I strike my sword against my opponent’s blade, but he repels it. A reverberating clank as it hits the ground.
It all happens within a single moment.
Back then, it had been a test in will and strength, the blades of our swords pressing against each other’s. If I were to push forward with all my strength, I should win. At least, that’s how I pictured it.
In terms of power, he’s currently weaker than me, and his body was also much smaller than mine. But if I said that to him, his face would flush bright red from anger. He’d even try to twist my words around, and say it’s me who was too big. Yet…
He defended against my blows without break, not bothering to counterattack. A blink, and he parried my attack, lunging at my chest.
It caught me off guard.
And of course, he didn’t let this opportunity slip.
He thrust out a hand to grasp the handle of my sword, barely managing to take hold of the end of it, lightly twisting it in a peculiar way. This caused me to loosen my grip.
With that, he tossed the sword away from me.
As always, his fluid movements are beautiful enough to admire.
But this is no time to stand there dazedly. Back in the present, I throw my body back in the blink of an eye. The moment I think I’ve gotten away, his sword stops a mere hairbreadth from my nose.
“Okay, that’s enough! Owen wins!”
Perpetually yawning and nodding off, the sword instructor raises his hand to signal the end of the match.
Cheers erupt from the trio that’s always glued to my opponent’s side, as well as from some of the students that often watch us from a distance.
The local town’s swordsmanship class sponsors a small tournament of sorts each month during the weekend, a simple match-up game against opponents of similar strength.
The sword instructor determines who will fight against who after looking at the students’ abilities.
Ever since I’ve entered the school, my opponent is usually… No, I’ve always had the same opponent.
Since no one there besides me can put up a fight with him in the sword.
It seems like my opponent practices the sword under a hired tutor, someone from the capital.
Although my opponent looks soft and calm, in reality he is a pretty aggressive guy who refuses to lose. Because of that, he is very diligent when it comes to practice.
And since he is especially trained in the sword, his skill can no longer be compared with that of anyone in the local school.
This I know all too well, yet the consecutive defeats are too vexing, even for me.
Breaking his winning streak is my current goal.
In order to do this, I sometimes ask a local school teacher for guidance.
That teacher is like me, someone who came from a faraway place.
Perhaps because he has fought in real battles multiple times, his teaching methods are much rougher than those of the local school teacher who graduated from the knight academy. That said, his methods of teaching are suitable in a battle setting, granting me a higher chance of winning a fight.
In a real battlefield, the enemy definitely will not fight us in a polite and courteous manner. That is a matter of course.
My thoughts enter different waters. Although this instructor is actually quite the flirt sometimes, he really does take good care of me. Even after I’ve graduated, he still flirts… I mean, wholeheartedly teaches me. Therefore, I’m very grateful to him. That doesn’t make him any less of a flirt, though.
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Nurturing the Hero to Avoid Death
Romance"Please, I implore you to save the world." This is what a goddess in white says to me in a pure-white space. Such is the standard line that suggests the game is about to begin. Please say this stirring line to boys and girls with sparkling eyes! It'...
