By Zephyria 
The fourth week of months with exams often meant canceled classes.
The Magical Equipment, Artifacts class I took every Monday afternoon was one such case. What I would do with this free time was already decided.
As soon as my beginner swordsmanship class ended, I asked Maelo Sanson if I could have a private meeting with him that afternoon.
“Even though we see each other every day, you miss me that much?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, dear…”
Wasn’t it obvious? My immediate answer earned a playful grimace from Sanson, who, as usual, made time for me. I was grateful.
For some time now, I had been trying to fully unravel the Azure Sky Unfettered Sword Art, removing unnecessary movements or recombining them with other sword styles to gradually create new sword techniques.
However, because all sword styles were designed to move in various directions according to the situation, even if I added or removed something from the original, it would only be an imitation, not the source.
Therefore, to create a Righteous Sword, I needed a foundational philosophy or disposition.
Just as Namgung’s sword emulated the heavens, Hwasan’s sword emulated the distant cliffs and plum blossoms, and Jongnam’s sword emulated heavy, settled rocks and stone mountains, I too needed to establish a pivot.
My pivot is the world. I based it on Sierren.
I had always drawn the sky. Now, I wanted to gaze down upon the earth.
I wished to descend from the heavens, sweep across the benevolent and vast land, and then look back at myself.
When striking down from above, I wanted it to be strong and sharp like a flash of lightning, as when I first came into this land. When sweeping the ground, I wanted it to be gentle and mild, yet subtle. And when returning to myself, I wanted it to carry a steadfast purpose.
This was the flow from the first stance to the fifth. Sanson watched my movements intently, then immediately used his own body to perform the same stances. Fast, slow, even slower.
Watching the sword patterns of a peerless martial artist unfold three times allowed me to pinpoint the areas that needed improvement.
“In the second stance…”
“In the second stance.”
We both spoke the words simultaneously and then laughed for a moment.
As I stood straight, ready to listen, Maelo Sanson continued.
“It’s good that you strike down quickly, but the posture puts a lot of strain on your wrist. Even if you create a sword unique to you, it’s not good for power to concentrate on any single part of the body. If you intend to pass it on to others, this needs to be fixed.”
“Yes.”
“And the subsequent sweeping motion downwards… honestly, I don’t know much about it, Mika. Is this also swordsmanship designed for man-to-man combat? At this height, only something like an Orc would have its ankles broken. I don’t know.”
I hesitated for a very brief moment before answering demurely.
“Yes.”
“The reason?”
“…I don’t really know.”
“Don’t be too afraid of people.”
Sanson’s words surprised me.
Realization always struck like lightning. I feared people more than monsters.
Sierren was too powerful and just an Empire for monsters from those high mountains to swarm down and harm my people. It seemed easier for someone by my side to turn their heart and draw a knife.
I had killed many people and been killed by people. It was natural that the sword techniques I created, having never encountered a monster, would target people.
I tried to embody Sierren, but it was the Central Plains that I embodied.
I only realized this through Sanson’s words.
Sanson patted my shoulder as if to comfort me, then continued.
“Of course, that’s not necessarily bad. Since man-to-man combat does happen outside the Sierran Empire. And the murderous intent has significantly decreased compared to your previous sword arts… In any case, the overall framework isn’t bad, so let’s refine it step by step.”
“…Yes.”
From the Central Plains until now, I had never possessed a brilliant mind or a body of iron.
I had simply built a reputation and honed my skills by diligently and repeatedly doing what needed to be done.
Like a stone tower built with very small stones, the sword I had maintained meticulously, without gaps, yet not spectacularly, had shaped me.
It was the same now.
The image of creating a new sword art with a single sweeping strike didn’t suit me.
One stitch at a time, I carefully considered the minute angles of my hands and feet, connecting them like spinning thread or twisting rope.
Maelo Sanson, as before, allowed me to rest this angle after an hour of practice.
Taking thirty minutes of rest every two hours, we chatted about various things, naturally leading to discussions about internal energy and Circulating Qi.
Previously, I had no way to explain it and remained silent, but recently, thanks to Douglas and Boulder, I had heard many explanations translated into the Sierran language, making it easier to elaborate.
After hearing my various explanations, Maelo Sanson hummed, then scratched the back of his head with an embarrassed smile.
“I heard about it from Professor Mustang last semester, but I had completely forgotten. Our schedules never aligned… So, you summon that Mage every Tuesday?”
“Yes. Every Tuesday afternoon, I teach Professor Mustang and Mage Boulder Circulating Qi… and I am working on documenting the Qi Circulation and Regulation Method.”
“Then, may I lend a hand tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course. In fact, it’s I who should be asking.”
I was glad I brought it up, my mouth naturally parting in a smile.
Having spent the dawn, morning, and afternoon entirely in training, I was completely exhausted by dinnertime.
Although my stamina was superior to others my age due to consistent training, my body was not yet adept at Geomancy. Fatigue accumulated from repeatedly executing difficult sword patterns.
As I quickly went to wash up before dinner and opened my door, the door to the next room suddenly opened, and Shayden poked his head out.
“Mika! Are you coming in now?”
“Mm. Have you eaten?”
“No, I was waiting for you. Hurry up and wash.”
“I will.”
He was such a kind child.
Not wanting him to go hungry, I quickly washed away my fatigue. After eating, I planned to practice Circulating Qi and do that thing called stretching.
❖ ❖ ❖
But life does not flow according to plan.
Shayden didn’t lead me to the dining hall but to his room.
I was surprised for three reasons.
The first was that Shayden’s room was filled with flowers and paper decorations I had never seen before, and the second was that the room was packed with not only close friends but also boys and girls I barely knew.
And the third was.
“Happy birthday, Mika!”
“Happy birthday, Young Master Ernhardt!”
I was surprised by the grandeur of the large chocolate cake placed on the table.
Flustered, I counted the days. That was right. It was the cool season, neither too hot nor too cold. I had completely forgotten that the last week of September always featured a grand banquet for celebrations.
It made sense, as I had heard that birthday banquets were not held separately while attending the Academy.
It was impossible to hold an empty birthday party without the guest of honor, and since the Academy was an experience most noble families went through, they said a coming-of-age ceremony was held on the first birthday after graduation.
Bewildered, I was pulled by the children to stand before the cake.
Singing the congratulatory song loudly and handing me a long, specialized knife to cut the cake was no different from the banquets held at House Ernhardt.
With a dazed expression, I cut the cake and distributed it to the children.
Shayden, who had stuck close by, chattered with a joyful face.
“Actually, your birthday is tomorrow, but I figured you wouldn’t come if I called you exactly at midnight, so I invited you early. It was perfect that it was after exams when everyone had some free time.”
“…Ah…”
“Why the long face? Did you really not know?”
“Mm.”
I looked around the room.
The decorations, perhaps a mix of the servants’ work and the children’s efforts, had minor imperfections here and there. This made them even more touching.
I received small gifts and cards from the children, each holding one, and expressed my gratitude.
For nearly a year, I hadn’t even considered such things, so I hadn’t celebrated other children’s birthdays. I felt embarrassed, receiving only without giving, and didn’t know what to do.
Some of the children jokingly said they would invite me next year, and I promised to attend, crossing my fingers.
Later, I decided I should ask Shayden to create a birthday celebration list. Thinking of this as another way to share affection, I felt pleased rather than bothered.
Several auxiliary tables were placed next to the main table, piled high with various dishes.
All the children laughed and chatted as they shared the food from large plates.
I saw the grape drink I had tasted when I won my sparring match against Kiadris again. Since it tasted more familiar as it was drunk during celebrations, I thought I should acquire a few bottles separately.
Although chairs were scarce, forcing some to sit on the floor or lean against the walls, it wasn’t uncomfortable with delicious food and friends my age.
We pushed a sofa to the side and sat in a circle on the floor, eating and chatting, raising our glasses of drinks high.
After filling our stomachs adequately, we cleared the empty plates from the table and danced together.
The children’s laughter grew louder as I hid myself, reluctant to hold hands with girls, unlike boys. I made excuses several times, saying it wasn’t shyness but that I couldn’t dance well.
We opened the gifts the children had brought and tried them on.
It was fine that most of the gifts were toys easily obtainable by peers.
Later, Damian confided that they had deliberately set a price limit, for which I thanked him. As gifts between friends, not between families, this was appropriate.
Even after sunset, everyone was so full of energy that they didn’t want to return to their rooms, staying past midnight. However, precisely thirty minutes past midnight, the dormitory supervisor arrived and sent the children back.
Although it was generally not permitted for female students to enter the male dormitory, I learned that the children had pleaded and begged, citing the birthday party, to gain reluctant permission, and I felt very grateful.
The dormitory supervisor, a young man just past twenty, glanced at the messy room and instructed Shayden to have servants clean it tomorrow, urging him to sleep early tonight.
Then, he patted my shoulder twice and smiled.
“Happy birthday, Young Master Ernhardt.”
“Thank you, Supervisor.”
My gratitude made me naturally respectful. I gave a simple bow, and the supervisor laughed heartily, offering congratulations once more before opening my door.
Somehow, my heart fluttered until just before I fell asleep.