The Sparring Must Go On
Back when he had lived as an assassin, if anyone had asked him to name the physically hardest training he had ever endured, he could have answered without a second's hesitation.
Sparring with the instructors.
It was a drill in which he had to block and counter attacks that viciously targeted nothing but openings and vital points, delivered with iron clubs. The instructors showed not the slightest mercy. Bruises were a given; broken bones and torn flesh were common. What made it worse was that the moment the children started to adapt, the instructors raised their power and speed and struck even more vitals and weaknesses, until defense became impossible.
Day after day, the children endured pain so savage they wanted to die, and in the midst of it they groped for a way to survive. In the end they erased their own openings — and learned, in turn, to hunt the instructors'.
It had been as hard and as agonizing as being dropped into hell itself, but their skill had soared. The instinct driven into his body had even saved his life more than once.
The Light Wind Squad, thanks to Glenn's consideration, had obtained martial manuals to fill the gaps in their swordsmanship. There would never be a better time for that same instinct training.
"Burren."
Raon stood at the center of the training ground and beckoned him forward.
"How long are you just going to stand there and watch?"
"Damn it…"
Burren chewed his lip and stepped out. It had not been long since he had gone all-out and been thoroughly broken, and unease still dripped from his face.
"You don't need a warm-up, I assume. Come."
"Haaaah!"
Burren drew his aura to the limit and kicked off the ground. The instant he closed in and tried to bring Frostwind Sword down, Raon stepped into Supreme Harmony Footwork and slid aside as if the earth had turned to ice.
"Wh-where—!"
"Here."
The moment Burren froze in confusion, Raon shot in from the side and kicked his leg out from under him.
A dull, ugly thud. Struck in the middle of a footwork sequence, Burren went down in a sprawl that did his pride no favors.
"Nngh…"
The impact itself was not severe, but his face flushed scarlet all the same — wounded dignity, more than wounded flesh.
"Using footwork does not make you invincible. Move while reading your surroundings more carefully."
"U-understood."
Burren ground his teeth and lunged in again. Raon let the incoming blade slide off his own the way rainwater runs down a roof, then thrust his training sword.
The point wavered like a reed in the wind, then split into more than a dozen blades, each one hunting an opening in Burren's guard.
"Hup!"
Startled as he was, Burren still circulated his aura at once, spreading sword energy in a round shield.
It was not enough. Aura thrown up in a panic had no hope of stopping Raon's blade. The training sword, flushed a burning red, tore through the pale green aura and hammered the body behind it.
He was not simply hitting him. He was stamping, without mercy, on every weakness and opening Burren currently possessed.
"Gack! Stop!"
Burren let out a thoroughly undignified scream and toppled backward, curling in on himself not to defend, but to survive.
"I lost! I-I said I lost!"
"Your reaction speed was decent. Your actual response was not."
Raon lowered the training sword and pointed at Burren's aura, still shredding itself in the air.
"If you had looked closely, you would have seen the weaker parts of my cuts. Meet everything with the same force and of course it breaks."
"Wh-when did you even learn shifting swordplay like that…"
"I didn't, not really. I just tried it."
He had not studied any particular changing-blade art. He had simply used the transformations of Flower Spirit to bring the sword down.
"Ah…"
Burren's eyes looked ready to fall out of his head. The answer seemed to have shocked him more than the beating.
"Once I've gone through all thirty-three, it'll be your turn again. Think about what you should have done in that last exchange."
"Urgh…"
The news that they would cycle back around drained the color from Burren's face.
"Runaan."
"Mm."
Runaan flicked a glance at the battered Burren and rolled her eyes — an expression she rarely showed. She did not look afraid, though. She had already grasped that this was different from the Mad Fang Sword sessions.
"I'm going."
The moment Raon nodded, she turned the floor to ice and thrust as fast as lightning. The temperature in the training ground plunged; frost bloomed across the ground and tried to lock his body in place.
Raon stomped once. The frost laid over the floor and hanging in the air was swept away in a single stroke, and his sword came down. The training blade wavered like a thin branch, then became five, targeting Runaan's head and shoulders at the same time.
She sprang back with the snap of a rubber band — but she was already inside his read.
Raon followed her movement as if drawn by a magnet and drew a cut at a speed she could barely register. In that sliver of an instant he struck the wrist she had raised to guard, then pierced ten of her openings at once.
"Ah—"
Even her scream was quiet. She clutched the vitals he had hit and let her eyes droop, looking for all the world like a rain-soaked puppy.
"Be honest," Wrath burst out. "You came from the Demon Realm, didn't you!"
What nonsense is that.
"Where do you even find places to hit the ice cream girl? Ten strikes in that tiny instant! You devil!"
This is how they get stronger.
Looking at Runaan's face, he did feel a twinge of guilt — but he had to steel himself. All of this was for their sake.
"The spring in your footwork is good. You didn't read the direction properly, and you didn't read my sword at all. Analyze your opponent's blade and decide whether to dodge, block, or counter."
"Mm."
"I'll do the same thing in the next bout. Have your counter ready."
"……"
For the first time, Runaan gave him no answer at all as she withdrew.
"Then it's my turn."
Marta climbed onto the sparring ground with a fierce little grin, training sword in hand, competitive fire burning as if fear were a language she had never learned.
"Here I come!"
She charged without the slightest starting signal and brought her sword down. A blade heavy with raw power and speed dropped toward his skull.
Raon drew his training sword in a rippling, water-like arc, let her cut slide away, and dropped his own blade into her opening.
The impact staggered her — and still she did not stop swinging. The message in her posture was unmistakable: she would rather attack than spend a single breath on defense or pain.
"Is that the right call?"
Raon gave a short laugh, flowed around every one of her attacks, and hammered her weaknesses and openings without restraint.
"Kh…"
Vicious pain, and the fact that she had not landed a single blow, twisted Marta's face into something ugly.
"Your power and your toughness are real weapons. They will not always work. Someone may be superior to you in every respect — or, like me, they may simply render your attacks meaningless."
He swept his sword level. In an instant the edge bloomed into five blades and punched through her aura without mercy.
"Kyaah!"
Marta had been enduring with her teeth locked. The scream tore out of her anyway, and she went down.
"Trusting the defense of Titan Aura is fine. You have far too many openings. Learn to take the hits you should take, and dodge the ones you should dodge."
"Nngh!"
She clutched the places she had been struck and glared up at him, black eyes bright with fury.
"V-Vice-leader, isn't this a bit much?"
Dorian stood there with a bloodless face, cold sweat running down his temples.
"You improve by sparring as if it were real combat."
Raon smiled and pointed at the one who had just asked the question.
"Good timing. You're next, Dorian."
"Hiiiiek!"
The screaming at the Fifth Training Ground only died when a half-moon had climbed to the center of the sky.
"That's enough for today."
Raon hooked the training sword over his shoulder and grinned.
"Uuuuurgh!"
"W-we're alive…"
"I really thought I was going to die."
"Haaaah…"
The squad members could not even form proper answers. They swayed like zombies and collapsed across the training ground. Every inch of exposed skin was mapped in bruises; their uniforms were soaked white with sweat.
It hurt, and it was hard — but he had struck them so that no lasting damage would remain. By tomorrow morning they would have recovered, more or less.
"Think, constantly, about why you got hit and how you can avoid getting hit. If you use the new martial arts you've obtained, you'll improve a little faster."
"Th-that's not something you can do overnight, is it?"
Burren managed to lift his head. From the third beating onward he had abandoned honorifics entirely and gone back to talking like an equal.
"If you can't, you get hit."
"Kh!"
He could only grind his teeth. No retort came.
"……"
"Fuck. Fuck! Motherfucker!"
Runaan could not get up, her head planted in the dirt. Marta stared at the sky and spat curses, raw with humiliation.
"Urgh!"
"I'm dying…"
"Th-there's nowhere that doesn't hurt."
Every last swordsman was sprawled in some broken posture, leaking nothing but groans.
"I went easy on you for the first day. Starting tomorrow morning I won't hold back, so be out here at dawn. Warm up. Be ready."
"E-easy? This was easy? And tomorrow you're going at us for real?"
"And first thing in the morning?"
"Is he actually trying to kill us…"
"S-Squad Leader! Where are you! The vice-leader is trying to murder us!"
The Light Wind Squad clutched their heads and howled.
"If you have the strength to scream, you'd be better off going to figure out how not to get hit. Tomorrow will be worse."
Raon left them with a chilly smile and walked out of the training ground.
The instant he vanished, Dorian shoved a hand into his Belly Pouch and pulled out a luxury sled.
"I'm going home!"
Raon did not go into the Annex. He headed for the clearing instead. Judiel, who had been gazing at the lake where moonlight lay spilled across the water, bowed her head.
"Fortunately, I was able to obtain the sword art you requested."
She inclined her head again and held out a thin booklet.
"Thank you."
Raon smiled faintly and took it. Inside were sword stances and the explanations that went with them.
"So this is Hundred Scents Sword."
Hundred Scents Sword was the martial art Garon had bestowed upon the swordsmen of the Gold Peak Squad — a high-level swordsmanship in which rich variation and superb control of space were woven together.
He had asked Judiel to look into it so he could use it when he beat — no, when he educated — the Light Wind Squad. She had brought it back in time. The fact that she had drawn the diagrams and written the explanations herself only confirmed that her eye and her instincts were anything but ordinary.
Raon read the booklet through twice, then burned it with the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames.
"I'm going to try it once. Would you watch?"
"Of course."
Judiel nodded and stepped back.
Raon rolled his wrist and drew his sword.
A silver blade steeped in wind unfurled like the fragrance of a spring day, tracing four curves. Edges rich with kaleidoscopic variation spread at different speeds and along different paths, slicing the moonlight on the lake into dozens of shards.
"How was it?"
After unfolding every form of the Hundred Scents Sword, he walked over to her.
"N-nearly perfect…"
Judiel's pupils shook. She had clearly not expected him to reproduce the art after two readings of a booklet.
"The speed was a little faster, though, and the trajectories spread a little wider than what I saw."
"Like this?"
He took her advice and unfolded Hundred Scents Sword again.
"Yes. It resembles the Hundred Scents Sword I observed. How did you… from reading a booklet twice…"
Her eyes trembled violently, as if the whole thing were absurd.
"I've had a few realizations lately."
Thanks to the Ring of Fire and Flower Spirit, his grasp of shifting swordplay and phantom swordplay had risen sharply. That was why diagrams and explanations alone had been enough to follow Hundred Scents Sword.
"If you can do this, why did you ask me to find material on Hundred Scents Sword? The martial arts Young Master already knows are superior."
"This isn't for me to learn."
"Pardon?"
"I'm going to break Hundred Scents Sword apart, split it up, and use it when I train the Light Wind kids."
He meant to extract the variation and the spatial control from Hundred Scents Sword, attack the squad with them, and drive an instinct into their bones — the instinct to overwhelm the Gold Peak Squad's sword, and devour it.
"Ha…"
Judiel's eyes went slack as the meaning landed. The look on her face had gone past surprise into something like awe.
"You did well. Go get some rest."
"Y-Young Master, you…"
"I'll stay and refine the sword a little more."
"You've been facing swordsmen all day. You must be exhausted."
"There isn't much time. I have to learn this properly if I'm going to make the squad stronger."
"Understood. Then…"
Judiel nodded and went into the Annex.
Then let's wrap this up quickly.
"You say you'll be quick," Wrath muttered, scowling, "which means we'll be at this until dawn. This King already slept."
"It won't take long."
Raon smiled faintly and unfolded Hundred Scents Sword. He split the variation and spatial control nested in each form into fine pieces, then breathed that rhythm into his own blade.
Hundred Scents Sword was dismantled down to the last fragment and sown into the soil from which Raon would grow stronger.
While he was sunk in the work of mastering the art, Judiel came back with a sandwich and set it on a tree stump beside the clearing. Afraid of breaking his concentration, she kept her distance and quietly watched him unfold Hundred Scents Sword, turning over in her mind whether there was anything else she could do to help.
A month passed with sparring as the only form of training.
Whenever the Light Wind Squad started to get used to the fast, varied attacks, Raon raised the intensity so they could never adapt. They trained every day, got beaten every day, and agonized every day — and still felt as if their skill had not grown at all. They had sunk into a strange, airless swamp.
"I-I'm actually going insane."
"I want to die. Just kill me…"
"I miss my mom. Mom…"
Even in the scraps of rest they had clawed out, the swordsmen could not truly rest. They rubbed their faces into the dirt, unable to pull their minds together.
Plenty of them had thought about running. All of them had given it up, once they understood they could not slip Raon's senses.
"Well, well!"
Rimer — who since leaving the infirmary had done no training at all, only eaten and loafed until his face had gone round and plump — looked over the trainees and shook his head.
"If I were you kids, I'd have quit being a swordsman a long time ago. Sheesh!"
"S-Squad Leader."
"I thank the heavens I am not in the same position as you."
He clasped his hands, closed his eyes, and offered up a prayer that sounded entirely sincere.
"Hmm-hmm."
Humming as he wandered off, Rimer looked even more punchable than Raon.
"B-Burren, sir. Are you just going to take this? At this rate we're actually going to die!"
"He's right. We're not going to be killed by some enemy outside — we're going to be wiped out by the monster in our own house!"
"That vice-leader bastard! He's gotten a taste for hitting us. He smiles every single day!"
The Light Wind Squad went to Burren, the one person they could still talk to, and poured out their grievances. Runaan had lost the ability to speak entirely, and nothing came out of Marta's mouth but curses, so Burren was the only one left to consult.
"I'll die too, but there's no way out. The squad leader's washed his hands of it, and that vicious bastard Raon will not give an inch."
"We don't necessarily have to make him stop the sparring altogether."
Crain, who by now could fairly be called Burren's loyal retainer, lifted his head.
"Wouldn't it be enough just to rest from this hellish sparring for a few days?"
"Rest? How are we supposed to rest?"
"This ground, for example."
Crain pointed at the floor of the training ground.
"Right now the soft soil at least keeps us from getting hurt too badly. If it weren't here, even Raon wouldn't be able to work us as hard. Or he might postpone the sparring until he could bring in new soft soil."
"Mm. That's… actually true."
Burren nodded. Every training ground was currently occupied; holding the spars somewhere else was not realistic. If they could not use this one, a few days of rest might genuinely open up.
"You heard a strong typhoon is passing through tonight, yes? The vice-leader won't be here guarding the place at night. What if we used that typhoon?"
"Used the typhoon?"
"Yes. We dump the soil, tear up the ground, and say the typhoon did it. Even the vice-leader won't be able to argue. The training ground will have to be repaired, so we won't be able to spar for at least two or three days."
"Nnh…"
Burren bit his lip. The Burren of ordinary days would never have accepted this — but if the sparring went on like this, he really thought they might die.
Yeah. Just a few days. Just a few days of rest. It's not me — the kids are going to die.
He had not slept properly in over two weeks. His reason, already thin, finished justifying itself, and he nodded.
"All right. Bring everyone who can keep their mouth shut."
Burren gathered all of them except Runaan, Marta, and Dorian — who could reasonably be called Raon's direct subordinate — and laid out the plan.
That night, thirty Light Wind Squad members with wobbling legs assembled in the darkened Fifth Training Ground.
"We start now."
Burren gathered them and pointed at the soil on the floor.
"Team One dumps every bit of the soft soil laid on this ground. Don't leave a handful."
"Yes!"
"Don't answer so loud."
"Team Two tears up the earth. It has to look like a typhoon hit. Keep it natural."
"Yes!"
"I said don't answer so loud!"
They had trained until moments ago; the swordsmen were already half out of their minds.
"Team Three comes with me to mess up the outside of the training ground. Remember — looking natural matters most. Everyone, begin."
"Yes!"
"Ah, don't make so much noise! Please!"
Burren, unaware that he himself was the loudest one there, got to work.
The swordsmen gathered the soil and dumped it, tore up the earth, clinging to the hope of a week — or even a few days — of real rest. Their efforts to survive were truly enough to move a man to tears.
They had no idea that a presence with red eyes was watching every bit of it from the training ground roof.
The next morning, Raon entered the training ground at the usual hour — and found a place that no longer resembled yesterday at all.
The entire ground looked as if it had been hit by an artillery strike.
"What is this?"
"They say last night's typhoon swept through this area."
Burren came up, frowning.
"A typhoon? Ah. There was talk of one coming, wasn't there."
"Yes."
"It certainly looks like it."
Raon clicked his tongue, surveying the wrecked floor.
"V-Vice-leader."
Crain stood beside Burren with his hands folded.
"If we sparred on a floor like this, someone could be seriously injured, couldn't they?"
"They could. This won't work."
Raon clicked his tongue again, looking genuinely disappointed, and nodded.
"We should talk, then. Everyone gather in front of the platform."
"Yes!"
"A-ah, yes!"
Convinced the plan had worked, Burren and the swordsmen who had taken part wore expressions that had floated clean off the ground. Even their shuffling steps looked almost cheerful.
"Hah…"
Raon climbed onto the platform and let out a breath.
"As you can all see, the training ground is in poor condition. We'll have to repair it today."
"Oh!"
"Yes…"
"Finally!"
The swordsmen's faces brightened with a joy they could not hide. His sentence, however, was not finished.
"But! Fortunately, we have a solution."
"A s-solution?"
"What kind of solution?"
"Dorian."
At Raon's gesture, Dorian heaved a deep sigh and trudged to the front of the platform. With a laborious motion he pulled a large sack from his Belly Pouch.
"Soft Earth, requested from Forvan City Hall. The best soil there is for softness and safety."
Raon smiled and pointed at the sack Dorian had produced. When he had gone to the mayor in person, the very first thing he had demanded had been this Soft Earth.
"It arrived just the day before yesterday. I was going to swap it in after training was over, but this actually works out better. Dorian. Take it all out."
"Yessir."
Dorian answered like a man already defeated and lined a hundred sacks of Soft Earth in front of the platform. His eyes had gone slack. He had clearly given up on everything.
"Ah…"
"Uh…"
"I-is this a dream…"
The swordsmen who had been swimming in happiness only a moment before stood with their mouths hanging open, as if they had been dropped into a pit in hell. Not one of them had imagined this.
"We don't have time, so let's finish it today. Bring shovels and the training-ground maintenance tools."
At Raon's order the swordsmen turned around, arms and legs trembling.
"D-damn it…"
"We didn't even sleep, and we went through all that…"
"That stupid bastard!"
"It was just a massive waste of effort."
They glared at Crain, the architect of the plan, as if they meant to kill him.
"W-we still get today. There won't be any sparring today. Let's at least take comfort in that."
Crain waved his hands, cold sweat beading on his skin.
"If we didn't even have that, you'd be dead right now."
"Hah, fine. Let's rest for today, at least."
"A whole day off is still something."
"Where do you think you're going?"
Just as the swordsmen were trying to fish a scrap of hope out of despair, Raon's flat voice cut across them.
"Huh?"
"Y-you just told us to bring the tools…"
"We need to repair it quickly."
"It's only repairs. You don't all need to go."
Raon smiled, tore open a sack, and spread the soil in front of the platform. Using his aura, he packed the ground down on the spot and made a temporary sparring ring.
"Ah…"
"Ugh…"
"Kh—!"
Staring at the makeshift ring that had appeared in the blink of an eye, the swordsmen's faces went a bloodless blue. Raon standing on the packed earth with his chin lifted looked, to them, like a reaper crawled up out of hell.
"This Soft Earth really is something. Feels good underfoot."
He packed the ground down thoroughly and beckoned to Burren.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Me?"
"Of course. We always start with you, Burren."
"Nngh…"
Looking as if he might cry, Burren took the training sword Dorian had prepared for him.
"Daaaaamn it! Gah—!"
He charged with a battle cry that was more of a scream, got beaten down at once, and rolled across the floor packed with Soft Earth.
"The ground's softer, so it hurts less, right? I think I can raise the intensity a bit starting today."
"Hah!"
"This life…"
Raon grinned. The faces of the swordsmen still holding maintenance tools went blue all over again.
"Are you even human?" Wrath said, having watched the entire affair. He tossed the words out like a stone.
"The more This King looks, the more you seem like one of ours."