Chapter 17: The Edge of the Blade

“Sir Dande and Sir Liam may accompany me, correct? They’re my mentors.”

Habinan looked at the two knights.

“Of course. I’d love to ask how they managed to train a knight like the Young Master.”

He adjusted his disheveled wig as he spoke.

“Yes, I’m curious as well. How did you turn the Young Master who locked himself in his room for three years into a proper knight?”

Another young noble with cropped hair—an officer-mage candidate—sparkled with curiosity as he stepped up beside Sir Liam.

“We didn’t do anything special. It was all thanks to Young Master Anplus’s own efforts.”

“I heard rumors that he cut through a tree trunk thicker than a man’s body with a single strike. Is that true?”

Sir Dande and Sir Liam exchanged brief glances.

“It’s true.”

“But not with a single strike.”

Sir Liam nodded, while Sir Dande shook his head.

“Then whose story is correct?”

“I’m curious too. It took me over a month using wind magic to slice through one myself.”

Habinan’s gaze turned to me with a hint of pressure.

I sighed dramatically before answering.

“Unfortunately, not in one strike. But if I try again now, I think I could manage it.”

“Then how about a wager with me next time?”

“What kind of wager?”

“Let’s see who can clear a forest faster. My family will provide the land.”

As I laughed lightly, I noticed the trap hidden within his words.

“And what happens to the trees we cut?”

“They become our family’s lumber.”

“And what about the cleared land?”

“It becomes our farmland and pasture.”

“You mean to use me for free labor in your logging and reclamation project!”

The nobles around us burst into laughter, joined by Dande and Liam.

I found myself laughing along too.

Moments like these—banter, laughter, the ordinary joy of noble life—used to be so natural. I’d already lost it once, and that’s why I treasured it now.

For that brief moment, I allowed myself to simply enjoy it.

***

While everyone laughed and chatted in the banquet hall, the mustache-shaven Giberk sat with several young nobles, grumbling in low voices.

“Can you believe they let a bunch of swordsmen into a banquet hall?”

“What’s the point of being pureblood if you can’t even use magic? He’s a cripple at best.”

“And he dared to humiliate me in front of my fiancée. I won’t let that stand.”

“Indeed. Stay silent now, and we’ll never speak again.”

“We must suppress that useless noble’s arrogance somehow. Let’s challenge him again—a duel! We’ll show him the true greatness of magic.”

One young noble spoke fervently.

“Indeed!”

“Let’s do it!”

The atmosphere heated instantly, as if they were about to storm out then and there.

But Giberk, who had stirred the crowd in the first place, took a sip of wine and wiped his mouth.

“That won’t do.”

Every eye turned to him.

“Why not?”

“Surely you, of all people, would want revenge?”

Giberk stroked the half of his mustache that remained and replied.

“I hate to admit it, but we’re at a disadvantage. In a duel arena, unlike a battlefield, there’s no time to gather enough mana.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Indeed. It’s hard to use our full strength in such confined spaces. Remember—Lady Helia couldn’t even complete her flame before he charged her.”

“Exactly. To suppress that man, we need a noble who can deploy magic instantly. Someone like Lady Temeratia.”

At Giberk’s words, the other young nobles gasped in exaggerated awe.

“You know Lady Temeratia?”

“She’s a genius who became an officer-mage in her teens!”

“With her, we could crush Young Master Anplus’s pride completely.”

“I heard she and Young Master Anplus had several duels before.”

Their eyes lit up simultaneously.

“Let’s send her a letter at once!”

“Call Lady Temeratia back from her family estate!”

Giberk snapped his fingers and summoned a servant to bring paper and pen.

“All who stand with me, sign your names!”

More than a dozen excited young nobles wrote down their names with relish.

[To Lady Temeratia,

We hope this letter finds you well.

Congratulations on achieving the title of Officer-Mage.A strange incident has occurred in the social circles, and we seek your aid.]

[The crippled Young Master has become a knight and now behaves arrogantly, striking and humiliating his peers under the guise of duels.

We have heard you once exchanged many bouts with him.We humbly ask you to put an end to his insolence once and for all.— Giberk and seven others]

The young nobles chuckled gleefully, already imagining my downfall.

But Temeratia’s reaction to the letter was the complete opposite of what Giberk expected.

“How dare those worthless fools mock me!”

The courier, trembling in confusion, bowed low, forehead pressed to the marble floor, waiting for her fury to subside.

The letter, crushed in Temeratia’s hand, was flung into the fireplace.

“Finish what I started”? How would they even know I was the one who got beaten and fainted that day!?

Her navy-blue eyes burned with humiliation and rage.

“Congratulations on becoming an officer-mage?” 

As if I’d play along with their gossip to hide their fear!

The only people who knew what really happened that day were me, Temeratia, and Dande, who had handled the aftermath.

But Temeratia, having avoided the Intezeron estate ever since, had no idea.

She was born to a pureblood military noble branch, undefeated—except for that one encounter with me.

Giberk… that mongrel branch noble dares to threaten me?

A proud pureblood noble could not endure such humiliation.

Temeratia called for her maid and dictated coldly.

“Not a word out of place. Write exactly as I say. To Giberk—and all seven who signed with him—I challenge you to a duel.”

The courier’s eyes widened in terror.

Dueling was a very different matter from polite sparring.

Sparring was common—a greeting between nobles of similar bloodlines.

But a duel meant risking one’s life for honor.

And nobles, who valued their own lives greatly, rarely fought duels.

“Lady Temeratia, please reconsider. Sir Giberk isn’t even worthy of a duel from one bearing the title of Azure Officer-Mage.”

The maid’s face turned pale as she pleaded.

The navy-haired mage ruffled her half-grown short hair in anger.

“Then it’s not a duel—it’s education. I hear that fool dreams of becoming an officer-mage himself. I’ll teach him manners as a senior should. Summon them to Temeratisia. I’ll beat them senseless and bury them in the ground!”

***

“I heard Giberk went to Temeratisia without knowing anything and got utterly destroyed by Lady Temeratia,” Sir Liam said with a grin.

I sighed, half-laughing.

“So losing half his mustache shocked him that badly. Maybe I should’ve shaved the other side too.”

“You demonstrated great skill, my lord. Cutting hair cleanly with an unsharpened sword is no easy feat.”

Sir Dande looked pleased, as though replaying the memory in his mind.

“That’s actually why I called you today. I want to teach you both that skill—and ask your help with something else.”

I drew my sword.

Both knights’ eyes shone with expectation.

“This was a technique once used by an Imperial knight.”

I twisted my sword arm and body to the left.

My muscles and bones screamed.

Then, with the tension of a snapping bowstring, I swung the blade.

Swish—

The sound came a beat later.

“What a tremendous strike,” Dande murmured, awed.

“It’s beautiful. I must learn it,” Liam added eagerly.

“That knight called this technique Chamcheol—‘True Iron.’ It’s a style that adds recoil speed by twisting the body to its limit before striking. It can cut through most armor. And there’s one more.”

I closed and opened my eyes slowly, syncing my breath.

I divided my heartbeat into four beats, then swung my sword between each off-beat—maintaining an identical speed from the first motion to the very end.

Even with all my training, my arms and core trembled violently.

Keeping steady breathing was a challenge.

“This one doesn’t have a name yet.”

I took a deep breath.

“It’s a technique meant to cut through manifested magic itself. More like ripping than slashing.”

Both knights frowned instinctively.

I understood.

Anyone with sense would call it absurd.

After all, only miracles can oppose miracles.

Magic could only be fought with magic—that was the world’s law.

“I want to create a sword style that can counter magic using pure technique. But I’ll need your help.”

I finished with a hint of tension in my voice.

Almost immediately, Dande spoke up.

“Was that the technique you used to slice through Lady Helia’s flames the other day?”

Liam stepped forward, pushing Dande aside.

“And also against the flame mage during the return from the conference? You used it then too, didn’t you?”

“Yes. That’s right. Wait—are you two actually believing this?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

They nodded without hesitation.

“You truly believe me? A sword that can cut magic—it sounds insane.”

Even I could barely believe it myself.

If someone had told me months ago that I’d one day become a knight who could slice through flames, I’d have laughed in their face.

Dande looked me in the eye, deadly serious.

“I, Dande, saw Lady Helia’s flames and Lord Giberk’s earth spikes cut apart with my own eyes.”

Liam nodded beside him.

“You sliced magic with a sword. I’ve lied to women before, but never to myself. I want to learn.”

He tied a folded handkerchief around his forehead and grinned.

“Teach me, and I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”

“I’ll assist in any way I can.”

I closed my eyes briefly, then opened them again.

“Thank you, both of you.”

***

“We’ll have to build up our bodies first. Chamcheol and the second technique both strain the muscles.”

“The shoulders and grip strength seem especially important.”

“Then let’s add climbing the fortress wall with lead belts to our routine. It’ll strengthen the grip, shoulders, and back perfectly. I’ll inform the guards.”

Dande said it casually.

Liam and I exchanged glances and nodded.

“That sounds good.”

The walls of the Intezeron outer fortress—raised by our ancestors through magic—stood fifty meters tall.

“We’re really doing this?” Liam muttered, gazing upward.

“You tied the ropes yourself, didn’t you?”

I began climbing.

My arms and shoulders burned.

“Young Master Anplus! Wait for me!”

“Let him go first,” Liam groaned. “That man must have iron rods in his arms.”

By the time I reached the top, the sun was sinking below the horizon.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead as the orange light washed over me.

“Well done, everyone.”

“The results will be worth it. A month of this should be enough,” Dande said, flexing his hands.

Even faint blue blood flowed with vitality, quickening recovery.

“A month? Three weeks will do!”

Liam collapsed on the wall, panting.

“Why did you strap three extra lead weights?”

“You wore five more! I can’t look weak next to you!”

“Pick one—am I ‘Young Master’ or ‘Sir’? You can’t use both!”

I chuckled as they bickered.

“Eat up before we continue.”

Guards arrived with baskets of bread, ham, Dutch coffee, and milk.

“What’s this snack for?”

“The Lord said he expects results,” the guards replied.

We exchanged looks.

“Knights.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll make sure he gets them.”

I gripped my sword with renewed resolve.

***

Sir Liam swung his sword wildly for a long time, limbs sweeping through the air.

I watched how the rotation began from the ankle, rose through the knee, hip, and shoulder, then channeled into the tip.

A thought struck me suddenly.

I jumped up, swung my sword a few times, and ran to Liam.

“Sir Liam, I’ve found a better way to use Chamcheol!”

“W–What is it?”

“When you swing, twist your ankle and hips downward along the rotation axis. That’ll give the blade far more motion!”

Liam blinked, tried it, then exclaimed.

“Indeed! That’s it! With this, I won’t have to twist like a salted worm anymore!”

Hearing his excitement, Dande ran over.

“Lord Anplus! Watch me next!”

He demonstrated a clean, powerful strike, transitioning smoothly into close combat.

I clapped.

“Sir Dande—just then!”

“Yes?!”

“When you use that technique, keep your left hand up, like when you gauge distance in a spar. Use it for range control.”

I raised my gauntleted left hand as an example.

“Range control… I see!”

“Exactly. If you know the exact distance, maintaining blade speed becomes much easier.”

The two knights’ faces brightened.

“Excellent. Truly excellent.”

From dawn until the evening star rose, I kept swinging my wave-patterned sword, refining every motion.

I was beginning to grasp how great—and how difficult—this path really was.

I need more references. More sword manuals to study.

As many as I can find.