Chapter 172

Should I call this unexpected?In my experience, even knights who live by the sword aren’t too keen on sparring with real blades.

Of course, I believe that sparring with live steel is necessary to get accustomed to real combat.

But I’m aware that my opinion doesn’t align with the majority.

Some say, “We’re already going to face bloodshed in real battles, so why do it during training meant to improve our skills?”

Others argue, “What if we get injured? Isn’t that counterproductive?”

And some complain, “If the swords or armor get damaged, we’ll have to repair them. That’s a hassle.”

These are valid points, and I’ve nodded along whenever knights under my command raised these concerns.

And then I would tell them:

“Stop whining and get over here. Or should I come to you instead?”

Dislike it, fear injuries, worry about expenses—

All those concerns are meaningless if you’re dead.

A corpse with a pierced heart or a severed neck won’t be complaining about anything.

Looking back now, apart from a few exceptions, I couldn’t care less if they got injured fighting the enemy or came back as cold corpses.

If anyone heard me say that, they’d probably ask how I could think that way about my subordinates.

They’d accuse me of being heartless and merciless.

But so what?

Why should I look kindly upon people who constantly picked fights with me, whispered behind my back, pointed fingers, and spread every insult they could think of?

If someone tried to convince me with the words, “Human lives are still important,” I’d be more than happy to laugh in their face.

Most of those who badmouthed me didn’t care much about human lives themselves, and I certainly am no saint who turns the other cheek when struck.

Even so, the reason I pushed them and stubbornly tried to keep them alive was simple: I didn’t want to be called an incompetent commander.

“Getting criticized by useless layabouts who do nothing but laze around inside the castle?”

If that happened, I wouldn’t get any sleep that night.

In fact, I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep for days out of sheer humiliation.

So, the reason I kept them alive was entirely out of selfishness—not because I cared about them or because their deaths would weigh heavily on my conscience.

Absolutely not.

‘…How did I end up ranting about this?’

Realizing I had launched into a long-winded explanation no one asked for, I scratched my cheek in embarrassment.

Then, after a brief pause, I shifted the blame onto the person standing in front of me.

“This is all your fault.”

“?”

Yuki, standing before me, blinked cluelessly, as if she had no idea what I was talking about.

A perfectly understandable reaction.

From this angle, she looked just like an ordinary person.

But that impression was entirely ruined by the sword in her hand.

Not a wooden sword or a practice blade, but a sharp, gleaming real sword.

When she gave it a test swing, it sliced through a thick leather strap with ease. It was clear that even a light touch against human skin would result in a deep gash spilling blood.

“Kana, you’re the last person who should be talking!”

“Fair enough.”

I admitted as much to Da-eun, who had interjected out of nowhere.

After all, I was holding a real sword myself—one with an impressively crimson blade.

As much as I hated to admit it, a small girl wielding a sword as tall as herself wasn’t a common sight even in Silia.

Sure, I chose the life of a mercenary to make ends meet, but how could a little girl possibly wield such a sword?

If it seemed unusual to people in Silia, it would seem even more absurd from the perspective of someone from Earth.

“Just looking at you two is nerve-wracking. I keep worrying you’ll hurt yourselves. At the very least, wear some protective gear….”

That was Da-eun’s remark, as she abandoned her own training to watch me spar with Yuki.

“That’s unnecessary.”

I dismissed her concern.

“I’m not going to get hurt.”

It occurred to me that this might offend Yuki’s pride, so I glanced at her, but she didn’t seem to mind.

If anything, her reaction leaned toward agreement.

Not that it mattered to me whether she found it offensive or not.

“Sparring is sparring.”

Given the gap in skill between Yuki and me, it was virtually impossible for either of us to get injured.

Unless I deliberately stepped into her blade, there was no way her swings, no matter how earnest, would ever land on me.

Hearing my explanation, Da-eun’s eyes went wide.

“Huh? Why would I be worried about you? I was worried about Yuki getting hurt.”

“…”

Pause.

I froze and stared at Da-eun.

She returned my gaze with a composed expression.

But only for a moment.

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The corners of her mouth twitched, and she eventually burst into laughter.

“Hahaha! The look on your face! I was kidding. Of course, I was worried about you first. Are you mad?”

“…No.”

“I’m serious. It was just a joke. I’ll cook something delicious for you when we get home, so don’t be mad, okay?”

“I said I’m not mad.”

…Anyway.

Since I could overpower Yuki without causing injury, there was no need to worry about her getting hurt.

That was also why we didn’t bother with protective gear.

Ignoring Da-eun’s incessant teasing, I pushed her aside and resumed sparring with Yuki after the brief lull caused by my wandering thoughts.



How long did we continue?

I wasn’t sure about the exact time, but it certainly hadn’t been long.

Most of the attacks came from Yuki, while I focused on dodging or parrying her sword.

That didn’t mean I only defended.

Swordsmanship exists to defend against attacks and to effectively counter your opponent.

Knowing only how to attack is meaningless, so occasionally, I would launch attacks just difficult enough for Yuki to barely block or evade.

Of course, even if she failed to block, there was no risk of her losing her head.

Like now.

“…I lost.”

Her sword fell to the hard floor, producing a dull yet sharp sound.

The crimson blade of my sword hovered just beside Yuki’s neck, its edge gleaming.

The fine hairs on her neck stood on end, brushing against the cold steel.

“If you lost, you lost. Why drop your sword?”

“Because a loser has no right to hold a sword.”

Yuki responded casually.

Naturally, it wasn’t an answer I could accept.

In the first place, there’s no concept of lowering one’s sword in defeat in my dictionary.

Either you die, or you kill.

While there have been exceptions, like the one-armed swordsman who sought me out some time ago, most encounters ended in one of those two outcomes.

“This is just a sparring match, so I won’t say much, but you can’t do that in a real fight.”

Admitting defeat doesn’t save your life.

If you’re going to die anyway, struggle until the very end.

Just like I did all those years ago when I faced that demon beast.

Having said this so many times before, Yuki merely shrugged and replied nonchalantly.

“Sometimes, Kana, you sound like such a boomer.”

“Sometimes? I’d say it happens a lot.”

“That was me being polite.”

“Aha!”

By this point, Da-eun had somehow recovered and joined in the chatter with Yuki.

“You two really get along.”

It’s baffling how two people with such opposite temperaments can be so in sync in moments like this.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I muttered to myself about how all my advice, meant to be helpful, was dismissed as nagging.

And yet, they turn around and treat me like a child when it suits them.

How am I supposed to keep up with their moods?

“People are multi-dimensional beings, after all. Judging someone based on a single aspect is a bad habit, you know?”

Take that to heart.

“Ridiculous.”

Scoffing at Da-eun’s comment, I turned my attention to Yuki, who was fiddling with her sword.

“Still not used to it?”

“Hmm. I’ve gotten a bit more accustomed to it, but it’s still not quite right.”

Yuki swung her sword through the air absentmindedly.

The weapon in her hands was a longsword.

While longswords are generally designed to be wielded with both hands, the one Yuki held was particularly long and heavy, making it impossible to use with just one hand.

“It’s frustrating.”

“You should’ve trained harder.”

“Yeah, you’re right. If I’d known something like this would happen, I would’ve.”

“…What kind of conversation is this?”

Yuki’s gaze turned wistful as she looked toward the corner of the gymnasium, where a greatsword lay abandoned.

When I started teaching Yuki, she handed me the greatsword she used in Silia, and I brought it to Earth.

She had eagerly reached out to reclaim it—

“…Huh?”

But her frailer Earthly body couldn’t handle the greatsword’s weight.

With all her strength, she could lift it, but swinging it was out of the question.

So, I gave her a hefty yet manageable longsword instead.

“Technically, I gave it to you.”

“But you said Justina told you to give it to me. So, it’s mine.”

The sword, originally entrusted to Da-eun by Justina with instructions to pass it on to me, eventually ended up in Yuki’s hands.

While it wouldn’t be impossible for her to wield the greatsword like she did in Silia once she became more adept at handling mana, for now, it was beyond her capabilities.

Since she couldn’t stop training, I gave her the longsword as a temporary solution.

In my opinion, the longsword was far more practical than the greatsword in many ways.

When I asked Yuki why she was so fixated on using a greatsword, she answered with surprising resolve:

“I like how heavy and satisfying it feels. And how every swing can cut off a limb.”

“A longsword can do that too.”

“It’s not the same.”



I had no idea what made them so different in her mind, but she spoke with such conviction that I decided not to argue further.

Seriously, she’s anything but normal.

—

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