prayer-like stance.
She had drawn her palms together proudly, intent on showing her teacher the fruits of her training—but still, the sword draw refused to follow.
…All I can picture is it being blocked. Every single time.
A single strike or a full sequence—it made no difference. Her attacks had never once been stopped, not in all this time. Yet for some reason, she could only believe that none of it would get through Sian.
The moment she attacked carelessly, her strike would be effortlessly parried, and she would be met with a counter.
She had told herself it was only a sparring match, that she could swing without overthinking it. But—
What if…
What if Sian lightly deflected her Gratitude Sword Draw and looked at her with disappointment in his eyes?
What if the teacher who had trained her looked at her and thought, So this was the extent of your talent?
I cannot disappoint him.
Merely imagining that she had betrayed her teacher's expectations was enough to make her heart drop through the floor.
He isn't attacking… which means—
A sparring match was, by definition, two people trading offense and defense. It would hardly have been strange for Sian to move first.
And yet, though he could crush her in a single blow, he held back—waiting. That could only mean he wanted to see how far his disciple had grown.
Then it was her duty as his disciple to show him the finest strike she was capable of.
With that thought, Tiana narrowed her focus even further and fixed her eyes on Sian.
The mana flowing from Sian was minuscule.
It was so unstable it wavered like a candle flame—but Tiana didn't find that odd in the slightest.
The mana I can see means nothing.
If Sian wished it, she knew, that flickering candle could swallow the world before she ever noticed it happening.
Failing to read the true depth of the mana within was simply her own shortcoming.
Grit.
Tiana clenched her teeth.
Truthfully, her preparation was already complete. Her mind had reached its sharpest peak, her palms were pressed together, the stance finished.
All she had to do was swing, and she could show him her absolute best.
But—
Even if I give it everything I have…
What if it still fell short of his standard?
What was she supposed to do then?
She had requested this match because she wanted to climb higher—and now she pictured herself baring her limits, being found wanting, sent away. Crushed beneath a disaster of her own making.
That creeping dread was quietly gnawing away at her thoughts.
But—
Still… I have to do it.
If she couldn't even swing, she would break apart right here.
Even if her teacher was disappointed in her.
As long as she poured everything she had into this strike, she would have no regrets.
To move forward, she had to swing this sword.
“Here I come!”
Tiana shouted as if to spur herself on, and unleashed the Gratitude Sword Draw she had learned from Sian.
And then—
CRACK!
Along with the sound of something shattering—
BOOOOOM!!
A storm exploded through the training hall.
“…”
“…”
Silence followed.
Tiana remained frozen in the exact stance of the sword draw.
There was just one strange thing: the wooden sword in her hand.
The training sword she'd borrowed in place of her own had snapped, leaving nothing but the hilt.
She had gripped it so hard that even the remaining handle had been compressed by the sheer force of her hold.
Seeing this, Sian thought only one thing.
…I nearly died.
No—if the wooden sword hadn't broken, that storm wouldn't have scattered in all directions. It would have come at him head-on, full force.
Taken directly, he would be lying in two halves on the floor right now, soaking the wood in red.
If he hadn't reacted to her shout, he might have simply been blown away by that gale.
Thank goodness she agreed to switch to a wooden sword.
Even a high-quality one supplied by a first-rate inn—ordinary wood was never going to withstand Tiana's full power.
And that broken sword was the only reason he was still breathing.
She probably just forgot to reinforce it with mana.
Sian chalked it up to luck. The person in question had no capacity for such reflections—and of course, Sian had no way of knowing that.
Meanwhile, Tiana quietly gazed down at the broken hilt in her hand, then asked Sian:
“Teacher… that was everything I have.”
“I-is that so.”
“What did you think?”
“?”
She was looking at him with a strangely refreshed expression, as if she'd just poured out her entire soul. Those eyes demanded an answer, and Sian found himself scrambling for one.
“It was… powerful?”
He'd phrased it as a question, but he meant it. That strike had carried something different from the Gratitude Sword Draw she normally used.
He couldn't tell anything beyond the fact that it was staggeringly, incomprehensibly fast.
“Thank goodness…”
At his words, she let out a sigh of relief ten years in the making, her legs buckling as she sank to the floor where she stood.
Watching her quietly, Sian raised a question mark over his head yet again.
…That's it?
Hadn't the attack failed, since the sword broke? Was she not going to try again?
Well—if she did, he'd be the one calling it off this time.
Sian recalled the strike from moments ago, and goosebumps raced across his entire body.
I thought I could survive one strike.
How arrogant he had been.
He understood now, viscerally, just how far beyond human S-rank beings truly were.
As that thought settled in, Tiana's voice followed.
“I couldn't even perceive my own weapon shattering in my grip… You truly are remarkable, Teacher.”
“…?”
Countless question marks bloomed in Sian's head.
Why did it sound like she was saying he had snapped the wooden sword?
Whether or not she noticed his reaction, Tiana continued.
“I thought… I thought that strike might at least follow the tips of your toes. But once again, I've learned what it means for someone to be on a different plane entirely.”
Tiana had been under such extreme tension that it hadn't even occurred to her that she'd simply forgotten to reinforce the wooden sword with mana.
She was someone who handled everything with meticulous care. A mistake by her? Impossible. Which meant, naturally, that Sian must have broken it.
“…”
Watching her misunderstanding deepen by the second, Sian despaired.
This is so unfair. Genuinely unfair.
This time, he truly had done nothing at all. He'd just stood there, anxious, waiting for an attack that might come at any moment.
So why did the misunderstanding keep growing?
“Teacher.”
“Yes?”
“Was there… was there perhaps something still lacking in that strike?”
Tiana asked, her eyes shining.
She had poured her everything into that blow, yet it hadn't come close to touching Sian. Which meant it was imperfect.
His praise made me happy, but—
“Powerful” only meant better than the bare minimum, above a barely passing grade. It didn't mean perfect.
And surely a teacher like Sian could show her what lay beyond that.
That was what she believed.
Looking at her, Sian muttered internally.
How am I supposed to give feedback on something I couldn't even see?
As far as he could tell, the moment her palms came together, the sword was already drawn and mid-swing.
What was there to say?
He tried to just let it slide, but Tiana's eyes were gleaming, ears practically perked up, as if she wouldn't let a single word escape her.
To Sian, it looked exactly like she was pressing him: Say something. Anything.
After much agonizing, Sian finally managed to offer wisdom that was, well, common sense:
“Have you tried swinging with both hands?”
Two hands were stronger than one.
There was no way Tiana didn't know that—or at least, that was what he assumed, since to him she seemed to know nothing at all.
But somehow, inexplicably, her face lit up with the look of someone who had just achieved a great awakening.
And—
“…?”
Sian only wore the expression of a man who understood nothing.
“Then I shall see you tomorrow, Teacher.”
“…Right.”
At the sound of Sian's voice, Tiana closed the door behind her.
The moment it shut, she leaned back against it and slowly drew in a breath.
Both hands…
Standing there quietly, she looked down at her own two hands.
Tiana wielded both sword and magic. One hand for spells, one for the blade, shifting fluidly between them as the situation demanded—a versatility she proudly counted among the finest of any S-rank.
And yet now, that very versatility had become her shackles.
A sword swung with two hands is stronger than a sword swung with one.
Such obvious common sense that no one had ever bothered to tell her.
But Tiana, drunk on her own talent and convenience, had forgotten it entirely.
Truly, he is my teacher.
Her heart was still pounding.
Not from simple nerves or fatigue. This was something welling up from the deepest part of her chest—overwhelming awe, and something close to reverence.
In a single exchange, he had seen through everything she was—and even pinpointed precisely what strength she lacked.
Just how strong is he?
The question arose naturally, inevitably. From how high must one look down to take in all of that at a single glance?
And besides…
Even at the moment she had drawn out every ounce of her concentration, she hadn't caught so much as an afterimage of Sian.
It felt like standing before an immeasurable height—but there was no despair in it. Quite the opposite.
Someone like that… is my teacher.
Simply the fact that she was the disciple of such a magnificent person made her heart swell.
And at the same time, Tiana renewed her vow toward a distant goal.
Someday…
I want to stand beside him.