Chapter 22: I Stand in the Wilderness

It is a blatant prejudice to believe that those who are narrow-minded are weak.

There is no guarantee anywhere that a coward is necessarily frail.

By the standards of the world, the man before me was by no means a weakling.

The fact that he could become an instructor meant that he had passed a comprehensive evaluation, including his skills and connections.

To become an instructor at a prestigious imperial academy based on skill alone would mean being one of the most capable practitioners on the continent.

However, such experts cannot possibly be scattered around like stones and pebbles by a river.

Ultimately, there is always a need for personnel to assist or replace them.

In that sense, the position of an instructor is one where it is easy to gain social prestige.

It is also a convenient place to solidify one’s network.

“I hope you won’t regret this.”

He spoke as he swung his training wooden sword a few times.

His eyes, staring straight ahead and watching my reaction while aiming for the center, were filled with a palpable tension.

Perhaps it was because I held the sword and aimed it.

My breathing began to settle calmly.

I.

Even in that state, I kept my sword lowered and observed him for a while.

My gaze was fixed at a point more than two heads higher than Kariel’s own.

In terms of physique, if we stood side by side, his shadow would cast over my head.

Thanks to his short-cropped brown bob, his fierce impression was even more pronounced.

His eyes, close to a reddish-brown, seemed to possess a strong will; if one stared too long, it was easy to inadvertently feel intimidated.

That was why Kariel had rarely been able to meet his eyes.

Come to think of it.

I used to fear looking people in the eye, without knowing why.

Whenever I did, as if by appointment, someone would pick a fight.

And accidents would break out as if to show off.

…Of course.

The training wooden sword in his hand was a versatile one, usable for both one-handed and two-handed grips.

A sword meant for a single handle, and a sword with a long hilt meant to be gripped perfectly with both hands.

Since each had distinct advantages and disadvantages, it was up to the individual which one to hold.

The Imperial Sword Forms were divided with this in mind.

Then, what about me?

‘It might not really matter.’

The same training wooden sword.

In terms of form, there was no great difference.

Perhaps only that the wooden sword I chose was structurally shorter due to the difference in physique?

Though the sword was the main force, honestly, whether I held a long spear, a billhook, or a cavalry lance right now…

It didn’t particularly matter.

Nevertheless.

Everything was still unverified.

I could not even trust myself blindly.

Unless I proved and demonstrated it.

Not a single thing could be trusted.

“Whew—”

I gripped the sword sheath with both hands as if wrapping around it.

I brought the upright straight sword in front of my chest.

Para.

Literally, the starting point.

The opening form that constitutes the foundation.

The ready stance.

…Anything is fine.

Even here in the Berg Empire, where knights are called Divine Warriors.

Why do those who have undergone the oath ceremony deliberately commit acts that violate the contents of that oath?

While expecting the blessing and mercy of God.

Why are they so unwilling to show such mercy to others?

For their own sake.

Prayers for personal gain are, by nature, profane.

Didn’t we clearly learn that from a young age?

Pray only for others.

Devote yourself only to others.

Only.

So that you may sacrifice yourself for others.

Put it into practice in that way.

“…….”

In an empire teeming with knights.

In this hall that prizes chivalry above all else, in this place that teaches the mindset and techniques of a knight.

Why have they persecuted and shunned me for being the weak one?

“…….”

Perhaps they didn’t consider me weak?

If so, it makes even less sense for them to treat me so carelessly.

No.

That contradiction is, in fact, perfectly human, and thus fitting.

I already knew it all in my head.

Are they that foolish?

Are they that simple?

“Where on earth did you learn a stance like that?”

Kariel, who had been continuing his calm breathing with his eyes closed.

Slowly, he stepped his left foot half a pace back.

His both hands facing forward, the arms holding them and the upright sword.

With that single movement, they naturally shifted to the left.

The stances are limited, but ultimately, every posture depends on how the feet are placed.

In the end, the dominance of the upper body and torso depends on the lower body.

Therefore, it resembles a rooted tree.

Even if it sways in the wind or staggers as if to break in a storm.

If the roots are intact, the center will never collapse or falter.

Even that swaying, even that faltering.

Is but a process, a movement.

If the sword is tilted forward from here, it is Fortes.

Conversely, if it is delayed and shifted as if resting on the shoulder, it is Grate.

There is no need to obsess over the resting.

Do not mistake the means.

Do not be bound by the process.

Simply by twisting the end of the back foot inward.

The upper body naturally tilts to the right again, transitioning into Fortes, as if to thrust and charge.

Whether lowering the stance sharply or widening the stride.

Even with the same posture, the means and purpose differ vastly.

Even the same thrusting posture is different when countering versus when charging.

It is different again when thrusting as a feint while stepping left or right.

In that state, instead of thrusting, one could strike down or slash.

But there is no need to do so.

Simply through the transition of posture.

Offense and defense are naturally linked.

The point is the root.

The lower body and the center.

The control and utilization of all those things.

Not with the head, but with the body.

Without relying on sight alone, but with the senses distributed across the entire body.

Reflexively, before consciousness even reaches it.

“Are you giving me the first move for the sake of appearances?”

“O-obviously.”

It was exactly as he said.

If it was obvious, then it was obvious.

But why was it that…

I felt a bit deflated.

I narrowed the distance to my opponent.

With the tip of the sword tilted slightly forward.

At this point, it was neither Para nor Fortes.

But I could embody both at any time.

Step, step.

I did not swing the sword.

Therefore, even though I penetrated the opponent’s range.

I kept the sword upright, but did not swing first.

This in itself would be quite troublesome.

Because.

It would look as if I were simply charging at him with a sword in hand.

Yet, I did not run.

Step, step.

As I approached slowly by walking.

His expression suddenly distorted.

“What do you think you’re do—”

If he kept talking, our bodies would collide, and my wooden sword could pierce his Adam’s apple, his chest, or his face.

Anywhere.

However, I neither thrust nor swung.

I simply walked.

“Tsk!”

But doing so meant I was voluntarily throwing my body toward his wooden sword, which was held in the center.

Only then.

I naturally changed my movement as I walked.

Betita.

The wooden sword that had been tilted forward remained tilted, but the area near the hilt gripped by both hands soared high toward the sky.

In that state.

The straight sword, resembling a cross, had a guard between the hilt and the blade that was also elongated.

Because it was exceptionally long.

The sword of the Empire is the cross-sword.

Even such a guard is called by the specific name Cross Guard.

“?!”

As the opponent withdrew his sword and struck down powerfully toward the upper section.

I caught the wooden sword with the guard.

By then.

The physical distance between us was such that we could touch even with arms extended.

It was also true that the centrifugal force of the swing had slowed somewhat due to the narrowed gap.

Thanks to that, the impact received by the guard was relatively less.

“It’s not over!”

A single failure did not mean the end.

Having recovered the wooden sword that hit the guard, he quickly lowered his stance and aimed for the center.

And there again.

Fortes.

But this time, it wasn’t tilting the sword toward the front.

Simply by twisting my foot outward.

I naturally tilted my sword toward the sword he was swinging.

Eventually, his wooden sword.

Struck the guard, not my flank.

Simply by lowering the lower body.

Adjusting the height was not a particularly difficult task.

Clack!

The amount of impact went without saying.

I received it with a firm stance and let it flow away.

The shock that hit the wrist was absorbed, immediately linking through the hand, wrist, arm joints, and shoulder, all the way to the chest and back.

But that was all.

Without the force needing to extend down to the lower body.

The impact of the sword strike he swung was completely dispersed right around there.

However.

Isn’t it a waste to only let it flow away?

To ensure the body wasn’t damaged by the recoil, I subtly shook my upper body, while simultaneously continuing the linked movement.

Taking that dispersed power, as if breathing life back into a dying ember.

I used it as the driving force to lead my body.

Narrowing my stride and even lifting the sword.

Actually, the concept of ‘lifting’ is inappropriate.

Grate.

I simply.

Took a series of stances.

Since I had only connected the movements.

“Ugh!”

But the linked movements were neither clumsy nor slow.

His wooden sword, which had struck my guard, was still precariously caught between the guard and the blade.

Due to my rapid transition of movement, his wrist was bent in an unnatural shape, as if dragged along with the wooden sword.

“?!”

Though he tried to react belatedly, by that point, my transition of posture and linkage had already occurred three times.

Clatter!

As a result, having lost his sword, he gripped his right wrist and asked with a haunted look in his eyes.

“That… where… what kind of swordsmanship is that? When and where did you learn such… such a bizarre thing?”

“…….”

That vacant reaction.

Does he not even have the awareness to admit defeat on his own right now?

“How should I know.”

I hadn’t even properly struck down, nor had I swung or even made a gesture of slashing.

However.

This result was exactly…

The reason why a young Lueld had no choice but to lose even while holding the Holy Sword.

Still, once he had experienced it, if he went through it a few more times.

His response would improve more than it is now.

But.

…Even that is not a fundamental solution.

Even my father, a genius of the sword with innate talent.

The fundamental reason why, even at his absolute prime, he could only achieve victory after borrowing the power of the Holy Sword and Holy Relics.

No matter how skillfully the opponent handled the sword.

Even my father, who was so gifted that he could master and mimic a technique after seeing it once.

The reason why it was impossible to even counter, let alone mimic, in terms of technique and skill.

Surprisingly, upon experiencing it and realizing.

There was no particularly special reason or extraordinary secret technique.

“I just learned it in a dream.”

Because this.

Was not a normal or general kind of swordsmanship at all.

If the area around the guard hadn’t been long like this training wooden sword.

If it had been shorter or blunter.

I would have sought a different strategy instead of toyed with the opponent in this manner.

Though the stances and movements I would have taken would have been much the same.

“Please stand up.”

“What?”

A chilling question welled up through his vacant face.

“Just because you dropped your sword once doesn’t mean the spar is over, does it?”

I pointed with my eyes to the wooden sword that had fallen near the several steps back Kariel had taken.

“I ask for one more move.”

“…….”

This.

This.

…The far side of his chest felt eerily chilled.

Normally, heat should have surged from shame.

For some reason.

It was so cold that goosebumps rose all over his body and every fine hair stood on end.

No spirit or aura could be felt, then or now.

Yes. That was exactly the point.

Why did I only notice this now?

“Hurry.”

Nothing could be felt.

As if.

Thrown into a vast, empty wilderness.

Only desolate sandstorms filled the air.

Why.

…Why must I be seized by such a strange sentiment just by looking at one human being?

He did not know.

He was still thrown into the empty wilderness.

The wooden sword in his hand felt unusually light today.

Everything is swallowed.

The wilderness, silently, with silence and stillness.

Was hollowly crushing his world.

Quietly.

Step by step.

…He lost his sword several more times after that.

But without any sense of shame.

Without even the room to feel fear.

He collapsed.

…….

………….

….