By Zephyria 
If there were five First-Rate Martial Artists, they could face an enemy without interfering with each other, but if thirty individuals using different swordplays all launched an offense, even if they blocked each other’s Sword Paths, they would still collide several times.
No matter how accomplished a martial artist might be, one person can at best observe four directions: east, west, north, and south. Even if divided, there were thirty-six directions. Without having mastered Jongnam’s sword, how could one predict which direction to extend their sword to avoid interfering with each other?
However, alongside my confusion, I held a firm belief in Maelo Sanson’s realm and Eye Technique.
Did not Sir Ian Venters himself say that Sanson was always the top student when he was a student?
I did not insist on my own way and opened my eyes wide to fully absorb what he was teaching.
“…No, you don’t need to look with such scary eyes. Today is the first day, so we’ll take it easy. Come, shall we all take a deep breath? Hoo, hah…”
Everyone burst into laughter at Sanson’s joke, and I followed suit. My heart pounded fiercely. Benjamin, looking back at me, playfully tapped my scabbard with his own.
I took deep breaths as instructed, steadying my breathing.
First, we listened to Maelo Sanson’s explanation of the markings he had drawn on the ground.
I knew the spacing my sword drew.
Measuring the short and long distances that varied depending on the length of one’s limbs, the blade, and the grip on the hilt was extremely important.
While helping us find our positions, Sanson called out a few names specifically to assign them spots. I realized belatedly that these were the ones with particularly long or short reach.
“Everyone, from your designated spot, extend your arm with your sword still in its scabbard and draw a semicircle on the floor up to where your sword can reach. Like this.”
Following the Professor’s demonstration, everyone drew a semicircle.
Since my hand couldn’t reach behind me, I, using my right hand, drew a long arc shifted to the right.
After drawing straight lines from both ends of that arc to my body as Sanson instructed, I found myself standing at the apex of a fan shape.
It was the first time I had visualized my reach in this manner.
I compared the size of my reach with that of the other students. I knew their distances were longer or shorter than mine, but it was fascinating to see everyone’s compared like this.
I memorized it firmly, wanting to teach it to the knights of my family later.
“Those using the Siren Sword Pattern here, step forward half a pace and draw another line. Those using the Flantz Sword Pattern, turn your body this much to the left. Yes, draw another line according to the method of the Fourth Form. Ernhardt, you turn half a circle to the right… you already know without me saying.”
When extending the eighth form of the Changcheon Muae Sword, there was a movement where the elbow of the right arm was pulled back deeply and swung. I knew what he was referring to and acted accordingly.
Maelo Sanson, carefully examining what the children had drawn on the floor, nodded with satisfaction.
Everyone was within each other’s reach.
If Benjamin, standing to my left, extended his sword to the right and I extended my sword to the left, our swords would inevitably clash and tangle. It was intriguing what kind of practice we would do, standing so close rather than at a distance.
“From now on, rows 1, 3, and 5 will swing their swords to the right first. Rows 2 and 4 will swing to the left first. You can use any swordplay you possess, but be careful not to move your feet from your spot.”
“Huh? Then…”
“Yes, our swords will collide and tangle. Try your best to protect your Sword Path and avoid collision. Begin.”
I struggled to pull myself back from drifting off again.
Of course, I was familiar with the sword forms of Benjamin to my left and Rubel to my right, so I could handle either sufficiently.
Yes, if it was about clashing swords, there was nothing easier.
However, preventing swords from colliding was an extremely difficult task.
Martial artists were beings who could not simply let a sword coming towards them pass by. As expected, as soon as we began, the clanging sound of swords colliding echoed from various places.
Every time the children’s swords clashed, Maelo Sanson exhaled with a steady breath and stated firmly,
“Again.”
Since I was in the third row, I extended my sword to the right first. Rubel naturally drew his sword and blocked mine. As the clang sounded, I glanced up at him, his face showing a flustered expression.
At that moment, Maelo Sanson’s explanation reached my ears.
“Look carefully at the lines you drew on the ground. Consider where the overlapping parts are, and how far you can extend your sword. Trust your neighbor. Move knowing that the friend next to you will not stab you. Now, again.”
As I practiced, I began to select and execute Sword Paths that allowed the opponent to evade.
I exchanged glances with Rubel once, and with Benjamin once. After doing this back and forth several times, I was able to swing my sword for about ten seconds without it colliding.
Maelo Sanson walked among the children extending their swords left and right, adding advice to ensure their swordplay didn’t falter due to fatigue.
He lifted the sword tips of a few whose arms were drooping due to weak stamina, resolving the issue directly with his own sword, and corrected the positions of a few who had unconsciously moved their feet.
Once again, with Rubel, then with Benjamin… when it came down to it, it wasn’t much different from a game of rock-paper-scissors.
It felt both simple and complex, but the novel training method brought a smile to my lips.
“Rubel, your arm is losing strength. Grip it tightly with the proper technique so you don’t drop your sword… There, like that.”
I couldn’t help but glance at him, annoyed by how the crow-like fellow always showed signs of weakness once a day.
Perhaps embarrassed by the correction, his ears and cheeks turned slightly red. I quickly looked away, thinking my prolonged gaze wouldn’t help.
These were already children with near First-Rate skills. After half an hour, everyone could easily extend their Sword Path for about thirty seconds without being affected by each other’s swords.
Then, Maelo Sanson had the students switch positions. As they faced unfamiliar sword styles, the clanging sound echoed again from all directions.
We repeated the training, switching positions when we got used to it, and switching again when we got used to it, two more times. By then, I was completely exhausted. I was amazed, unable to figure out how he had calculated it, but the class time ended precisely then.
It was clear that Maelo Sanson had not taught in this manner for the first time.
Sanson mentioned that while today we extended swords sideways, in the next class, we would add front and back, unfolding swordplay in all four directions.
Now I understood the goal for this semester: to extend one’s Sword Path straight without being influenced by the swordplay of whoever was beside them.
My grip was numb from repeatedly clashing swords due to mistimed movements. I clenched and unclenched my fists several times, suppressing a laugh. There was still so much to learn.
For lunch, as last semester, five of us ate together: Benjamin, Rubel, Lucilla, and Matt. I praised Rubel when he boasted about diligently training during the break.
❖ ❖ ❖
In Douglas Mustang’s professor’s office, which I visited every Tuesday afternoon, Mage Boulder, whom I had seen before, occupied a large portion of the space.
He occupied so much space that not only were several file folders on the table, but some were also scattered on the floor.
Douglas Mustang, looking as if he had been bothered all morning, was suppressing a troubled expression by pressing his Sun Points with his thumb.
I, too, was momentarily speechless as I looked over the pile of papers placed before me. They were densely written in a mixture of languages I could understand and those I couldn’t.
As I stood there, unsure what to do with it all, Mage Boulder, with bloodshot eyes, thrust several documents towards me.
“Previously! As promised! This is the written report! For now, I thought it best to first analyze the Mana operation method you showed me, Young Master Ernhardt, so I put that as the very first step. Professor Mustang said that you shouldn’t be touched by others while operating Mana, so I tested what level of contact is not allowed…”
“No.”
“As long as you don’t touch objects with Qi Flow.”
Douglas and I answered simultaneously.
Douglas Mustang, with a very tired expression, spoke in a steady voice without even looking at me. Considering his usually gentle disposition, it was a remarkably resolute action.
“I told you that contact that could be a threat to the student’s physical health is prohibited.”
“This isn’t a threat, it’s just a very simple…”
“No.”
“…Yes. Then, after listening to the explanation, I will confirm it in writing, and then I intend to reproduce the same Mana flow using a Golem. If the Golem’s reproduction rate becomes high enough for Young Master Ernhardt to feel it’s completely identical, we will mass-produce similar Golems, test them by altering the Mana’s path, and then get approval for the most suitable Golem number.”
“Golem?”
When I asked in confusion about the unfamiliar word, Mage Boulder explained a great deal about Golems in his characteristic cheerful and boisterous voice.
Listening carefully, I wondered if it was like a zombie made of clay. However, it seemed much better in appearance and use than making one from a corpse.
I casually asked why he brought so many written reports when he could explain it verbally.
Mage Boulder whined with a very aggrieved expression, and seeing a man nearing fifty acting so petulantly made me frown.
When I offered to help organize the documents instead of listening further, Boulder clicked his thumb and index finger together and recited an Activation Word.
In an instant, the documents were neatly arranged beside the bag, which made me even more bewildered. Why, when it could be organized so easily…
After Mage Boulder left, as I was having a meal with Douglas Mustang alone, I asked him about the matter. Douglas smiled good-naturedly and shrugged.
“He’s just protesting to me. Like, ‘I’m working this hard, so please pay attention.'”
“Attention to what?”
“Just, anything. Mages have many childish aspects. You shouldn’t give in to every tantrum, Young Master Ernhardt.”
“…I will keep that in mind.”
Once again, I nodded, thinking magic was truly fascinating.