No Mercy (3)

"A genius, indeed."

That was Master Tia's assessment.

"…"

I had nothing to say.

Wasn't the status window responsible for most of it?

"I thought it would take at least three months, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠six at the latest."

"I got lucky, I guess."

"Child, excessive humility is poison. To sense the flow of mana the moment you pick up a sword—that makes you a genius, verily."

Unlike when I bragged to Roni at the orphanage, it had been tough against Master. I'd simply swung according to the sensations I felt. It wasn't true enlightenment, and the skill correction had played a part too. Honestly, I couldn't even explain how I'd done it. Blabbing on would just make me look foolish.

"…Think what you will."

How long would this nullification keep popping up? No, if it had no effect, why show it at all? When conversation suddenly fell silent, when I stared intently, when I subtly fished for praise… No matter how I thought about it, there was no pattern. Random encounter? Level difference? Or because of the mark?

The more I pondered, the more my head hurt. I shelved the questions for now. Starting the next day, proper training with Master began.

She pulled a pitch-black wooden sword from the storeroom and handed it to me. It was dark, compact to fit my build. The way it gripped my hand told me it was no ordinary thing.

"Child, from now on, you must block my attacks with this sword."

They say weapons take after their owners. Up close, the black wooden sword had a similar ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠vibe.

"It's a wooden sword just like you, Master."

"…"

Again? Whatever, ignore the status window.

Master's explanation followed immediately.

"This one will not break this sword. Child, I will merely make you drop it from your hand."

She continued softly.

"If you drop it even once, training ends for the day."

…

And so three months passed.

The first month. I couldn't withstand Master's first attack even once. The moment she swung, the wooden sword flew far away and embedded itself somewhere. My palms tore and blistered ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠repeatedly.

The second month. I barely blocked the first attack. But the second or third? The sword slipped away without fail… Calluses hardened like stone.

Paths I couldn't block even seeing them began to faintly trace in my mind.

And the final third month. I realized it.

The essence of this training wasn't enduring with strength.

Master's sword came rushing as always. But now, I could see it. The flow of mana, and beyond it, her intent.

I twisted the wooden sword slightly, deflecting it aside. Instead of the usual thwack!, a frictional tick echoed.

It had been like this from the start. Master's mana wasn't destructive. It was a teaching that pushed and awakened, a sensation of circulation.

Finally, I held onto the sword until the attacks ended.

"That's enough. This is sufficient."

Master's voice held a hint of excitement.

"Hoo… haa… Thank you for your efforts."

"Child, why did you never once question my intent? Was it not boring?"

Catching my breath, I answered. For three months, I hadn't been hit even once. Master's wooden sword had never touched my body. Partly because she cherished me, but fundamentally, it was unnecessary.

Thanks to that, I could focus solely on the goal without worry, unconsciously circulating mana through the blade. That was the only way to withstand the pushing force.

Only today did I grasp her intention. Swallowing the realization, I replied with gratitude.

"…I figured you had your reasons."

"Talent, modesty, patience—all perfectly balanced. This one is truly glad you are my disciple, child."

I caught the slight upturn of her lips. Master, usually expressionless, had started showing emotions little by little lately.

But soon, she tensed her eyes again and continued.

"Even with talent, child, you are still raw ore. Never forget—a moment's carelessness brings irreversible results."

"I'll keep it in mind."

She always showed emotion toward me like this. A faint wistfulness passed through her eyes. There was surely a story there… but it wasn't mine to pry.

"From now on, we use real steel swords."

"Yes!"

"Your sword sense is on track, so now we learn technique."

Our first steel-on-steel bout with Master. No stances or explanations—she dove straight into practice.

The clashing blades carried faint mana along the edges, unlike before.

"Your stance is narrow."

"Got it."

Instant feedback, and I corrected my form each time. The complete opposite of before. No overwhelming force; instead, pushes and pulls from valid positions.

"A sword with parallel mana must be serene as well."

"Like a slippery feeling, right?"

"Precisely, child. Swordsmanship is offense and defense as one; above all, prioritize the stance that keeps you unharmed."

During a brief rest, Master placed her hand on my head. But she flinched and started to pull away.

Damn. Frustration built up, and unconsciously, I overlaid my hand on hers. Grabbing it firmly, Master jolted.

"…!"

Her eyes widened to twice their usual size in surprise. I startled too.

Oh shit… What had I done?

"I mean… I'm fine with it. But it feels like you hesitate, Master… Sorry for touching without permission."

"No. Thank you, child."

Some nonsense excuse slipped out, but thankfully, Master seemed convinced. She even smiled faintly and resumed stroking my head.

"Shall we begin again?"

Six months into sword training, I'd grown accustomed to sparring with Master. When overpowered by strength, deflect softly; when they go soft, thrust sharply. If they're sharp? Stand firm—return it with power-based redirection.

Not perfect counters, but moving while being rooted in place. That was my brief understanding of swordsmanship.

"You're improving daily."

"Haha…"

Hearing praise while sprawled starfish-style on the training ground floor…!

Short but intense sessions. Rolling on the ground daily was routine. No resentment or anger—just dazed awe at the overwhelming gap.

Master Tia hadn't shed a single drop of sweat. Her breathing never faltered. That said it all.

"That's enough for today."

About two hours in, she always called it first. A bit disappointing lately. Stamina built up; I could've gone longer… Suffering now means ease later, right?

"Master, could you maybe do a little more?"

"Admirable, but no, child."

"Oh…"

"As I said before, this one bears many marks."

"Ah, so sparring hurts you every time too?"

"It's so familiar now it doesn't faze me. No need to worry."

Damn. My mood soured instantly. If that's true… Master Tia was teaching me with bone-deep pain from those marks?

Having felt that pain myself from the marks, empathy hit tenfold. Gratitude? Fiftyfold.

"Master, your disciple will grow fast and heal those marks for you!"

"How do you say such sweet things? Child, just hearing it fills me with joy."

Master's stoic facade had crumbled completely lately. It never matched her words from our first meeting anyway… Now, it's consistently positive. Better this way.

She stroked my head smoothly, pinched my cheeks gently. Faint smiles, no hesitation in petting. Watching her, I smiled too.

My first true protector in this world. How could I not be glad Master Tia opened her heart?

"Child, let's move to the next stage."

"Oh? Next stage…?"

"Swordsmanship for beasts, not people."

My heart pounded. Whoa! Monster hunter time! Every guy dreams of slicing monster bastards at least once. Reality thrilled me.

"This way."

"Yes, Master!"

With a reliable protector too? Safety assured, excitement bubbled over.

Leaving home, heading into the forest. Master stopped and pointed somewhere.

"Child, look there."

"A person?"

"Nay, that's a 'Dark Human,' commonly called 'Shadow.'"

"…Pardon?"

My ears doubted it. What the hell…? Was my perfect Master actually a racist? Oh god!

"Um… Master? Isn't that man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just human?"

"Child, your kind heart shines through. But heed my words."

She stroked my head, then explained.

"Similar in form, but separated by name because… it's a monster that uses language as a tool."

"Uh… so it deceives and eats us?"

"Their very mindset differs. All they do is deception and lies to get what they want."

Hmm… I got it intellectually, but…

"Master, does that mean Shadows deserve discrimination? Feels a bit extreme."

"Dodo. Child, what am I to do with your gentleness…"

Master tugged my cheek with a smile.

"It's wholly unlike skin color. Many are snow-white. Best avoid them, but conversation reveals the incongruity."

"Incongruity?"

"If you sense it, flee—or kill if possible. Escape is wisest otherwise."

Hm… That much? Seeing my unconvinced face, Master said,

"Child, experience it yourself this once. Approach."

"Yes! Will do."

As instructed, I neared the Shadow, making noise to alert him. His gaze turned.

"Hey, what're you doing there?"

"Kid…? Hello?"

The man replied in a beautiful voice, soothing the mind. He was looting a corpse.

"Isn't that a person?"

"Monster. It attacked me first… Nearly got me."

The Shadow giggled, flashing white teeth.

"Ooh… Monsters that look human, huh?"

But no matter how I looked, it was a normal person. Cold and stiff. Tension crept in.

"Hmm…"

Suspicious. The fallen body was unarmed. A frail person ambushing a burly man…? Hmmm…

"So… kid, you alone in the forest?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

He grinned—then kicked my Achilles tendon before I finished. My leg buckled, balance lost.

"Argh…! You bastard!"

"Help! Somebody help!!"

A tearing grin. Desperate screams echoed. The sweet voice gone. Agonized wails poured from those white teeth.

Just as Master said—not human. Pitch-black pupils. Alien wrongness far from humanity. Razor teeth gleamed chillingly.

I drew and thrust instantly. No sparring stance—blade extended from poor form.

The steel pushed through flesh. Unpleasant drag, like dull knife on tough hide. Insufficient. Too shallow…! Aimed for vein, didn't pierce skin.

"Hup!"

Shifted, used sword like club. Head recoiled briefly, returned. Blunt pommel strike? No effect. My wrist throbbed instead.

Definite monster…! Human swordplay useless.

The man tried bagging me with his sack.

"Aaaah! Mom!! Mommy!!"

"Ugh… you… fucker!"

Chilling screams. Shadow mimicked victims' final moments. Grinning deceptively all the while.

He mounted my gut, grappling. Pinned by size difference. Desperation fueled thoughts.

Sword won't work. Too close. Another weapon! Dagger at waist!

"Die!"

Off-hand to throat. Shallower than hoped, but hit trachea. First valid hit…!

He gagged, toppled back. Counterattack chance. I scrambled for dropped sword.

As I went for the kill confirm—Master appeared, stabbing between his eyes. Perfect motion, as always. Shadow slumped limply.

She faced me nonchalantly.

"Child, do you understand now?"

Master flicked blood from her blade. I had no words.