Memoirs of the Returnee

The Sword and You (1)

Around the time the morning sun rose, I opened my eyes in my temporary residence.

“Yaaawn……”

Though I call it a temporary dwelling, it has now become a proper living space. Thanks to the fireplace, it’s warm, the bed is soft, and the interior is somewhat cozy, like a log cabin.

“……I’m so sleepy.”

The current time is 8:40 AM.

It’s Thursday, the day of my elective course.

I changed into my crumpled school uniform. I didn’t forget to take my sword with me.

The family sword passed down from my grandfather, a treasure of the Ascal family.

Today’s elective course is “Swordsmanship.”

There’s no particular reason why I chose this class.

My father, Dale Ascal, was also a knight who wielded a sword.

* * *

“Good morning. I’m ‘Jeoly,’ in charge of the Thursday morning elective, Swordsmanship. Please take your seats.”

The location for the Swordsmanship class was a regular classroom. There were quite a few seniors. At a glance, about 70.

It’s said to be the most popular elective, and it seems to be true.

“First, let me make this clear. I do not teach swordsmanship. You should have already mastered that. Swordsmanship is a class that builds on your base.”

It’s a shame for someone like me who lacks a base, but it’s true. At the senior level, it’s not about learning something new, but applying what you’ve learned.

“So, how much do you all know about Swordsmanship?”

The teacher named Jeoly asked the students. Then, someone raised their hand.

“Swordsmanship not only involves the practice of swordplay but also involves dissecting its elements for study and analysis, and sometimes even creating new techniques.”

It’s Elise again.

Why does she always take the same electives?

I glanced her way and our eyes met. Elise silently cursed at me with a blank expression.

“Yes, that’s correct. As Elise said, Swordsmanship is a discipline that involves practicing and studying swordplay.”

Jeoly looked around at the seniors as she continued.

“Therefore, a ‘Swordsmen’ and a ‘Knights’ are quite different. Really different. Amongst many renowned swordsmen, there are many who are not knights, and there are many knights who do not use swords at all. The same goes for Lord Centre, who established Swordsmanship.”

In reality, swordsmen and knights are quite different.

While swordsmen are pure swordsman scholars who devote themselves to swordplay with only a sword and a pen, a knights belong to a group who values magic more than swordsmanship.

Of course, nearly 50% of knights use swords as their primary weapon.

“You’ve all probably heard of this. Swordsmanship passed down through families or dojos. What they call ‘Arcane Swordsmanship’.”

Jeoly spoke seriously.

“But the term ‘Arcane’ cannot be used lightly. Only the ‘Swordsmanship Association’ can recognize an arcane. Any arcane not approved by the Swordsmanship Association is a scam. In that regard, there seems to be a descendant of the Arkne family here.”

She pointed to the very back of the classroom.

At the mention of the name Arkne, my eyes widened, but I deliberately held my breath.

“The Arcane Swordsmanship of the Arkne family is indeed a 5-star swordsmanship recognized by the Swordsmanship Association.”

Instead, I slowly looked back.

There was a Soliette with a slightly stiff face, flushed red with half the intensity of her hair color.

Some might mistake that expression for shyness, but no.

It’s disgust.

“Anyway, Swordsmanship is not about swinging your sword here and there to create a technique. First, let me demonstrate.”

Jeoly drew her sword.

“I will use magic.”

As she infused magic, her blade glowed blue.

“Like this, if you swing your sword imbued with magic.”

Lines of magic were drawn in the air.

One line, two lines, three lines.

“These lines of magic mix like this. This is called a ‘stroke.’ Does anyone know their meaning?”

“A stroke is the smallest unit that constitutes swordsmanship. At least three strokes must be connected to form a technique.”

Of course, it was Elise again. Jeoly smiled faintly.

“That’s right. When at least three strokes are intricately connected, it becomes a technique, and the technique works like magic. Why, even though you’re clearly swinging a sword, lightning falls from the sword, or the sword distorts space, or the swordsmanship itself is too artistic… The purpose of Swordsmanship is to create, research, and understand such techniques.”

Jeoly looked at the clock. Not even 20 minutes had passed since the start of the class.

“Since it’s the first class today, let’s just swing our swords a bit. Follow me.”

* * *

“This is the Swordsmanship Training Room.”

The place Jeoly led us to be the [Swordsmanship Training Room] on the 7th floor of the senior building.

“Oh….”

I admired the interior structure.

First, the 1st floor. There are quite a few doors on both sides of the corridor. They all seem to be personal training rooms, and at the end of the corridor, there are several large sparring arenas.

Next, the 2nd floor, which you reach by climbing the stairs. A balcony where you can watch the inside of the personal training rooms and the arenas.

“Today’s class is simple. Half of the 70 students, thirty-five, will go into these personal rooms for 30 minutes.”

Jeoly opened the door to a personal room. The students rushed in to look inside.

A room with cameras on all sides. The floor is set with dirt, sand, and grass, and a desk, chair, and tablet PC are placed in the corner.

“35 of you will deploy any swordsmanship in here. Even the most basic swordsmanship is fine. At that time, the remaining 35 will go up to the 2nd floor balcony.”

Jeoly closed the door to the training room and pointed to the stairs leading to the 2nd floor.

“You will watch the inside of the training room from the balcony. And you will write a report.”

“A report?”

Elise asked.

“Yes. Observing and understanding swordsmanship with your eyes is as important as performing swordsmanship.”

I looked at the faces of the surrounding students.

To be precise, I found someone.

Soliette Arkne.

She was standing quietly in the corner of the training room. With a cold and stern expression, as if she had no interest in the class.

“Alright then. Shall we start with Team 1 entering the training room? I will call the roll. Gerkhen Kal Doon, Demolli, Sethan……”

And Shion Ascal.

I entered the private room. The first thing I did was check the cameras around the room.

Were they set up to record and replay the swordsmanship?

“Hmm……”

I looked up at the balcony overhead. No one was on my side. They must have all gone to Gerkhen.

—For the first lesson, just swing around as you like. It’s okay to use the swordsmanship you’ve already learned, or the swordsmanship from dojos or academies. If you want to create a completely new, unique form, that’s okay too.

Jeoly’s voice echoed from the ceiling speaker.

I casually picked up the Ascal family sword.

“……Come to think of it, I’ve never unsheathed this.”

A sword too shabby to be called a family sword, a sword I had to sell before my regression due to medical bills. Yet, it was our family’s treasure.

I haven’t unsheathed this since my father passed away.

It was a foolish stubbornness. A crazy, idiotic pride that I would become worthy of the family sword first.

And then, as soon as I was diagnosed with terminal cancer, I immediately sold it. I’m a real idiot.

Sreeung—

I unsheathed the sword.

There was no decoration on the blade. Simple but elegant, as if it was solely dedicated to the purpose of killing.

I placed two fingers on the blade. I stroked it from bottom to top, as if tuning a violin.

———That’s when it happened.

……Shion. What do you think a knight is?

Suddenly, my father’s voice whispered in my ear.

At that moment, time rewound.

Back to a distant past, as if my consciousness was being sucked in.

……A knight is, well, a protector.

Once, I had seen my father wielding this.

It was a very old memory.

To a mere four-year-old child, it was the sight of the coolest and strongest person in the world.

……Chang!

The sound of the sword rang out sharply. My father’s figure faintly appeared in a corner of the garden like a mist.

I just stared at him.

……A form, simply put, is a sequence of movements. Horizontal cuts, vertical cuts, thrusts, pull cuts, push cuts, these single stroke movements add up to form one sequence.

Fantasies buried in a corner of my memory drawer vividly resurfaced.

……A routine is the movement that performs this form. This is why the same form can vary greatly from knight to knight. Some wield the form as softly as a petal, while others strike down as bluntly and heavily as a hammer.

My father clenches his sword as he looks at young me. I meet his face, his wrinkles, the blond hair he passed on to me.

As vivid as last night’s events.

……A sword path is the way of the sword that this form and routine embody. Once a sword path is completed, it remains like a swordsman’s fingerprint. Because there are infinite possibilities for a sword path, there can be no ‘same swordsman’ in this world.

With the most perfectly refined posture, without a single deviation, a sword path that was as stubborn and direct as his personality.

…This was it.

Somewhat belatedly,

Clearly before my eyes,

His swordsmanship comes back to life.

……This is the Ascal family’s swordsmanship.

The father of the past cut down the straw mannequin.

——Swoosh!

Immediately after, as if a switch was flicked.

My Mana Heart activated on its own. Mana surged up suddenly. The pathways in my veins opened. Mana overflowed like steam, scorching my whole body, and at the same time cooling and sending shivers down my spine.

I slowly opened my eyes.

“…….”

My retinas were dyed blue.

The world lit up brightly.

The lighting inside the training room was intense, and I could see particles of drifting mana. My father’s swordsmanship entered that space. The sword path that had been engraved in the wooden sword rose like an afterimage.

I moved my body naturally. I followed the trajectory of memory with the Ascal sword. My father’s basic form sprouted from my grip. The sword flowed, turned, and sprang up. Blue mana seeped in between the strokes like petals.

The realm of selflessness.

In such a euphoric resonance of the sword and self, I realized.

This is not a mere “memory”.

It transcends mere recollection, turning memory entirely into my own———

「Manifestation」.

“……Ah.”

At some point, I stopped my sword dance. The vibration of the sword blade belatedly rushed into my heart. My whole body shuddered violently, then slowly subsided.

Suddenly, I looked up at the balcony.

“Who…….”

For a moment, a presence brushed past and disappeared.

It was red hair.

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