The next morning, Paulo plunged into real sword training, no more basics, no more hesitation. She swung with intent, grounding her stance, learning how to move like a blade should: sharp, precise, alive.
In the sunlit courtyard, she drilled forms and struck wooden dummies, imagining Daiki as her sparring partner, syncing footwork with shifts in balance, each motion a step toward mastery.
At first, it felt strange, awkward, even, but soon, a thrill sparked within her. There was something deeply satisfying in starting from scratch, in feeling progress slice through uncertainty.
In Terra, swordsmanship wasn't just combat, it was culture, legend, identity. Across all four islands, heroes in tales wielded blades above all else. Sure, axes and maces had their place, but only in the hands of rare outliers.
Spears were never used. Yumi had warned her why: the vile Imps, demonic creatures of chaos, fought with tridents, and no warrior wanted to echo their image.
But here, sword techniques went far beyond mere slashing. They were alive, more intense, more powerful than anything Paulo had known before. Masters could cleave boulders in a single stroke or unleash a flash of steel that felled enemies from afar.
Daiki could shatter rocks larger than any she'd seen back home. Spellbound, she cheered him on, begging him to show her again and again, desperate to grasp the secret behind the impossible. Yet no matter how many times she watched. Frustrated, she asked him to explain.
With a grin, Daiki declared, "Bam on the ground and swoosh one time!! That's the sword of feelings!"
"Like this!?" she tried, hacking at a rock.
"You silly fool! You're booming and kablaming! It's bam and swoosh! Gentle, like wind through grass!" he laughed.
That was the feeling that Daiki had struggled to convey. From Paulo's perspective, it had to involve mana, some hidden current flowing through the steel, amplifying strength beyond human limits.
Unlike spells, which shimmered visibly, sword arts seemed to channel energy into the body, enhanced by the metal's resonance. How else could someone cut stone mid-motion? It defied physics.
But Daiki didn't sense mana. He couldn't break it down. Still, if she could decode it, maybe this technique could become a form of physical boost magic, raw power refined through discipline. And Paulo? She wasn't backing down. She'd crack the code, one swing at a time.
In this world, three dominant sword styles reign supreme, each a force of its own, shaping legends and defining warriors. First is the Moon Katana Style, a relentless storm of offense where speed is defence.
Strike first, strike faster, strike again, until the kill lands. There's no hesitation, only motion: a deathblow quicker than thought itself. If the first slash misses?
Another follows before the breath is drawn. To Paulo, it feels like Satsuma reborn, fierce, unyielding, unstoppable.
Then comes the Holy Knight Style, its polar opposite, a fortress in human form. Built on precision parries and flawless counters, it waits, endures, and destroys in response.
Aggression is rare; patience, absolute. Reach the Holy rank, and no attack, be it blade, spell, or arrow, can touch you. It's the chosen path of royal guards and noble protectors, those sworn to shield others at all costs.
Finally, the Shadow Twin Blade Style, less a technique, more a philosophy of combat. No rigid forms, no preset moves. Just instinct, improvisation, and mastery of the moment. Feints, terrain, split-second reads, it thrives in chaos.
To Daiki, it's pure adaptability; to Paulo, it's pure magic, like watching Jackie Chan turn battle into art.
However, it goes beyond fighting: this style heals wounds mid-combat and powers through injury, making it the go-to for mercenaries and adventurers who live on the edge.
Together, they're known as the Three Great Styles, and while some rare warriors master all three, few dare the path. Most chase strength fast, borrowing what works from each. Daiki? He wields them three of the styles, though Moon Katana remains his blade's heartbeat style.
But here's the truth: rely solely on Moon Katana's aggression or Holy Knight's defence, and the real world will break you. Out there, only versatility survives.
Each style has ranks: Elementary, Intermediate, Advanced, Holy, Emperor, Saint, The Almighty.
A warrior might be called Lightning Emperor, a title earned, not given. For mages, it's more precise: Lightning Emperor Ranked, Lightning Saint Ranked.
Yumi? She stands as a Lightning Holy Ranked Magician, power etched in her name, lightning in her veins. Paulo needs to master two distinct styles: the aggressive Moon Katana Style and the defensive Holy Knight Style.
As she stood with Daiki, a question burst out: "But Dad, if what you're saying is true, isn't the Shadow Twin Blade Style actually the most balanced?"
"Don't be naïve. That's just swinging a blade, hardly a real technique" Daiki shot back.
Harsh words for the Shadow Twin Blade Style. Is it truly that disrespected?
Or does Daiki simply despise it? Oddly enough, despite his disdain, he holds an advanced mastery of it himself.
"Paulo, you've got magic potential, but that doesn't mean swordsmanship should be ignored. Train to dodge the Moon Katana's attacks, become someone who fights with magic and precision." Daiki said, raising his sword before cleaving a strike into a boulder.
"A… magic swordsman?" Paulo ventured.
Daiki shook his head. "Hmm? No. A magic swordsman wields magic as a side tool. I'm talking about the reverse."
Wait, what's the real difference? Whether you start as a warrior or a mage, the end result seems the same. And truthfully, mastering sword techniques only sharpens magical control.
The real issue right now was that Daiki's body was instinctively reinforcing itself during combat, something he can't consciously pass on.
"Wait… you do hate sword training, don't you?" Daiki blurts out, eyeing Paulo with a flicker of unease as her thoughts spiral.
After all, Paulo's a magic prodigy, so why would she even bother with blades? Daiki wrestles with doubt: is Paulo truly committed, or just humouring her?
But the truth? Paulo doesn't despise swordplay, she just loathes the sweaty chaos of the courtyard, two grunting figures clashing under the sun.
She's always been more at home indoors. Still, this world isn't a game anymore. She's all in.
Meeting Daiki's gaze, she explained firmly, "No. Father I want my swordsmanship to match my magic, exactly that."
Daiki freezes, then breaks into a wide, radiant grin. Heart pounding, she snatches up a wooden blade and thrusts it forward. "Perfect. Then we start now, attack me!"
He's such a straightforward guy. Magic techniques or sword techniques. I'm not sure what I should have as my primary focus in the end. Honestly it doesn't matter.
"Yes, Dad, absolutely!"
But here's the truth: honouring your parents while you can? That's power. Back then, in his past life as Paulo, he carried a deep regret, his parents passed while he was still taking them for granted.
Why? Because he once believed that if only he'd shown them more love and respect, his siblings wouldn't have driven him away. That pain lit a fire in him. Now, he knows better: showing up for your family isn't just duty, it's redemption.