Chapter 11: The Successor of the Sword Saint (1)

Gulp.

Without a word, Francia swallowed hard, trying to read Eugene’s intentions.

Though she struggled to keep a poker face, she was just as nervous.

It was something she had blurted out in a moment of impulse—nothing more than a gamble with nothing to lose.

“Special training, huh….”

Whether he understood her feelings or not, Eugene Carter simply brushed his lips with a cold expression.

After a suffocating silence passed,

he spoke again.

“The reason?”

“I have a sparring match scheduled for tomorrow.”

“With who, that little brat from Halenber?”

“Yes.”

Eugene tilted his head, seemingly surprised.

“You don’t need special training to deal with that fool. Isn’t there another reason behind this?”

“Eric isn’t an easy opponent. Maybe for you, Instructor, but for me…”

“With your current state, defeating him shouldn’t be difficult.”

“…I’m not so sure. Even if I win, it’ll be by a narrow margin.”

“What matters is the victory itself.”

Eugene placed both hands on the desk and spoke slyly.

“The results are all that matter. You should know that’s the spirit of Karbenna.”

“……”

No matter who one had been in the past or what great achievements one had made, everything was judged solely by one’s current ability and strength.

That was the spirit of Karbenna, and by extension, the spirit of the Ribenia Empire.

“No.”

However.

“Just winning isn’t enough for me.”

Francia couldn’t agree with that notion at all.

The past didn’t matter, and only present gains were important?

Then what about those who were destroyed because of that very past?

Who would avenge them?

To say that revenge only breeds more revenge and that hatred must be cut off—was that it?

Amid the ruins reduced to ashes, she had vowed only one thing.

To survive—no matter what—and drive a dagger into the hearts of all who had brought her family to ruin.

For that, she first had to secure status and power.

She was far too weak to stand alone against those who had crushed her entire house.

After enduring contempt and humiliation, desperately searching for a way out, she had ironically arrived at Karbenna.

Karbenna the very symbol of the Empire’s creed that “the past is meaningless” was the only place that had given her a chance.

That was why Francia chose to comply with the system rather than rebel against it for now.

Even if she had to follow their ways, she could never abandon her vengeance.

Even if she couldn’t agree or accept it as long as she could draw closer to her goal, that was enough.

“Just winning isn’t enough, huh….”

How did he interpret that determined gaze?

Eugene’s lips slowly curled upward.

It was a sign that he had begun to take a real interest in this matter.

“I like that.”

Eugene rose slowly and turned his head toward the window.

“Come to the training ground behind Building E by 21:30 tonight. Tell the warden I called you personally.”

“Ah, understood!”

“Then go.”

“Thank you, Instructor!”

After saluting, Francia left Eugene Carter’s private office.

Her brisk steps carried a strong sense of conviction.

The commotion from the morning incident had died down by afternoon, as everyone returned to their routines as if nothing had happened.

The second-year recommended courses, Understanding of Magic Systems II and History of Magical Beasts, both ended early.

Karbenna’s curriculum emphasized recommended subjects up to the third year, but that was ultimately optional.

Usually, about thirty percent of cadets chose electives according to their preferences.

In any case, it was rare for instructors to conduct full lectures right after orientation,

so cadets often enjoyed some leisure time.

Most of the 2nd-year, Class 3 cadets who had rolled in the dirt that morning during training were resting in their private rooms.

Of course, there were exceptions.

Francia, for instance, despite having special training that night,

was already heading toward the training ground again.

And elsewhere there was another exception.

“Whew….”

Sitting at his desk in his private room, Eric Halenber took a deep breath.

He kept swallowing nervously.

A fist-sized green crystal orb pulsed repeatedly with blue light, indifferent to its owner’s anxiety.

It was the Tebrel Orb, a rare artifact—so rare, in fact, that fewer than a hundred existed in the Empire.

Among the dozens of communication-type orbs, it was the only one capable of real-time conversation.

Not knowing what sensitive matters might come up, Eric had Billy and Philip wait outside.

With a worried expression, he stared at the orb.

The call was from his father Jeff Halenber.

They exchanged messages once a month, but those were merely routine check-ins related to “that matter.”

In truth, they barely spoke once every six months.

And even then, the entire conversation consisted of one-sided scolding.

For his father to contact him again less than a week after their last call.

“…It’s obvious.”

He already knew without needing to hear it.

His father intended to question him about the recent incident.

Karbenna had many eyes connected to the outside world, most of them controlled by pro-Bernhardt factions.

No matter how secretly something was hidden, it leaked within two days.

And sensational news like this would spread even faster.

“Whew….”

Honestly, he wanted to argue “Is this really such a big deal?” but Eric didn’t even bother hoping.

His father wasn’t the kind of man to listen.

After hesitating for a long moment, he finally infused a trace of mana into the orb.

Before long, the orb’s glow turned violet.

A low, icy voice rang out from within the crystal sphere.

“You’re late, Eric.”

“…I apologize, Father.”

“Do you know why I called?”

“Yes.”

“…Haa.”

Even the sigh from the other end came through clearly via the artifact.

“I’m sure I told you don’t draw unnecessary attention.”

“Yes, you did.”

“And yet you picked a fight with that Eugene Carter on the very first day?”

“But Father! I was merely voicing a rightful protest against an unfair..!”

“No. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

His son’s desperate cry was mercilessly cut off.

Jeff asked in a tone filled with disdain,

“What, did you actually believe that idiot Albert’s nonsense?”

“Well….”

“Fine. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you did believe him. You’re just as much a fool as that bastard, after all.”

Under the continued verbal assault, Eric’s body shrank smaller and smaller.

“You must’ve heard about that mess he caused at the Academic Office. And what happened later at the welcoming ceremony.”

“…Yes.”

“And you still made such a foolish choice after hearing all that?”

“……”

“You dared glare and talk back to a man even ‘Ironblood’ Frederick himself couldn’t handle?”

“T-That’s absolutely not true, Father! It was Billy—that bastard started it! The rumors got twisted!”

Even as Eric pleaded, deep down, he already knew all too well.

It no longer mattered whether the rumors were true or not.

‘A Halenber student picked a fight with Eugene Carter and got utterly crushed.’

That was all people wanted to hear.

“…No, enough. Talking to you is a waste of breath. I should’ve decided this last year.”

I’ve no desire to give another chance to a fool who keeps dragging the Halenber name through the mud.

After several weary sighs, Jeff spoke again, his voice low and firm.

“You will voluntarily withdraw at the end of the first semester.”

“W-Withdraw?!”

“Return to Levinel once the handover is complete.”

“Wait, Father! I still—!”

With that cold final remark, his father severed the connection.

As the mana from one side completely faded, the orb’s flickering gradually ceased.

After the conversation ended, Eric slumped forward onto his desk and muttered repeatedly,

“This doesn’t make sense….”

Expelled? Just for arguing with an instructor?

Then what about all the sacrifices I’ve made until now?

Are they all meaningless?

“…No.”

I can’t let that happen.

There must be a way to make up for this.

It would take at least ten days before the replacement arrived.

Before then, I just have to restore the Halenber name no matter what it takes.

That same evening, 21:30, at the training ground near Building E.

Right on the dot, Francia Brida arrived at the site.

I had gotten there fifteen minutes earlier and was in the middle of warming up.

“Vena Ribenia!”

As always, her salute was sharp and precise.

“No need for that. Did you at least get some rest?”

“Yes.”

Yeah, right. Not a chance.

She was clearly lying without even a flicker of emotion.

‘…Or maybe she truly believes that.’

That this kind of training doesn’t even count as training that she had basically rested.

Watching her keep that poker face, I smiled faintly.

“Let’s start with a light skill test.”

I pointed at the barrel beside me where I’d prepared the wooden swords.

“Grab one.”

“Yes.”

She quickly pulled out a medium-length practice sword from the barrel.

I gave my sword a few light swings through the air, then raised it diagonally toward her.

“Alright, come at me. Think of this as a real battle.”

“…Understood.”

Francia slowly nodded and gripped her sword with both hands.

In that instant, the aura surrounding her completely changed.

“……”

In response, all my senses sharpened to the extreme.

I could even feel the sweat trickling down my jawline.

I swallowed hard and widened my eyes.

‘If I lose focus, it’ll be over in one strike.’

Francia Brida

The sole successor of Illusion Swordsmanship, a style lost for 140 years.

Even without her talent fully awakened, her swordsmanship was already at least A-rank.

When she reached her full potential, she would become a human weapon a woman who could tear through a thousand beasts with a single sword.

As for me Eugene Carter, the academy’s fastest fallen instructor my winning odds against her were maybe fifty-fifty.

‘That is, if I were just Eugene Carter.’

I silently observed her stance.

The distance between us: eight meters.

Her blade lowered slowly from above, her right knee sliding forward as her body leaned diagonally.

A thrusting stance one that could shift into offense at any moment.

It was the epitome of textbook form.

‘But using that perfect form as a feint that’s the essence of Illusion Swordsmanship.’

The only sword style that could both thrust and slash at the same time.

That was the foundation and the mastery of Illusion Swordsmanship.

Finishing her preparation, Francia steadied her breathing.

“Then… here I come!”

It was the signal for engagement.

Before her words had even finished, I swung my sword in a sharp, downward 60-degree slash.

As she charged in like lightning, two trails flashed across the air simultaneously…

One thrust aimed at my shoulder,

and another upward slash targeting my ribs.

‘The thrust is the real one.’

Block the thrust!

…My mind shouted, but my sword had already moved.

An instant passed an eternity within a heartbeat.

Clang!

As our figures overlapped, our wooden swords collided with a dull, cracking sound and flew through the air.

I slowly lifted my head.

Between the dim lamplight, the crescent moon shone clear and bright.