......Did I Lose?
"......Did I lose?"
Yoahim lay sprawled on the ground, replaying the moment in his mind. Everything had been perfect up to the point where he'd closed the distance to Kelcia in a flash and thrown his punch. The problem came right after—his wrist got snatched, and he was slammed straight into the dirt.
It was a flawless counter, turning his own momentum against him. Yoahim slowly pushed his aching body up, the impact still throbbing through him.
"Hah! Are you alright, Apostle-nim!"
Kelcia, who had glared at him murderously mid-throw, now fidgeted anxiously, stamping her feet. Yoahim raised a hand to signal he was fine, reassuring her.
I went at her with hand-to-hand, the one thing I'm worst at, but damn, I got wrecked way too easily.
If this had been a real fight, his skull would've been crushed after hitting the ground. Yoahim fell silent, gathering his thoughts.
Haellagos didn't pick her at random, that's for sure. Tch, she's a step ahead in close combat.
But if they went at it with swords, it wouldn't end so one-sidedly, he figured. Yoahim had favored blades since his mercenary days, building a solid foundation from real battlefield experience. Clearing his throat a couple times, he subtly reached for his sword and said,
"You're pretty good at hand-to-hand. How about we try swords this time?"
"Ah, yes sir! One moment, I'll fetch the training blades!"
Kelcia dashed to the storage shed in the corner of the training grounds and returned with two blunted practice swords. She handed one to Yoahim respectfully, then took her position and assumed a stance.
She's no slouch with swords either, huh.
Yoahim gripped his blade with both hands, observing her form. There was no formal signal to start. Without a word, they charged at each other simultaneously. Their powerful steps kicked up thick clouds of dust.
In an instant, the two swords clashed.
Clang!
The blades danced wildly, probing for openings on each other's bodies. It looked less like sparring and more like a real duel. They exchanged dozens of strikes and parries, sweat dripping from their brows to splatter on the ground.
After a furious flurry in mere moments, the swords surged toward each other again.
Clang!
"......Hngh!"
The jarring impact sent one blade spinning through the air. The other shot forward like lightning, piercing straight for Yoahim's throat.
"Hah... hah......"
Yoahim steadied his breathing. The sword hadn't actually gone through his neck—it was just the killing intent playing tricks. He swallowed hard and lowered his hands.
That ended the match.
"A-Are you okay? Did you get hurt anywhere?!"
Kelcia dropped her practice sword and fussed over him. But Yoahim barely registered her voice. A chill settled over his body.
Lost again.
Hand-to-hand was fine since he'd never properly trained it, but swordplay? That stung. As a Dark Knight, he'd always preferred blades over black magic and took pride in his skill.
That made it hurt even more. Sure, he wasn't on the level of monsters like Alkados or Aljes, but getting thoroughly schooled by Kelcia—who was lower level than him? He hadn't seen that coming.
The hand-to-hand loss wasn't because I sucked. She's just stronger than me.
Why? She was lower level. Factoring in stats, the gap should've been even wider.
Yoahim replayed the fight in his head. Fitting her role as a recruit trainer, Kelcia's swordsmanship felt intuitive and restrained. Teaching newbies worked better with something neutral, without flashy quirks.
If they were comparing flair, Yoahim's mercenary mishmash style had the edge. So why the loss? Simple.
She's solid. Like a rock—unyielding and heavy.
No gaps in Kelcia's guard. Her straightforward, controlled style left no room for mind games or tricks. You couldn't pierce a boulder with a thin needle. To crack it, you needed overwhelming force to shatter it outright.
To beat Kelcia, he'd have needed to hammer her with raw power she couldn't withstand. But Yoahim lacked both the strength and the technique.
That was that.
"Apostle-nim, no need to take it so hard."
The voice came from Bille as he approached. He'd apparently given Leon and Sasha a break to watch Yoahim's sparring.
"Kelcia's been wielding a sword since she was a kid. Never missed a day. She's a proven warrior too—fought on the front lines just a few years back, before becoming a trainer."
"Ah, Sir Bille, you're too kind!"
Repetition breeds perfection. Kelcia embodied that truth, training daily until she'd forged herself into bedrock. Yoahim started to see why Haellagos had assigned her to him.
A tree with shallow roots topples easily. Spot on.
I'm weak right now. Hollow inside, basically.
Yoahim was level 70—higher than Kelcia's 67, and with Haellagos's blessing, his stats edged out even Bille's slightly. Honestly, he'd gotten cocky after soloing Jalot, who was also 67. He'd assumed a Black Root tribe drill sergeant and an infantry trainer were comparable.
Wrong. Kelcia outclassed Jalot—and him.
Levels weren't everything; skill gaps existed even at the same tier.
I got arrogant.
His loss to Kelcia stemmed from a lack of fundamentals. Levels came from EXP, which measured raw experience. Gaining EXP from kills meant you'd earned that battle wisdom.
Leveling was training incarnate. But Yoahim had just sniped Hallidery for a massive EXP dump without the corresponding fights. His level shot up, but his body was like a kid who'd grown too fast—lanky and uncoordinated.
Games are all about control, after all.
So-called "god controllers" won bad matchups with finesse. Gear and levels meant nothing without skill to back them. Trying to brute-force with levels alone? Amateur hour.
"Kelcia."
She flinched at his low call, face stiffening—bracing for a scolding over the spar, probably. But Yoahim had no intention of chewing her out.
The old sages said anyone with knowledge to share was a teacher. Kelcia knew more and was stronger; she was a perfect mentor. Why get mad?
"Again. And tell me what's wrong with my form?"
"P-Pardon?"
"Rematch. Point out my weak spots."
Kelcia stammered, then nodded vigorously, resetting her stance. Bille watched them start over with a pleased smile.
"Worthy of an Apostle, alright. Asking for lessons from someone below you? Not easy. Good attitude—promising. Alright, you've rested enough. Back to training."
Leon and Sasha nodded wordlessly. They trained to support their Apostle. If Yoahim pushed himself, they couldn't slack.
The grounds soon filled with clashing steel and pounding feet.
"Haat!"
Clang!
Swords met and parted. Yoahim's blade flew from his grip. The spar didn't stop—he switched to fisticuffs and lunged barehanded.
No win with a sword? Fat chance unarmed. He didn't land a single hit; instead, he ate more punches. Sometimes his feet tangled and he tripped; other times, a blunted blade sent him sprawling.
Each time, Yoahim bit his lip, scrambling back up. Minutes later, he was soaked in sweat and caked in dirt. But he kept going.
Grab sword. Get thrown. Rise. Fall. Roll. Rise again.
"Enough. That's it for today."
Bille parried Leon's strike without looking, then pivoted to trip Sasha in a blink. The pair hit the dirt, gasping—half-dead from exhaustion. Bille chuckled at them, then glanced at Yoahim, still sparring.
Did the guy not know fatigue? Or pain? Probably neither, Bille mused—then sensed movement behind him.
Who sneaks up on me? He whipped around and nearly choked.
"Lord Haellagos......"
Haellagos stood watching Yoahim's spar in his black mage guise, presence suppressed to avoid interrupting. Bille dropped into a deep bow; Haellagos gestured for him to rise.
"Sir Bille, sorry to pull you from your duties."
"N-No, my lord! It's an honor."
"How are those dark elves shaping up? Fit to be the Apostle's limbs?"
Bille bowed his head. "Yes, they're talented. Hate to say it, but they'll likely surpass me someday."
"Good news."
Haellagos smiled, satisfied, then continued. "And the Apostle?"
"The Apostle-nim......"
Bille hesitated. Candor, or constructive criticism? He decided.
"Frankly, his skills fall far short of his fame as Kakar's Apostle."
"Oh?"
If Yoahim weren't the Apostle, Bille might've overlooked it. But as Kakar's proxy, weakness was unacceptable.
"He's reckless too. Pushed his mana too hard against Hallidery and passed out. Recklessness is a flaw for a commander leading armies."
"Hmm. I see."
"But."
Bille met Haellagos's gaze. "He's growing fast. Talented, just held back by lack of proper guidance. Not lacking potential. My lord, if I may be so bold."
Flaws could be fixed. Weakness, trained away. With will and talent, nothing was impossible. Bille smiled warmly.
"You'll need a better teacher than Kelcia soon. He'll surpass her in no time."
"Hahaha!"
Haellagos laughed heartily, delighted. Bille bowed low again—staring down a lord's eyes was borderline insolence.
"Yes, that's the spirit. An Apostle should be so. A teacher...... Who'd be fitting? Hmm, something to ponder."
Haellagos nodded to himself, then spoke again. "Sir Bille, it was a pleasure. Tell Sir Aljes my expectations for this battle are high."
"Understood, my lord."
Bille bowed; Haellagos chuckled and departed. Yoahim's sparring raged on uninterrupted.