Company 4, platoon 10, 1st squad (2)

Simon fixed his gaze on the tip of Bastian's sword.

'Those two seemed pretty close—if I stomp at least this guy into the ground, I'll be able to show some seniority.'

In the noon sunlight, Bastian's sword gleamed sharply.

'He's got quite a sharp-looking sword.'

Even at a glance, the sword looks too thin and light.

'Typical rookie choice.'

Still, it looks like an expensive sword, so it's not going to be easy to break it head-on.

However, if I target the side, I could snap it in one stroke.

'I'll show you what real combat experience is, rookie.'

Simon curled his finger.

"Come at me first, rookie."

If Bastian swings his sword, I'll strike up hard from below.

While he flinches from my strength, I'll bring my sword down hard on the side of his.

Simon pictured his next two moves in his head.

With those two moves, the match would be decided.

No need to plan any further than that.

Of course, it wasn't as though he could plan three or four steps ahead, anyway.

On the other hand,
Bastian remained motionless, staring into Simon's eyes.

"Bastian, do you know what's most important when fighting with a sword?"

"What is it, Evan?"

"Don't move as your opponent intends."

"How do you read your opponent's intentions?"

"You get a feel for it as you gain combat experience, but sometimes you can tell even without it."

"When?"

"Well, for example, if you run into a guy who says something like, 'Come at me first, rookie,'"

"Oh!"

"Unless it's some street thugs fighting with clubs, fighting with swords means that a single touch can be fatal. Yet if someone tells you to go first? He's definitely up to something."

"Please show me a move first, third Senior Simon."

Though polite, it was definitely a provocation.

To Simon, who had yielded the initiative, it was as if Bastian was saying, "Whatever, you go first."

"You... insolent brat!"

Fuming, Simon swung his two-handed longsword in a wide arc.

Bwooong!

The massive sword cut through the air with a heavy sound.

The blade was so long that there was nowhere to dodge.

Bastian hurriedly raised his sword to block Simon's attack route.

Seeing this, a faint smile formed at the corner of Simon's mouth.

He pressed firmly down with his extended left leg.

'I'll deflect his sword to the other side and, as planned, bring my blade down on the side.'

Few things are more humiliating for a swordsman than having your sword broken in a duel.

If it were a life-or-death fight, your head would fly off right after.

Even in non-lethal matches, a broken sword means instant defeat.

Of course, swords can also break due to differences in thickness or quality, but to a swordsman, a sword is as much a part of the body as any limb.

Unless you're using wooden swords, having a good blade is also a mark of skill.

Clang!

Their swords crashed together forcefully.

'There!'

Just as expected, Bastian couldn't withstand Simon's strength and the weight of the two-handed longsword.

Bastian's sword bounced away helplessly.

His entire posture fell apart—just holding onto his blade was impressive.

'It's over!'

The flat of Bastian's sword was clearly exposed before Simon's eyes.

If he struck there now, before Bastian recovered his balance, it would be over.

Even if he hung on and didn't let go, his sword would break.

'Or he'll just drop it to the ground.'

Either way, the outcome was clear.

Clang!

Simon's two-handed longsword struck fiercely at the side of Bastian's sword.

Woooong.

Bastian's Damascus steel sword bent deeply and vibrated.

'Damn!'

Simon's swing had been so powerful, his two-handed longsword was driven straight into the ground.

Meanwhile, Bastian held onto his sword, and it didn't break.

While Simon hastily tried to lift his sword again,
Bastian's blade touched Simon's side.

"Huh, huh?"

Clap, clap, clap.

First Senior Lisa Fox applauded.

"What the—kid, you're pretty good!"

Just as Simon knocked aside Bastian's sword with his elbow and tried to swing his two-handed longsword again—

"Stop!"

Lisa Fox shouted sharply.

Simon immediately flinched and froze in place.

"The match is over. If Bastian had actually thrust in a moment ago, there'd be a hole in your side, Simon."

"I-I just let my guard down for a moment!"

"Yeah. That's how everyone dies."

"You don't die from just a poke from a toothpick of a sword! The match isn't over ye—"

Before Simon's protest was finished, Lisa Fox looked at Squad Leader Leonard Schuler.

"What do you think, Squad Leader?"

Leonard Schuler nodded slowly.

"Almost certainly fatal. That Bastian kid knows how to aim for the vital spots."

Lisa Fox turned back to Simon.

"You heard him? That really is how everyone ends up dead."

Simon stomped the dirt with his right foot.

"Damn it! Hey, you, let's have a rematch later."

Bastian bowed his head.

"You're really strong, third Senior. I learned a lot."

"Damn it!"

Unable to save face, Simon hurled his sword aside and slunk off to the corner.

* * *

Tsk.

Throwing your sword just because you lost a match?

You really are destined to be a pushover, Simon.

Still, Bastian's come a long way.

I didn't expect him to win so easily.

He really is a quick learner.

"All right, next is Bier and Evan. You two, come forward."

At Squad Leader Cliff Shannon's words, second Senior Bier Nolan, who had been huddled under a tree, reluctantly stood up.

I got up and stepped forward as well.

"Please go easy on me."

"You're just... too young..."

"Sorry?"

"Just leave this place. Run away. If you stay, you'll die soon. You're far too young to die..."

From one side, first Senior Lisa Fox's irritated voice rang out.

"Ugh! This guy, seriously. There's nothing he won't say to a newbie. Hey! Bier, are you going to fight or not?!"

Prodded by Lisa Fox, Bier Nolan reluctantly drew his sword.

What's up with him?

I unconsciously tilted my head.

It matched his skinny frame—a thin, long sword.

Longer and thinner than a sidesword.

A rapier.

Not a sword that military men usually prefer, but actually a common weapon.

But there was something off about the way Bier Nolan held his sword...

The source of the discomfort was the perfectly honed edge of his rapier.

It was sharp and evenly ground.

Isn't this the same guy who sulks around every day saying he's going to die?

That's far too well-maintained a sword for someone like him.

It's been a long time since I've seen such a well-kept rapier.

Because flashy noblemen like to wear rapiers at their hips—often without maintaining their edge—the rapier is widely known as a slender, long, thrust-oriented weapon.

It's also why nobles tend to use silly fencing techniques, keeping their distance and extending only their arms to poke, fearing injury during their duels.

But contrary to popular belief, the rapier is actually an efficient sword for both slashing and thrusting.

If a sword is long, it inevitably becomes heavy, which is why the two-handed longsword, like Simon's, came into existence.

For one-handed swords, some length must be sacrificed to keep the weight down.

And—

The weapon that combines length and one-handed versatility is the rapier.

Its flaws, however, are the lack of heft, making it ineffective against armored opponents, and insufficient destructive power to sever both bone and flesh in one blow.

But its slender tip can slip between the gaps of armor, and though it can't cleave bone, it can still deliver a fatal or deadly thrust.

"That's a fine sword, second Senior."

Bier Nolan's lips twisted oddly.

"What's the use... We're all going to die anyway. Let's just finish this match or test quickly."

Screeek.

Bier Nolan lazily swung his rapier.

But the movement was no ordinary one.

This guy—

He's been hiding his skills all along.

Clang! Clang!

Bier Nolan's rapier and my arming sword clashed in a rapid flurry.

Bier Nolan was far taller than me, and his sword's length was much greater.

In other words, I would never touch his body unless I could close the distance.

Bier Nolan.

Always mumbling about dying, yet his swordsmanship was rather polished.

Of course,
He's no match for me.

Clang! Swoosh.

I pressed the rapier to my blade and took a big step forward.

He tried to push me away, but ended up glued to my sword and pulled straight in.

A technique that uses your opponent's strength against them.

"What? Huh?"

While Bier Nolan floundered, I opened up the distance in an instant.

And then—

Swish.

I thrust my arming sword straight to Bier Nolan's solar plexus.

A simple win.

But now I was puzzled.

Anyone with this much skill shouldn't be assigned to 1st squad as mere cannon fodder.

Is there a story behind this?

"Another win for the rookie?"

First Senior Lisa Fox declared my victory.

"I lost... Quite impressive for a kid."

Second Senior Bier Nolan, unlike Simon, admitted defeat easily.

He went straight back to the shade, gloomily muttering as before, but still checked his rapier blade meticulously for any nicks.

"What is this? Why are the new kids so strong? Don't you think so, Squad Leader?"

Squad Leader Cliff Shannon nodded.

"Quite... it seems so."

Lisa Fox aside,
it was clear that Squad Leader Cliff Shannon hadn't even properly observed my movements.

Anyone who'd trained seriously in swordsmanship wouldn't be that flabby.

Just then,
Squad Leader Leonard Schuler suddenly shouted,

"Squad competition!"

Cliff Shannon turned his head.

"What?"

"The squad competition next month! Don't you think it's finally our chance to avenge our loss last time?"

Squad competition?

What is that now?