Test Cut (3)
The moment the first blow struck the White Rose, I instinctively knew this kid had solid fundamentals as a swordsman.
Knowledge of White Iron Steel's properties—something he shouldn't have even encountered at his age. Skill enough to wield aura.
Both far surpassed what you'd expect from a fresh academy freshman.
I didn't want to admit it, but I had to. He was one of those types people call geniuses.
But he lacked the most crucial thing: humility and the eyes to view himself objectively.
'Young punk...'
I'd told him in anger not to touch a sword again, but everyone makes foolish mistakes in the heat of the moment.
This would be a good chance for him to recognize his own limits.
'Crushing a young sprout like him here wouldn't mean anything. Even if he fails to cleave the White Rose, I can forget what I said earlier...'
As those thoughts crossed my mind, an intense aura poured from his body—strong enough that even a non-swordsman like me could feel it.
I looked up without thinking, and there he was, stance utterly transformed from before, glaring fiercely at the White Rose.
He seemed to have forgotten I was even here. I swallowed hard, the saliva pooling in my mouth.
-Thud-thud-thud!!
Had he gathered aura in the scabbard?
It thrashed like the heart of a horse at full gallop, shaking violently as if it might explode any second.
'That kid... mustering this much aura!!'
Sensing the unnatural volume, I glanced at the White Rose, but it stood unmoved by the pressure.
Which meant the brat had that intense, vast aura under complete control.
For a moment, I wondered if an unimaginable outcome was actually happening. I tried to stop him in a hurry...
"Brat—!"
But before I could call out, a flash like a burst of flame erupted from his scabbard and collided with the White Rose.
The deafening roar at the moment of the draw. The massive shockwave that sent nearby swords flying.
Having watched countless first-rate swordsmen swing their blades as a smith, I recognized it instantly: what happens naturally when a sword exceeds the speed of sound.
-Screeeeech!!
His blade, infused with fierce aura and breaking the sound barrier, tore through metal with a deathly shriek as it shattered the White Rose's helmet.
If someone had been wearing it, that single strike would've split their head in two.
The sword didn't stop there—it slammed into the breastplate next.
Just like with the helmet, it cleaved downward with ferocious momentum, ripping through the chest section and threatening to slice the entire armor apart.
But only for a moment...
Having clashed with the intensely aura-charged blade for so long, the White Rose immediately unleashed its unique property, halting the sword's advance.
His blade, which would've gutted anyone inside, pressed on relentlessly but soon exploded, unable to withstand the aura drain.
Fortunately, the shards flew forward, sparing me any injury. But the White Rose wasn't so lucky.
Like finding your runaway daughter in a whorehouse.
Charred black and torn open by the blast, it lay in a truly wretched state.
Thinking of how that beautiful, pristine White Rose fortress had come to this, my fist clenched involuntarily.
I wanted to punch the brat's face right then. But more than that, I was awed.
'...I have to acknowledge this.'
The White Rose had kept its shape, barely—but the iron block beneath it as a pedestal? Not a chance.
The block was pulverized, and the ground below cracked as if a giant had stomped it.
If the White Rose hadn't acted as a buffer, the whole area might've collapsed.
No, it definitely would've.
"...Who taught you that sword style?"
The question slipped out unfiltered. The kid, frowning at the sky in frustration over not fully cleaving the White Rose, answered.
"Formally? Hmm... local sword instructor, I guess? Just the basics of the draw from him. The rest, self-taught."
"I see..."
No surprise at hearing he handled that much aura effortlessly and learned swordsmanship mostly alone.
Even gods make mistakes sometimes, spitting out inhuman freaks like this now and then.
"You cleaved the White Rose helmet, so I'll make that Reverse Blade Sword or whatever."
"Then the money..."
"No. No need for money."
I waved off the coin pouch he offered and continued.
"Not just this time—never for money again."
"...Never?"
He tilted his head, as if the idea of a next time hadn't crossed his mind. I pressed on.
"Exactly. Any sword you commission from me, no charge. Though if special materials are needed, you'll have to procure them."
"I don't get it. Great for me, but what's in it for you, old man?"
"A gain? Of course there's gain."
The greatest benefit for a smith: seeing a blade I forged wielded by a worthy master.
That alone was worth dozens, hundreds of times more than coin.
"...Thanks for saying that."
His face flushed, unaccustomed to such words from me, and his mouth twitched.
"One thing I can ask?"
"Sure. Anything."
"That technique you showed... why use it sheathed?"
Firing it from an enclosed space amps the power, sure. But considering the aura drain on the scabbard and the stamina to control the thrashing blade, wouldn't it be better post-draw?
I didn't deny its strength, but I was curious why he'd done it that way.
"......Because Battōjutsu is the supreme sword art, using it sheathed is more efficient."
"What nonsense... Drawing first would be far—"
When I pressed for an explanation that made no sense, his face reddened more than before, and he yelled in fury.
"Sheathed!! State!! Is!! More efficient!!! Got it?!?"
"...Fine, whatever."
They say all geniuses are mad, but this one's crazy unrelated to talent.
'Total nutjob...'
Leaving the forge, I gazed at the sky already darkened to black and pondered.
'How the hell did this happen?'
Honestly, even I didn't fully get it.
I'd just come for a Reverse Blade Sword to safely unleash Battōjutsu on people, and now I had a top-tier smith at my free disposal.
'No way... all because of Battōjutsu?'
No other explanation fit.
All I'd done was pick a fight with the old man and shatter the armor he'd been commissioned for with a draw.
He might be clueless about swordsmanship and misjudge technique efficiency, but he'd clearly been captivated by my beautiful Battōjutsu.
I'd always known draws were a universal fix for workshops, but who knew they'd even build connections like this.
'Maybe skip sending that young lady a gift and just show her one Battōjutsu demo to wrap it up?'
As I seriously mulled that, a voice called from afar.
"Hey, Ian!!"
Turning, I saw Victor—whom I'd parted with at the dorm—waving at me.
"You're late. Took that long?"
"Popular place. Had to wait in line."
Victor said that, but his hands were empty.
"What about the pastries for her?"
"Shop's delivering to the lady's villa. Freshly made ones, apparently."
"Got it."
Hearing about dessert delivery in this world felt oddly off.
But for the price of ten katanas' worth, that level of service was only right.
"What kind, though? Gold leaf or something?"
"Maybe. Edible gold leaf?"
"Dunno."
Both nobles, but neither of us swam in wealth, so luxury knowledge was nil.
Didn't matter since we weren't eating it, but ten-katana desserts? Curiosity piqued.
"You went for a sword, but hanging around this late—couldn't get one?"
"...Got it. But one got wrecked in the process. Still, ended up with free commissions forever, so net positive."
Victor eyed me like what happened?, but honestly, no good explanation.
If anything, picking a fight and drawing led to this.
"Anyway, later for details. Bit hungry—dinner not till later? Wanna grab something? Booze too."
"Sounds good. But easy on the booze. Got Jessica tomorrow."