Sword Whisperer

It was natural that Van was already at the edge of the slaughter. He had a second-generation sword.

Early swordsmanship was not the first slash in the world. However, there was no more efficient swordsmanship than second-degree swordsmanship, at least in terms of increasing cutting power and speed.

For the same reason, the examinations of the Secondary Family were at least more pronounced than anyone else in the slash class.

But as much as that, the Seconds could not reveal the two angles in 'Stabbing'. Given the ultrasonic swordsmanship that does not weigh heavily on the stab itself, it was inevitable.

Nevertheless, half the stabbing was different.

He knew what a stab was.

Unless the heart is broken, that black man can pierce through anything in this world.

Prof. Stab. aka, "Raku" with his forearm looked at that class and thought,

'.... It is too bad to be left as a prosecutor of the Seconds. ’

Stronger cut than a stab.

It was the idea of early swordsmanship that I couldn't like as a Laku. At least he decided to believe that the ultimate sword stabbing was contained. Of course, this professor, Albide, would disagree.

'It's been a long time since a genius came in.'

Slash, stab, block, spill, spill. Five professors agreed without you.

In stopping and beating, Van did not reveal as much overwhelming misuse as slashing or stabbing. I remember peeking at Lucas' talent, but it was hard, but it seems that cutting everything in itself was not enough compared to the sword of Auburn who gave my life to the superswordsmanship or stabbing..

But even so, half the growth remained bitter. Every time I confronted the knives of the same class, or sometimes stopped the professor from striking, half understood them little by little. If I could count when, in some posture, at some speed, with some degree of force, I would be able to reach the sword…… I would be relatively comfortable with stopping it.

And to spill.

"This training method was developed by your forerunner, the Glass Knight."

The professor demonstrated it just once. It was the same way Van trained the other day. If there's a difference, it's not three or four people pointing arrows at him, it's dozens of archers.

Then, he drew the sword only once.

It was the sword of glass that Van peeked at one day.

One swirl. Thinking of arrows firing everywhere, it was impossible to shed all those arrows.

And Gigi was the power to make the impossible possible.

The wind blows. The trajectory of the sword he draws is like a wing, and one day it wraps around him. The arrow didn't hit. As it slipped, as it flowed, all the arrows fell forcefully on the ground.

'That's a real spill. ’

The whole body is troubled. It may be a little silly that the student is jealous of the professor, but Van is jealous of him and can't stand it. That beautiful trajectory. Lifting feathers and blocking rocks, that elegant apology.

Spill training was the most unpopular class among students. Even if he made a few mistakes, he had an arrow in his body, so even if he could be treated neatly without a single mark, he would not be welcome.

But Van didn't like it. If you make a mistake, the pain comes as it is. And if he's really unlucky, that pain might drag him to death.

It's like their lives.

Van thought that whenever an arrow was stuck in my body, I had a glass. And every time.....

"…… not just the blessing of the bloodline. ”

A student from the nobility murmured as if groaning. The restraints of the middle-class family are usually arranged to feel blessings and curses in my own life at the same time. They were able to outperform the majority of ordinary people by virtue of their blessings, and so they were forced to be smaller in front of those with greater blessings.

But look at that guy right now.

When the dandruff comes out of his mouth, when his skin is torn, it burns his eyes more and more, and he sees that man who feels his life.

”He's a man."

McDead, who was neatly beaten by Van in the tournament, said. On the subject of Van's bluffing and disgracefulness only during the tournament, he grumbled as if he were a war companion with Van.

"What's the big deal about pain? He understands better than anyone that the battle will ring the hearts of the corporation. If you can get stronger, that arrow, you can get a hundred more shots. ”

Of course, Mac Dead called the therapist, crying as soon as the arrow touched him.

In swordsmanship class, half certainly attracted more attention than anyone else. To put it simply, people like the Emperor and Zeo were stronger, but..... I knew those who knew how to see. In this position, it's half as important to understand each of these swordsmanships.

Naturally, Van was forced to have more friends. Even if it wasn't the early family behind him, Van was attractive enough by himself. Needless to say, especially those who decided to walk the path of prosecution.

”It's weird."

A gathering of swordsmanship professors, said Professor Spill Dalton.

"In this place, where only the native is, the one who holds nothing is at the center. ”

"... sometimes there were people like that. 'Glass' did the same, and..."

”Blessings of God don't flow with blood. ”

I was pretty unlucky for the five of them right away. They were also students of the academy without any native status. Lampalaku mutters.

”Thanks to him, other lazy nobles are quite aroused. ”

”Not bad. Surviving a lot of first-graders is a good thing for the kingdom. ’ '

"…… it's been a month now? ''

"Yeah, it's time to start that class. ''

"A lot of people are going to get away. I'll stop crying and blowing. You'll realize your limitations. ”

The Department of Knights of the Citadel Academy recruits about two hundred students each year.

Unlike admission, however, there were fewer than a hundred graduates. If they continued to be paid, they often dropped out on their own, and if they did not want to make any progress, it was hard to count those who were expelled by hand.

Raku murmured.

"If you don't cross the line, you don't deserve to stay in the academy."

§

'Is this..... a memory at the border?'

Van has always slept with the sword of glass in his arms. If Glass had seen it, it would have been quite astonishing, but fortunately she was not here. No, it wasn't in this world.

— The Knight Glass kept the last of the North.

Dalton said so. When I heard that, Van didn't have much appetite all day. It felt like an old friend had left.

That's why I was forced to sleep with her sword even more. His teacher and friend, who had never seen his face before, was still alive as much as in a dream.

Van looked at her sword. I saw her enemies. Sometimes it was a light battle, sometimes a fierce fight. She cuts bandits, she cuts ghosts, she cuts things.

From the days when her sword wasn't right, to the splendor. Van watched her grow slowly and gladly.

One inspector facing his own wall. One by one of the walls that was so easy to jump in half, that I ran over everything, that I was pure and disgusting. As a prosecutor, how can you not feel anything while looking at him?

The beginning is sympathetic.

And empathy.

Then, thirst.

Only then did Van realize that my sword wanted more than just a battle with his friends.

An opponent who has more power than that and the will and reason to kill him.

I wonder if I can get him to throw everything he's got.

I wanted to feel the moment when the blood was fried, the sound of shouting went away, and anger and sadness were just covered in excitement.

'Focus, Van.'

Every time he does, Van whips himself. Even an examination that was as strong as glass didn't save my life. He did not yet have the right to experience reality.

That thirst, that blunder raised him. His swordsmanship, which spilled arrows and blades, became smoother, and he was able to lay down even the machetes and stop them.

When his stabbing could scatter even the wind that was passing around him, quite a number of people were wielding knives with him, or wielding my weapons.

There's a spirit.

Zeo.

Warriors of the Early Family.

Those who bear the name of the family,

Or even those with no names to carry.

The heat of the freshmen eclipsed the spring of Citadel like a summer.

And that same spring, the Academy threw firewood to burn their heat.

— All article trainees attending the academy, prepare to head to the border.

There were no different names in that class.

However, the students made a half-joke and called it a retreat.

"..... since already? ''

"Ugh, I still need to prepare my mind..."

"Those ghosts are coming, aren't they? Do any of them have a virgin ghost? ''

”Crazy bastard. Do you want to do that now?"

"You're not gonna die, are you? We? ''

".... Are you going to die? ”

Tension. Expectation. Fear. The whirlpool of young emotions has become worthless and thrown up. But when the retreat was announced, Van pulled out the knife instead of the horse.

"Finally."

When I closed my eyes, I saw the things the glass stood against. The same thing once seemed irresistible to the teapot, but from some point on, even the feeling seemed ridiculous..... I could see half of it.

And now it's time to feel that way.

There will be a lot of shortfalls. He had neither the power of the Seconds, nor the foresight of this family, nor the skill of Glass.

However, the hand that only the herb had been grabbed in its lifetime had become quite a match for the knife.

The face of a boy who was just a kid,

It was something of an examination.

That's enough.