Chapter 11: Mentor (3)

That day, the swamp orc that attacked Yuria wasn’t an ordinary one.

Despite sustaining wounds severe enough to kill, it stood back up as if nothing had happened.

Moreover, it displayed even greater strength than before it fell, with red glowing eyes and an emanating aura.

These were the hallmark signs of the abnormal status [Berserk].

Two days before the terrorist attack, I had delivered an artifact capable of inducing this [Berserk] state to the Beltus Cult.

Yes, that’s right. The ‘Might of the Giant.’

Suddenly, memories of playing Heroes of Frey came to mind.

While playing the game, you’d encounter various beasts.

Among them were a few rare variants with unique abilities.

I don’t recall ever questioning, “Why? How did they become variants?” back then.

Anyone would feel the same.

Who plays a game while questioning every detail?

You just assume they’re monsters with a slightly stronger setting and keep playing.

But here, I came face-to-face with the truth behind something the main story never revealed.

Experimental subjects infused with the special abilities of artifacts.

That was the origin of these variants.

Of course, with only one sample—the swamp orc—it’s still just a hypothesis, but I was almost certain.

The Beltus Cult was more than capable of such things.

Anyway.

Considering this, one could say I bore some responsibility for Yuria’s near-death experience.

After all, I was the one who delivered the ‘Might of the Giant.’

A mix of guilt and relief lingered in a corner of my heart.

“What are you thinking about?”

Having checked her wounds, Yuria crouched beside me.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yes. Actually, I’m in great condition. My body’s warmed up, and this time, I think I can show you my true skills.”

“Again with that? I told you, I’ve already gauged your abilities.”

I chuckled and looked at Yuria.

She was digging a hole in the ground with a small twig, looking slightly sulky with her lips pursed… or maybe not.

Hard to tell.

“So? What’s your evaluation of me? Did I meet your expectations? Or exceed them?”

“Not at all. Below expectations.”

Her lips tightened ever so slightly.

Yup, definitely sulking.

Thanks to my sharp perception, I was starting to read her expressions a bit better.

Then, Yuria suddenly stood up.

“What? Why’re you standing? I said we’re not sparring again.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Hey, sit down! I’m not done talking.”

There was still one thing I needed to confirm.

“Hey, you.”

I spoke in a low tone, dragging out my words for a moment.

To make it clear this was a super important topic.

Then I continued.

“Why didn’t you use that strength during our spar just now?”

I could feel Yuria’s body stiffen as if struck by lightning.

It was the first time I’d seen her, usually so stoic, react with such agitation, and it threw me off.

I was just probing, but this reaction? Doesn’t this practically confirm it?

“What? Strength?”

But her words were the complete opposite.

“I know everything.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, senior.”

Man, she’s a terrible liar.

How can someone be this bad at it?

“Speak properly.”

“No, really, I…”

“I saw you fight the swamp orc. From start to finish. Compared to that, your performance in our spar was less than half your real ability. Am I wrong?”

“…You saw. What a shame.”

Did she really think she could fool me with that shoddy acting?

“Why didn’t you use it? Is there a reason you have to hide it? Or were you planning to use it if we sparred again?”

At first, I thought she might be connected to the Beltus Cult, like me.

But I quickly dismissed that idea.

If she were linked to the cult, she wouldn’t have nearly died to the swamp orc in the first place.

Plus, her desire to protect that mother and child was genuine.

That leaves only one possibility: the special ability of an artifact.

I focused on the light armor she wore that day.

Considering she was in a casual shirt today, not armor, my suspicion grew stronger.

“I’m asking because I already know, so just tell me. As your mentor, I have the right to understand every detail about you.”

“Every detail?”

“Uh? I mean, um, what I’m saying is, as your mentor, I need to know you well to provide the right guidance and solutions.”

“I understand.”

Thankfully, Yuria seemed to take my words the right way.

Blinking her dark eyes a few times, she spoke up.

“What I used that day was magic.”

“I knew it! I figured it was an artifact…”

“Huh?”

“…I mean, magic?”

“Yes.”

I widened my eyes, staring at her as she nodded.

Magic?

So, not an artifact’s special ability, but magic?

My gaze instinctively dropped to the sword at her waist.

Then I looked back up, staring blankly at her face.

“You’re a magic swordsman?”

Yuria bit her lower lip without answering.

* * *

Magic swordsman.

They are outcasts in this world.

Why? Because they combine swordsmanship and magic, two visions that directly contradict the inherent values and traditions of each.

To swordsmen, who take immense pride in their vision of swordsmanship, magic is nothing more than a cheap trick.

The reverse is true as well.

This is why the Central Knights, the premier organization for swordsmen, and the Special Magic Corps, the top organization for mages, are on bad terms.

But beyond these societal issues, there’s a practical reason swordsmanship and magic cannot coexist in one body.

It’s due to the ‘specificity of mana.’

Mana cannot be forced.

It cannot be directed, drawn out, or concentrated.

That’s why mages meditate to create a ‘mana circuit’ within their bodies.

By forming a mana circuit, they act as a conduit to nature, sharing mana to cast magic. That’s the mages’ method.

Swordsmen, of course, use mana too.

They gather mana in their bodies to enhance their physique or wield superhuman strength.

But, as mentioned, mana cannot be concentrated in one place.

Hence, the ‘aura training method’ was developed.

Physical fighters convert mana into aura through this method, storing it in their bodies for use.

In other words, the two visions, with entirely different resources and mechanisms, cannot coexist in one body.

That’s the accepted theory.

But sometimes, the world sees inexplicable phenomena that defy the laws of nature.

There’s one person in this world who has overcome these practical issues and societal prejudices with monstrous skill: a magic swordsman.

His name is Sigaro Isaac.

A legendary figure who rose from a common soldier to the Royal Knights, the empire’s most elite martial organization.

Gifted with extraordinary talent in both swordsmanship and magic, he is the only officially recognized magic swordsman in the Frey Empire.

All others are treated as riffraff or thieves—that’s the world’s view of magic swordsmen.

And this girl in front of me, who’s already skilled in swordsmanship, claims to have learned magic too?

An irregular like Sigaro Isaac, defying the world’s laws?

I stared at her in disbelief, and Yuria averted her eyes as she spoke.

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t use it anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because this is the academy.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

Well, using magic here would instantly earn her a bad reputation, so it’s a reasonable thought.

Plus, Yuria has talent in swordsmanship.

She’s aware of it herself.

It seems she views magic as a shackle that could hinder her growth.

All perfectly normal reactions.

“….”

But why?

Suddenly, I felt like I was missing something crucial.

What was it?

Racking my brain, I finally pinpointed what I’d overlooked.

It was a single scene.

Yuria fighting the swamp orc to protect the mother and child.

In that scene, I had missed one critical fact.

How could I have overlooked this?

My expression must have been serious, because Yuria looked at me with a questioning gaze.

“What’s wrong?”

Ignoring her, I continued my thoughts.

Yuria, enhancing her body with magic, overwhelming the swamp orc with incredible sword speed.

The key point is this part.

The fact that she ‘used magic.’

Let’s recall the situation.

At that time, the surrounding mana field was frozen due to the aftermath of the beast pouch, a vicious terrorist weapon.

Using magic in such conditions is something even decent mana control couldn’t achieve.

Unless you’re a high-level mage with exceptional mental fortitude, you’d suffer from mana backlash, or worse, become crippled.

In fact, several of my peers in the psychology department and some juniors from the 889th class were injured by mana backlash that day.

But Yuria? Did she suffer any damage?

No. She defeated the swamp orc handily.

What does this imply?

Finishing my thoughts, I locked eyes with Yuria.

Perhaps my intense gaze made her uncomfortable, because she slightly turned her head away.

I didn’t care.

My mind was already intoxicated by the conclusion I’d reached.

Unparalleled mana control and talent with the sword.

A person with all the qualities to become a magic swordsman is standing right in front of me.

“Hey, you.”

Swallowing hard, I spoke in the most serious tone.

“Let’s properly learn magic.”

“No way.”

I scratched my cheek.

“That’s firm.”

Firm as a pumpkin.

“….”

Okay! Fair enough.

I got too excited and pushed too hard.

Slowly.

Let’s persuade her bit by bit.

“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, I don’t think negatively of magic swordsmen. Actually, I think highly of them.”

Yuria’s dark eyes stared at me intently.

As if checking if I was sincere.

“Why?”

“Because a magic swordsman is stronger than a swordsman or a mage. It’s a perfect position that compensates for the weaknesses of both visions, excelling in both offense and defense. Take Sir Sigaro of the Royal Knights, for example. Even other Royal Knights hesitate to face his sword, infused with magic.”

Of course, that’s because Sigaro is a monster, but still.

“I see that kind of potential in you. I know, you don’t believe me. But hear me out. Everyone has a different affinity for mana, right? It’s critical for wielding magic. Some people have to strain their brains to barely cast a spell, while others do it as naturally as breathing.”

“….”

“And you’re like that, aren’t you? That’s proof you have talent for magic…”

I glanced at Yuria while passionately explaining.

At some point, she’d pulled out an oilcloth and was wiping her sword.

Her expression showed zero interest.

My words were going in one ear and out the other, like some high-pass filter.

…Like a dog barking.

Fine. I’ll bark more.

I kept barking for a while before returning to the dorm.

* * *

My eyes fell on the mentor application form tossed on my desk.

I sat down and opened it.

Entrance rank: 32nd. Specialty: swordsmanship. Yuria’s basic personal details were listed.

Naturally, there wasn’t a single mention of magic or anything related.

“Who taught her?”

I knew roughly how Yuria learned her swordsmanship.

She said she grew up in a mercenary band from a young age.

It was an environment where she naturally picked up swordsmanship.

But magic?

Unlike swordsmanship, which can be self-taught with money and effort, magic cannot be learned alone.

From sensing mana to opening mana circuits to forming spells—none of it can be done solo.

Regardless of talent, magic is a discipline that requires at least a mentor to point you in the right direction at the start.

That’s why cadets typically receive early education from their family or a school.

In contrast, Yuria’s application listed no such affiliations.

“Did she learn this in the mercenary band too?”

…But a mercenary band with a mage would have to be massive.

If she grew up in a band like that, she wouldn’t have ended up a wanderer drifting into the academy.

“It’s not critical right now, so I’ll put it on hold.”

I roughly folded the application and stuffed it in a drawer.

I haven’t given up.

Since I chose her as my right-hand person, I plan to do my best to help her grow.

Even after the mentorship ends.

It’s partly because I want to help her, but I also have my own reasons.

What Yuria needs right now is confidence.

Confidence that she truly has talent for magic.

And belief that she can pursue both swordsmanship and magic.

But she has to realize this herself.

No matter how much I try to persuade her, like I did earlier, it’s useless if she doesn’t accept it.

Plus, I’m a martial arts major specializing in swordsmanship, completely unrelated to magic.

“Hmm. Now that I think about it, it’s only natural it sounded like nonsense.”

But the time will come.

This is the academy, where prodigies fiercely compete.

That environment will surely ignite her desire to grow stronger, and that will lead her to reconsider magic.

And when that time comes, she’ll bring it up herself.

Pushing her forcefully will only backfire, like earlier, breeding resentment.

I just need to do my part and patiently wait for her to speak up.

I checked my lecture schedule.

A suffocating timetable packed with first- and second-year courses stared back at me.

All thanks to the mess Gerard left behind.

Ugh, I can only sigh.

When I think about juggling extracurricular activities and mentorship on top of this…

Well, maybe overwork will be the death of me in this life.

“Cleaning up a mess I don’t even remember making.”

I chuckled and prepared for tomorrow’s lectures.

The next day.

As usual, I woke up at dawn and started the day with a jog.

Under the shade of a large old tree, I sat on a bench to rest when I heard a rustle nearby.

Glancing over, I saw a note on the bench that hadn’t been there before.

In the distance, I spotted Luis, disguised as a janitor, walking away.

Three words immediately popped into my head.

Here. It. Comes.

The moment had arrived.

I casually slipped the note into my sleeve, returned to the dorm, and checked the request inside.

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