# 012 There's a Reason to Get Stronger
# 012 There's a Reason to Get Stronger
The man was a lunatic.
Sharia's soul nearly left her body at Rape's brazen act of grabbing her chest.
What kind of teacher in the world grabbed a student's chest in the name of correcting posture?
What kind of Sword Master sexually harassed someone so shamelessly during a swordsmanship lesson?
At the utterly brazen behavior, Sharia was more dumbfounded than angry.
He didn't move, still holding her chest.
He simply remained still, as if intending to serve as a sturdy, fixed support.
But did this man even realize?
That his fingers were pressing directly on Sharia's nipple?
One side wasn't like that, but the other was, making it hard to tell if it was intentional or accidental.
"Don't be tense. Short, deep breaths. Focus only on swinging the sword."
How was I supposed to do that when you were touching my chest?!
She wanted to shout it, but Sharia could not bring herself to force the words out.
Slip.
As her strength left her, the sword descended, and Sharia felt something in its movement.
"Ah...?"
"Yes. That's it. Do it again."
As if entranced, Sharia raised the sword high again.
Then, toward the front, she swung it down lightly once more.
"!!"
Sharia clearly felt the sensation of the sword descending toward the exact spot she intended.
Until now, she'd suffered the humiliation of the sword tip wavering so much she couldn't even properly cut a slime, but now the sword fell exactly where she wanted it to.
"Wow..."
This sensation was a first.
Sharia's sword had always wavered, flowing away from the trajectory she envisioned.
Even though the watercourse should flow in a straight line, the river had always overflowed wildly to the left and right.
But now, it was different.
"Ah...!"
For the first time, the watercourse was straight—the sword trajectory was straight—and Sharia let out a gasp of admiration.
This was it.
The experience she'd felt when she was very young, in the days when she was called the Sword Prodigy.
That experience she'd lost as she grew older and her body developed.
That experience she thought she'd never regain once her growing body made her not even reach the level of a Copper Badge Adventurer, let alone the Sword Prodigy.
Sharia had reclaimed it.
"One more time."
"...My chest."
"Why?"
"My chest... could you let go for a moment...?"
"You want to compare? Fine."
Rape let go without the slightest hesitation.
Sharia's body, which had been stable until just moments ago, began to feel an immense weight at her chest.
Her shoulders felt strangely heavy; even as she raised her arms to swing the sword, the sides of her chest chafed, and the moment she tried to swing the sword down, her body shook along with it, throwing her posture into disarray.
"Ah..."
Sharia realized.
"...Because of my chest?"
"You hadn't realized it was because of that until now?"
"I... I never imagined it would make this much of a difference."
"Would you like to try once more?"
"......."
Sharia looked up at Rape and subtly stepped backward.
"Must you... hold my chest tightly...?"
"If the chest is the cause, shouldn't the chest be fixed in place?"
"Uh... isn't there another way...?"
"Another way? Is there one?"
"......."
If he was doing it on purpose, he was truly the most shameless of men, and if he genuinely couldn't think of another way, he was even more hopeless.
A way to fix her chest in place.
Sharia recalled those in the temple's infirmary of the Goddess Church.
"Bandages..."
"Bandages?"
"What about wrapping them with bandages?"
"...Oh."
Rape bumped his two fists together and opened his mouth.
His expression, as if he'd genuinely thought of a problem he'd never considered in his life, only deepened Sharia's confusion.
"That's a good idea. If you pull it tight and wrap them, there's no reason it wouldn't hold."
"Right?"
"But we don't have any bandages right now."
"...Isn't there something we can use as a substitute for bandages?"
"No. And if we're using something as bandages, they'd have to be used in place of undergarments. Obviously, we'd need bandages that are clean and purified with holy water, wouldn't we?"
"Why would it be used in place of undergarments instead of using the bandages to fix my chest over my clothes?"
"Because it provides better compression?"
At Rape's matter-of-fact attitude, Sharia was at a loss for words.
"And we can't obtain such bandages here right now. So we have no choice but to use what's available now."
Rape pointed to his own hands.
"There's no method as certain as this to hold them in place."
"......."
Would she endure the sexual harassment and find the sensation of swinging the sword?
Or would she try to solve it on her own as much as possible?
"...Please hold them."
Sharia chose the path of becoming stronger.
If she didn't regain the sensation of swinging the sword from earlier by the time they reached an inn or wherever, she might definitely miss this opportunity.
Squish.
Rape pressed firmly against Sharia's back again and grabbed her chest.
Even though her body burned hot as the man's heat touched her already sensitive spots, made even more sensitive now, she steadied her resolve by fixing her eyes on the words inscribed on the grip of the sword she held.
Revenge.
To take revenge, she had to cultivate strength.
If she could just become a Sword Master, then having her chest grabbed while receiving instruction from her master was...
"...Hoo."
She decided to endure it.
For revenge.
To cultivate strength.
* * *
Crackle, crackle.
The campfire burned low, and I lay facing Sharia, who was in her sleeping bag.
"Sorry. For making you sleep rough."
"No, it's my fault for pushing myself to swing the sword more and collapsing back there. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry."
Sharia had simply collapsed.
She'd only been swinging a sword, but she found such joy in swinging it exactly as she wanted, it was as if nothing else mattered.
'Could she be that type?'
Among the Sword Masters scattered across the continent, there were those who transcended gender and for whom it wouldn't be strange to say they were married to the sword.
There were people who devoted their entire lives to swinging a sword, refining their technique, and pursuing the way of the blade. In the past, they had been given epithets such as 'Sword Saint' or 'Sword Lord.'
Those who were mad for the sword.
Bluntly, I wanted to describe them as 'people who reached orgasm through the sword.'
Because otherwise, even if I was her master, there was no way Sharia would allow someone she'd only known for a few days to grab her chest.
'This is a signal, isn't it?'
Sharia had sent me a signal.
Now that she'd allowed her chest, if I slowly chipped away at her defenses one by one, I would soon be able to pry open those firmly closed legs to the left and right.
To do that, it was crucial to raise her affinity for me.
'I'll have to act like a real swordsmanship master for the time being.'
To bring forward as much as possible the day I would teach a woman the Sword-Sheathing Technique in bed.
"Sharia. Physically speaking, you have a body blessed for learning the sword."
"......."
I mentioned her talent, but Sharia seemed to take my well-intentioned words differently, as expected.
"Did you think I was being sarcastic? No. I'm talking about your talent for the sword. Your talent alone makes it not strange at all for you to walk the path of a Sword Master."
"But..."
"The issue with your chest can be solved in any number of ways, whether by wrapping it with bandages or something else. The ways you can swing a sword can also diversify. However, before I teach you, let me ask one thing."
Beyond the dying light of the campfire.
Sharia, her face redder than the firelight, was looking at me with serious eyes.
"Why do you want to become strong? To become a Dragon Slayer?"
"No."
"Were you not planning to work as an adventurer in Lost Virginia?"
"...That's because there was no other way for me to wield a sword except as a mercenary. I'm a fallen noble, after all."
"A fallen noble?"
"Yes. The reason I don't have a family name is because my house was exterminated. On the grounds of being involved with the Demon King's army."
"You were caught in a witch hunt."
Sharia's family was a noble one, destroyed by a witch hunt.
More than that, I grew more interested in her background.
A fallen noblewoman!
A fallen noble lady!
"So, the reason you want power is, of course."
"I want revenge."
Bingo.
"Do you wish to kill all those who witch-hunted your family? If so, I can help you all you want."
I, who turned the Virginia of the past into the present Lost Virginia, guaranteed it.
A Black Dragon who understood human life knew better than anyone how to carry out a blood revenge against humans.
"If you wish, I can take you right now and kill them for you. But that's not what you want, right."
"No. Because..."
"Because revenge only has its true effect when carried out with your own hands."
Revenge.
To sit still after your family was murdered in a witch hunt?
Unthinkable.
It was only human nature to seek blood revenge without fail.
"You asked me to be your master so you could take revenge yourself, isn't it? To learn the sword yourself and cut them down for revenge, is it not?"
"That's right. The only thing I was ever good at since I was young was the sword... But as I grew, I had many instances where I couldn't properly swing the sword, and I never imagined it was because of... this."
"That's possible. Humans always think their bodies are under their own control."
Sharia must have thought she could sufficiently overcome her weak point.
Whether she was conscious of her chest or not when swinging the sword, she would have tried her best to make it not an issue since it was her own body.
She must have used various methods to fix her chest in place over the years.
But it must have been impossible, and only after I held them myself did she swing the sword properly.
'It's frightening because it's actual talent.'
Actually, I had planned to cheat.
I was going to infuse her with mana so she could learn how to swing the sword decently, then have her gradually learn the sword and learn the sword of the night.
But what she said about having talent for the sword and my own eye for it were not false.
I had merely held her chest, yet Sharia brought the sword down in a perfectly vertical line without the slightest waver.
A straight line.
A perfect straight line that gave me more goosebumps than it did her.
With this kind of talent, she would definitely succeed in her revenge no matter who her opponent was.
That was what I believed.
"I'll make it so you can have your revenge."
"...Thank you."
"Don't thank me."
I was the one who was more thankful.
After the revenge was done.
The relief from revenge.
The emptiness of having lost a goal.
I would fill all of it with my cock.
'There's nothing as passionate as sex with a woman who's completed her revenge.'
Sharia, after completing her revenge.
If she climbed onto the bed, it would become a beast-like, passionate sex indeed.