Chapter 3: The Blade That Chooses Its Path

“From now on I will demonstrate the downward cut.

Watch how my body moves as a whole.”

Dande spread his legs shoulder-width apart and gripped the wooden sword.

I focused on his demonstration.

First, do not use the wrists as much as possible.

Distribute the force across the shoulders and back, use the whole upper body.

Do not lift or pull the sword excessively so the power leaks away.

Relax and swing, and tighten slightly at the moment of the cut.

As he demonstrated, Dande pointed out the things I needed to pay attention to.

“You must keep cutting until this log is reduced to firewood. There are plenty of wooden swords, so don’t worry if one breaks.”

At that, my interest evaporated and my breath hitched.

It felt like being told to move a mountain with my bare hands.

“Sir. Surely one of my eyes or ears must be defective.”

“Yes?”

“Where is that block of wood?”

In front of me stood a tree trunk as tall as I was, twice the girth of a grown man’s chest.

“Can’t you see it?”

“All I see is a thick tree trunk.”

“Yes. You must cut down this trunk until it becomes a block of wood.”

I snorted and lifted the wooden sword.

“Ha. Haha.”

It seemed faster to learn magic.

When I stared closely at the trunk for a moment, I noticed small cracks between the growth rings.

If I aimed for those spots, I might be able to shave a little off more easily.

***

That must be what he was thinking.

Dande followed the direction of the young master’s gaze.

Dry wood normally has slight fissures.

But because the density was higher, even a chopping axe would only stick in a little.

Besides, the young master had lived without lifting anything heavier than silverware.

If he were to shape that trunk into blocks of wood, even pounding ten hours a day would take a year and a half.

I inhaled, stepped forward as I exhaled, and brought the wooden sword down.

I tried neither to force the blade all the way down nor to pull it too high.

I aimed for a moderate tension: not locking my arm by gripping too hard, nor letting the sword droop with too little force.

The wooden sword landed exactly where I wanted.

A clear clack rang out, and with a pleasant recoil a sizable chunk of wood fell away.

The tree was not as hard as I had thought.

But Dande stared at me wide-eyed like a lamp.

“What did you just do?”

“I struck as you showed me.”

“I asked how you split it.”

“I thought since I still lack strength, aiming for the cracked spots would let it split more easily.”

I hesitated a moment, then added, “Are you disappointed I tried to be clever from the start? Sorry.”

“No.”

He muttered almost as if enchanted.

“Continue. Keep doing it that way.”

***

On the first day I broke three wooden swords.

No matter how well I put strength into the blow, the recoil that returned matched the force, and I could not stop that.

At first the rebound felt exhilarating, but later my palms were all grazed and blue blood trickled down, only to recover and repeat.

The trunk was demanding enough; I could not afford to worry about the sword.

I thought about how to minimize the burden on my body.

After several attempts I discovered a trick: minimize wrist movement, add a slight pushing feeling to the downward motion, and drive the impact deeper.

Recoil still accumulated, but it consumed far less from me.

Happy to have found some technique, I gripped the wooden sword again.

Three days later.

I broke my fifth wooden sword.

“How about now?”

Small palm-sized wood chips littered the training ground floor.

The trunk that had been thicker than a man’s torso had been reduced to about the thickness of a woman’s forearm.

“If I hadn’t been watching from the side, I might have suspected some magic or sleight of hand.”

Dande picked up a wood chip and gave a wry laugh.

“Is that so? It came off better than I expected — I thought you were being considerate.”

“Yes?”

***

Dande felt something beyond astonishment.

He had carved down a trunk in half a season since seed training and taken the top spot.

He remembered what a knight who had taught him had said: that the young man was among the ten most talented the knight had ever met.

So what Anplus had done was beyond being explained as mere talent.

No matter how skilled a farmer, one cannot sow, grow, and harvest wheat within a week.

What Anplus achieved was of that scale.

“Young master, you truly seem to have a talent for swinging and cutting.”

“Is that so? Thank you.”

Dande steadied himself.

To be honest, he felt greedy.

He wanted to know how far this young master could learn and improve.

“But cutting skill alone does not make a great knight.”

***

after a moment of puzzlement he nodded.

I was not pursuing the life of a swordsman but that of a knight.

Swordsmanship is inseparable from knighthood, but it is not the whole of it.

“This is only the beginning; it will get harder from here. Will that be all right?”

Not every moment will be pleasant.

Just as the pleasing rebound left wounds on my palms.

But I nodded without hesitation.

Will it kill me?

The past three years had not been a life worth calling living.

The main house, direct bloodline, pureblood… I had inherited every condition to become a powerful mage, yet I could not use magic.

If I remained the young master, a mage who couldn’t use magic, I would be endlessly ostracized and ignored.

But what if I walked the path of a knight?

Of course it would be extremely difficult.

Instead of changing the world with a finger and will alone, I would have to swing my hands and feet and fight the enemy directly.

But ahead of that would be the glory I had forgotten.

My mind is made up.

I would stop enduring humiliation and clinging to the past.

I will live as a knight.

And once I started, I would become the best.

***

The abilities required of a knight were not limited to swordsmanship.

A knight was a swordsman and a rider, protector and assassin.

We learned riding and low crawling, ran training, practiced unarmed combat, and swam rivers with weights attached.

“A knight cannot be swinging a wooden sword and riding at the same time, can he?”

A bit over two weeks after riding was added to the routine, Dande handed me a real sword.

It was a sharpened blade, blue-steeled and keen.

“Finally.”

I felt like I’d received a birthday present.

Come to think of it, it had been a long time since I’d received anything like that.

I gathered my composure and looked at Dande.

“Ah. Sorry. I got choked up for a moment.”

“No. When I first received my sword I cried my eyes out too.”

Dande looked at me with such pride I almost died.

He seemed slightly mistaken about something, but I had no intention of correcting him.

“It’s shorter than I thought.”

The blade was shorter and the handle longer than I expected.

I was surprised that the blade was thicker and heavier than I had imagined.

“If it were longer it would only be uncomfortable when running and tumbling.”

Dande strapped on a sword of the same specification and demonstrated a roll.

He lowered his body so far his chin nearly touched his knee, slid forward like a snake, kicked off the ground and leapt.

Using his left hand to push the ground, he rolled once.

Before I knew it, the drawn sword in his hand whooshed.

“Young master. A knight does not need to fight hundreds of soldiers.”

“Ot.”

That is the mage’s role.

No matter how exceptional a knight is, mass destruction is the domain of magicians.

“Our job is to penetrate swiftly, fell the opposing knights, and take out the mage.”

It was not about riding down a hill in a showy cloak with loud cries and dueling the enemy’s lead knight.

“Your equipment must not be too heavy either.”

Dande nodded.

“You are perceptive.”

It was something the tutor often said.

“Thank you.”

Dande handed me a dull-colored breastplate.

He had painted it with a rough dye so it would not reflect light and draw a mage’s attention.

It was thick enough to stop spear and blade strikes from soldiers, but the armholes were cut deep so I could move my arms freely.

“I’ll help you into it.”

“No, it’s fine. I should be able to put it on by myself.”

I tightened the waist straps, securing the breast and back plates.

A heavy feeling pressed around my chest.

“Once you put on the gauntlets, you’re done.”

Instead of the ornate uniform with tassels, I wore a dark, plain armor; instead of white gloves I wore metal gauntlets; instead of a decorated commander’s sword I bore a plain, unadorned blade.

“We have to fight three types of enemies.”

Dande drew three circles in the dirt.

He labeled them mage, knight, and soldier.

“The knight’s ultimate target is the enemy mage.

To kill or capture that mage we must defeat the opposing knights, and in that process we will fight soldiers. Do you understand how to allocate your stamina?”

“There is no need to engage soldiers for long.

Sometimes avoiding them is advantageous.”

“Correct. If you fight those foot soldiers and draw a mage’s attention, you’ll be struck down by magic.

Remember: the moment a knight stops, he dies.”

“Knights should also be dispatched as fast as possible.”

Even as I said it, something felt off.

“No. They don’t necessarily have to be killed.

Isn’t it better to clash once, briefly, and wound them enough to prevent interference? Like stabbing deep into a thigh.”

The mana flowing in a knight’s blood could not immediately heal such wounds.

Temporarily incapacitating them and then going after the real target seemed the wiser choice.

I glanced at Dande.

He wore a satisfied smile.

No need to check — that was the right answer.

“How should we deal with mages?”

This question made me think.

I was of noble pureblood with strong vitality, and I had experienced magic firsthand.

“One thing is certain.”

So I could say it with certainty.

“If you are not going to aim for the heart, stabbing attacks make little sense.”

Even if you cut open the belly, pierce the lungs, or sever limbs, a mage does not die easily.

I knew this from experience.

“My thought is to cut off a hand or an arm first, then sever the neck.”

“Why do you think so?”

“Because the jugular runs there.You need to spill as much blood as possible.”

Mana is not a force that inhabits the soul or heart alone.

It soaked into every drop of blood.

“If you cannot kill them outright, at least reduce the power of their magic.That will reduce friendly casualties.If pain clouds their mind, they cannot cast properly, and you can safely aim for the neck.”

Dande snorted softly.

“Well then.I have nothing to say.Truly impressive.”

“All just personal experience.There was a time I bled so much my regeneration failed and I nearly died.”

“You’ve gone through quite a lot.”

“I do not wish to experience it again.”

“Yes.I suppose you will ensure that.”

I looked into Dande’s eyes.

There was a manly sharpness different from Temeratia’s.

He had watched the duel between me and Temeratia.

What he said was polite, but it felt more meaningful than mere courtesy.

“From now on I’ll show you patterns; follow me.

These are piercing moves to incapacitate knights and cutting moves to disable mages.”

I was eager to follow along.

“Are you mad?”

At that, several knights approached our side.

“Sir Liam.”

Dande frowned when he saw the lead knight.

The knight called Liam had shoulder-length, curly blonde hair.

Long hair — a sign of confidence that he had time to care for it even on the battlefield.

“I heard you’ve been assigned other duties lately, and yet this is what you’re doing?”

Dande replied calmly.

“Since when did the honorable task of teaching swordsmanship become such a thing?”

“I will not listen to excuses.To curry favor with your master you give a worthless noble who cannot even use magic a real blade in three weeks? What is this!”

“It was a considered decision.I will not hear objections.”

“Your arrogance will cause the young master and the mages he must protect to be killed.

You will pay for that.”

Sir Liam tried to snatch the sword from my hand.

I sidestepped his grasp in one smooth motion and took a step forward.

“Young master.”

Dande called to me in alarm, but I shook my head.

Liam seemed concerned for me, but with a veiled contempt.

A disabled noble who cannot use magic — the scorn of blue-blooded society.

“Then let’s test it.Whether I deserve to hold a real sword or not.”

“Yes?”

“What?”

Dande and Liam both blurted out simultaneously.

Instead of answering, I took off my glove and threw it at Liam’s face.

His expression contorted into one of incredulity.

“Sir Liam.I challenge you to a duel.”

I would no longer watch someone belittle me and keep my eyes open.