Chapter 23
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Chapter 23
Without thinking, my eyes followed Echinacea's movements. The sword I had idealized unfolded before me. I found myself reflexively blocking the incoming attacks while watching her blade, just as I had done during our duel when Echinacea had merely defended against my strikes.
Then Echinacea's sword shifted slightly. Alice, who had been mesmerized watching it, quickly understood. Echinacea was now executing the exact same attacks that Alice had performed during their duel.
A feint grazing the neck, a retreat, advancing again with an overhead slash, slipping away the moment it was blocked, then a thrust targeting the calf.
A chill ran down my spine. Strength drained from my grip. Releasing tension during a blade exchange was catastrophic. Alice's sword, meeting Echinacea's, slipped from her hands and flew away. The fallen blade tumbled across the grass.
Alice stared at Echinacea with an expression as though her soul had departed. Echinacea lowered her sword, walked toward the blade that had flown away, picked it up, and held it out to Alice.
"Do you want to continue?"
"Just now, just then, what was that, exactly...? How did you...?"
"Pardon? You don't want to continue?"
Echinacea's face was brazenly composed, though inwardly she carefully observed Alice's expression.
Had Alice been someone like Bread, she would have raged furiously. Or if she lacked the eye to perceive swordplay, she would not have understood what Echinacea had done at all. Furthermore, if she were not the type to seriously pursue the blade, she would have dwelled more on the displeasure she now felt. If she lacked confidence in seeing and catching up, despair would have consumed her. Had her heart been narrower, she would have fallen into inferiority and jealousy.
But Alice was none of these. With eyes wide open, she hesitantly accepted the sword Echinacea offered.
"P-please, let's go again."
Echinacea did not answer and raised her sword. She attacked in the same manner, as Alice had done, but with increasingly perfect form. Echinacea's attacks came in the same sequence, yet with each repetition they became cleaner, while Alice continued to block them in different ways.
She dropped her sword several more times after that. Each time, Echinacea waited, and Alice hastily retrieved it and resumed her stance. The duel continued without a single word spoken.
When the sun began to set, Echinacea lowered her sword.
"You've worked hard, Miss Winterbell."
Alice was drenched in sweat, her shoulders heaving with exertion. Echinacea too was covered in perspiration, though not to Alice's extent—she had deliberately refrained from using mana, wielding the blade purely through technique. As Echinacea retrieved the scabbard she had discarded earlier and sheathed her sword, Alice stood as though still caught in a dream. She only came to her senses as Echinacea stepped outside the Training Grounds.
"Miss Loaz!"
"Yes, Miss Winterbell."
"Just now.... That is, you, to me...."
Alice spoke in disjointed fragments. Echinacea waited a moment before responding.
"We had a duel."
"Pardon?"
"We simply had a sparring match between cadets. It's common at the Military Academy, isn't it?"
At Echinacea's casual words, Alice's expression changed. She regarded Echinacea with composed eyes.
"I'm not a fool."
Alice's voice trembled faintly at the end. She, who would have been first in her class this year had it not been for Echinacea Loaz, understood more clearly because of her excellence.
Echinacea had bestowed grace upon Alice. She had repeatedly shown her a swordplay that matched her own but was more advanced and perfect. It was as though she had taken Alice's hand and guided her directly along the path she must walk. Not a single extraneous afterimage remained. Because she had witnessed the form she aspired to right before her eyes.
Throughout the duel, Echinacea had said nothing. Yet Alice felt as though she had heard her speak ceaselessly. Not through her ears, but through her body and eyes.
If you move like this, you'll improve a bit more. In this situation, doing it this way suits you better while being more practical. In this case, raising your elbow changes the force flowing through the blade, making it more powerful. When this happens, just altering the angle slightly makes it sharper.
Your sword can become stronger. Look, like this. There's no need to wander. This is how you do it.
Because she understood how immense this fortune was, words would not come properly. Alice sensed that after today, her sword would be completely transformed. She would become sharper and more refined. Something swelled within her, and her words stumbled.
"Miss Loaz, you, to me...."
"I did nothing."
Echinacea cut off Alice's words. She wiped the sweat trickling down her temple with the back of her hand and drove the point home again.
"I did nothing at all. I simply had a sparring match with you."
"...You did nothing?"
"Yes, I'm sorry for interrupting your training. I need to wash up. I'll use the Bathroom first, Miss Winterbell."
Echinacea glared at the sweat clinging to her gloves as though it disgusted her, then turned away without hesitation. Alice stared blankly at her retreating figure before hurrying after her. She was too flustered to even retrieve the jacket she had hung on a branch.
"L-Loaz, you're... I mean... are you serious? That match just now was just a normal spar?"
"A spar is a spar. What else would it be?"
"...You're saying this even though my sword has completely transformed after this spar?"
"What does that have to do with me? That's the result of your own effort, Winterbell."
"No, it's thanks to you."
Alice spoke with complete honesty. Her eyes were steady and direct. The way she looked at me was distinctly different from before—there was something subtly radiant about it.
What I had aimed for was to overwrite the lingering afterimage of my sword technique that Alice had witnessed during our duel with a far more intense impression. To achieve that, I had provoked her and simply shown her the most memorable afterimage—her own swordsmanship reflected back at her.
How unpleasant it must be when someone mimics you and does it better. I had expected her to be angry or displeased, regardless of whether it actually helped her.
"Thank you, Loaz."
I never expected her to look at me with such radiant eyes. Even less did I anticipate a direct expression of gratitude. I was deeply flustered. I turned my gaze away from her piercing stare and spoke curtly.
"Did I do anything worthy of thanks? We merely had one spar."
Alice stared at me intently. Then she smiled softly.
"Very well. Let's say that's the case."
That smile made me feel embarrassed. Walking so close beside me, bathed in her unwavering gaze, felt burdensome. My face began to burn, so I spoke sharply.
"Walk a bit farther away, Winterbell."
"Pardon?"
"You smell like sweat."
"..."
Alice stared at me blankly for a moment, then stepped back a couple of paces. Walking at a distance, she protested.
"You also smell like sweat, Loaz."
"I know, which is why I'm going to wash up. Let me be clear—I'm going first. I mentioned it first."
"Yes, I understand. Please use the bathroom first."
Despite my deliberately sharp tone, Alice continued to smile mysteriously. She looked far too pleased. More precisely, her radiant gaze never left me. Walking along the narrow path through the Spruce Forest, she murmured softly.
"I've been misunderstanding you quite a bit, haven't I?"
"No, whatever you think, it's probably not a misunderstanding."
"To be swayed by appearances... I was the one unfit to be a knight."
"Winterbell?"
"I thought you were someone who had no interest in swords and didn't take the path of knighthood seriously. I was clouded by prejudice. Through that spar just now, I've come to understand. You are actually someone who takes the sword more seriously than anyone else. Loaz, I apologize for judging you arbitrarily based on trivial appearances."
It was a sincere and formal apology. I felt goosebumps rise across my entire body and shook my head vigorously.
"No, Winterbell. That's not a misunderstanding. I really don't like swords that much."
"Yes, I understand. Let's say that's the case as well."
Alice answered with a smile still on her face. Her gray eyes were so clear and steady as they looked at me that I lost my words and turned my gaze away. I had never experienced goodwill like this before, and I couldn't adapt to it.
Until I turned twenty, aside from my family and Nicole, I only maintained appropriate distance with noble ladies. The past I had erased contained only the curses and resentments from my time as a Demonic Sword, or the barren relationships from the days when I was gathering Giosa afterward.
Such pure affection. And she was under the impression that I was someone remarkable. If she had been displeased instead, I could have responded easily. The bigger problem was this strange feeling—embarrassing yet warm at the same time.
I didn't know what to do, so I walked faster without looking back at Alice. The moment I arrived at the room, I rushed into the bathroom.
I saw Alice holding the door open briefly for me as I followed her in—the door she had opened first. She struggled to suppress her laughter until I entered the bathroom.
The next morning, as soon as I woke up, I felt my body was heavy.
[Why didn't I use mana?]
Alice had left at dawn to fully internalize everything she had gained yesterday. I lay buried in the bed and lifted my hand. Removing my white gloves and looking at my bare hands, I could see blisters forming on my soft skin. I sighed.
"Honestly, Alice Winterbell is too serious about this."
"Hey, you keep forgetting you're not in your old body, aren't you?"
"Shut up. With mana, it's the same."
"You didn't use it yesterday."
"I got swept up in the moment."
My physical condition was undeniably poor. Though my technique and skill were sharp enough to compensate far beyond my actual stamina, my body remained that of a noblewoman who had held a sword for barely two months. Without mana reinforcement, there were limits to how efficiently I could move, no matter how perfectly I executed each motion. During intense combat, the heat of exertion masked the strain, but the next day always brought this reckoning—the body's bitter protest.
Every muscle screamed in agony. When I touched my forehead, I felt a slight fever. I pulled my gloves back on and rose from bed with a wince, groaning softly.
"Ow, ow, ow."
"Good grief, you idiot."
"Damn Demonic Sword, can't you shut your mouth?"
Grumbling as I stumbled away from the bed, I noticed a tray sitting on the table.
The Dormitory rooms were arranged with individual beds, desks, wardrobes, and drawers on either side, while the center held a shared table, chairs, bookshelf, sofa, and rug. A curtain could be drawn between the sides to ensure reasonable privacy.
As I pulled back the curtain to head to the Bathroom, the table caught my eye. On the tray sat a covered soup bowl, bread, a salad, and a cup of beverage, all neatly arranged. It was unmistakably breakfast brought from the Common Dining Hall.
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org