Chapter 5: The Theory and Practical Application of Swordsmanship

"What's that piece of junk?" the demon scoffed.

"It's my shield!" Pastel proudly held up the circular tabletop.

My trusty friend.

The demon looked at her with pity but spoke firmly. "Throw it away."

"B-but I can't!"

"Have you ever actually used it?"

The shocking truth hit Pastel. She had never properly used the circular tabletop.

She looked down at her "friend" with trembling eyes. Were you never really reliable? Did you deceive me?

"A heavy one-handed shield is more of a hindrance," the demon explained. "It drains your stamina and makes you rely on arm strength for attacks."

"But the opponent is a knight," Pastel protested. "It might be different from the beasts I've faced so far, right?"

"What if the opponent kicks you? Will you stumble and die?"

"I could drop the shield and—oh."

Pastel decided to retire the circular tabletop. Still, you gave me the courage to fight. That's enough to qualify as a friend. She patted it gently.

The demon explained that no help would come to this mansion. Without the Craft family head's permission, no outside force could intervene. It was a privilege guaranteed by imperial decree.

Originally, it was a right obtained to maintain the tradition of succession through familicide. Thanks to that, the sole legitimate heir had become a rat in a trap.

"So you've really never learned swordsmanship?" the demon asked.

"Nope."

"Then show me what you think is a stable sword stance."

A stable stance? That shouldn't be too hard.

Pastel gripped the longsword with both hands. She stepped forward with one foot, extending the other back to maintain a solid center of gravity. She pointed the sword straight ahead.

Hmm, it feels a bit off since I've never actually fought...

Precise imagination of unexperienced areas wasn't her forte.

"You have some sense, but the theory is... sigh. Something an heir should obviously learn. I'll teach you the basics."

The pitying look in his eyes had intensified.

How unfortunate.

"Hand me the sword."

Pastel readily passed the longsword through the bars.

The demon's fingers flicked the blade. "110cm, 1.3kg. Small size standard, I see. Not bad for a child to use."

Wow, he can tell just by touch and eyeballing it? Is this the caliber of a great demon?

Is this person really going to be my swordsmanship teacher?

Oh yeah!

"Watch closely."

He held up the sword demonstratively, his fingers tracing the blade.

"A longsword is in the shape of a cross. The blade can be divided into the tip, middle, and base. At the base is the crossguard horizontally, and below that is the handle."

"Isn't that too basic?" Pastel pouted. He's totally treating me like a kid!

"I'm explaining because you haven't learned the basics. A longsword is cross-shaped. Understanding this is essential for even minimal application. Let me show you the difference."

The demon took a sword stance, mimicking Pastel's earlier pose.

"A vertically held blade is an easy vertical obstacle for the opponent. It can be ignored with a quick vertical slash, or the flat of the blade can be knocked aside with a strong horizontal slash. Thrusting goes without saying."

He tilted the blade diagonally.

"In this stance, the sword should start from your right hand and be positioned in front of your left shoulder. This way, you can respond diagonally to all sword strikes."

The demon extended the tilted crossguard like a shield.

"The diagonal is also the blocking area of the crossguard. That's because the longsword is cross-shaped. If used well, it can be more useful than a shield."

Ooh.

Just the cross shape has such meaning?

"I understand completely!" Pastel raised her hand like an eager student.

I think I can handle a sword pretty well now!

The demon looked at her skeptically.

Feeling confident, Pastel decided to demonstrate.

And her body moved exactly as she felt it should.

Instinct and intuition guided her stance. She applied the stance, slashing the sword and taking steps. She created modified stances, smoothly linking one sword strike to the next.

The first time she imitated, the second time she applied, and the third time she perfected.

With just one example, she painted a canvas of swordsmanship.

Silver sword paths traced curves in the basement. Pink hair whirled.

The demon's eyes grew increasingly dazed.

"Why... why haven't you learned this before?"

That's what I'd like to know.

Maybe I lived too much like a model student.

Even kindness can be a fault, I guess.

...

Great Demon Demonius's Intensive Swordsmanship Lecture:

Understanding the structure of a longsword.

Four basic stances of longsword techniques.

Four openings in the realm of swordsmanship.

Two stances and three steps.

Five distinctions of mutual distance.

Three concepts of combat time.

Understanding initiative and close-quarters swordsmanship.

Five slashes and nine processes.

Ultra-close swordsmanship and the application of grappling.

The aesthetics of retreat.

Yay, I learned swordsmanship!

As expected, studying is best with a one-hit instructor's pinpoint lecture.

Having completed the lecture packed with essential knowledge, Pastel bravely set out from the basement.

"This disciple will descend the mountain! I'll definitely repay this kindness!"

The demon in the prison heaved a deep sigh.

"I don't expect that from a young Craft, so don't let your guard down too much. Even if not knight-level, an armored opponent is still a threat."

"Yes!"

"Sigh, how did I end up with another Craft..."

Leaving behind the demon with his complicated feelings, Pastel ascended the spiral staircase, her pink hair fluttering. The musty air of the dim space filled her nostrils.

Pastel forced her smile down.

She recalled the red glow from the helmet.

The knight in plate armor would be waiting in the office. The moment the bookcase opened and she emerged from the spiral staircase would be dangerous.

"The first move is crucial," she muttered to herself.

Reaching the exit, she took a moment to catch her breath.

"Deflect the first sword strike and move to the wider central area."

If she failed to deflect and got pushed back into the spiral staircase, it would be truly dangerous. The narrow passage and low step position would be major disadvantages.

Ugh, I can do this.

She gripped the rod switch. Pulling it down hard, the sound of gears turning echoed in the darkness. Her skin tingled.

She calmly gripped her chipped longsword.

Let's see who dies.

The bookcase slid open, and light poured in. Squinting against the brightness, she glared straight ahead.

The room with scattered books came into view. The knight was nowhere to be seen.

Is it in a blind spot?

Is it waiting to ambush me when I come out carelessly? Does it have that level of intelligence? This is troublesome.

Pastel tried to sense its presence but gave up. She quietly took out a triangular mirror from her chest.

Taking a deep breath, she lightly tossed the mirror. In slow motion, the mirror flew into the room in an arc. Spinning and turning, it reflected various parts of the interior.

Pastel's eyes lit up.

Not in the left blind spot.

Before the mirror fell, she launched herself. As she did, she rotated her body to the right and raised her sword in a defensive stance.

The girl who had completely foiled the ambush waited for the knight's sword strike.

The mirror fell to the floor. It clattered and wobbled, finally reflecting the right blind spot. Instead of the expected knight, there was only an empty space against the wall.

Pastel looked around the room, feeling dumbfounded.

What? Where did it go?

The knight wasn't in the office. Only the completely shattered wooden door showed traces of a violent visitor.

Pastel's brow furrowed.

Don't tell me it's waiting to ambush in the corridor?

This suspicion was dispelled after a few futile attempts of throwing mirrors around every corner. The knight had vanished. She had no idea where it had gone.

Instead, Pastel could see the fierce changes in the garden. She stared blankly down at the garden from the third-floor window.

The garden approaching evening was crimson. Black forms tangled with each other in the setting sun. They bared fangs and claws, lunging at one another.

A bipedal monster grabbed a werewolf and hurled it into the sky. As the werewolf fell, a massive maw opened wide. Teeth gnashed violently. Flesh exploded.

Cannibalism.

Consumption and growth.

The monster roared with an even more ferocious aura. The setting sun dyed the chaotic garden.

"Ah..."

Pastel gazed at the scene in a daze.

Not at the sight of life killing and being killed, but at the sight of meat pudding bursting abundantly.

A sweet scent tickled her brain.

Unconsciously, her upper body leaned forward.

Her body shook as it bumped against the window frame.

"Huh?!"

What was I just...?

She wiped the drool from her sleeve.

"No, no."

I'm not addicted.

I need to get to the kitchen quickly. I need to eat normal food.

She tore her gaze away from the garden, which kept drawing her attention. She hurried her steps.

Ignoring the rooms on the second floor, she moved on.

According to the demon, the kitchen existed in an annex connected to the first floor. The system was to cook noisily in the annex and then move the food to the main building.

She didn't encounter any monsters until she reached the annex passage. Only upon entering the passage did she finally discover a black bull.

The bull snorted, blowing steam from its nostrils.

Pastel became elated.

"Come at me," she taunted, pointing her sword and taking a stance.

The demon's teachings flashed in her mind.

—Spread your feet at a 45 or 135-degree angle. 45 degrees is a closed stance. It's effective when facing head-on with force.

Pastel spread her feet at an even wider angle.

—135 degrees is an open stance.

The bull charged.

—For an opponent that tries to overpower you...

The black form approached within arm's reach. The ground shook. The girl took a diagonal step. The bull grazed right past her shoulder. The air crackled.

Her sword targeted the passing bull. The stability of her stance channeled her whole body's strength into a sharp trajectory.

The blade pierced the hide. It dug into the flesh and invaded deeply. She felt the tough elasticity of the heart.

Pastel rotated her body with one foot as the axis. Her pink hair whirled, and following the rotation, the blade was pulled out. Black energy gushed out like blood.

The bull roared in agony. Its massive body staggered and collapsed. The ground shook.

The corners of Pastel's mouth curled up slowly.

Hehe.

I might be a bit of a genius?

She jabbed the sword into the air repeatedly.

Like this, and this...

"Moo~!" she imitated playfully.

Ahaha.

After laughing to herself for a while, she turned around.

The kitchen entrance was visible. Kitchen appliances and ingredients spread out in the wide space.

Yay, I've conquered the kitchen!

Finally, I can eat proper food. The pantry must be full of food to satisfy this strange hunger.

Bread? Cake? Pudding?

Anything.

With an excited heart, Pastel took a step forward.

And then she walked straight into the black carcass, burying her face in it. She frantically stuffed meat pudding into her mouth.

In the midst of cannibalism and consumptive growth, the girl fell into a state of bliss.

The massive carcass returned to spirit. Part of its energy remained, seeping into bones and muscles.

A while later, Pastel stood up, wiping her mouth.

She rubbed her slack, grinning lips.

Food is troublesome when it's too delicious.

It just makes you want to eat more.

The sound of armor echoed from behind.

The black knight approached, now with a more ferocious and violent aura than before.

Ah, I see.

You engaged in cannibalism too, huh?

No wonder there were no monsters inside.

"Hello, friend."

Pastel pointed her longsword.

"Shall we cross blades?"

Red light flashed.

The knight in plate armor charged. Its heavy weight crushed the broken ground. The black sword was raised high and swung down. The air tore apart.

The trajectory fiercely targeted the girl.

The difference in strength is huge.

—A vertical slash traces a fan-shaped arc, thinner at the bottom. You don't need to retreat completely...

Pastel leaned her upper body back as far as possible.

The black sword strike cut the air in front of her torso.

—Nachreisen.

As she returned her upper body, she thrust her longsword.

The trajectory smoothly penetrated between the helmet and breastplate. There was a sound of flesh being pierced. She pulled out the blade. Black energy spurted out thinly.

The knight roared with a red glow. The air vibrated. Pastel's skin tingled.

Dangerous.

Pastel quickly took one step back. The black sword strike cut through the empty space. The torn air made her pink hair flutter.

The knight lunged. The form of black armor filled her vision.

Stay calm.

One mistake means death.

Pastel kicked a piece of the broken ground.

The piece flew under the stepping foot and was stepped on. The knight slipped and staggered.

Pastel rapidly closed the distance. She placed her hand on the breastplate, gauging the swaying center of gravity.

One, two, three.

Thunk-!

She added one more shock to the swaying balance. The scales tipped, and the center of gravity collapsed.

The massive knight began to fall.

Pink hair whirled. The longsword flashed. The blade dug between the helmet and breastplate. Flesh made a sound. Black energy spurted out.

A roar echoed.

The knight's steel hand caught the retreating blade.

What?

Pastel's retreating step faltered. The falling knight twisted its body. A steel leg kicked the girl's side. Ugh!

Her arm, which had hastily tried to block, was powerlessly pierced through, and the girl was sent flying. Her body rolled on the ground. The knight crashed into the ground with a thunderous sound.

She hurriedly pushed herself up from the ground. The knight slowly rose. In the knight's hand was the stolen longsword.

No...

I'm doomed.

At this moment, Pastel was ready to flee with all her might.

She was about to turn her body.

Suddenly, she spotted the black sword lying on the ground.

It had fallen between them, perhaps dropped by the knight.

Instinct moved before reason.

The girl lunged for the sword.

The knight charged.

Her hand grabbed the sword on the ground.

A sword strike plunged down towards the crouching girl.

Death approached right before her eyes.

Her mind flashed rapidly.

—A downward slash is overwhelmingly stronger than an upward slash.

No, that's not it.

—The weakest part of a sword is the blade. When blades clash, you should slide along the diagonal of the blade to minimize impact. If you don't, the blade will chip and eventually...

The girl swung the sword with all her might. The knight's strike arrived. Blade met blade.

The impact hit precisely on the chipped blade. A sharp noise rang out. The knight's longsword shattered and broke.

Silver fragments scattered.

Reflected light sparkled.

Pink hair whirled.

A sharp arc shot upward. The tip of the sword slipped through the gap and pierced the nape.

The crimson glow faded.