Chapter 4
Seria Yurdina was swinging her sword from early morning that day as well.
Her days always began that way. From the moment she first took hold of a sword at the age of six, there had never been a day when she skipped her training. Whether rain fell or snow, her sword always traced several trajectories.
Some people called her a genius with the sword. It was understandable. She had begun hunting magical beasts in her teens and built a reputation in the process.
By the time she turned eighteen, an official invitation had arrived from the academy. It was an obvious proposal: an invitation to take the entrance examination for the academy, the finest educational institution on the continent. Naturally, Seria had gladly accepted.
Even at the academy, where geniuses who soared and flew had gathered, there were few who could rival her. Among her peers, there were only one or two. That was why she had managed to hold on to the top spot in the Department of Swordsmanship all this time.
Thus, the epithet ‘genius’ attached to her was neither an exaggeration nor flattery. She was a genius in the truest sense of the word.
She was simply a ‘hardworking’ genius.
Seria was not so young as to complain that no one recognized the blood and sweat she shed in secret. Even so, she sometimes found herself wondering when she saw people who looked only at the results.
Had they ever swung a sword as desperately as I have?
Ever since her father cast out the woman who had given birth to her, every day Seria spent in House Yurdina had been a struggle for survival.
She had to prove her worth to avoid being cast out, and only after she began to distinguish herself in swordsmanship was she finally allowed to take the surname ‘Yurdina.’
She had nothing. Even the blood of Yurdina, forcibly bestowed upon her from birth, would disappear once she had fulfilled her usefulness.
To survive, she cut away everything.
The southern Seven Kingdoms were said to be home to mysterious lizardfolk who lived in the jungles. In that place, teeming with venomous insects and poisonous plants, the lizardfolk had developed an unusual habit in order to survive.
If any part of their arms, legs, or tails became poisoned, they would cut it off.
They did so to preserve their lives before the poison could spread throughout their bodies. Their arms, legs, and tails would grow back with time, but a life, once lost, could never be regained. Some might call it a humiliating way to live, but Seria had admired the story when she was young.
To survive, that was what one had to do. So long ago, she had begun cutting away everything except what was necessary.
Hobbies, more sleep than necessary, human relationships, and even desire and affection.
The longsword called ‘Seria Yurdina’ had been forged by melting down and casting off all that dross. Naturally, she was qualitatively different from other swordsmen—and she had to be.
Of course, no matter how much one wished to cut something away, there were things that simply could not be discarded.
At times, she would grow depressed all day because she felt lonely, and she also longed for unconditional affection and recognition.
But by then, it was already too late. Having never gone through a normal process of socialization, Seria found human relationships impossibly difficult to navigate.
The more difficult they became, the more deeply she immersed herself in the world of the sword. When she swung her sword, she could at least stop worrying about problems outside herself. She could even forget herself.
For a woman who lived such a life, it was only natural that her mornings would begin with sword practice as well. As she inhaled the cold dawn air and swung her sword, Seria’s mind was more tranquil than at any other time.
If that man had not suddenly entered her training ground that day.
Seria, who had been concentrating on her training, flinched at the sudden sign of someone’s presence. Her startled eyes turned toward her back.
This was a forest in a remote corner of the academy. More specifically, a clearing unknown to most people.
At least, during all the mornings she had come here to train, it had been rare for her to sense anyone’s presence. At most, a camping club had come by once or twice, forcing her to move her training ground.
And the reason Seria was even more flustered was that the presence had come from far closer than she expected.
Seria possessed not only outstanding swordsmanship but also an impressive amount of mana. Having undergone numerous real battles since childhood, she was skilled at controlling it as well.
Once one reached such a level, their senses became incomparably sharper, and whether consciously or unconsciously, they constantly spread a faint web of magical surveillance to detect dangers in their surroundings.
Yet Seria had not even noticed someone’s presence until they had come right beside her. That meant one of two things.
Either her opponent was vastly stronger than Seria, or they had deliberately concealed their presence.
So she hesitated for a moment. If this was an ambush, would it be better to strike first?
But Seria’s concern soon proved groundless. The man trudged into the clearing, glanced briefly at Seria, and then walked toward the center of the clearing again with an indifferent gaze.
Then he drew his sword. He was not pointing it at anyone. He was merely pointing it at empty air.
It seemed he had come to swing his sword as well. Seria did not lower her guard, but she soon realized that the man’s face looked somewhat familiar.
Black hair and golden eyes. He was one of the seniors who attended the same lectures as her.
Was his name Ian? She remembered him as having a somewhat gentler impression, but today he gave off a sharp aura.
More than anything, she noticed the deep fatigue lingering in his eyes.
Those eyes, in which such intense emotions swirled, were eerie enough to send a chill through her. The moment Seria met his gaze, she felt her blood freeze like a mouse before a cat.
They were a murderer’s eyes. The eyes possessed only by those who had taken countless lives and never hesitated to rob someone of theirs.
Seria’s body flinched. An instinctive urge to point her blade at him raised its head. It was a warning from the survival instinct she had honed for so long.
But the man did not even pay attention to Seria. He merely swung his sword several times.
With a whoosh, the sword traced a bizarre trajectory, accompanied by the sound of air being torn apart.
At first, the trajectories were simple and straight. But as each trajectory overlapped with the last, an increasingly intricate sword path began to take shape.
It was a sight like magic. Seria stood transfixed, watching those several minutes of swordsmanship.
She was a swordswoman herself. Naturally, she prided herself on possessing the discernment to judge another person’s skill.
That was why she was even more bewildered. If she imagined herself standing before that sword path, how many moves would it take for her to lose?
Ten moves? No, perhaps fewer. Sword against sword was like solving a puzzle of brilliant moves in the blink of an eye. Even when she watched from a distance as she was now, she could barely see a way out of that sword path. In an actual battle, it went without saying.
But that couldn’t be right.
She had seen his swordsmanship several times during lectures. Back then, his swordsmanship had been faithful to the fundamentals, but that was all.
It was when she muttered to herself that perhaps she was mistaken.
“……Seria Yurdina.”
“Y-Yes?!”
She was so startled by the man’s quiet voice calling her that she answered and bit her tongue.
She thought she might die of embarrassment. Her face flushed bright red, and soon her head bowed.
Perhaps it was because it had been so long since she had spoken with him. These days, it was rare for her to say even a word or two in a single day.
However, the man did not seem inclined to blame or tease her for her mistake. He merely spoke in a voice that could not conceal his fatigue.
“Swinging a sword alone has its limits. If you can’t rely on anyone, you’ll eventually break.”
He muttered those words like a lament, then turned and left the clearing. Until then, Seria had remained standing there in a daze.
However, as the man passed by her, she caught an unpleasant smell that wafted up with a whoosh.
The smell of alcohol? Her gaze followed the man’s back. Come to think of it, even his staggering gait was far from normal.
Was he still not fully sober? The moment that thought crossed Seria’s mind, a surge of anger welled up inside her.
He was telling me that swinging a sword alone has its limits?
Was that really something a man who had gotten drunk the night before and was swinging a sword for exercise had to say to me?
Her sword was far more desperate than his. It was a path she had walked alone because no one understood her, and she had no intention of being understood.
How foolish. She was ashamed that, even for a fleeting moment, she had been captivated by that man’s sword and had felt like a swordswoman of insufficient caliber.
Come to think of it, there had been a separate word for people like him.
After brooding and grumbling for quite some time, she finally remembered the word she had been trying to recall.
Right, ‘old fogey.’ Senior Ian was an old fogey!
She did not know its exact meaning, but she remembered passersby calling people who gave unpleasant advice ‘old fogeys.’ Therefore, Senior Ian had to be an old fogey.
How dare he belittle someone else’s efforts like that? Gritting her teeth, Seria resumed swinging her sword.
However, Seria’s connection with that man did not end there that day.
During swordsmanship practice, Professor Derek of the Department of Swordsmanship gathered the students and declared in a dignified voice,
“Today, we’ll be pairing seniors and juniors to encourage interaction!”
At those words, the students’ mood changed at once. The academy might claim that skill was everything, but a school was still a school. No junior could help feeling intimidated by an unfamiliar senior.
Of course, the same applied to Seria. She had abandoned human relationships from the outset. Being paired with someone she did not know was bound to be an awkward and painful experience.
However, Professor Derek—the legendary adventurer who had traversed every kind of harsh terrain and hunted famous magical beasts—was a man who placed exceptional value on camaraderie. There was even a rumor that, despite being over fifty, he thought of his comrades who had died every time he looked at the scars carved into his burly body.
No matter how much the students objected, he did not seem likely to withdraw his decision. Seria sighed inwardly.
Even if she were paired with someone, she could simply ignore them and train by herself. As she barely managed to console herself with that thought, she soon found herself in an even more difficult situation.
Because, of all people, the man she had been paired with was the one from that morning.
‘Ian Perkus.’ Only then did she learn his full name. Not that it was favorable interest, of course. Seria was still in a sour mood from that morning.
Perhaps that was why the girl already known as ‘Yurdina’s brat’ responded even more rudely than usual.
“I don’t want to train with a senior.”
She tossed out the words curtly, as though stating an utterly obvious fact.
“I don’t think it would help me much. Not with your level of skill, anyway.”
The atmosphere around them froze for an instant at her words. Then, a moment later, sounds of tongue-clicking and sighs arose, as though everyone had expected this.
Seria herself only realized her mistake after she had spoken.
It was always like this. She wanted to speak a little more gently, but as someone inexperienced with human relationships, she often blurted out words that were far too honest.
Of course, her resentment toward the ‘old-fogey senior’ had probably played a part this time as well.
As expected, mocking voices calling her Yurdina’s brat rang out, but Seria deliberately ignored them.
Apart from swordsmanship, everything else was meaningless. She soothed herself with that thought.
Yet Ian, the target of those harsh words, merely looked at Seria without saying anything. Perhaps he was too shocked; just as someone was about to step forward and comfort him,
“Come out.”
That single word abruptly burst from his lips. Rather, that one word had a far greater impact than Seria’s harsh words.
The man gestured toward the sparring arena in the center of the swordsmanship training grounds and said,
“……Why don’t you find out?”
Who was testing whom? Was Seria testing Ian? Or was Ian testing Seria?
Judging solely by the skill they had displayed, the former should have been true, but looking into Ian’s eyes now, Seria could not bring herself to think that way.
Golden eyes, impossible to read, filled with nothing but fatigue.
They made her feel as though he was looking down on her.
“……All right.”
Gritting her teeth, Seria said it.
That was the beginning of an incident that would shake the academy.