Chapter 193: A Blade Does Not Choose the Hand That Holds It-5
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 193: A Blade Does Not Choose the Hand That Holds It-5
Dong— Dong—
The distant tolling of a bell spread across the night sky.
The heavy, perhaps even eerie sound failed to travel far, sinking instead toward the earth. It reached the ground below, falling upon the ears of Maria and me as we swung our swords.
That was the second time the bell had tolled. It meant two hours had already passed.
I had picked up the sword thinking I’d just warm up for a bit...
Whether it was a habit from living in the Murim world or just meddlesome curiosity, I had lost track of time while wielding the blade.
"Huff... Haah... Huff..."
The result of that time was the sight of Maria before my eyes.
She couldn't even maintain a proper stance, gasping for air as if she might collapse at the slightest touch.
It had been a continuous string of one-sided exchanges.
Whenever she swung her greatsword, I parried it with my wooden sword, suppressing her by thrusting the tip toward the openings in her consecutive strikes.
Judging Maria’s skill by the standards of the Murim world, she was somewhere between second-class and first-class.
It was actually a bit surprising that she was considered one of the upper-mid-tier combatants among the Inquisitors.
Considering that the Holy Knights ranged from first-class to the early stages of the Supreme Peak, she would struggle to even pass the preliminaries of the tournament, let alone place in it.
I had hoped her posture would improve even slightly while I put her through the wringer for two hours, but it hadn't changed a hair's breadth.
Thinking she might simply lack the intuition for this, I decided to stop the lesson.
"Good work."
As I spoke and lowered my wooden sword, Maria slumped straight onto the ground.
The dust of the training grounds clung to her nun’s habit.
Maria struggled to catch her breath.
Was it because she hadn't received training as intense as the Holy Knights? Her basic physical stamina seemed weak.
"Phew..."
I inhaled the crisp night air and exhaled.
Living a sedentary life had made me restless, but swinging the sword like this made me feel much better.
...Though I felt a bit guilty, thinking I might have bullied Maria too much.
"Please, stand up."
Feeling uneasy about her sitting on the cold ground, I reached out a hand to her.
"......."
But she didn't react.
Beneath her lowered head, something began to drip, drip-drop, onto the ground.
"Sister Maria?"
Worried, I leaned down.
Perhaps sensing my approach, Maria lowered her head even further.
"Sister Maria... are you crying?"
Seeing the droplets staining the ground, I asked cautiously.
Without a word, Maria shook her head.
It was a denial.
However, it served more as a confirmation.
The tears falling to the ground grew more frequent.
I could hear the occasional sound of her sniffing.
"...I'm sorry. I pushed you too hard, didn't I?"
Reflecting on how enthusiastically I had been swinging my sword, I scratched my head awkwardly.
I suppose it would be upsetting to have someone offer to teach you, only to spend the whole time bullying you like a novice.
"......"
Even at my words, Maria showed no sign of looking up.
Unsure of what to do, I ended up pacing aimlessly around her.
"...Saint-nim."
After a few minutes, Maria called out to me, her voice trembling.
"Saint-nim..."
"Yes, go ahead."
"I... I can't do this anymore."
"Pardon?"
"I... I can't do it anymore. Interpreting the scriptures every day, trying to grow strong enough to beat the Holy Knights, enduring the jealous glares from those around me because I'm your attendant..."
It felt as though the things piled deep within Maria’s heart were finally spilling out.
One by one, she began to name the things weighing her down.
The scriptures.
The training.
The eyes of others.
The conduct expected of an Inquisitor.
And...
"I'm terrified of the expectations you've placed on me, Saint-nim."
Maria lifted her head, meeting my eyes.
Expectations I had placed on her—expectations I hadn't even realized existed.
"I swung my sword as hard as I could for two hours... but I couldn't reach you. I kept leaving openings... nothing improved... How can someone like me go to the tournament and prove my worth...?"
Her shoulders shook slightly as she muttered.
What kind of worth did she want to prove?
I considered asking, but I chose not to.
One thing was certain: she hadn't volunteered for the tournament.
And I had a feeling that my existence played a significant role in that decision.
Having poured everything out, Maria buried her face in her knees and wept silently.
I felt a pang of sympathy.
I, too, had faced walls during my training.
It was like that before my first Ignition, and I had to face many small limits after that as well.
Because I found learning martial arts fun, I was able to accept those limits with a glad heart.
Martial arts were my goal.
But Maria was different.
To her, swordsmanship was a means to an end. A tool to satisfy the expectations crushing her.
That was why she felt hunted.
But I knew.
Skill does not grow when one approaches it with a hunted heart.
I slowly took Maria by the shoulders and helped her up.
While it was impossible to lift her with my physical strength alone, Maria sensed my intention and found her footing halfway through.
We stood facing each other.
Maria, her face a mess of tears, belatedly felt embarrassed and kept trying to turn her head away.
"Sister Maria. I'm truly sorry, but would you mind holding your weapon just one last time?"
I tightened my grip on her shoulders.
Right. I said I’d look at her form, so I should take responsibility for that.
However, I needed to change my teaching method.
*
At the Saint’s words, Maria obediently picked up her sword.
It wasn't because she believed in him, but because it was an instruction from the Saint.
I'll probably just collapse pathetically again anyway.
That was her mindset as she took up the blade.
Her palms, gripping the greatsword, were already covered in blisters.
Enduring the stinging sensation, she gripped the handle of the greatsword firmly.
Gripping the sword firmly.
That was the only realization she had gained through the Saint so far.
Maria expected the Saint to draw his sword in front of her, but she soon tilted her head in confusion.
The Saint, who had been facing her just a moment ago, was now behind her.
"Saint-nim?"
Maria’s voice was full of doubt.
"Sister Maria. Just hold your stance as you are."
The Saint’s voice came from behind her.
Though puzzled, Maria took the stance she had learned from the manual.
Feet spread appropriately, sword held high.
As she took that clean posture, the Saint suddenly embraced her from behind.
"Eek!"
Maria’s shriek echoed through the training grounds.
"Don't be startled. I'm not trying to do anything strange."
Despite her reaction, the Saint’s voice remained calm.
His composure made Maria feel embarrassed, wondering if she had made a fuss over nothing.
The Saint overlapped his arms with hers from behind.
She involuntarily swallowed at the sensation of his firm body against her back.
"Swords, axes, and spears. These are merely pieces of sharpened metal."
His quiet, gentle voice flowed into her ears from behind.
"Without the will of the person wielding them, they aren't particularly dangerous."
The Saint moved his arms, swinging the greatsword aimlessly, and her arms moved with him.
Whoosh—
The greatsword cut through the air without any weight behind it.
"What is the most important thing when handling a weapon?"
At the Saint’s question, Maria answered as she had been taught.
"Accurate posture and practical application."
"Wrong. Unfortunately, that's not the answer."
In-ho chuckled. Maria felt her ears turn bright red.
"The answer is that you must handle the weapon with will. Now, shall we look at the first form?"
In-ho moved Maria’s legs with his feet, then swung her arms with his own.
Whoosh—
The greatsword came down from above.
It was the most basic swordsmanship move Maria had shown In-ho throughout their sparring.
"And was the second form this?"
In-ho moved his feet and arms again, creating her second posture.
Whoosh—
The greatsword, which had risen diagonally, slashed down from left to right.
"In the manual, these were consecutive movements, right?"
At In-ho’s question, Maria nodded.
"The manual calls it a 'linked attack,' but when you performed it, Sister Maria, they looked like separate things."
"That's because my skill is lacking..."
"Now, relax your body."
In-ho cut Maria off.
As Maria relaxed, In-ho moved his arms and legs to guide her.
Maria’s feet glided across the training ground, and her arms, holding the sword, swung in every direction.
But it wasn't random hacking.
Every single movement was precise, and the sharpness was beyond words.
"Now, how is it? Does it feel different?"
"Saint-nim? That just now was..."
As In-ho spoke, pulling away from her, Maria hurriedly turned around to look at him.
In-ho smiled broadly and took the greatsword from her.
"The swordsmanship here emphasizes efficiency. Precise, clean movements. At a glance, it seems rational... but I think differently."
In-ho, putting some distance between himself and Maria, swung the greatsword a few times as if warming up, then took a stance.
"What must come before efficiency is the will of the one holding the blade."
In-ho began to swing the sword.
"The mindset that you must eliminate the person in front of you... creates a path like this."
A ferocious, powerful strike, like the paw of a beast, appeared.
"Or perhaps you might feel like suppressing your opponent through softness?"
Suddenly, the greatsword began to dance like flowing water.
"......."
Maria felt as if all the light in the world was shining upon him.
No, it wasn't an illusion. The Saint was glowing.
Ah... I am spending time with someone like this.
Maria felt as if she might cry from the overwhelming emotion rising from deep within her chest.
While Maria watched him in a daze, In-ho finished his sword dance and handed the weapon back to her.
"Sister Maria. A blade does not move by the hand of the one who holds it. It moves by their heart."
The Saint spoke in riddles.
Maria nodded mechanically.
She wasn't entirely sure, but she felt as if she had grasped a clue.
And in truth, it didn't matter to her.
Thump-thump.
Her heart was racing because of the warmth remaining on her hands, as if his arms were still wrapped around hers.