“What is that trash?”
“It’s a shield!”
Pastel proudly held up the circular shield.
A reliable friend.
The demon felt sorry for it.
But said in a firm voice.
“Discard it.”
“But, I can’t.”
“Have you ever put it to use?”
A shocking truth.
The circular shield had never been properly used.
Pastel looked down at her friend with trembling eyes.
“Were you really not reliable?”
“Did you deceive me?”
“A heavy one-handed shield is rather an obstacle. It drains stamina and makes you rely on the strength of your arms.”
“But the opponent is a knight. Up until now, we’ve just faced beasts, but isn’t it different against someone wielding a sword?”
“What will you do if the opponent kicks you? Will you stumble and die?”
“Setting the shield aside to respond, ah.”
Pastel decided to retire the circular shield.
But still, you gave me the courage to fight on. That alone is enough to qualify you as a friend.
Pats pats.
The demon said that structures do not visit this mansion.
Unless there is permission from Clan Leader Craft, no external force can intervene here. It was a privilege guaranteed by the royal decree.
This right was obtained to uphold the tradition of determining heirs through the killing of kin. Thanks to that, the sole legitimate heir ended up like a rat in a cage.
“Have you really never learned to wield a sword?”
“Yes.”
“Then try to take a stable sword stance.”
A stable stance?
That shouldn’t be too difficult.
Pastel grasped the longsword with both hands.
She stepped forward with one foot and extended the other back to solidify her center of gravity. She aimed the sword straight ahead.
Hmm, perhaps it’s a bit delicate since I’ve never experienced a real battle.
Delicate imagination of an unexperienced realm is not a specialty.
“You have some sense, but the theory, sigh. As an heir, you should have learned this. I’ll teach you the basics.”
The demon’s look of pity grew stronger.
What a shame.
“Show me the sword.”
Pastel willingly handed the longsword over the bars.
The demon’s fingers flicked the blade.
“110 cm, 1.3 kg. Is this a small-size regulation? It’s not bad for a kid to use.”
Wow, calculating that with hand sensitivity and estimation.
Is this the dignity of a great demon?
Is this person my swordsmanship teacher?
Oh yeah.
“Watch carefully.”
It seemed as if the sword was showing her. The demon’s finger tapped the blade.
“The longsword has a cross shape. The blade can be divided into the tip, middle, and root. The crossguard is horizontal at the root, and beneath it is the grip.”
“That’s too basic, isn’t it?”
A complete treatment as a child?
“You didn’t learn the basics, so I have to explain this. The longsword is a cross shape. Understanding this allows for at least minimal applications. Let me show you the difference.”
The demon assumed a sword stance, mimicking Pastel’s posture.
“A vertically held blade is an easy vertical obstacle for the opponent. You can ignore quick vertical cuts, and a strong horizontal slash can deflect. Stabbing is, of course, not to be mentioned.”
The blade tilted diagonally.
“In this position, the sword should start from the right hand and rest in front of the left shoulder. This way, you can respond diagonally to all sword strikes.”
The demon thrust the crossguard, tilted like a shield.
“The diagonal is also the blocking area of the crossguard. Because the longsword is cross-shaped, it can be utilized more effectively than a shield if used well.”
Oh.
Is such meaning hiding in a simple cross shape?
“I understand it clearly!”
Pastel raised her hand like a model student.
Am I finally able to handle a sword well?
The demon looked at her skeptically.
Confidently, Pastel showcased a demonstration.
And her body moved as her confidence suggested.
Her senses and intuition found their stance. She drew the sword and stepped, creating a modified stance and seamlessly connecting the strikes.
On the first, she followed, on the second, she applied, and on the third, she completed.
She painted the canvas of swordsmanship based on a single precedent.
In the basement, a silver sword line drew curves. Pink hair fluttered.
The demon’s eyes became increasingly dazed.
“Why, why haven’t you learned until now?”
Indeed.
Have I lived too much like an exemplary student?
Even a kind heart can cause trouble.
#
The great demon demonious’s attribute swordsmanship lecture.
1. Understanding the structure of the longsword.
2. Four basic stances of longswordsmanship.
3. Four openings of swordsmanship zones.
4. Two stances and three steps.
5. Five divisions of mutual distance.
6. Three concepts of combat duration.
7. Understanding initiative and close combat swordsmanship.
8. Five cuts and nine processes.
9. Utilization of ultra-close swordsmanship and techniques.
10. The aesthetics of retreat.
Yay, I learned swordsmanship.
Indeed, studying is about the master lecturer’s precise guidance.
Having completed the lecture packed with essentials, Pastel boldly exited the basement.
“I’ll be a disciple now! I will surely repay this grace!”
In the prison, the demon sighed deeply.
“I don’t wish for that from young Craft, so don’t let your guard down too much. Even if they aren’t knights, opponents in armor are still threatening beings.”
“Yes!”
“Sigh, how did I end up with Craft again?”
She left behind the demon, whose feelings had become complicated.
Pink hair fluttering, she ascended the spiral staircase. The dusty air of the dim space filled her nostrils.
Pastel steadied her smile.
She recalled the red brilliance of the helmet.
The plate armor should be waiting in the office. The moment the bookshelf opened and she emerged from the spiral staircase was risky.
“The first button is important.”
Reaching the exit, she took a moment to catch her breath.
“It’s crucial to deliver the first attack and reach the spacious center.”
If she failed to deliver it and was pushed back down the spiral staircase, it would be truly dangerous. A narrow passage with a low step position would add to her disadvantages.
Ugh, I can do this.
She gripped the thick lever. With all her might, she pulled it down; the sound of gears grinding echoed in the darkness. Her skin tingled.
She cautiously gripped the out-of-control longsword.
Let’s see who dies.
The bookshelf moved, allowing light to pour in. Squinting against the glare, she focused straight ahead.
A wide room revealed, cluttered with fallen books. No knight was in sight.
Is there a blind spot?
Is the opponent waiting for the moment of my relief? Do they possess that level of intelligence? This is troubling.
Pastel sensed a presence but then gave up. Quietly, she withdrew a triangular mirror from her bosom.
Taking a deep breath, she lightly tossed the mirror. In the slow passage of time, the mirror flew in an arc into the room. It spun and reflected various parts of the interior.
Pastel’s eyes lit up.
There’s nothing in the left blind spot.
Before the mirror fell, she launched her body forward. As she spun to the right, she raised her sword into a defensive position.
The girl, having completely countered the ambush, awaited the knight’s strike.
The mirror hit the ground. It wobbled, finally illuminating the right blind spot. There was not the expected knight, but just a wall.
Pastel looked around the room with a puzzled expression.
“What? Where did they go?”
There was no knight in the office. Only the completely destroyed wooden door hinted at the rough visitor’s traces.
Pastel’s brows furrowed.
Could they be ambushing from the corridor?
Her suspicions were resolved after futile attempts to throw mirrors at every corner. The knight had disappeared. She did not know where they had gone.
Instead, Pastel could view the wild changes in the garden. She peered blankly down at it from a third-floor window.
The garden, with evening approaching, was bathed in a scarlet hue. In the sunset-drenched sunlight, black figures intertwined. Claws were swiping, and teeth were bared as they lunged at one another.
A bipedal beast snatched a werewolf and soared into the sky. A massive maw opened towards the falling werewolf. The teeth clashed brutally. Flesh exploded.
Cannibalism.
Nutritional growth.
The beast roared fiercely with a more violent aura. The tangled garden was stained by the sunset.
“Ah…”
Pastel hazily gazed at the scene.
It wasn’t the sight of life killing each other; it was the spectacle of meat pudding bursting forth.
A sweet fragrance tickled her brain.
Unconsciously, her upper body leaned forward.
Stumbling against the window frame, her body shook.
“Huh?!”
What did I just…?
She wiped the drool with her sleeve.
“No, no.”
I’m not addicted.
I need to get to the kitchen quickly. I have to eat something ordinary.
She forcibly tore her gaze away from the garden and hurriedly moved her feet.
She ignored the second-floor rooms and proceeded.
According to the demon, the kitchen was in the annex connected to the first floor. It was a system where noisy cooking happened in the annex and then moved to the main building.
During her walk through the annex corridor, she did not encounter any monsters. Only upon entering the corridor did she finally spot the black bull.
The bull snorted.
Pastel felt triumphant.
“Come at me!”
She aimed her sword, taking a stance.
The teachings came to mind.
—Both feet should be at angles of 45 or 135 degrees. 45 degrees is a closed stance. It is effective when you face force head-on.
Pastel spread her feet wider than that.
—135 degrees is an open stance.
The bull charged.
—To push against a forceful opponent…
The black figure rushed up close. The ground shook. The girl stepped diagonally. The bull grazed right past her shoulder. The atmosphere throbbed.
The sword aimed at the passing bull. Her stable stance gathered all her strength into a sharp trajectory.
The blade pierced the leather. It penetrated the flesh deeply. She felt the tough resilience of the heart.
Pastel pivoted on one foot, her pink hair flying, and as she turned, drew the blade. The black aura surged like blood.
The bull bellowed in agony. The staggering giant fell. The ground shook.
Pastel’s mouth curved into a sly grin.
Hehe.
Am I a bit of a genius?
She jabbed the air with her sword.
Like this, like this.
“Umm~!”
Ahaha.
After a while of laughing alone, she turned her body.
The kitchen entrance came into view. Kitchen tools and food ingredients spread out in the vast space.
Yay, I reclaimed the kitchen.
Finally, I can eat something proper. Surely, the storeroom is full of food to satisfy this strange hunger?
Bread? Cake? Pudding?
Anything will do.
With excitement soaring, Pastel moved forward.
And then, she walked straight into the black corpse and buried her face in it, mindlessly shoving meat pudding into her mouth.
In the midst of cannibalism and nutritional growth, the girl fell into bliss.
The massive corpse returned to the soul. Some of its energy seeped into her bones and muscles.
A moment later, Pastel wiped her mouth and stood up.
She rubbed her loose, messy mouth.
The food was too delicious, it’s a problem.
I want to eat more.
Sounds of armor clanked from behind.
The black knight approached, more ferocious and fierce than before.
Ah, I see.
You partook in cannibalism, huh?
No wonder there aren’t any monsters in here.
“Hello, friend.”
Pastel raised her longsword.
“Shall we mix our swords?”
The red brilliance flashed.
The knight clad in plate armor charged. The heavy weight crashed onto the ground beneath it. The dark sword was raised high and swung down. The air was torn.
The trajectory menaced the girl.
There was a huge disparity in strength.
—A vertical cut is a thin wedge trajectory from below. You don’t need to fully retreat…
Pastel pulled her upper body back as much as she could.
The dark sword strike swept in front of her upper body.
—Nahrainen.
Returning her upper body, she lunged with the longsword.
The trajectory smoothly pierced between the helmet and chest plate. The sound of flesh was heard. She withdrew the blade. The black aura trickled out thinly.
The knight roared, illuminated by the red glow. The air vibrated. Her skin tingled.
This is dangerous.
Pastel quickly stepped back. The dark sword strike aimed at the space she vacated. The torn atmosphere whipped her pink hair.
The knight charged again. The shape of the black armor filled her vision.
Stay calm.
One mistake can lead to death.
Pastel kicked a shard of the broken ground.
The piece flew beneath her stepping foot and tripped. She slipped, causing the knight to stagger.
Pastel closed the distance sharply. She touched the chest plate. She gauged the faltering center of gravity.
One, two, three.
Thunk!
She added one more impact with the oscillation of the scales. The weights shifted, and equilibrium collapsed.
The heavy knight toppled over.
Her pink hair fluttered. The longsword glimmered. The blade plunged between the helmet and chest plate. The sound of flesh echoed. The black aura surged forth.
A roar rang out.
The knight’s iron hands snatched the departing blade.
What?
As Pastel stumbled back, the knight twisted its body. The falling knight’s steel leg kicked her in the side. Ugh!
Her hasty blocking arm was easily pierced, and the girl was sent flying. Her body rolled across the ground. The knight crashed heavily to the earth.
Quickly, she pushed off the ground and rose. The knight slowly stood, wielding the longsword it had taken from her.
No…!
This is bad.
At that moment, Pastel prepared to flee with all her might.
She attempted to turn her body.
Suddenly, she spotted the dark sword rolling on the ground.
Had the knight dropped it? It lay between them.
Before her reasoning could catch up, her instinct kicked in.
The girl dove to grab the sword.
The knight rushed forward.
She grabbed the sword from the ground.
The knight’s strike descended upon the crouching girl.
Death was staring her in the face.
Her mind flickered quickly.
—A downward strike is overwhelmingly stronger than an upward strike.
No, this isn’t right.
—The weakest part of a sword is the blade. When blades collide, you must angle the swords to minimize impact. If not, you’ll chip your blade and eventually…
The girl swung her sword with all her strength. The knight’s strike approached. The two strikes clashed.
The impact hit the already-damaged blade exactly. A sharp noise echoed. The knight’s longsword shattered and broke apart.
Silver debris scattered.
Reflected light glimmered.
Pastel’s pink hair flowed in the wind.
The blade sparkled.
The sharp trajectory surged upward, the tip piercing through the gap and into the knight’s neck.
The red brilliance lost its glow.
