Inheriting Cowardice
Iana secretly respected Lord Ian. Or maybe it wasn't quite respect. Admiration? Aspiration? Whatever it was, there was something undeniable about him as a swordsman.
His swordsmanship in the Gate had been completely different from anything she'd learned. If she had to pin it down, Iana was a by-the-book swordswoman. Ian, on the other hand, had been fighting in the truest sense of the word.
That kind of strength isn't something you get from a day or two of training.
When a man like that offered to teach her personally, she'd been excited. It might be the hint she needed to take the next step. That's what she'd thought, at least...
Thwack! Thud! Crack! Thwack! Crunch!
He just kept beating on the straw dummy. Dull thuds echoed from the wooden sword swinging without pause.
It's not that she hated it. Iana knew better than anyone how important the basics were. She'd repeated them every single day herself.
But doing only this feels a bit...
The lord had proposed this training with three weeks until the Gate surge. But would beating a dummy like this really make her stronger? Forget like or dislike—this was about efficiency.
The lord was a swordsman like her. Just exchanging ideas could teach her so much.
"He even gave Luna that huge hint about alchemy with the moonstone. So why am I stuck with something this basic?"
The question bubbled up, but she couldn't bring herself to ask. She could feel how serious he was about the training.
Take Jenis, for example.
"Hah! Hah! Haah! Haa...!"
The lord had ordered Jenis to build stamina—specifically, to run laps around the training grounds nonstop. She must have felt it herself, because Jenis was pushing hard. Her small body was drenched in sweat; it was almost pitiful to watch.
"Jenis. Come here a sec."
The lord called out to her as he passed by. Iana figured he'd encourage her or tell her not to overdo it. Jenis, panting from her hard run, looked up with a glimmer of expectation.
But...
"Who told you to drop your staff and run?"
"Huh?"
"Are you an idiot? You gonna toss your staff and run when things get dicey in a fight? A weapon should always be in your hand—that's basic common sense."
"Ugh... Uwuh..."
"From now on, run with your staff. Hell, don't let it out of your sight no matter what you're doing. Starting today, that staff is your lover."
What came back was harsher orders and scolding! It was the brutal moment when Jenis's girlish hopes for praise crumbled.
"Later, run while cycling your mana circuits. That's how you build real combat applicability."
"Ugh... Uwu..."
"Once that's second nature, try casting basic spells when you're gasping for air. That way, even when it's really rough in a fight, your magic won't flake out like in practice."
"H-Hiiing..."
Tears finally welled up in Jenis's eyes. After all that grueling effort, all she got was cold reality. And the lord's next words were something else.
"If you're gonna cry, chug some saltwater first. Running dehydrated will just make you collapse."
"Waaah!"
"Looks like you can keep going if you're crying like that."
...Was the lord just oblivious to human feelings? Even seeing Jenis's kittenish expression, he said that?
Iana could tell now how ruthless a drill instructor he was.
I saw the knights crawling on the ground from dawn till dusk the other day.
This wasn't a metaphor. The knights were literally belly-crawling, screaming their heads off, with Ian stalking behind them, sword in hand, looking murderous.
The lord's dead serious about everyone's training...
At least, Iana had never seen training this intense anywhere else. Her friends felt the same.
"I'm dying..."
Luna muttered as she flopped onto her bed. Now officially part of the territory's staff, they had been given nice lodging. But no one had the luxury to appreciate it in their current state.
Dark circles ringed Luna's eyes. The sparkle that always lit her gaze had dulled like a mage tower assistant's.
"...Luna, you okay?"
"Nope. This sucks. Why does he make us take so many damn tests and homework every day...?"
Luna was buried in 'exams' and 'assignments' from the lord. From the looks of it, they were brutally tough. Luna at least had it better than most.
Iana glanced at the next bed.
"......"
Jenis lay sprawled there in total silence. She looked like a corpse.
"H-How's Jenis doing?"
In response, a trembling arm rose with a thumbs-up.
...Iana had no clue what that meant. Asking more felt cruel.
Still, the training's definitely working.
Luna was already practicing moonstone synthesis. Jenis looked healthier by the day.
...The only one without change was her.
Everyone else is growing so obviously...
Iana felt a prick of anxiety. The Gate raid was three weeks away. She wanted real progress before then. Falling behind her friends was out of the question.
"...Hey, why am I only doing basic drills?"
Finally, she couldn't hold back and asked the lord directly. He stared at her, then nodded.
"Loosen up."
"Loosen... up?"
"Your shoulders are way too tense."
Iana tilted her head.
"You always think you have to charge in first and fix everything yourself."
"I'm the party's vanguard. Leading the charge is my job."
"That's the problem—taking it for granted. Your swordplay's got no finesse."
A flicker of irritation sparked in her. So all this training so far was just to get her to relax?
"More precisely, you're too straightforward. You need to learn some cunning and flexibility."
"...Then teach me that finesse yourself."
"Fair point."
It was half a pout, but surprisingly, the lord nodded.
"Perfect timing—I've got all the intel gathered. We can ramp it up for real now."
Intel? She wanted to ask, but he stood up first.
"Spar in the training grounds?"
"Huh? For real?"
She reacted like a puppy hearing 'walkies,' then averted her eyes, worried she'd seem too easy.
"Ahem! Isn't this kinda sudden?"
"Why? Scared?"
"Scared? I've been itching to settle that Gate-ruined match ever since."
"Then we're good."
"...Tch."
Anyway, she was thrilled he'd accepted the spar. More than the novelty of a real match after so long, she was curious. Just how good was this man's 'swordsmanship'?
His aura's changing day by day. What kind of style does he even use?
Soon, the two stood side by side in the training grounds, each gripping a wooden practice sword. At their level, even vital hits wouldn't kill—but the pain and bruises would be real. No room for slacking.
His stance... looks solid.
Tension made Iana swallow dryly without thinking. The lord now was a totally different man from before.
What happened in that short time? His presence is on another level.
The overwhelming pressure had spiked. With sword in hand, he had no openings. He was a honed blade incarnate.
Nice.
Far from scared, she welcomed it. The stronger the opponent, the more she'd learn.
"Then, if you please—one exchange."
Iana declared and charged. Same thrust as their first clash! Last time, he'd blocked her casual attempt easily, but this was full power.
Block like before? Dodge and counter? Show me!
Scenarios flashed through her mind. But Ian's response was totally out of left field.
Whoosh!
"Guh?!"
He'd kicked dirt from the ground right into her eyes. Vision blurred on reflex.
She'd let her guard down. Fair enough. But the price was harsh for a spar.
Crack!
"Kgh!"
The wooden sword slammed her side mercilessly. A groan escaped as rib-rattling pain shot through her. Iana kicked off the ground to create distance.
"Ow ow."
She'd instinctively gathered mana to her side for defense. It still hurt like hell, so he'd channeled energy into his strike too.
Iana shot Ian a slightly resentful glare. Kicking dirt right off the bat? Knights wouldn't pull that even in life-or-death combat.
"...If I call that cowardly, what're you gonna say?"
"In a real fight, I'd say you're dead."
"Oh, playing dirty, huh?"
Iana took a deep breath and reset her stance.
Fine, my bad.
She'd seen his combat style up close and still hadn't expected it in a spar. Her mistake. He'd used the exact same trick on the boss monster. In real combat, she'd have ended up like that wolf with the sword through it.
If anything, she was grateful he'd gone all out.
This was a whole new type of fighter she'd never faced. Learning it safely in a spar was a huge stroke of luck.
"Did that scare you? My sword does sting a bit."
...His tone and attitude were annoyingly cocky, though. Provocation was probably just another weapon for him.
Purely pragmatic swordplay. Fight assuming any dirty trick.
Now no openings seemed to exist. Iana planted her feet firmly and lunged.
Clack! Clack! Crack!
This time, their wooden swords clashed repeatedly in midair. She pressed with her signature rapid strikes. Relentless combos—the speed even veteran adventurers praised.
If I overwhelm him so he can't try tricks...!
Whish whish whack!
She kept swinging, closing in. The moment she spotted an opening—
Whoooosh!
"Aaaah!"
Her head yanked back in agony she'd never felt before, neck twisting involuntarily. She realized too late: as she pressed in, he'd grabbed her exposed hair.
Pulling hair?!
Even kids would get finger-wagged for that. Yet the lord did it casually against a woman!
"Long hair or loose clothes make great targets sometimes."
"Eek! L-Let go! That's too much!"
"Just showing you another option."
She struggled, but he toyed with her expertly, yanking to control her. Humiliating—and it hurt enough to bring tears!
Smack!
As she desperately swung her sword down, he flung her aside.
"Ack!"
Her balance crumbled halfway. The instant she thought she'd broken free, something flew at her—a big red cloth blotting her vision.
Trap.
She knew instantly it was bait. Half on instinct, she raised her sword.
Thwack!
His kick barely grazed the blade. Without blocking, her gut would've taken the hit.
"Oh, not bad?"
"Grr! You bastard...!"
"How about this?"
The lord swung his wooden sword lightly from afar—or so she thought. It was a hidden dagger from his sleeve.
"Ngh!"
She whipped her sword to knock it away. In that split second, he counterattacked.
His tempo's too fast...!
Clack! Crack! Clack!
Heavy, empowered blows. The weight was bad enough, but her shaky stance made blocking a nightmare.
Damn! Can't steady my guard...!
Frustrating—she was purely defensive. She'd never been pushed this one-sidedly since becoming an adventurer.
"Dirt in the eyes, hair-pulling, hidden weapons. This is your swordsmanship?!"
"Yeah. Tricks I developed to survive."
"You're strong enough without this crap!"
"Assuming you'll always outmatch the enemy? That's arrogance."
Iana swallowed hard at his words.
Am I that arrogant?
Maybe he was right. She'd always trusted her skills. But was she beating the lord now? No. She was getting steamrolled.
...I'm not weaker than the lord.
Swordplay aside, she had the edge in strength, speed, stamina. So why was she losing?
Because Ian had something she lacked.
The desperation of someone who's survived real battles—no, seen worse.
Something she, who hadn't danced with death on the battlefield, didn't have. The resolve to use anything for survival. The chill killer instinct of one who's crossed death's door countless times. The unbreakable will.
He had it all.
...If this were real combat, how many times would I have gotten my friends behind me killed?
Smack!
"Guh!"
Stinging pain shot up her leg. Not his sword—he'd whipped her thigh with his foot. She'd nearly lost her stance completely.
"Your base is wide open. Focus and block properly."
"Learning all kinds of shit today!"
Iana gnashed her teeth and spun, channeling the centrifugal force to deflect his sword and swing hers.
Even senior knights can't handle this on first sight!
She hadn't expected to pull this in a spar. Time to show her own flair—no way he'd dodge.
But...
Swish!
He spun perfectly in sync, parrying flawlessly.
"...Huh?"
Iana's eyes widened in shock. A strike impossible to counter on first sight—one that strained the arms even if parried. And he brushed it off like nothing?
"Impressive."
A satisfied smile tugged his lips. Proud, but infuriating—like he was appraising an inferior pupil.
"But all that flailing makes your skirt flap too much."
"What?"
"Pay attention to gear and clothes. Avoid skirts unless you have to."
Flutter!
"Ah...?"
His upward slash flipped her skirt.
"Ooh, white."
"Eek?! N-No way. I swear I wore spats... Ghk!"
Face flaming, she slapped her skirt down. He didn't miss—wooden sword cracked her side.
"Your eyes wandered half a second. In real combat, that's your head gone."
Stunned, she crumpled this time.
"Don't blush over flashing panties. If you have to, make it part of your technique."
"......"
Iana boiled inside. She could take the rest. But flipping a lady's skirt and that?
Using it as a weapon against other guys?
"Just to check."
Iana looked up with a beaming smile. Her expression was pure sunshine, but the vibe was ice-cold.
"You toss out lines like that so casually. Guess you're pretty familiar with girls' panties, huh, Lord Pervert?"
"What? Well..."
Ian's mouth snapped shut. Memories of his past life. Women he'd known. Panties and nudity weren't foreign to him.
"So that's how it is."
That brief silence was all she needed. Iana gripped her sword tight and rose slowly. Mana surged wildly behind her.
It sounded ridiculous even to her, but she felt like she'd crossed a wall.
"Perverted lord."
"What?"
"...Thanks, I guess."
Iana calmed her mind. Serenity made her body feel feather-light.
"And sorry."
Her rigid mindset loosened. Mana flowed smoother than ever. The tension in her shoulders finally melted.
Lighter, faster, but unpredictable.
Her vision widened. In the path to Ian and his sword, new possibilities appeared.
A world utterly unlike the one she'd known.
Boom!
Iana kicked off toward it.