Yuder swung his sword in the darkness.
The outdoor training ground of the Cavalry was completely silent, all lights extinguished as night deepened. Lost in his own rapid breathing, Yuder repeatedly swung his sword down, focusing solely on the rhythm of his own breaths and movements.
Suddenly, the sword slipped from his grip and skidded across the ground, momentarily halting the seemingly endless cycle of swings.
Yuder looked down at the practice sword rolling on the ground with a furrowed brow, its clunky noises filling the air. He then glanced at the palm of his hand, which had become an unrecognizable mess of blood and sweat.
Clenching his fist tightly, Yuder took a few steadying breaths and moved on. As he casually bent down to pick up his sword, a pair of unfamiliar feet appeared in his line of sight. It was just then.
“Who… is it the Commander?”
About to ask who it was, Yuder quickly changed his question. The reason was that a face he thought he had never seen before blinked and transformed into a familiar one. Lacking much knowledge about magic, Yuder assumed it was an optical illusion caused by the darkness.
Even in the dead of night, when it was hard to make out faces, that striking visage could not go unrecognized. The man whose face Yuder, infamous for not remembering the names or faces of any of his colleagues, instantly memorized was none other than Duke Kishiar La Orr. With an inscrutable expression, Kishiar spoke.
“Have you been practicing with the sword all this time?”
“Yes. So?”
“Aren’t you going to sleep? It's late.”
Coming from the Commander, who himself was wandering around at this hour, the question seemed rather ironic. Judging from Kishiar's appearance—clad in clearly recognizable outdoor clothing and a fatigued expression—it seemed he had just returned from outside. Seeing a Duke wandering alone at such an hour without even a knight for protection was hardly reassuring.
A young duke who enjoys night-time activities and is terrible at planning. A royal black sheep who assembled a Cavalry for his own amusement.
Yuder recalled the various rumors he had heard about the Commander from other members of the Cavalry and simply bowed his head in response, offering no answer.
“…”
“I didn't ask to pry. Your hand looks injured; may I take a look?”
Did he notice that in this darkness? Reluctant yet respectful, as the man was his Commander and Yuder had nothing to claim for himself, he hesitantly extended his less-than-perfect hand.
“You still kept swinging even in this condition? Impressive.”
Whether it was a compliment or a scornful remark, Kishiar looked closely at Yuder’s face and asked.
“Do you enjoy pain?”
How could he? Yuder swallowed the retort that nearly escaped his lips.
The man was his Commander. No matter how much of a pariah Yuder might be among the members, he couldn't afford to talk back to the Commander.
“No, Commander.”
“It seems unlikely that you'd continue such torturous training without seeking medical attention unless you couldn’t feel pain or you enjoyed it.”
“It's just a blister that burst; it doesn’t require any medical treatment.”
“So, you don't enjoy pain or have a high pain tolerance?”
“No, Commander.”
It was the first time Yuder had had such a lengthy conversation with the Commander, and with each word exchanged, his exhaustion grew exponentially. Eventually, Yuder pulled out a handkerchief and began to vigorously wipe his hand, as if to demonstrate his irritation. The sensation of roughly scrubbing away the blood mixed with sweat felt uncomfortably hot, but at this point, he didn't care.
"May I go now?"
"Go ahead."
The Commander finally gave permission. Yuder wasn't particularly fond of the unchanging, crimson eyes that had been mocking him earlier.
‘Are all high-ranking people like this?’ Yuder thought, feeling abruptly exhausted. He squeezed out every last ounce of courtesy for a polite farewell and turned away. Yet even as he assumed his stance to resume his sword practice, the Commander remained, not leaving his spot.
The Commander's continual gaze was unnerving, but Yuder deliberately chose not to look back and carried on with his own tasks. It wasn't until Yuder had completed all the 24 basic sword movements that the observer finally spoke.
"Why is someone capable of using multiple elements so intent on wielding a sword? You should be more than sufficient with the powers you already possess. Wouldn't it be better to strengthen those?"
Yuder was slightly surprised.
Did the Commander remember who I am?
Since his entrance test, Yuder had been somewhat of a celebrity within the Cavalry for his flashy display of multiple elements. However, as far as the Commander was concerned, Yuder was just another Awakener among the countless commoners. He hadn't expected the Commander, who hadn't even attended the entrance test and often vacated his post, to recognize him.
Could it be that this man remembers the faces and abilities of over 300 members?
Feeling a strange mixture of emotions, Yuder responded slowly.
"Training is not about continually repeating what you're already good at; it's about improving your weaknesses. I feel the need to improve my swordsmanship, which is lacking compared to others."
Before joining, Yuder hadn't expected that everyone in the Cavalry would be taught swordsmanship, no exceptions. In an Empire that considered the sword the noblest of weapons, it didn't hurt to learn, so Yuder had participated diligently. The problem was that he had never handled a weapon before.
While he had plenty of experience with axes from living in a rural area, he had never used a sword other than kitchen knives and cleavers. Unlike other members who had wielded swords since childhood, Yuder's hands were clumsy with the unfamiliar weapon. Despite his calloused hands, new blisters formed and blood was drawn.
Those who had considered Yuder an unfortunate soul found joy in his struggles. They were probably relieved to see even a terrifying individual like him had weaknesses. However, Yuder felt crushed by their laughter.
That was why he was practicing like a madman, even sacrificing sleep.
"Hmm, impressive."
The word 'impressive' was spoken, but the shadowed, crimson eyes revealed no emotional change.
"But cutting down on sleep and swinging away haphazardly will only get you so far. Training needs specific goals. What's your ultimate aim with this training?"
A specific goal for training. He hadn't thought about that.
Yuder scrunched his brows in thought and finally opened his mouth.
"I plan to continue this way until I can perform the basic sword manual ten times in a row without feeling any discomfort in my hands."
"Ten times?"
"Yes."
"A good goal, but I'm not sure how you'll accomplish it with your fifth movement being so skewed."
The Commander walked away with a faint smile, as if suggesting that Yuder's goal was entirely unfeasible. Yuder watched him go and absentmindedly swung his sword again. He hadn't noticed before, but it did seem as though the blade swung a little crookedly. With a furrowed brow, Yuder continued to repeat the movement. After days of practice, he finally felt confident that he could execute the fifth technique flawlessly. And then he ran into the Commander again at the training ground under the cover of night.
The man, upon seeing Yuder swinging his sword with zeal, narrowed his eyes and spoke, "The balance on your fourteenth movement is off. Spread your feet a bit more and hold your stance. That should correct it."
Yuder said nothing.
Such peculiar encounters continued. The Commander would watch Yuder's movements without doing anything, then offer critical remarks before leaving.
Eventually, what started as a once-a-week encounter became every three days, and then almost every day. By the time Yuder realized this pattern, he had already achieved his goal.
"You've accomplished your objective, I see."
After completing all the sword techniques from the basic manual ten times with perfect form, the Commander suddenly spoke to Yuder. Without a word, Yuder sheathed his practice sword. The Commander could have taken offense at his aloofness, but he didn't. Surprisingly, he was quite lenient in such matters.
"So, how does it feel to have reached your goal?"
What did it feel like to have achieved one's goal? As ever, the Commander had a knack for posing odd questions.
"What should it feel like?"
"It's easy to swing a sword by the book for a day. But fewer than half can endure a week, and far fewer than that can endure a month. And if someone endures beyond that, there's only one reason."
It was because it was enjoyable. The murmured words penetrated Yuder's ears.
"So, did you find it enjoyable?"
Yuder paused. Enjoyable? Just as he was about to say that he hadn't started this for fun, a sudden realization struck him.
Why had he started this training in the first place?
The sense of rivalry he had initially felt towards others had vanished. All that remained was a peculiar satisfaction in achieving a perfect stance.
As this realization hit him, it felt as though he had been slapped on the head. The corners of the man's lips lifted ever so slightly, tracing a faint curve. It was hard to tell if it was a smile or not, but the moment vanished as quickly as it came. Yet, for some reason, it lingered deeply in Yuder's mind.
Yuder swung his sword in the darkness.
The outdoor training ground of the Cavalry was completely silent, all lights extinguished as night deepened. Lost in his own rapid breathing, Yuder repeatedly swung his sword down, focusing solely on the rhythm of his own breaths and movements.
Suddenly, the sword slipped from his grip and skidded across the ground, momentarily halting the seemingly endless cycle of swings.
Yuder looked down at the practice sword rolling on the ground with a furrowed brow, its clunky noises filling the air. He then glanced at the palm of his hand, which had become an unrecognizable mess of blood and sweat.
Clenching his fist tightly, Yuder took a few steadying breaths and moved on. As he casually bent down to pick up his sword, a pair of unfamiliar feet appeared in his line of sight. It was just then.
“Who… is it the Commander?”
About to ask who it was, Yuder quickly changed his question. The reason was that a face he thought he had never seen before blinked and transformed into a familiar one. Lacking much knowledge about magic, Yuder assumed it was an optical illusion caused by the darkness.
Even in the dead of night, when it was hard to make out faces, that striking visage could not go unrecognized. The man whose face Yuder, infamous for not remembering the names or faces of any of his colleagues, instantly memorized was none other than Duke Kishiar La Orr. With an inscrutable expression, Kishiar spoke.
“Have you been practicing with the sword all this time?”
“Yes. So?”
“Aren’t you going to sleep? It's late.”
Coming from the Commander, who himself was wandering around at this hour, the question seemed rather ironic. Judging from Kishiar's appearance—clad in clearly recognizable outdoor clothing and a fatigued expression—it seemed he had just returned from outside. Seeing a Duke wandering alone at such an hour without even a knight for protection was hardly reassuring.
A young duke who enjoys night-time activities and is terrible at planning. A royal black sheep who assembled a Cavalry for his own amusement.
Yuder recalled the various rumors he had heard about the Commander from other members of the Cavalry and simply bowed his head in response, offering no answer.
“…”
“I didn't ask to pry. Your hand looks injured; may I take a look?”
Did he notice that in this darkness? Reluctant yet respectful, as the man was his Commander and Yuder had nothing to claim for himself, he hesitantly extended his less-than-perfect hand.
“You still kept swinging even in this condition? Impressive.”
Whether it was a compliment or a scornful remark, Kishiar looked closely at Yuder’s face and asked.
“Do you enjoy pain?”
How could he? Yuder swallowed the retort that nearly escaped his lips.
The man was his Commander. No matter how much of a pariah Yuder might be among the members, he couldn't afford to talk back to the Commander.
“No, Commander.”
“It seems unlikely that you'd continue such torturous training without seeking medical attention unless you couldn’t feel pain or you enjoyed it.”
“It's just a blister that burst; it doesn’t require any medical treatment.”
“So, you don't enjoy pain or have a high pain tolerance?”
“No, Commander.”
It was the first time Yuder had had such a lengthy conversation with the Commander, and with each word exchanged, his exhaustion grew exponentially. Eventually, Yuder pulled out a handkerchief and began to vigorously wipe his hand, as if to demonstrate his irritation. The sensation of roughly scrubbing away the blood mixed with sweat felt uncomfortably hot, but at this point, he didn't care.
"May I go now?"
"Go ahead."
The Commander finally gave permission. Yuder wasn't particularly fond of the unchanging, crimson eyes that had been mocking him earlier.
‘Are all high-ranking people like this?’ Yuder thought, feeling abruptly exhausted. He squeezed out every last ounce of courtesy for a polite farewell and turned away. Yet even as he assumed his stance to resume his sword practice, the Commander remained, not leaving his spot.
The Commander's continual gaze was unnerving, but Yuder deliberately chose not to look back and carried on with his own tasks. It wasn't until Yuder had completed all the 24 basic sword movements that the observer finally spoke.
"Why is someone capable of using multiple elements so intent on wielding a sword? You should be more than sufficient with the powers you already possess. Wouldn't it be better to strengthen those?"
Yuder was slightly surprised.
Did the Commander remember who I am?
Since his entrance test, Yuder had been somewhat of a celebrity within the Cavalry for his flashy display of multiple elements. However, as far as the Commander was concerned, Yuder was just another Awakener among the countless commoners. He hadn't expected the Commander, who hadn't even attended the entrance test and often vacated his post, to recognize him.
Could it be that this man remembers the faces and abilities of over 300 members?
Feeling a strange mixture of emotions, Yuder responded slowly.
"Training is not about continually repeating what you're already good at; it's about improving your weaknesses. I feel the need to improve my swordsmanship, which is lacking compared to others."
Before joining, Yuder hadn't expected that everyone in the Cavalry would be taught swordsmanship, no exceptions. In an Empire that considered the sword the noblest of weapons, it didn't hurt to learn, so Yuder had participated diligently. The problem was that he had never handled a weapon before.
While he had plenty of experience with axes from living in a rural area, he had never used a sword other than kitchen knives and cleavers. Unlike other members who had wielded swords since childhood, Yuder's hands were clumsy with the unfamiliar weapon. Despite his calloused hands, new blisters formed and blood was drawn.
Those who had considered Yuder an unfortunate soul found joy in his struggles. They were probably relieved to see even a terrifying individual like him had weaknesses. However, Yuder felt crushed by their laughter.
That was why he was practicing like a madman, even sacrificing sleep.
"Hmm, impressive."
The word 'impressive' was spoken, but the shadowed, crimson eyes revealed no emotional change.
"But cutting down on sleep and swinging away haphazardly will only get you so far. Training needs specific goals. What's your ultimate aim with this training?"
A specific goal for training. He hadn't thought about that.
Yuder scrunched his brows in thought and finally opened his mouth.
"I plan to continue this way until I can perform the basic sword manual ten times in a row without feeling any discomfort in my hands."
"Ten times?"
"Yes."
"A good goal, but I'm not sure how you'll accomplish it with your fifth movement being so skewed."
The Commander walked away with a faint smile, as if suggesting that Yuder's goal was entirely unfeasible. Yuder watched him go and absentmindedly swung his sword again. He hadn't noticed before, but it did seem as though the blade swung a little crookedly. With a furrowed brow, Yuder continued to repeat the movement. After days of practice, he finally felt confident that he could execute the fifth technique flawlessly. And then he ran into the Commander again at the training ground under the cover of night.
The man, upon seeing Yuder swinging his sword with zeal, narrowed his eyes and spoke, "The balance on your fourteenth movement is off. Spread your feet a bit more and hold your stance. That should correct it."
Yuder said nothing.
Such peculiar encounters continued. The Commander would watch Yuder's movements without doing anything, then offer critical remarks before leaving.
Eventually, what started as a once-a-week encounter became every three days, and then almost every day. By the time Yuder realized this pattern, he had already achieved his goal.
"You've accomplished your objective, I see."
After completing all the sword techniques from the basic manual ten times with perfect form, the Commander suddenly spoke to Yuder. Without a word, Yuder sheathed his practice sword. The Commander could have taken offense at his aloofness, but he didn't. Surprisingly, he was quite lenient in such matters.
"So, how does it feel to have reached your goal?"
What did it feel like to have achieved one's goal? As ever, the Commander had a knack for posing odd questions.
"What should it feel like?"
"It's easy to swing a sword by the book for a day. But fewer than half can endure a week, and far fewer than that can endure a month. And if someone endures beyond that, there's only one reason."
It was because it was enjoyable. The murmured words penetrated Yuder's ears.
"So, did you find it enjoyable?"
Yuder paused. Enjoyable? Just as he was about to say that he hadn't started this for fun, a sudden realization struck him.
Why had he started this training in the first place?
The sense of rivalry he had initially felt towards others had vanished. All that remained was a peculiar satisfaction in achieving a perfect stance.
As this realization hit him, it felt as though he had been slapped on the head. The corners of the man's lips lifted ever so slightly, tracing a faint curve. It was hard to tell if it was a smile or not, but the moment vanished as quickly as it came. Yet, for some reason, it lingered deeply in Yuder's mind.
