Chapter 31

A sword made of iron…

Even without sharpening its blade, it’s still a deadly weapon.

But when wielded freely by those who have undergone steady training?

Squire candidates, apprentices.

Even these individuals, who haven’t yet received formal knighthood, are undeniably dangerous combatants.

Thus, practice swords made of iron are never swung at full force toward an opponent.

Usually, they’re swung in the air, or during sparring, only lightly tapping or stopping just before contact to simulate real combat scenarios.

The focus lies in mastering control, application, and versatility through training.

And here again, when armor is worn, movements become more intense.

Direct strikes and controlled slashes are permitted.

And once again, when mana comes into play, the situation changes drastically.

Therefore, for realistic combat training, wooden swords are used instead.

Even these can be modified—blunted tips, slightly sharpened edges—all depending on the discretion of the trainers and trainees.

And Carriel…

…disliked and felt uneasy about steel blades.

“Even in the lawless zones, you look so pitiful!”

Yet, with moonlight slicing, brushing past, or bouncing off her movements—

That sharp trajectory of the sword, coming in a wide arc like a gust of wind—if it were the old Carriel, she’d be utterly terrified.

“…”

Still terrifying.

No, correction:

Unsettling.

Nowadays, it’s merely unsettling.

Drawing his own sword but not engaging directly, he stepped back.

Her arming sword, a one-handed weapon, contrasted with his longsword, which could be wielded with either one or both hands.

Both swords bore crosses in their design.

Back in the days before knights existed, a king once thought:

Infantry has clear limits on the battlefield. Excellent for defense, but insufficient for dominating the field.

So the need for mobility arose.

Taking it further:

A specialized unit capable of controlling and breaking enemy mobility.

This king realized the necessity of professional cavalry units—not just anyone riding horses.

Because there were already plenty of those.

One day, the king summoned his vassals and declared:

“I’ll grant you lands where you’ll breed horses and livestock, command peasants, and use them to raise and train warhorses. You shall also undergo rigorous training as warriors.”

“And when war calls, I will need your strength to answer.”

Even then, the concept of knights hadn’t been born yet.

But this era was certainly the age of warrior nobles.

Interstate battles and wars expanded the demand for such specialized forces.

Later, when the Demon King and the Demon Realm invaded, these warriors played crucial roles.

But they were few in number.

Brave heroes capable of taking on a hundred foes each, but still too few.

When the chaos subsided temporarily, another issue arose.

Warriors, recognized as legitimate armed forces, became uncontrollable.

They harassed kings, citizens, slaves alike, constantly waving their spears and eventually turning them against allies.

They greedily sought profits and territories, stealing food and valuables, even kidnapping people from other fiefs to sell as slaves.

It was truly a barbaric age.

“There’s no guarantee that anywhere is safe just because times have changed!”

Ellie’s sword was exceptionally nimble.

The advantage of a one-handed sword is its versatility compared to being tied down by two hands, allowing for dynamic and free usage. With enough strength and skill, it becomes a highly threatening combat tool.

Clang!

“Grrr!”

Swords aren’t meant to meet so easily. Even if they do, it’s usually just the tips overlapping or locking.

Unlike fairy tales, where knights stand close enough to hear each other’s breathing, pressing their swords together in a test of strength—that’s extremely rare.

If either side makes even a small mistake while locked, they risk being cut or stabbed, or one side gets completely overwhelmed.

At such close range, blunt weapons of appropriate length would be impractical.

Knives, daggers, fists, palm strikes, elbows, knees, kicks—even biting—are far more effective for melee combat.

Regardless of equal skill levels, a sword cut deep or shallow still results in cutting.

“Hurry up and show me what you’ve got, Carriel! If you were so confident, why not resist?”

That’s not true.

But there’s no choice.

The situation had always favored one side.

“Guh!”

What’s strange is that none of my tricks seem to work on her.

She doesn’t lose her balance, nor does she falter or feel disoriented when our swords meet.

Instead, she relentlessly pushes forward with surprising energy.

Every time I move my sword defensively, she swings hers down with all her might, targeting my torso rather than my wrist.

Clang! Clang!

The shockwaves traveling through the blade hit my wrist, arm joints, and shoulder—but stop there.

Meanwhile…

“What kind of strength is this…?”

The force isn’t dispersing.

Nor is it fully absorbed.

It feels concentrated entirely on my wrist, accumulating pressure.

With every swing, Ellie targets Carriel’s wrist. The diminishing sensation in his hand clearly indicates this.

She’s skilled at controlling her strength.

And it goes beyond that…

“Pure physical power?”

Without even subconsciously leaking mana, using pure muscle combined with precise parabolic motion for inertia-based attacks, yet maintaining perfect control over each strike.

“So you knew all along! About absorbing or exploiting others’ mana, right?”

Then…

“If you don’t use mana, it’s fine, isn’t it?”

Easier said than done.

Most people couldn’t pull that off even if they tried.

Unless someone has a physiological condition like Carriel’s, it’s impossible.

But she can—and she’s proving it.

“You really are…”

Suddenly, the Demon King’s words came back to him:

“She already knew what you’ve only recently realized.”

Considering how much effort and contemplation must have gone into honing her skills, this wasn’t some quick enlightenment like Carriel experienced.

“You’ll have to break her first, before Ruelde.”

And that…

Even with desperate effort, would take years.

“Isn’t this already enough?!”

Why does she look like she’s about to cry?

I’m the one getting beaten here.

Why does the attacker look so wronged?

She’s always been sincere.

Especially now, after hearing the Demon King’s words, I understand she’s putting her heart and soul into every moment.

Inevitably, I realized this.

Her earlier confession wasn’t just empty words.

There’s gratitude, regret, and resentment mixed together, piercing my heart and lungs.

Ultimately, it’s my fault, my injustice.

If I blame her for not saving me sooner or being late, what kind of mindset is that?

Clang!

“If you’re planning some extreme move like you did with Partyna, you’ll never escape my grasp!”

Yeah, I know.

Otherwise, I’d end up dragged straight to Mother.

I’m not stupid enough to think otherwise.

Back then, it was based on that premise. Using Partyna as a tool since I couldn’t harm myself.

At the time, I believed there was no other way to land a decisive blow or confuse the opponent.

Destroying myself to confuse the enemy—what a pathetic and cowardly method.

Is this weakness of mine?

Or is it something twisted within me?

“This is truly…”

Not the mindset of a knight.

Far removed from that of a hero or warrior.

Creak—

“For what reason would you give up so much for one thing?”

“Where are you looking?”

Her monotone voice pierced his ears.

“Grrr!”

In the midst of danger, his consciousness drifts to strange places.

Over there, far across the river, in a small courtyard, children play among trees.

One child grabs a branch, raises it high to the sky, and shouts.

Only when it’s not a real sword but a branch can the child laugh brightly and declare:

“I will become…!”

●●!

“Snap out of it!”

Kicked in the foot, he doesn’t roll on the ground but collides with a tree behind him.

“Guh!”

The tree sways violently, almost breaking. Thanks to spreading the impact throughout his body, this blow didn’t end things.

“Guh…”

How infuriating.

Why am I drowning in such absurd emotions?

Something keeps scratching at my brain, irritating me.

Why?

I recognize a familiar nostalgia in it.

“Looks like you won’t make it. Give up already.”

After a pause…

“Well? Use that mysterious trick of yours.”

Is it really that amazing?

“…Let me see it once.”

Suddenly, flames engulf the entire forest.

Yet, they don’t spread or transfer elsewhere.

Controlled thoroughly.

If such flames erupted here, the whole forest would be consumed instantly—it’d be hellfire itself.

But here, it’s not hellfire.

Just her hostility and enmity blooming into flames.

The world turns crimson.

Despite the scorching heat suffocating my breath, my body remains unscathed.

Even in a situation where flames could erupt at any moment, the one who caused them stands…

As if baptized by the god of fire, radiant and transcendent, like a mythological phoenix descending.

Burning fiercely.

Paradoxically, nothing burns or scorches around her.

She must rarely reveal this true form in reality.

Few have witnessed it directly, let alone face it head-on.

Even fewer are destined to oppose her like this.

“…”

Strange.

Mysterious and fascinating, yet…

I’m genuinely moved.

“Finally.”

To me, you were like the sun.

Such an existence.

Its light was so intense that approaching it—or even looking at it directly—was impossible.

It was excruciating.

Just seeing you, constantly being compared to you, being measured against you…

Made it hard for me to breathe.

But now…

“I can finally see you.”

Ellie.

El.

My childhood friend.

Only now do I truly see you.

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