Chapter 11
Finally, the moment I'd been waiting for arrived. The instant I spotted a woman's silhouette in the darkness, I bent at a perfect ninety degrees and shouted.
"Please take good care of me from today onward, Senior!"
Park Se-Rin nodded with a satisfied expression.
"Likewise. Take care of me too, Junior."
"You're the senior—feel free to speak casually!"
Park Se-Rin gave an awkward smile and patted my shoulder.
"Got it. You speak casually too, Junior."
"Understood, Senior!"
"I said casually..."
And with that, swordsmanship training began.
The first thing Park Se-Rin had me do was demonstrate every sword technique I knew. I drew my blade and showed her everything I'd practiced so far. Her expression grew slightly serious.
"You said you awakened pretty recently, right?"
"Yes!"
"Casually, remember?"
"Yep."
Park Se-Rin pondered deeply for a moment before speaking.
"Did you train with a sword or anything before awakening?"
"Nope."
"So what did you practice from?"
"I looked up basic stances on Hitube and copied them."
Park Se-Rin scratched her cheek, thinking.
"Looks like you really just stuck to the basics. Good job. Way better than picking up some third-rate flashy tricks floating around on Hitube."
Easier to teach that way, too, she muttered to herself. Then she drew her own sword and stepped back a bit.
"Watch closely. I'm about to show you the sword you'll learn."
A silvery-blue aura began swirling around Park Se-Rin, and the same color bloomed along her blade as sword ki. The air around us grew chillingly cold in an instant. Seeing her take her stance amid that eerie aura made it feel like she was facing down an enemy.
After glaring straight ahead for a moment, Park Se-Rin moved.
The first thing I sensed was how impossibly sharp and domineering her sword felt. When she swung, the razor edge of her sword ki sliced through the world itself. When she scattered it in a burst, waves of silvery-blue sword energy tore the air apart.
Sometimes her sword severed limbs, other times it cleaved heads like an axe. It pierced armor like a spear or crushed hearts like a hammer.
That ever-shifting, supremely powerful swordsmanship overwhelmed me just from watching—my breath grew short, my heart tightened, sweat beaded on my forehead. I wasn't at a level where I could track an A-rank like Park Se-Rin's movements yet.
Still, the fact that I could follow every motion without missing a beat had to be thanks to her consideration.
"Haha..."
A dry laugh escaped my lips. Why the hell hadn't a monster like this even shown her face in Hero Become?
I had no idea why, but right now, her presence was my greatest stroke of luck. Getting sword lessons from someone like her...
"Phew."
Park Se-Rin sheathed her sword with a refreshed look and walked over.
"See it all okay, Junior?"
"Every bit, crystal clear! That was incredible, Senior!"
"Why's your speech going formal again..."
She laughed in exasperation and continued.
"Obviously, what I just showed is a realm you'll reach someday, but we won't start with anything that advanced."
"Senior! Question!"
Park Se-Rin nodded for me to go ahead.
"What's the name of that sword style you showed?"
She hesitated before answering.
"Doesn't have one yet."
"Huh?"
"It's a style I made up, so no official name. If I had to call it... Se-Rin Style?"
My jaw dropped at her casual declaration.
Creating your own sword style isn't easy. You need deep understanding of the blade at minimum, and for combat use, tons of real-world experience.
"...You made that whole style by yourself, Senior?"
She scratched her head sheepishly and nodded.
"Yeah... Kinda underwhelming, right? It's really just me formalizing the instinctive swings I used in real fights and polishing them a bit..."
That explained the versatility. It wasn't a style designed purely around sword techniques from the start—it was forged in battle, infused with skill and experience tailored for combat alone. No wonder it differed from standard styles.
Typical sword arts are for slicing foes. But Park Se-Rin's was different.
It wasn't just for slicing—it was for killing.
Other styles were bound by the frame of a "sword," fixated on cuts. Hers broke free, treating the blade as a weapon meant to slay. It sliced, stabbed, cleaved, smashed, tore.
"No way!"
"Uh... yeah?"
I grabbed Park Se-Rin's hands and pressed forward earnestly.
"Your style is amazing, Senior! I've never seen anything like it! It's versatile enough for almost any combat scenario, with way more options than standard styles!"
"Han Si-Woo. S-stop..."
"The breadth of options means more to learn, but mastering it all would make you insanely strong! You're really going to teach me something this incredible? For a nobody like me to get this chance—it's pure luck! I respect you so mu—Guhk!"
"I said stop!"
Her fist—face beet red for some reason—slammed into my solar plexus. My knees buckled; I dropped, gasping and choking.
Thankfully, air filled my lungs again after a few seconds.
Perfect control on the power, too... As expected of Senior.
As I spaced out with that dumb thought, Park Se-Rin cleared her throat, seemingly calmed.
"Anyway! Basics today, Se-Rin Style starts tomorrow."
She'd said it had no name, but now she was rolling with Se-Rin Style.
"Yep."
After that, we drilled basic swordsmanship nonstop. Even with Swordsmanship Prodigy, having a master made a world of difference. Fixing the flaws she pointed out let power flow better, transitions smoother.
Truly an admirable senior.
*
Am I going crazy? Am I going crazy? Am I going crazy?!
Park Se-Rin was in turmoil.
Until moments ago, she'd felt great. No— she still did, incredibly so. The problem started just before.
At the training park, she'd always watched from afar. But conversing up close like this? Bliss.
When Si-Woo suggested casual speech first, her heart soared. To avoid any slip about secretly watching him, she started by having him demo his solo practice. He seemed even more focused than usual, knowing she was there.
So cute! Nervous 'cause it's me?
It felt like a kid showing off taekwondo for pocket money. As expected, Si-Woo only knew basics—no other styles touched. He'd mimicked Hitube vids for those.
My kid's a genius! Perfect!
As his future swordmaster, he was the ideal disciple. Solid foundation, blank slate untouched by others. Now she just had to paint her masterpiece on that fresh white paper called Han Si-Woo.
Her beautiful strokes on his canvas. Over time, he'd add his own. And that would complete his unique style.
With Si-Woo's talent, it won't take long to catch up to me.
Imagine clashing swords with a Si-Woo who'd surpassed her—testing if his genius outshone her effort. Thrilling just thinking about it. She was already anticipating that day.
Then the trouble hit.
After demoing her style, Si-Woo asked if she'd made it solo.
Feeling deflated, wondering if it disappointed him, she blurted, "Kinda underwhelming, right?"
Hweh!
Si-Woo grabbed both her hands, leaned in close, and unleashed a torrent of praise.
What Si-Woo overlooked: Park Se-Rin had devoted her life to the sword alone. Zero immunity to male physical contact.
Those blue eyes inches away, black hair swaying in the breeze. Even her hands in his—overwhelming stimuli.
Oblivious, Si-Woo kept gushing as her face burned crimson. Unable to endure, she panicked and jabbed his gut.
Luckily, that pried him off. Clutching her pounding chest, deep breaths—she barely managed words.
"Anyway! Basics today, Se-Rin Style tomorrow."
"Yep."
Si-Woo dove right back into basics; she watched, correcting his form.
Am I going crazy?
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Her heart didn't settle until training ended.
*
"......"
The man she'd been watching chatted amiably with a woman she'd never seen. They acted like old acquaintances—"Senior!" "Junior!"—getting along famously.
...I wanted to be his first friend.
Dina felt deeply displeased watching them.
She'd escaped long surveillance and control not long ago. She yearned to be his inaugural friend, the one he leaned on first.
Teaching him swordsmanship?
Seeing him perform basics, the woman demoed her own style. Dina was shocked—it exceeded expectations.
If we fought... could I win?
Even at first, it'd be close. But ultimately, Dina would lose. The woman screamed seasoned hero.
Experience gap is unavoidable.
After the demo, they talked more. Then the man pressed close, holding her hands.
Dina suppressed surging mana, her gut twisting.
Why does this feel so unpleasant?
It felt like something precious stolen.
Annoying.
In two weeks, she'd get her chance to bond. The uniform Han Si-Woo always wore was the academy's—same as hers upon enrollment. Likely a freshman like her. Plenty of contact post-admission.
Conversely, his sword tutor seemed too old for academy age, despite youth.
Dina glared at the woman hand-on-chest before the kneeling, gut-punched Si-Woo, vowing inwardly.
I won't let you take him.
Like Dina, he'd endured lifelong control. Naturally, she'd bond deepest—understanding his pain like no other.