Chapter 14: The Successor of the Sword Saint (4)

I stared at the envelope I had received from Frederick for a moment before slipping it into the inner pocket of my jacket.

‘I have a guess about what it might be…’

But it wouldn’t be too late to confirm it after seeing the result of this sparring.

I resumed walking.

Today’s second-year duels were all scheduled to be held at the Fourth Training Hall.

The instructor in charge was Glenn Schneider from the Training Support Department.

Creaaak—

As I slid open the wooden door, a chorus of shouts and battle cries filled the air.

The previous cadets’ match hadn’t yet concluded.

The wide, horseshoe-shaped spectator stands were filled with a considerable number of people—most of them second-year cadets.

A few of them, upon making eye contact with me, hurriedly saluted.

I returned the salute half-heartedly and descended the stairs.

‘Normally, people go to watch the higher-year matches, don’t they?’

There was more to see and more to learn there, after all.

The front row closest to the duel stage—seats encircled by a low barrier—was where two cadets were currently clashing.

As I sat quietly, surveying the surroundings and the arena, I could feel gazes from every direction.

“…I see.”

Now I understood why the crowd had gathered here.

Nodding inwardly, I spent the remaining ten minutes identifying the notable individuals among them.

“Stop!”

The match ended not long after.

The cadet on the right was declared the winner by decision.

While the supervising instructor had the authority to decide the outcome, if a participant raised an objection or if too many in the audience voiced disagreement, the instructor was obliged to clearly explain the reasoning behind his judgment.

Of course, matches intense enough to warrant such disputes were quite rare.

Once the field was cleared, Instructor Glenn called out the next names.

“Next—Francia Brida. Eric Halenber. Step onto the stage.”

Finally.

It was time to see, with my own eyes, the results of the special training.

While Instructor Glenn was giving a brief explanation of the rules, chatter spread throughout the audience.

Some cadets said they had only come because it was a match between students of their year.

But most were there because of what had happened the previous day.

It was a rare chance to witness a duel between two people who had both been personally trained by Eugene Carter.

“But really, how much could they have changed in just one day?”

“Exactly why we need to watch and see.”

Was Eugene Carter truly a legend, even as an educator?

Their curiosity could be summed up in that one question.

Even now, without having fully proven his capabilities, Instructor Carter was already gaining considerable popularity among the cadets.

If he were to prove himself as an instructor too, every cadet in Karbenna would fight tooth and nail to attend his classes.

The greatest enemy of modern soldiers was the beasts.

And to defeat beasts, what mattered most was individual strength.

As a military academy, Karbenna naturally followed that philosophy.

For that reason, the second-year cadets’ interest in this duel was exceptionally high.

After all, there was no better stage than a sparring match to test one’s personal skill.

When Francia and Eric stepped onto the stage, the noise from the stands grew even louder.

“They don’t look all that different, appearance-wise.”

“Well, Eric’s always a trickster by default. The question is, what kind of scheme did he cook up this time?”

“The real question’s Francia.”

“Yeah.”

A candidate who had fought her once before tilted his head.

“…I wonder if she’s managed to break that stubbornness of hers.”

After finishing the perfunctory item inspection, Instructor Glenn sent the two cadets to their designated spots.

“You probably know this already, but I’ll go over the rules as a formality.”

The duel would last a maximum of twenty-five minutes.

If neither side yielded before then, the instructor in charge would determine the winner.

If either cadet lost consciousness or suffered an injury equivalent to it, the instructor had the authority to forcibly end the match.

“Outside of those situations, the duel will not be stopped.”

Finishing his explanation, Glenn glanced impassively between the two.

“Any questions?”

“None, sir.”

“Good. Cadets, take your stance.”

The two simultaneously drew their swords from their belts.

It was a signal that all preparations were complete.

Glenn raised his right hand high, then brought it down with a sharp declaration.

“Then from this moment—the duel begins!”

Waaah—Waaah—

By the time the cheers from the stands reached my ears, Eric had already shifted his sword to a diagonal grip.

Francia’s strategy had always been “strike first, win first”—the mindset that whoever seized the initiative would control the match.

‘…Not a bad way of thinking.’

As long as you didn’t consider stamina, that is.

Eric’s approach was simple: endure the opponent’s offensive with solid defense, then counterattack once their stamina was spent.

That was the entirety of his battle plan.

‘If she hasn’t prepared anything new, then I’ve no reason to reveal my hand either.’

And so, he waited for Francia to rush him.

But contrary to his expectations, she didn’t take even a single step forward from her starting position.

“…Oh?”

Had Instructor Carter given her some sort of advice?

Something like: Don’t waste your energy early—start with a probing exchange.

“Well, that’s fine by me.”

At their current skill levels, forcing a surrender from each other was impossible. It would inevitably come down to a judge’s decision.

To throw away chances to score points of her own accord—how generous of her.

Eric smirked broadly, pointing his sword straight at her.

Then he focused on the sensations in his feet—and dashed forward with all his might.

‘I know exactly what your current limits are…!’

A successor of Illusion Swordsmanship. Certainly, it was an impressive feat.

But Francia still could only use that technique offensively.

When she shifted to defense, she effectively sealed away her Illusion Swordsmanship.

That meant the advantage was his.

If their level of mastery wasn’t far apart, the one with better combat sense would surely prevail.

‘And there’s one more reason I’m confident…’

Just before their blades clashed, Eric’s eyes gleamed brightly.

The condensed mana that had been circling around his heart burst out, spreading through his entire body at once.

It was Enchant Magic.

KWA-A-A-AANG!!

Dust erupted from the impact, completely clouding the view.

The murmuring from the audience grew louder.

“…So Halenber’s specialty finally shows itself.”

Enchant Magic, or Imbuing Magic—used mainly to grant elemental properties or to enhance physical ability.

Its strength lay in its lasting effects, though it lacked destructive power in exchange.

And—

“He must’ve dumped everything into strength for just a moment.”

Using that very drawback to his advantage—that was Eric Halenber’s core strategy.

“…Too fast to dodge, and if she blocked it, her bones would’ve shattered.”

“He should’ve just done things his usual way. His offense wasn’t bad.”

“Looks like he was following specific orders. But if this is the result…”

While most of the audience was predicting Eric’s victory by decision—

A faint sigh escaped from a cadet sitting directly opposite Eugene Carter.

She was a girl with striking, deep-blue eyes.

“…What kind of monster did that man create overnight?”

As the dust cleared and the silhouettes of the two became visible, the cadets were left speechless.

Francia stood tall, looking down at Eric, who lay collapsed on the ground.

What…

What just happened?

In his dazed confusion, all Eric Halenber could do was steady his breathing.

“Huff… huff…”

He had gathered all his physical strength through Enchant Magic and unleashed the eighth stance of the Imperial Swordsmanship—the most powerful downward strike in the style.

The sword was a specially crafted practice blade for dueling.

Its durability exceeded that of most real swords—tough enough to serve as a blunt weapon.

With the sudden burst of acceleration, timing a dodge would’ve been nearly impossible. Naturally, he thought she’d choose to block instead.

Even if she somehow managed to evade by luck, he’d planned to immediately drop his sword and strike at her vitals with his bare hand.

Confident in his plan, Eric had charged forward, aiming to smash through Francia’s left shoulder guard exactly as intended.

Or so he thought.

Before he realized it, a translucent barrier appeared out of nowhere, nullifying his strike entirely.

Everything after that was a blur.

When he came to, he found himself crawling on the floor.

As the situation sank in, confusion gradually gave way to fury.

And what enraged him most—was Francia’s reaction afterward.

“…You’re just going to stand there and not finish it?”

Eric staggered to his feet.

“Do I look that easy to you?”

“Of course not.”

At his taunting question, Francia simply smiled.

“I just thought it’d be a waste to end it so soon.”

“…Ha.”

So that’s what she picked up from Instructor Carter—arrogance.

“I’ll make sure you regret missing your chance for the rest of your life.”

Without hesitation, Eric pulled out a wand and an artifact.

A chill spread from the arena all the way to the stands.

The stage was already covered by a layer of frost magic.

It was a field spell—one that slowed movement and weakened resistance.

Eric counteracted it using the Talisman of Anti-Magic.

Even so, though only one of them was under the curse’s influence, Eric’s sword still couldn’t reach Francia at all.

Tiiing!

Each time he thrust, she deflected it effortlessly. When he swung, she met it with perfect strength.

Sometimes using a fist grip, sometimes a saber grip, even switching to reverse grip when the situation demanded.

He enhanced his mobility with Enchant Magic, darting to strike from her blind spot—but she extended her sword without even looking.

Next came Shadow Shackles—an artifact that restrained an opponent’s shadow, limiting their movements.

He had aimed for Francia’s right arm.

But even with one arm glued to her side, she parried his attack as if nothing had changed.

As if to say, I’ve always fought with one arm.

At that unbelievable display of swordsmanship, Eric rubbed his forehead in disbelief.

‘…You’re telling me someone can change this much in just one day?’

What kind of training did she go through?

For the next ten minutes, Eric’s relentless assault continued, but Francia didn’t allow a single clean hit.

At first, the cadets had watched in skepticism, but as the fight dragged on, everyone became completely absorbed in the duel.

“Huff… huff…”

Breathing heavily, Eric stepped back with a troubled look.

Up to this point, the situation was the exact opposite of their previous duel.

The one who had launched a furious offensive was now the one exhausted—a cruel irony.

Eric clenched his teeth, glaring at Francia.

‘My attack count is way higher, but she’s landing all the effective hits.’

If this dragged into a long battle, stamina would decide it—and against that training fanatic, there was no way to win.

He didn’t know what method Eugene Carter had come up with, but the current Francia had gained a level of adaptability she never had before.

If it went to a judge’s decision, regardless of process, his defeat was certain.

He had to end it with one decisive strike.

‘…Then I’ve got no choice but to use it.’

Eric pulled out the final artifact he had carefully kept hidden in his uniform.

A gray, mana-infused monocle began to emit an eerie light.