Even a Scoundrel Gets Tired

186 – The Third Bout (2)

Neither of us yielded an inch,

locking eyes with each other,

as we began to assume

our respective stances.

Without the professor’s signal,

or any other cue,

we simultaneously took our first step.

“W-Wait, not yet…!”

For a split second, I heard

the professor’s flustered voice, but

neither she, nor myself for that matter,

had any intention of stopping.

With a single step forward,

I began to murmur an incantation,

barely audible.

And without holding anything before,

a wooden dagger with a blunted end

was already clutched in my hand.

A kind of ironwood blade, no less,

with a steel core hammered deep inside.

Well, it was only a sparring match, so

I didn’t want to truly injure my opponent, but

from the countless weapons

I’d wielded until now,

I’d learned that this was

always more effective at subduing them

than a true blade–a selection born of

experience piled upon experience.

You can’t readily bludgeon someone

with edged weapons, you see.

The smallest graze and blood will

pour out, a potentially fatal wound.

*Kaaa-aaang—*

Wood clashed against steel,

sparks flashed, and the blade sang.

A sound that, judging by the material of the swords,

absolutely shouldn’t have happened, echoed two or three more times.

Even after that, my wooden sword, which

should have long since been cleaved in two, was merely scratched.

It posed

no issues in its wielding.

And she seemed to have noticed, too,

that something was off with my wooden sword.

Indeed, there was no way

a mere wooden sword could block

a blade infused with mana.

“What…?”

Her face momentarily hardened,

as if realizing something was wrong,

but seemingly regaining

her composure, she once again

charged at me.

I parried her blade, quite taken aback.

Frankly, with the pride she usually displayed,

I thought it would take her a bit

longer to recover.

‘I expected her to explode,

to snarl about being underestimated?’

From the start, she’d ostentatiously dragged a real sword into this training ground,

and I, seeing that,

had drawn this pathetic wooden one.

Naturally, regardless of who the opponent was,

she could only think I was

disrespecting her,

yet, astonishingly,

she showed not a flicker of agitation.

It must have been so hard to bear.

Of course, she might have been

forcefully suppressing her rage,

planning to grind me into dust with her skill,

but even after exchanging a few strikes,

she didn’t falter,

but stubbornly endured.

If she were just a haughty

lady, full of vanity, she might have

screamed, ‘H-how dare you block my blade? Are you using some trick?!’

A trite line.

And even someone not of that ilk,

anyone who has held a sword,

might know the feeling.

The sensation of falling into the pit of defeat.

‘The opponent effortlessly deflects your

most heartfelt attack, despite

being at a disadvantage?’

There’s no better way to

feel the gulf between you,

no better way to inflict

humiliation.

Or rather, defeat.

That feeling, often labeled as inferiority.

And because all education invariably

began from that dirty, petty

inferiority,

I planned, today, to bestow

that inferiority upon her, proper.

*Kaaang, kang, kang.*

The clang of swords echoed, once again,

ferociously,

and before long, all the time allotted

to the preceding bout had elapsed,

and finally, the one to withdraw first

from that fierce dance of blades

was, as expected, not me.

No matter that I was somewhat lacking

in strength and skill compared to before,

at this juncture, where I held the advantage

of inherent physical superiority due to gender,

there was no way I’d lose

against that little runt with her own dearth

of practical experience.

Besides, there were more deficiencies

in her swordsmanship than I had anticipated.

“Hee… hee…”

Despite the pleasingly set lean muscle,

her slender arms clearly struggled

to continue wielding that long sword,

for her breathing had become considerably harsher

than before,

and I, obligingly,

waited for her.

Well, from the outset, I had merely parried

the sword she swung,

and only occasionally

prodded lightly at her joints,

so far from expending much energy,

not even a bead of sweat had formed,

and I had ample leisure to await her.

Of course, still, her…

Her expression was like she’d just bitten into something truly foul.

Whether she was annoyed that I didn’t seem to be exerting much effort,

or whether she thought I was deliberately

humoring her, I couldn’t say.

But her face held

none of the leisure it had before.

And as the moments

passed, her breathing

began to even out.

“Why aren’t you ending it?

It’s a waste of time; finish it quickly.”

“..Honestly, I think the outcome

is pretty clear myself…”

‘..Do they even realize the purpose

of this spar is education, saying things like that?’

Silvia and Isabella’s voices came, one after the other, from behind,

but I paid them no mind,

continuing to wait for her.

I could feel Professor Oliver watching me

with satisfaction.

Well, to be frank, the spars of everyone

else besides me felt a little too

short and overwhelming to be called educational.

Our ever-meticulous

professor probably found that deeply displeasing.

‘..Still, the mages at least seemed

to have grasped something –’

“You, huff… where do you think you’re looking right now?!”

“..Oh.”

She still looked exhausted, the same as before,

but perhaps she found it so intolerable

that I wasn’t focused on her,

that I let my gaze wander.

She gritted her teeth hard

and charged at me again.

Her ragged breaths, a harsh, panting rhythm, were pitiable enough, but I held no intention of ending things at merely this point.

Once more, I deciphered her

sword’s path, gracefully

evading its trajectory.

Then, without pause, I sunk my fist

into her lower abdomen.

No need to add anything more to it.

The muscles of my body,

honed through countless battles,

were more than enough to churn the insides of a girl my age.

“Kgh…Huk…!!”

Not that a vital point resided there, but it was sufficient to

halt her breath

momentarily.

Her body instinctively curled inwards,

and from her mouth, which just moments before had been expelling ragged gasps,

only coughs and

retching sounds emerged.

If only she had

consistently trained her body,

she wouldn’t have been defeated

so helplessly.

Sadly, in her current state,

the particular arrogance of

this era’s nobles

was all too

pronounced.

I won’t deny she possessed

a certain inherent ability,

but even that has its limits.

For those who rely solely on their talent,

who fail to advance and

remain stagnant…

Fate has a habit of

laughing at them, leaving trials in its wake.

What good is resolve alone?

When vanity ruins every

plan, every success.

“Better this than something worse down the line.”

It wasn’t like she was in front of a crowd.

Just barely under ten

students and a single professor.

What was so shameful about clutching her stomach and hiccuping in pain?

If she didn’t fix this temper now,

who knew what might

happen later?

“…But Professor too,

why is everyone looking at me like that?”

“Keuh…hnggh…”

“…Are you alright? If not,

you can just give up here—”

“Shut up!!”

“….”

“I’m absolutely…absolutely not giving up!!”

She was still choking on her breaths,

and a single tear had gracefully

gathered in the corner of her eye.

But she didn’t wipe

it away.

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

Her legs threatened

to buckle more than once,

but each time she managed to stand, using her sword as a crutch.

Finally, her blade

was pointed at me once more.

“….”

“Heok…heok…”

She had struggled so mightily

to get back on her feet,

but that didn’t mean the accumulated

impact on her body

had vanished.

Even now,

her legs had begun to tremble slightly,

and the blade she aimed at me trembled, too.

‘…Even so, she *is* a girl…’

“Did I push her too hard, from the start?”

A fleeting thought grazed my mind, that perhaps I was being too severe.

And seeing her wrist, still clutched

in my fist around the heavy

ironwood sword, already swollen red

from having endured it so much,

I was about to turn to the professor, to ask him to halt the sparring.

I had nudged it a few times, with the aim of

making her drop her sword,

but even so, to abuse her to this extent

meant she wouldn’t be able to hold a sword

later – that much was as plain as day.

“Professor, I think perhaps─”

“Not yet.”

“..Pardon?”

“I said it has not ended yet.”

But the reply that returned was

a refusal to halt the sparring.

The professor’s gaze, as he spoke those words, was already fixed on one point,

and following that gaze,

I, too, fixed my eyes upon that spot.

Wooosh─

From her sword-edge, which until just moments ago was trembling

and shuddering with her breath,

a single, thin thread of pure azure

had sprouted, peeking out.

“..Sword Silk (劍絲)?”

“Haha, magnificent, isn’t it? Sword Silk at her age!”

She kept her eyes closed,

muttering something to herself,

and with each utterance,

the energy of the single thread

sprouting from her sword grew ever stronger.

As if to imply that it had not yet ended.

“….”

“….”

And finally,

after a long meditation, she opened her eyes,

I adjusted my grip on the sword once more.