After the other candidates had all left the training yard, only Priya and I remained, standing face to face.
—How will the lessons be conducted?
—How else? I'll just teach you.
Priya immediately cut her words short.
Her voice was low and calm, though it carried a lazy, mildly annoyed tone.
Still, she was someone personally chosen by Sebastien von Ebenholtz and approved by Engi.
There was no reason to doubt her skill.
—First, a test. I need to know how much you understand about the sword.
She bent down and picked up a fallen branch from the corner of the yard.
—I'll use this. You try to cut it with your sword.
—...Yes.
I gripped a real training sword.
Taking my stance, I aimed at Priya.
She looked as though she were simply standing there carelessly…
yet I could sense no opening at all.
I stepped forward.
Tac!
The instant I rushed in, her branch struck my wrist with perfect precision.
The numbing pain nearly made me drop the sword.
—Too honest. Be more cunning.
I grabbed the sword again.
This time, I feinted a frontal approach, then faked right, then layered another feint low—
Tac!
The result was the same.
This time she struck my shoulder.
The joint burned as though branded by fire.
—Again.
—...Yes.
This time I crouched low and charged.
Closing the distance as much as possible, I thrust the sword.
Priya swung the branch in a straight line.
PAAANG!
The air exploded.
It was not the stopping power of a mere branch.
It felt as if I had been blasted by buckshot.
My body flew backward.
I crashed to the ground.
—...
—Again. Get up.
I repeated the process over and over.
Tac!
A strike to the ribs. My breath was stolen.
Tac!
A blow to the forehead. My vision spun.
Tac!
A hit to the chest. My collarbone stung sharply.
—You alright?
—...
My temper was rising.
I was being toyed with.
And Priya had not moved from the same spot.
Not even a single step.
I felt irritation.
And doubt.
But not toward her.
I could no longer be trash who blamed others.
My shortcomings were mine alone.
—Raise your mana. You won't face me bare-bodied.
I clenched my teeth.
Mana.
Right.
I needed mana.
I closed my eyes.
Focused my awareness inward.
I sensed the trembling particles flowing through my veins.
The faint current.
I seized control.
I circulated mana through my whole body.
Then—
a path opened.
A new channel formed in my circuits.
The stream of mana rushed somewhere inside me.
Its destination:
The "virus."
The mana core that had regressed with me.
Two different energies collided there.
Black and blue fused into one color.
***
—Tick.
***
That thing responded.
The second hand rang through my soul.
And the world slowed.
I launched myself instantly.
Sudden acceleration.
I kicked off the ground and arrived before Priya in a blink.
Just like when I cut down the Ezenheim.
I swung at the branch.
Shhk!
The branch was cleanly severed.
But her eyes moved.
Her pupils followed my speed.
And I felt a strange thrill.
This woman…
was the real thing.
***
—Tick.
***
The world returned to normal.
The acceleration lasted only a moment.
BOOM!
Unable to control the momentum, I slammed straight into the wall.
Priya stared at the cut surface of the branch with visible surprise.
—...Oh my?
***
—The sword is a brush. And you are the painter. You draw in the air with it.
Once again, I stood across from my teacher in the yard.
Now the real lesson had begun.
After I cut the branch, Priya had become more serious.
—When you paint a landscape or a still life, how do you do it?
—I've never—
—Do you just imagine it? No. Usually you look at the subject. Swordsmanship is the same. You look at the opponent and respond accordingly. But if you stop there… you become nothing more than a mass-produced painter. Know why?
—...
—Because you lack a fixed image inside your heart. A vision of your own. For a swordsman, image and conviction are everything. In truth, they are everything for any human. Your image of the sword is Ebenholtz, isn't it?
—I have heard that my family possesses a secret sword art.
My father used it as well.
Though the secret sword and the secret swordsmanship were different things.
The first was closer to magic.
The second was pure martial technique.
—Correct. From what I see, you follow orthodox Ebenholtz principles.
—I do.
It could not be helped.
Everything I had seen, heard, and learned came from the Ebenholtz.
The foundation of my sword was their longsword style.
And it was not a style made for me.
I had never once thought it suited me.
Priya had likely noticed long ago.
—The Ebenholtz use long blades. It is a style only possible because your bloodline is blessed with monstrous physiques. They wield swords as though painting grand strokes. That requires overwhelming strength and body control.
—...I know. I know it does not suit me.
It was time to let go of the Ebenholtz.
Time to walk my own path.
—I want to break away from the Ebenholtz sword. That is why I hired you.
Priya frowned.
—Idiot.
—...What?
She looked at me as if I were pitiful.
—From where I stand, you were born with the body most suited for the Ebenholtz sword out of all your ancestors. Even more than your father.
—What?
—Sebastien doesn't use a longsword.
It was true.
The orthodox Ebenholtz blade measured around 1.6 meters.
But Sebastien wielded a broad saber barely one meter long.
In most things he followed the family style…
but not in that.
—Listen carefully, boy. In my eyes, you are the purest form of Ebenholtz. Perhaps… the last true Ebenholtz that will remain.
A chill ran down my spine.
The last Ebenholtz.
—You cannot run. And you must not run. If you yourself are Ebenholtz, where would you escape to? Your body proves it. All you need to do is walk the road your family has already paved. Listen carefully. Theory begins now.
She raised one finger.
—Imperial swordsmanship is divided into three major streams. Other kingdoms have their own schools, of course. But their roots all come from these three forms.
Honestly, I had little interest in sword history.
—The first is Leo. Brutal strength, direct lines. It uses greatswords and longswords, seeking to break the opponent head-on. Your family, Ebenholtz, descends from Leo.
Leo.
The lion.
I had heard the name before.
—The second is Aquila. Like an eagle: fast and sharp. It uses lighter blades or rapiers. It relies on speed and precision. Most fencing schools descend from Aquila.
Priya stared at me.
—The last is Serpens. Like a serpent: flexible and unpredictable. Curved swords, twin blades, even whip-swords. Every teacher handles it differently.
Suddenly, I felt mana in her gaze.
As though she could see through my bones, muscles, and circuits.
—You were born with the strength of a lion.
I blinked.
—Me?
I was genuinely surprised.
All I had ever heard was:
Weak.
Talentless.
The shame of Ebenholtz.
Naive.
Proud with no self-worth.
Yet her expression was utterly serious.
—Look at yourself. I struck you dozens of times with that branch, and you do not have a single bruise. You moved at absurd speeds, yet show no muscle tears or mana backlash. By my standards… you should not still be standing.
—...
I examined my body unconsciously.
She was right.
No marks on my wrist, shoulder, or ribs.
Not even soreness.
—Now that you mention it...
I was clearly different from before my regression.
But why?
Simply because I was younger?
Or…
My thoughts drifted to the thing writhing beneath my heart.
The mana core.
The fragment of the dimensional devourer that had become part of me.
Priya was mistaking alien power for natural talent.
—Starting today, once a week. I will teach you the Ebenholtz sword.
What a strange woman.
Someone outside the family…
was going to teach the Ebenholtz sword to a legitimate heir.
Though if Sebastien had personally chosen her…
perhaps she carried branch blood of the family.
—Now then, next—
Beep. Beep. Beep.
An alarm sounded from her bag in the corner.
A timer.
—Three hours. Class over. Good work.
She dusted off her hands.
Then leapt lightly upward.
Like a cat, she vaulted the wall and vanished.
—...What the hell?
I was left alone in the yard, speechless.
***
In a dim yet stylish whiskey bar, Priya stared into an expensive glass of liquor.
The moment replayed vividly in her mind.
The young knight breaking into her range.
Five or six strides in an instant.
Breaking through her territory.
That little Ebenholtz had golden hair and eyes like lightning.
His movement felt as though it defied time itself.
—Hoo...
She sank into the creaking chair.
Stared at the whiskey.
—Super acceleration?
What Maximilian did could not be easily explained.
No human body could generate that speed through muscles alone.
Bones and tendons would shatter.
Perfect mana control was required:
Reinforce muscle fibers.
Protect joints.
Absorb recoil.
And yet…
Maximilian had done none of that.
So what was it?
Part of a secret Ebenholtz art?
Or a unique constitution possessed only by him?
Many hypotheses crossed her mind.
But the conclusion was already clear.
—He was born with the most refined body in the history of the Ebenholtz.
He had merely been crushed beneath a cowardly personality.
She once thought the bloodline reached perfection with Sebastien.
But perhaps…
there had been one final step left.
She took a sip of whiskey.
—Good stuff. The capital really is worth living in.
Either way…
Maximilian was nothing like the weakling the world described.
At the very least…
he was not weak.
Rather, he hid dangerous and unpredictable potential.
But that was none of her concern.
As long as she got paid…
that was enough.
—Hey, bartender. Pour me another glass of that thirty-three-year Mehico.
For only three hours of lessons…
she had earned one million dollars.
Sebastien truly was a generous bastard.