The Academy’s Hard-Headed Swordmaster

Aura clashed against aura, each trying to devour the other.

The Aura Blades tore at each other, but ultimately, neither could pierce the other’s domain, retreating back to their respective origins.

In a duel where a victor couldn’t be decided by aura alone, the outcome would be determined by honed physique and skill.

‘I finally understand.’

The moment I grasped the answer to why Aura Masters were called Sword Saints, I surpassed a wall within myself.

Intense exhilaration and elation washed over me, but I couldn’t afford to be swept away by such sensations.

Master or not, my physical condition was abysmal.

I was in a state where death wouldn’t be surprising, unable to even move if not for the reinforcement of my aura.

‘The Aura Blade… is a supplementary ability granted after rigorous sword training.’

The secret techniques of my family, the finishing moves that manipulated aura to end an opponent, were merely ordinary strikes for Masters.

Hearing that, I finally understood.

Aura was merely a supplementary element.

While talent in aura was necessary to imbue one’s body or weapon with it, skill was what was needed to reach a higher realm.

Swordsmanship that transcended its limits created the Aura Blade.

I didn’t know the principle behind it. It was incomprehensible. I could only grasp it through experience.

‘The important thing right now—is to defeat this guy.’

However, what truly mattered at this moment wasn’t understanding the creation of the Aura Blade, but defeating Chantalka and returning alive.

‘Swoosh!’

As the aura-imbued sword swung, a streak of pure white light followed its trajectory.

From afar, their fight resembled a dazzling display of two shimmering stars.

“You move well for someone in your state!”

Chantalka parried my sword with an air of leisure.

He was likely the most aware of my precarious condition.

Indeed, my body was far from its peak. I couldn’t drag this out.

I had to aim for a single decisive blow.

Both he and I knew this.

‘So… it’s time to—.’

As I fiercely swung my sword, I purposely created an opening.

Chantalka, noticing the vulnerability, lunged forward with his sword as if he’d been waiting for this very moment.

He seemed to believe that someone as injured as myself couldn’t possibly offer an opening and then counterattack.

He was right.

A body riddled with injuries couldn’t afford to trade flesh for bone.

I would lose my life in the attempt.

That would be true, if I were alone.

‘Thud!’

“Ugh…!?”

An ice spear flew from afar.

Only then did Chantalka seem to realize someone was behind him.

I watched Chantalka, who had exposed his own weakness while exploiting mine.

His expression was filled with the realization of his mistake.

Determined not to repeat his error, I immediately swung my sword, severing his head.

Light that cut through everything it touched enveloped the Great Warrior, and the barbarian Great Warrior, who had plagued the North for decades, fell to his knees.

Only after confirming with my own eyes that Chantalka’s head had fallen and his body had collapsed to the ground did I finally lose consciousness.

‘Thump’

With the cold snow as my blanket and the distant shouts as my lullaby, I began to dream a dream I might never awaken from.

***

“Kyle!”

The Duke, who had been supporting Kyle from afar with magic, immediately flew towards him upon seeing him finally behead Chantalka.

The one who had plagued the North for decades, the figure who represented his family’s long-standing grudge, had fallen, but the Duke had no time to spare for him.

“Are you alright… No, you’re on the verge of death.”

Reaching Kyle’s side, the Duke immediately realized the gravity of his condition.

Blood flowed freely from wounds all over his body, from his mouth, nose, eyes – likely every orifice.

Even if he recovered, it seemed likely he would suffer lifelong repercussions, so severe were his injuries.

The Duke used magic to stabilize Kyle’s body and then slowly lifted him.

It was common knowledge in the North that moving a severely injured patient roughly could be fatal.

‘Crack!’

“What?”

As the Duke lifted Kyle, he heard an unfamiliar cracking sound coming from his body.

The sound was unsettling, so the Duke gathered his remaining magic power and swiftly returned beyond the Great Wall.

Soldiers and knights rushed towards the Duke as he landed on the Great Wall. He shouted, his voice booming across the area.

“Priest! And Military Doctor! Tell them to bring potions to the operating room!”

“Yes, yes!”

The soldiers of the North had never witnessed the Duke raise his voice like this.

Rumor had it that he had reacted to the birth of his own daughter with a mere “Is that so?”

He was known as an indifferent nobleman.

The effect of the Duke’s bellow was indeed significant.

Before he even reached the operating room, the Priest and Military Doctor were already waiting for him, wiping beads of sweat from their brows

Carrying Kyle into the operating room, the Duke placed him on the operating table covered with a clean cloth.

The Military Doctor and medics quickly cut and removed Kyle’s clothes, revealing the extent of his injuries.

Upon seeing the wounds, the Priest immediately began to pray.

“God, grant courage to this poor lamb—.”

The primary powers of Divine Power – blessing and healing – enveloped Kyle’s body.

As the Divine Power mended his wounds, the Military Doctor inserted a needle into Kyle’s arm, administering potions.

Once the blood clots were cleaned, the risk of infection assessed, and any internal debris removed, the Doctor and Priest’s roles were complete.

The rest was up to fate.

“My prayers are finished.”

“The injuries are severe, but… not fatal. He’s surprisingly robust, perhaps because he’s a knight—.”

‘Crack!’

At that moment, a grotesque cracking sound emanated from Kyle’s body.

Those who heard it recoiled in shock, resuming their prayers and reassessing Kyle’s condition.

“Wh, what’s happening…?”

“God—grant your mercy to this lamb…”

As the two were bewildered by the inexplicable phenomenon, only the Duke, who had brought Kyle himself, calmly explained the situation.

“He’s undergoing Transformation.”

“—Pardon? What does that—”

“Transformation…?”

The Military Doctor and Priest looked at the Duke with disbelief.

Transformation.

It was a special phenomenon experienced by those who reached the Master level.

It was perhaps understandable that the two hadn’t immediately recognized this phenomenon, despite its fame even in a place lacking Master-level individuals.

This was because the Kyle before their eyes was still a youthful man, barely old enough to have grown a beard.

“Your Grace, does that mean he’s…”

“Indeed. He’s a Master.”

“I believe the youngest record was in their thirties…”

“It seems that record will be halved today.”

At the Duke’s words, the Military Doctor tilted his head, as if he had misheard.

Their ignorance of Kyle’s identity only added to their confusion.

Finally, overcome by curiosity, the Military Doctor cautiously addressed the Duke.

“If I may ask, how old is he—?”

“Don’t you know? He’s my son-in-law. The same age as my daughter.”

“Pardon? Your Grace’s daughter is certainly…”

“Yes, fifteen this year.”

Those who reached the Master level in their thirties were called geniuses.

Then, what should one call someone who became a Master in their teens?

The two didn’t know.

“……Then, we shall administer nutrients.”

“Do so.”

Understanding that there was no need to comprehend the incomprehensible, the two simply accepted the situation.

They administered additional nutrients and potions to aid Kyle’s Transformation and left the room.

‘Crack, crack—.’

Within the empty room, the eerie cracking sound continued to resonate.

***

“I almost died.”

When I opened my eyes, an unfamiliar ceiling greeted me.

However, I knew I was in the Grace Duke’s Mansion.

Because right beside me—my fiancée, Yuri, was looking down at me with a very cold expression.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“……Is something wrong?”

I rolled my eyes to look at Yuri.

Her expression wasn’t much different from when we last met, but somehow, I knew she was expressing displeasure.

Was this also a Master’s ability?

To subtly sense the emotions of others?

Yuri nodded, looking down at me as I lay in bed, only my mouth moving.

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

“—Isn’t it common sense to seek out your fiancée first when you arrive at her family’s home?”

Yuri said so, perched on the edge of my bed, looking down at me.

Hearing her words, I grinned, admitting she was right.

Seeing me smile, Yuri furrowed her brows, a nearly imperceptible 1mm movement, expressing her discontent.

Seeing that, I burst into laughter.

“Hahaha—!”

“……What’s so funny?”

“Yuri, smile.”

“No.”

“No, you can now. Your father can’t get rid of me anymore.”

Even if I were a good-for-nothing who drank and beat his wife, the Duke would have no choice but to reconsider breaking off the engagement.

He couldn’t afford to lose a knight who became a Sword Saint in his teens.

Yuri tilted her head at my words, asking back.

“My father?”

“Yes. Want to go ask him yourself?”

“……Hmm. I’ll believe you.”

Yuri said so, closed her eyes for a moment, and concentrated.

And a moment later—she bloomed a bright, sun-like smile.

“Ah.”

The Duchess had said that her daughter’s smile was so beautiful that countless men had fallen for her.

It seemed her words weren’t false.

“…Kyle?”

Returning to her usual cold, indifferent expression, Yuri tilted her head as if asking what was wrong. I shook my head

at her question.

“No, nothing.”

I just fell for you.

Once again—I felt satisfied that she was my fiancée.

***

The Count, who had rushed to the Duke’s mansion, said to me as I lay in bed.

“Go to the Academy.”

“Pardon?”

…Me? There?