By Zephyria 
After finishing lunch, I headed to the 4th training ground.
It was as arranged when the schedule was set, with a servant sent to make the arrangements.
Previously, when spending afternoons with Maelo Sanson, we had usually used the main training ground. As a Martial artist of Hwagyeong, Sanson had a very broad perspective, so while watching me hone my swordplay, he would also attend to the children coming and going from the training ground. It was natural for someone of his stature to look after multiple students at once.
However, the 4th training ground overlooked a wide-open space far below. With few trees nearby and a distance from buildings, it was a secluded place. His clear intention to focus solely on teaching me was evident.
Not knowing what he intended to teach me during his afternoon hours this semester, I felt a sense of tension.
As soon as we finished eating, I arrived more than thirty minutes before the appointed time to wait for my teacher.
As soon as I saw the top of Maelo Sanson’s head climbing the hill along the straight path, my heart pounded with anticipation. I stood in a respectful and courteous posture, waiting for him.
Seeing me like that as he entered the training ground, Sanson smiled with pleasure and waved to acknowledge me.
“You don’t need to be so formal every time I see you, Mikael.”
“I am grateful for your special attention, so it is only natural to be formal. I feel ashamed that this heart is all I can offer you, Professor.”
“Oh… there’s no need to feel ashamed… You’re still so well-postured today, Mikael…”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I’m glad to see you too.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s sit and talk for a bit,” Maelo Sanson said, striding forward, and I followed his pace.
And then I understood the second reason for choosing the 4th training ground as our lesson location.
Two benches were placed overlooking the training ground. The main training ground’s entrance did not have such easily movable furniture. This was to prevent students from getting hurt while playing around during lessons.
However, I couldn’t sit on the bare ground for every lesson to listen to Sanson’s lectures. Sanson and I sat at opposite ends of one bench. Sanson’s gaze was fixed on the distant sky, while I twisted my body halfway to gaze directly at Sanson’s sharp profile. I adjusted my gaze with the resolve not to let a single word he spoke go unheard.
Sanson, still not looking at me, opened his mouth in a calm and steady tone.
“I’ve given some thought to what I can teach you.”
“…”
“You already possess sword arts at a completed stage. Of course, it would be better if you could temper the murderous intent a bit more, but the murderous intent itself can be quite an attractive element if used well. You’ve also grasped the essence of the Imperial Swordsmanship and Siren Swordsmanship well enough to practice them alone without issue.”
“…That is not so.”
“I’m not saying that out of modesty; it’s simply the truth. However, there is still a part of you that requires my presence.”
Sanson rubbed the back of his neck with his large hand and smiled genially. It was a young, fresh smile, with only a few streaks of gray hair hinting at his age.
“You mentioned before that you were creating a new swordplay, didn’t you? I’ll help you refine it.”
“…Ah.”
“Professor Mustang said he would help with what’s inside your belly, so it’s my job to polish the form and structure of the sword.”
I, who had been tense not knowing what he would say, clenched my fists without realizing it, trying hard not to let out a joyful exclamation.
Righteous Sword.
It was a dream I had nurtured steadily while being taught by him. The sword art, which had only taken shape seventeen times, still had many unstable aspects. It would undoubtedly be a great help if Maelo Sanson, with his sharp and meticulous eye, were to review it.
I had always been hungry for knowledge. Sanson, who chuckled at my stunned silence, unable to express my gratitude, patted me on the shoulder.
“Then, let’s see how much you’ve created so far. Show me properly.”
“Yes!”
I immediately got up from my seat.
Right after entering the academy, with the help of Sanson and Benjamin, I had learned various Siren Swordsmanship techniques. I gathered those that suited me best and did not go against Namgung’s principles.
Since I couldn’t just stitch them together haphazardly, I visualized the moments of enlightenment I had experienced tens, even hundreds, of times in my mind, selecting the most fitting ones to form seventeen.
I drew my sword in sequence. As I brought it down to the ground, I recalled the vast, clear lake and the pitiable beings I wished to protect. It was a swordplay heavier than the Azure Sky Sword and more affectionate than Namgung’s sword.
After a long while of tracing patterns in the air, I stopped and nervously watched his lips. Maelo Sanson stroked his jaw, fell into thought for a moment, and then clicked his tongue briefly.
“The movements that strain your body have decreased significantly compared to before. It’s good that the sword focuses more on defense than offense…”
“…”
“Haa, as it progresses, it seems to be designed for multiple opponents, with the sword domain positioned forward and not allowing attacks to fall behind… Yes, it’s not bad as a single sword art…”
“…”
“Haa, it seems you could leap forward with just a bit more experience.”
“…Experience, …you say?”
I considered the experience of crossing countless deathly situations in my past life as my sole strength. However, Sanson stated with a firm tone, cutting me off.
“Yes. Perhaps it’s because you haven’t seen a monster yet, that’s a bit of a shame.”
Ah. That experience. I had, of course, never experienced cutting down a monster, only people.
The sword arts here, Siren Swordsmanship, were designed to face monsters. Naturally, one maintained a greater distance and spent more time observing the opponent compared to facing a person.
My sword was not like that. A sword imbued with impatience had clear limitations in its power.
Thinking about it again, it was obvious. It was strange that I hadn’t noticed it myself.
I instinctively stood in a humble posture. Maelo Sanson pointed out several points that needed correction and areas for improvement, and then demonstrated them himself, correcting my stance.
The stage beyond Transcendent Peak is a realm of enlightenment. However, that enlightenment could suddenly spring forth from the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, the long tail of a cloud, or the raindrops tapping on the floor.
Maelo Sanson taught me how to create a vessel capable of receiving that enlightenment. I gratefully absorbed every gesture and movement he painstakingly taught me.
As the sun began to set beyond the academy walls, Maelo Sanson checked the time, patted my sweat-soaked back with a resounding thud, and laughed.
“Yes, the sword patterns and the sword art itself are good. It doesn’t seem like something that can be achieved in a day or two, so let’s take it slower.”
I had heard those words before. I laughed heartily.
“Yes, Professor. I will look ahead slowly and far.”
Throughout the past time, I had steadily honed my skills and forged my path. I had enough leisure to take supplementary classes.
The reason for my sudden impatience was clear. The murderous intent shed by Wesley Kiadris, whom I had briefly encountered at the Debutante, lingered like a burr, making me anxious.
Impatience would not help. I firmly resolved my mind.
❖ ❖ ❖
Tuesday morning. It was the first day of the advanced swordsmanship class.
As soon as I arrived at the training ground, a part of my chest felt coolly empty. It was because I realized anew that the child who had sought me out with his gaze at this time for the past two years was not there.
It wasn’t just Rubel who was absent. Walter Orgen, who had been grinning happily throughout last semester, and Lucilla Anti Sierran, who had captivated children with her clear laughter, were also gone.
I now understood that many children who had stayed at the academy without graduating had promptly graduated after Rubel did.
This year, the total number of students taking the advanced swordsmanship class was thirty-two. Although the number had increased with children from lower grades filling the vacant spots, the training ground still felt empty.
As I stood there blankly for a moment, Shayden tapped me on the back.
“Snap out of it, Mika.”
“…Ah. Right.”
“Are you sick? A bit tired?”
“No, no. Just for a moment… I had something to think about.”
“Hmmmm.”
Shayden was able to enroll in the advanced swordsmanship class only in his graduating year. He had said he was trying to keep up with me, and his steady progress in raising his realm was impressive.
I heard Shayden’s declaration again that although he couldn’t climb the mountains to fulfill his role as the heir to the Count’s family, he would not fall behind in the class content.
Benjamin was also still steadfastly present. With my two companions by my side, I felt less lonely.
…Lonely. Surprised that I would even think such a thing, two more individuals quickly attached themselves to my side.
Bill Brown was someone with obvious talent, even in my eyes. It wasn’t awkward to be with him, but the other person was quite unexpected.
“…Senior Nico? Didn’t you graduate?”
“Ah. I think I’ll attend for another year or two. I don’t have anything specific to do right after graduating.”
Matt Nico was the scruffy boy who used to hang out with Lucilla. He was one year ahead of me and was born to a mother from the Duke Grimsbein Family and a Viscount Nico. For the past two years, he had often been absent from gatherings, citing busy schedules.
However, in the advanced swordsmanship class, he had always mingled with me, Benjamin, Rubel, and Lucilla, so it wasn’t awkward for him to stand by my side.
“A year or two, you say?”
“This is a real, real secret… I’m only telling you. I have a child to look after.”
What kind of secret is casually revealed as if naming a neighbor’s dog?
I couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious. After a moment’s thought, Maelo Sanson was about to enter the training ground, so I decided not to dwell on it.
I pushed down the head of Bill, who was unnecessarily sticking his head near mine.
Instead of Walter Orgen, who always took the first turn, a senior I remembered from last year and Matt Nico sparred.
Even though the sound of clashing swords was clear, the absence of a gaze touching my cheek bothered me so much.
I had developed a bad habit.
Rubel wasn’t dead, nor had he gone on a long journey. It was natural and right for a child to find their own path as they grew.
What was the use of dwelling on him and missing him for so long?
However, when the swords of the children sparring pointed towards the floor tiles that Rubel had looked at for so long, my shoulders flinched involuntarily.
“What’s wrong?”
“…No, it’s nothing.”
In life, what changes besides the marks left on floor tiles?
“Don’t act like a child,” I admonished myself for a long time. I tried hard to steady my restless heart.
It was fortunate that I could spend the afternoon with Maelo Sanson. Not wanting to reveal my lax state of mind, I focused and immersed myself in the lesson more than usual.
Perhaps because of that, by the time I went to bed, I was completely drained and slept peacefully without any disturbing dreams. It was fortunate that I had a way to unburden my heart.