Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Reading the Sword (3)
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Sword God Ban stood atop the hill. A bleak wind was blowing. Before him stood a swordsman whose face was not visible. Judging from the robe hem and wide-brimmed hat, he seemed to hail from the east.
Sword God Ban asked,
"Do you know who I am, yet still challenge me?"
"Of course I do. The kingdom's greatest swordsman, Sword God Ban."
"And knowing that, you still dare to challenge me?"
"If not the kingdom's greatest, then who else is worth challenging?"
"That does make sense."
Ban gave a wry smile as he gripped his sword. He assumed an upper stance, ready for an Overhead Slash at any moment, gazing at the foe who would soon fall before his blade like a falling leaf.
The opponent charged. He tried to slash like a beam of light, but it was futile. His sword was even faster than light. Before the man's hand could even move, his blade came sweeping down...
".........Ah."
With both hands raised in the air, Ban opened his eyes. It was a moment he had grown accustomed to. The dream of "Sword God Ban." Ban lowered the hands he had raised into an Overhead Slash stance and slowly rose to his feet.
At least the self-loathing was less now.
Ever since he had begun serious sword training, the dream of Sword God Ban no longer left him with the same bitterness as before. Back then, he had seen it as a pathetic lingering attachment to an impossible dream, but now... perhaps it really was possible. A faint hope had taken root.
'That aside.'
Ban chuckled. There had been another change in his Sword God Ban dreams since starting training. Sword God Ban now always attempted an "Overhead Slash," no matter the situation.
Was it because he had trained a bit and grown attached to the Overhead Slash? It was amusing. Ban stood and performed an empty-handed Overhead Slash, then soon smiled.
"It's definitely improved."
Though his hands were empty, if a sword had been in them, it would surely have been a perfect Overhead Slash right then.
Lately, Ban was finally understanding what it meant for one's skills to "improve visibly." With each swing, he could accumulate the experience of anywhere from two to as many as five swings. It was only natural that he felt the difference every single day.
He was piling up experience several times faster than others. What greater blessing could there be for a swordsman?
"This is the lowest sync rate."
Then what would the highest be like? No, what if it wasn't a mediocre swordsman like Jensen, but a sword from someone far more renowned and exceptional...
Thoughts like that made it impossible for Ban to endure his daily life as a pharmacist's assistant any longer.
'Not much time left.'
Ban resolved himself. The moment he fully made Jensen's swordsmanship—and Jensen's Overhead Slash—his own... he would quit the pharmacist path for good.
He knew that moment was not far off.
§
He swung the sword downward.
Overhead Slash after Overhead Slash, again and again.
Memories overlaid the blade's trajectory, and then the blade overlaid those memories once more. His clothes had long since been soaked with sweat. He could no longer tell if it was Jensen swinging the sword in the memories or himself.
It was exhausting. Even the muscles honed by climbing mountains daily couldn't withstand swinging the sword every day. Ban groaned his way to bed each night, and his herb-gathering pace had slowed. Naturally, the time he could spend gripping a sword dwindled as well.
Anyone but a fool would notice something was off with him. But Jensen said nothing. Whenever blisters formed on his palms and he returned home, Jensen would simply hand over some ointment he had made himself, without a word.
What was Jensen thinking? Did he know about the sword training? Ban stopped dwelling on it. With each passing day, his mind filled more and more with nothing but the sword.
The sword was so captivating that it made him forget the fatigue weighing down his body.
To the point where he wondered why he hadn't realized it sooner. It was frustrating enough to be unbearable.
And so, unable to bear it, he swung the sword again. Toward the "ideal Overhead Slash" shown in Jensen's memories, closing the gap little by little.
[Your understanding of the owner's swordsmanship has increased.]
[The memory sync rate has risen slightly.]
Even without seeing the notifications, he could feel his swordsmanship improving by leaps and bounds. Jensen's memories, once so alien, no longer felt foreign. How he gripped the sword, how he swung it, why he did it that way—Ban was grasping it all step by step, without a single word of instruction.
In that sense, Jensen was his teacher even in swordsmanship. Whether he would acknowledge it was another matter.
Jensen's memories contained a fairly classical sword training method: kicking a tree and then slashing the falling leaves. If there was anything unique about it, perhaps it was that the cut had to be perfectly perpendicular to the ground while always slicing exactly one leaf.
It was autumn.
Unlike Jensen, Ban had to slash fallen leaves.
Unlike Jensen, Ban had to swing a blade that wasn't even properly sharp.
The leaves shattered the instant the blade touched them. A far cry from the scene Jensen had created in the sword's memories.
But Ban did not despair. From the glimpses he had caught in the memories, Jensen had failed far more often than he had succeeded. For every one of Ban's failures, Jensen had failed three times, five times.
In the face of those memories, it would be too shameful to complain about something like this. Ban gritted his teeth and gripped the sword. As calluses formed and tore repeatedly, his "Overhead Slash" grew smoother and smoother.
Before long, he could cut the leaves without shattering them.
Before long, he could cut fewer leaves.
From ten sheets to nine. Nine to seven. Sometimes it went back to ten, but eventually down to five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
And then.
§
"...Why isn't he showing up?"
Aidan muttered.
Ban. That immature boy's romantic notions about becoming a swordsman were known to everyone in the village. Even the guards would say that his appearance at the training ground marked the end of the day.
Which made the past few weeks all the more strange. No matter how many times he told the kid not to come, he had stamped his attendance faithfully at the training ground—yet lately, it was hard to even catch a glimpse of him.
'Did he really quit?'
If so, it would be cause for joy. It would mean he had abandoned his pipe dream.
But why did it nag at him like this?
Was it possible he had been rooting for the boy after all? Hoping he could achieve the impossible?
'If he weren't Jensen's disciple.'
Even with his age, he would have taken him in as a guard—or better yet, trained him as a swordsman. Boys showing that much passion for swordsmanship weren't exactly common these days.
He was in the midst of letting out deep sighs when Dolbi approached, looking concerned.
"Is something wrong, Captain?"
"Huh? Oh, no. Ah, Dolbi. Haven't seen Ban around lately, have you? He hasn't shown up at all recently..."
"B-Ban? Uh, well..."
Dolbi stuttered, caught off guard by the sudden question. He couldn't admit to receiving the "man's elixir" from Ban—not with his pride as a man on the line. Before Aidan could grow suspicious, he quickly added,
"Now that you mention it, he did say something like that. That he's going to become a swordsman?"
"...Not that he wants to, but that he will?"
"Yes. I figured you two had talked it over... or not?"
Aidan frowned without answering. No, if he was serious about becoming a swordsman, he should be showing up at the training ground even more often. Begging to join the guards, or at least asking to train together.
"What the hell is that kid up to?"
"I wouldn't know either..."
Dolbi gave an awkward smile.
It happened not long after.
Ban appeared at the training ground.
He said he would take the entry exam.