Chapter 5
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Swordsmanship Theory and Practical Application
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『What is that trash?』
"It's a shield!"
Pastel proudly held up the round shield.
A sturdy friend.
The demon pitied her.
But he spoke in a firm voice.
『Throw it away.』
"N-No way."
『Have you ever actually used it?』
A shocking truth.
Pastel had never properly used the round shield.
Pastel looked down at her friend with trembling eyes.
Were you actually not sturdy after all?
Did you deceive me?
『A heavy one-handed shield is just a hindrance. It drains your stamina and forces you to rely on arm strength for attacks.』
"But the opponent is a knight. We've only dealt with beasts so far, but doesn't it change when they wield a sword?"
『What if they kick you? You'll stagger and die, right?』
"Drop the shield and counter, ah."
Pastel decided to retire the round shield.
Still, you gave me the courage to fight. That's more than enough to qualify as a friend.
Pat pat.
The demon said no reinforcements would come to this mansion.
Without the Craft Family head's permission, no external forces could intervene here. It was a privilege guaranteed by imperial decree.
A right obtained to uphold the tradition of determining succession through kin-slaying. Thanks to it, the sole rightful heir had become a rat in a trap.
『You really never learned swordsmanship?』
"No."
『Then take a stable sword stance.』
A stable stance?
That shouldn't be hard.
Pastel gripped the longsword with both hands.
She stepped one foot forward and extended the other back, firmly anchoring her center of gravity. She pointed the sword straight ahead.
Hmm, it feels a bit off since I've never been in real combat.
Refining the intricacies of unexperienced domains isn't my specialty.
『You have the talent, but no theory... Sigh. As the heir, this should have been basic knowledge. I'll teach you from the fundamentals.』
His pitying gaze grew stronger.
Regrettable.
『Give me the sword.』
Pastel readily handed the longsword through the bars.
The demon's finger flicked the blade.
『110cm, 1.3kg. Small size specs. Not bad for a kid to handle.』
Wow, sizing it up by feel and eye alone.
Is this the caliber of a Great Demon?
Is this man my swordsmanship master?
Oh yeah.
『Watch closely.』
The sword was raised as if to demonstrate. His finger traced the blade.
『A longsword forms a cross. The blade divides into tip, middle, and base. The crossguard runs horizontally at the base, and below it is the hilt.』
"Isn't that too basic?"
Totally treating me like a kid, huh?
『You haven't learned the basics, so I'm explaining. A longsword forms a cross. Understanding this enables basic applications. Let me show the difference.』
The demon assumed a sword stance, mimicking Pastel's form.
『A vertically aligned blade is an easy vertical obstacle for the opponent. They can ignore it with a quick vertical slash, knock it aside with a strong horizontal cut, or thrust effortlessly.』
The blade tilted diagonally.
『In this stance, position the sword from your right hand to in front of your left shoulder. That way, you can diagonally counter all strikes.』
The demon extended the tilted crossguard like a shield.
『The diagonal is also the crossguard's blocking zone. Because the longsword forms a cross. Used well, it's more useful than a shield.』
Ooh.
So that's the meaning behind the cross shape?
"Got it perfectly!"
Pastel raised her hand like a model student.
Am I gonna be good with swords now?
The demon eyed her suspiciously.
The overconfident Pastel simply demonstrated.
And her body moved as her confidence dictated.
Sensation and intuition set her stance. She adapted it, drawing the sword and stepping. She created variations, smoothly linking strikes.
First imitation, second adaptation, third perfection.
With a single example, she painted her swordsmanship canvas.
Silver sword-lights curved through the basement. Pink hair whipped about.
The demon's eyes gradually glazed over.
『Why... why haven't you learned until now?』
Tell me about it.
Maybe I lived too much like a model student.
Even a kind heart can be a curse.
- Understanding the Longsword's Structure
- Four Basic Longsword Stances
- Four Openings in Swordsmanship Ranges
- Two Stances and Three Steps
- Five Divisions of Engagement Distances
- Three Concepts of Combat Time
- Initiative and Close-Quarters Swordsmanship
- Five Cuts and Nine Sequences
- Ultra-Close Swordsmanship and Grappling Applications
- The Art of Retreat
Yahoo, I learned swordsmanship.
Studying with a master teacher is the best.
Having completed the essence-packed lecture, Pastel strode out of the basement with a spring in her step.
"Your disciple is descending the mountain! I'll repay this favor someday!"
The demon sighed deeply from within his cell.
『I don't expect that from a young Craft. Don't let your guard down. They're not knight-class, but an armored foe is still threatening.』
"Yes!"
『Sigh, how did I end up teaching another Craft...』
Pastel left the conflicted demon behind.
Pink hair fluttering, she ascended the spiral stairs. She inhaled the dusty air of the dim space.
Pastel steadied her smile.
She recalled the helmet's red glow.
The plate armor was likely waiting in the study. The moment the bookshelf opened and she emerged from the stairs was the danger zone.
"The first button is crucial."
Reaching the exit, she caught her breath.
"Deflect the first strike and move to the open center."
If she failed to deflect and got pushed back into the spiral stairs, it would be truly dangerous. The narrow passage and low stair positioning were disadvantages.
Ugh, I can do this.
She gripped the lever switch. Pulling it hard, gears ground in the darkness. Her skin tingled.
She calmly gripped her drawn longsword.
Let's see who dies.
The bookshelf slid open, light flooding in. Enduring the glare, she glared ahead.
A wide room with scattered books appeared. No knight in sight.
In a blind spot?
Aiming for the moment she relaxes and steps out? That level of intelligence? Troubling.
Pastel tried sensing presences but gave up. She quietly pulled a triangular mirror from her pocket.
Taking a deep breath, she lightly tossed the mirror. In slow time, it arced into the room, spinning and reflecting every corner.
Pastel's eyes gleamed.
Not in the left blind spot.
Before the mirror hit the ground, she launched herself. Twisting rightward mid-air, she raised her sword into a defensive stance.
The girl, having completely foiled the ambush, awaited the knight's strike.
The mirror clattered to the floor, wobbling. Only then did it reveal the right blind spot—empty wall, no knight as expected.
Pastel blankly scanned the room.
What? Where'd it go?
No knight in the study. Only the shattered wooden door evidenced a rough intruder.
Pastel's brow furrowed.
Ambush in the hallway maybe?
Suspicion faded after tossing mirrors around several corners to no avail. The knight had vanished. No idea where.
Instead, Pastel witnessed the savage changes in the garden. She stared vacantly from the third-floor window.
The evening garden glowed crimson. In the sunset's rays, black shapes tangled. Claws slashed, fangs bared, lunging at each other.
A bipedal monster snatched a werewolf skyward. A massive maw gaped toward the falling werewolf. Teeth clamped viciously. Flesh exploded.
Intraspecies predation.
Devouring growth.
The monster roared with fiercer aura. Sunset dyed the tangled garden.
"Ah..."
Pastel gazed at the scene dreamily.
Not a scene of lives killing each other, but meat puddings bursting everywhere.
A sweet scent tickled her brain.
Unconsciously, her torso leaned forward.
She jolted against the window frame.
"H-Huh?!"
What was that just now?
She wiped drool with her sleeve.
"No, no."
I'm not addicted.
I need to head to the kitchen. Eat normal food.
She tore her gaze from the garden. Hurried onward.
Ignoring the second-floor rooms.
According to the demon, the kitchen was in an annex connected to the first floor. Cook noisily there, then transport to the main building.
No monsters encountered en route to the annex passage. Entering it, she finally spotted the black ox.
The ox snorted.
Pastel brimmed with confidence.
"Come at me."
She assumed a stance, sword aimed.
Lessons flashed back.
—Spread feet at 45 or 135 degrees. 45 is closed stance. Effective against frontal power clashes.
Pastel spread wider.
—135 is open stance.
The ox charged.
—Against foes pushing with force...
The black shape closed in. Ground shook. The girl diagonal-stepped. The ox grazed her shoulder. Air crackled.
Her sword targeted the passing ox. Stable stance channeled full-body power into a sharp arc.
The blade pierced hide, delved into flesh, invaded deep. She felt the heart's tough resilience.
Pastel pivoted on one foot. Pink hair whipped, blade withdrew with the twist. Black energy spurted like blood.
The ox bellowed. The staggering bulk collapsed. Ground quaked.
Pastel's lips crept upward.
Hehe.
Am I kinda a genius?
She stabbed the air repeatedly.
Like this, thrust like this.
"Nmaa~!"
Ahaha.
After giggling alone awhile, she turned.
The kitchen entrance loomed. Wide space with appliances and ingredients.
Yahoo, kitchen liberated.
Finally, proper food. The pantry's full of stuff to fill this weird hunger, right?
Bread? Cake? Pudding?
Anything.
Pastel stepped forward eagerly.
Then buried her face in the black carcass. Shoved meat pudding into her mouth frantically.
Amid intraspecies predation and devouring growth, the girl drowned in bliss.
The massive corpse dissolved into spirit. Some energy lingered, seeping into bones and muscles.
Soon, Pastel rose, wiping her mouth.
She rubbed her slack, grinning lips.
Food being too delicious is a curse.
Makes you want more.
Armor clanked behind.
The black knight approached, aura more ferocious and savage than before.
Ah, I see.
You did the intraspecies predation, huh?
No wonder no monsters indoors.
"Hey, friend."
Pastel aimed her longsword.
"Shall we cross blades?"
Red glow flashed.
The plate-armored knight charged. Heavy weight crushed broken floor. Black sword raised high, slashed down. Air tore.
The savage arc targeted the girl.
Strength gap is huge.
—Vertical slashes have thin fan-shaped undersides. No need to fully retreat...
Pastel leaned torso back maximally.
Black sword stroke cleaved before her torso.
—Nachreisen.
Torso returning, she thrust her longsword.
The path smoothly invaded helmet-torso gap. Flesh squelched. She withdrew the blade. Black energy trickled.
The knight bellowed, red glow flaring. Air rang. Skin tingled.
Dangerous.
Pastel swiftly retreated a step. Black sword stroke cleaved empty space. Torn air whipped her pink locks.
The knight lunged. Armored form filled vision.
Stay calm.
One mistake means death.
Pastel kicked a floor fragment.
It flew under the knight's stepping foot, crushed. Knight slipped, staggered.
Pastel closed distance sharply. Handed breastplate. Gauged tottering center of gravity.
One, two, three.
Thung-!
Added shock to the scale's sway. Tipped, center collapsed.
The heavy knight toppled.
Pink hair whipped. Longsword flashed. Blade invaded helmet-torso gap. Flesh tore audibly. Black energy spurted.
Roar echoed.
The knight's steel hand snatched the departing blade.
What?
Pastel's retreating step faltered. The falling knight twisted. Steel leg kicked her side. Ack!
Arm raised in haste pierced powerlessly; girl flew back. Body rolled floor. Knight crashed ground with boom.
She pushed up hastily. Knight slowly rose. In its hand, her seized longsword.
No...!
We're done.
This instant, Pastel readied full sprint.
Tried turning.
Spotted black sword rolling on floor.
Dropped by knight, midway between.
Instinct outpaced reason.
Girl dove for sword.
Knight charged.
Hand seized floor sword.
Stooped girl met descending stroke.
Death loomed.
Mind flashed.
—Downward cuts overpower upward ones.
No, not that.
—Blade is sword's weakest part. Clashing blades, align diagonals to minimize impact. Otherwise, chips form, eventually...
Girl swung full force. Knight's stroke arrived. Blades clashed.
Impact precisely hit flawed blade. Sharp screech rang. Knight's longsword shattered.
Silver shards scattered.
Reflected light glinted.
Pink hair whipped.
Blade flashed.
Sharp arc surged. Tip invaded gap, pierced nape.
Red glow faded.