026

As I walked through the academy grounds, students who recognized me greeted me.

“Hello!”

“Teacher, I signed up for your class too!”

“Yes, hello. Thank you.”

The scene was a little different than before.

Not all the students had come to acknowledge me.

It was more like they were just waiting to see, since people like Bridget, Pan, and Rozalin were following me.

The reason for this division in students’ evaluations was simple.

‘I was teaching swordsmanship theory in a difficult way.’

I didn't realize it when I was sneered at as a third-rate swordsman who was weak-bodied and couldn't even swing a sword properly.

No matter how much I agonized over conducting my classes, I could excuse the lack of recognition by blaming my body.

My teaching wasn't wrong.

A pride I didn't even know I had was building a wall.

But I realized it while teaching Rozalin's swordsmanship.

‘Students are students.’

They were students because they hadn't properly learned anything yet and had to learn in the future.

I was running in circles, not knowing that simple truth.

‘Avril’s event wasn’t all bad.’

Class C was composed of students with no talent for the sword, little enthusiasm for learning, and low comprehension and achievement.

Unlike when I used to go back and forth between classes for swordsmanship lessons, from freshmen to seniors, focusing on teaching one class increased the concentration of education.

Besides, there was the short-term goal of defeating a Class A student, so I had to hold onto each and every student and somehow make it work.

‘I have to make those who don't understand, understand.’

The place I arrived at was the instructors' dormitory.

Though it was called a dormitory, it was practically a private house provided within the academy.

A bed and desk, a kitchen for light cooking, and even a small room with a bookshelf and closet.

It was a house sufficient for a single adult man to live in.

‘Let’s see.’

As soon as I arrived, I headed to my desk.

Several notebooks filled with complex memos were strewn about there.

Books were also piled haphazardly here and there on the desk.

They were all the manuals I could get my hands on.

“Heave-ho.”

After organizing the books, I sat down in a chair.

Then I read through the memos of my swordsmanship,

‘……It's difficult.’

Reading it from a step back, I could see it.

This book was filled with my inferiority complex and desires.

The foolishness of those who didn't acknowledge me.

The incompetence of ordinary swordsmen who taught by rule of thumb.

Me, arrogant and lonely, facing all of that alone.

And after reading the whole manual, I.

‘I'm so embarrassed.’

I buried myself in the bed.

Wow, damn it, I'd been writing that not for a year or two, but for several years?

Why didn't I realize it while I was writing it?

What did I think the students' level was, at this rate.

Thump, thump, thump!

I kicked my legs on the bed several times, and the blanket rippled each time.

It was a good thing I realized I was wrong now.

I had to rewrite it.

I sat blankly, picked up a pen, and opened a notebook.

What would be a good first sentence?

It had to be a sentence that pierced through the swordsmanship I would explain in the future, and a sentence that should be the foundation of all swords.

The first sentence of the swordsmanship theory book I wrote before was unreadable.

― In the end, the trajectory of any swordsmanship is bound to be a single line, and any swordsmanship that does not speak of the line is a half-measure.

I couldn't make the same mistake, so this time, I made it a little simpler.

And yet, able to talk about everything.

Not arrogant, but with confidence in the path I've walked.

After pondering for a long time, I decided on the first sentence.

I slowly dipped the pen nib in ink and started writing.

― The sword exists, and the body wields it. It is the body that begins the path of the sword, and it is the body that completes the sword.

If my previous writing clung only to swordsmanship itself and rambled on with various nagging, my current writing emphasized honing the body.

While fostering students' physical strength through basic training, I could also guide them to naturally incorporate their existing swordsmanship.

‘Good.’

Once I wrote the first sentence, the following sentences came naturally.

The sound of the pen moving across the paper continued, with a soft scratching.

It was a sound that calmed the mind and helped concentration.

I spent that night until late organizing theories, refining embarrassing sentences, and pouring my efforts into correcting the somewhat messy content.

The next day.

As soon as my class finished, I headed straight to the library.

Located between the old and new buildings, the library was a small building slightly off the shaded walkway.

A lawn was spread around the small two-story building, and students who enjoyed reading would borrow books and read them here.

Clank.

As soon as I opened the old door, the musty smell of paper rushed in.

From the dry, well-preserved paper and the creaking of old wood, to the dust that flew like fairies in the light seeping through the window frame.

It was just the boundary of a single door, but it felt like opening it revealed another world.

“Teacher, it’s been a while.”

The librarian guarding the library greeted me.

She was a grandmother with a benevolent impression, and I was told she was a former professor who had taught ethics and liberal arts to students here long ago.

She loved books, so she had settled here and was spending her later years as a librarian.

“These days, the students are all busy swinging their swords, so they don’t come often. It’s nice to see you. The academy is bustling, I hear?”

“It’s been a bit noisy lately.”

“Thanks to that, our library has also received quite a few new books for the new building. I've put them in section C on the second floor, so take your time looking.”

“Thank you.”

As the librarian told me, I headed to section C on the second floor.

There, books that hadn't been fully organized yet were piled up from the floor to about waist-high.

It seemed that since an elderly person was managing the library alone, such organization was bound to be slow.

‘Since not many students come anyway.’

But I liked this silence and tranquility.

As I browsed the books, most of them were about history, liberal arts, and public administration.

Perhaps they were textbooks or reference books to supplement the classes in Class C.

I picked out books on how to move the body, how to wield a sword, tactical manuals, and histories of the nobility, and moved to the window by the library wall.

The warm sunlight streamed in, making me feel slightly warm.

I sat down and calmly examined the books.

‘Good. I can use this.’

With that thought, I skimmed through the books.

I had asked Rozalin for a week.

It seemed I could roughly organize and refine the contents of the books in about four days.

‘And let’s throw away all the old notebooks.’

That kind of trash shouldn't remain in this world.

I had thrown the first finished volume into the trash can right away yesterday.

By now, it would probably be a pile of ashes in the flames of the incinerator.

* * *

Rozalin was patrolling the vicinity of Akarind Academy as usual.

Occasionally, students who met her eyes would flinch and move away.

For the past few days, the notoriety of Guard Captain Rozalin had spread widely throughout Akarind Academy.

“Did you commit a crime? If you didn’t, there’s no need to avoid me like that, right?!”

“Ahaha, haha, n-no!”

When Rozalin glared with a sharp intake of breath, the students, unable to go either way, didn’t know what to do and scuttled away.

Watching them, Rozalin snorted.

She was working harder as the guard captain of Akarind Academy than one might think.

First, it was because it was a place full of memories.

‘Wow, our academy is so nice. Small, cozy, small, small…… Tsk, should I tell Avril to invest in some expansion construction?’

Walking around Akarind Academy made her heart feel warm and fuzzy.

It was a feeling she couldn't experience when she was rolling around on the battlefield.

It was an emotion she hadn't even felt a few days ago when she went to the Marquisate of Vürhelm.

This place felt completely like home.

‘Am I getting sentimental because Teacher Cassian is teaching me various things?’

The second reason was Cassian.

When she thought of Teacher Cassian, she would start humming to herself.

He was just as he was in her memories, in his youth.

To be able to save the world and protect him.

‘Kuh. This is heaven.’

If only she succeeded.

That was why Rozalin meticulously formulated her strategy, examining every nook and cranny of Akarind Academy.

‘The only water source for this village is the northern river. That means, if the battle drags on, we need personnel to secure the water source first. Would it be right to set up a water and sewage system first?’

‘The old building of Akarind Academy is more useful for defense in terms of location. Since there are mountains nearby, if we dig an artificial cave and store daily necessities inside, we can use it as a temporary shelter.’

‘The new building would make a good barrier if it collapses. I should also consider placing magic scrolls in advance so that the new building can be blown up.’

The demon that appeared a year later attacked Akarind Academy and disappeared.

Individual unknown.

Number of deaths, about 500.

All the students and instructors attending Akarind Academy at that time died.

Seeing as the damage didn't extend to the villagers, it probably wasn't a very strong individual.

The students and instructors of the academy must have all rushed to fight the demon and eventually defeated it.

‘They could handle it even with the unprepared academy personnel.’

Then, if they were properly prepared, they should be able to defeat the demon with minimal damage.

‘Teacher Cassian will live a long and healthy life, humanity's swordsmanship level will rise, and it’ll be a happy ending!’

So she had no choice but to do her best as the guard captain!

It was while she was patrolling the dormitory street where the instructors stayed.

“Hm?”

For a moment, her intuition was drawn to a trash can left on the street.

Perhaps because she had rolled around on the battlefield for a long time.

Her intuition was developed to the point of being almost magical.

Usually, she felt this kind of intuition when something that could be helpful to her was nearby.

‘What is it?’

Rozalin approached the trash can.

In the small trash can, a couple of old, worn-out notebooks were thrown away.

Some pages were old, frayed, and torn.

Rozalin picked up one of the pages.

― In the end, its trajectory is bound to be a single line, and any swordsmanship that does not speak of the line is a half-measure.

― A sword cannot reach its end without a starting point. A good sword has a clear destination. If the trajectory of the sword is to cut, stab, and block the opponent, that is decided before it even starts.

― A swordsman who does not know their purpose…….

Rozalin recognized at a glance that it was a notebook summarizing swordsmanship theory.

‘Did Teacher throw this away?’

Cassian was trying to create a new swordsmanship theory by collecting various swordsmanship theories and re-establishing them.

It seemed to be a swordsmanship theory book collected in that process.

‘Quite arrogant, aren’t they?’

The sentences were filled with a peculiar arrogant and haughty feeling.

A laugh escaped her.

‘But…….’

Only at first.

‘This.’

The more she read, the more her smile faded.

Reading the sentences that were simply arrogant, it felt as if the figure of a great person was emerging.

It was the back of a swordsman who had wielded a sword for a long time.

Countless experiences in the mire had created a body that was both solid and covered in scars.

She could almost feel the heightened aura, ready to respond instantly to an attack from anywhere at any time.

‘A master. A truly great one…….’

He looked down upon and unraveled the countless swordsmen and swordsmanships whose names she had heard of.

The corpses of countless swordsmen were strewn at the swordsman's feet.

‘He’s throwing something like this away……?’

Just how high was the level of the basic swordsmanship theory book that Teacher was preparing?

She felt a shiver run down her arm.

‘I should take this for now.’

Rozalin quickly picked up the swordsmanship theory book.

Teacher's swordsmanship theory would surely be excellent, but given his personality, it would certainly be difficult to learn.

So, until then, analyzing and practicing this swordsmanship would surely be helpful.

‘Let's call Hati and Sordian. No, it’s bad luck, but should I call Avril too? More heads are better than one for deciphering swordsmanship, right?’

Cassian, studying in the library, shivered from an unknown chill.

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