Refugee in Own Land

"Sophia..."

A familiar voice echoed behind us.

"Are you alright?"

Sophia's vacant eyes suddenly widened.

Slowly...

She lifted her head.

A broad figure stood before us like an unshakable fortress.

Fresh blood splattered across his back as he shielded us from the goblin's descending blade with nothing but his own body.

"...Lucas?"

Her trembling voice barely escaped her lips.

Without answering, Lucas calmly raised his sword.

Mana surged through the blade, coating the steel in a brilliant azure glow.

In one swift motion-

SHING!

The goblin split cleanly in two.

Its upper body slid away before crashing heavily onto the blood-soaked ground.

Before the remaining goblins could even react-

Lucas moved again.

His sword danced like flowing water.

One strike.

One corpse.

Another step.

Another corpse.

Within seconds...

Every goblin that had charged toward us lay motionless upon the earth.

...

...He's absurdly strong.

I had known Father possessed remarkable strength.

But witnessing it firsthand...

Was an entirely different experience.

The goblins that had nearly killed Mother and me...

Were dispatched as effortlessly as weeds beneath a farmer's sickle.

Lucas sheathed his sword before turning toward Sophia.

"Sophia."

His voice remained composed despite the blood dripping from his shoulder.

"Wake up."

"We're in the middle of a battlefield."

He gently extended a hand toward her.

"Take Arzad..."

"And get somewhere safe."

"I'll protect your back."

Sophia stared blankly at him for a moment.

Then...

She finally nodded.

"...Okay."

Her body was still trembling.

Her breathing remained uneven.

The shock hadn't faded.

Not even close.

Yet she forced herself to stand.

Just before turning away-

She tightly grasped Lucas's sleeve.

"...Lucas."

Her voice quivered.

"Please..."

"Don't die."

"I beg you."

For the briefest moment...

Lucas smiled.

The same warm smile he always wore whenever he looked at our family.

"I'll come home."

He gently loosened her grip.

"Now go."

Sophia hugged me tightly against her chest before running toward the village.

Behind us...

The battle only grew fiercer.

---

At almost the same moment...

A group of village guards stormed into the battlefield from the opposite side.

"Captain Lucas!"

"We're here!"

Without wasting a second, they charged directly into the rear of the goblin formation.

The tide of battle shifted instantly.

The Goblin Riders had initially dominated through their superior mobility.

But inside the narrow village streets...

That advantage vanished.

The cramped terrain restricted their wolves' movements.

Every alley became a trap.

Every wooden fence became an obstacle.

Meanwhile...

The humans fought desperately for every inch of ground.

Magic illuminated the battlefield.

Fireballs exploded.

Stone spikes erupted from beneath charging wolves.

Arrows rained from rooftops.

Spears pierced exposed riders.

One after another...

The goblins fell.

The newly appointed goblin commander clicked his tongue in frustration.

"Tsk!"

He glanced around.

His forces were rapidly dwindling.

"Retreat!"

His roar echoed across the battlefield.

"Everyone retreat!!"

Without another word...

He leaped onto a nearby rooftop before disappearing into the forest beyond.

The surviving Goblin Riders immediately followed.

Before vanishing into the trees...

The commander turned back one final time.

His lone eye glowed with murderous hatred.

"You've made a terrible mistake..."

A sinister grin spread across his scarred face.

"Hehehe..."

"We'll be back."

Then-

They disappeared.

Leaving behind only corpses...

Smoke...

And silence.

---

The battle was over.

But nobody celebrated.

Romelo slowly lowered his spear.

His breathing was ragged.

Blood trickled down his arm from several shallow wounds.

"Lucas..."

He looked toward him.

"Should we pursue them?"

Lucas immediately shook his head.

"No."

"That would be a fatal mistake."

He looked toward the dark forest where the goblins had vanished.

"We don't know how many reinforcements are waiting out there."

His expression became unusually grim.

"Mr. Romelo..."

"We have to prepare."

"This village..."

He paused.

"...is no longer safe."

"They'll return."

"And next time..."

"There'll be far more of them."

Romelo clenched his fists.

The surrounding villagers lowered their heads.

Deep down...

Everyone knew Lucas was right.

---

"...This is all your fault!"

The sudden shout shattered the silence.

One of the villagers grabbed Romelo by the collar.

His face was twisted with grief and rage.

"You should've handed that woman over!"

"Now look what you've done!"

"Our village is ruined because of your decision!"

More voices quickly joined in.

"He's right!"

"My husband is dead because of you!"

"My brother too!"

"You got them killed!"

One accusation after another struck Romelo like arrows.

Yet...

He never resisted.

He simply lowered his head.

His hands hung weakly at his sides.

His voice was barely audible.

"...I'm sorry."

"My selfishness..."

"I-"

Thunk!

A stone struck his forehead.

Blood trickled down his face.

Romelo didn't even flinch.

Everyone turned.

A little girl stood several meters away.

Tears streamed endlessly down her cheeks.

Her tiny fists trembled violently.

"You killed my daddy!!"

Her scream pierced the air.

"Give him back!"

"Give my daddy back!!"

...

Silence followed.

Only then did I truly notice the battlefield around us.

Children crying beside lifeless bodies.

Wives embracing husbands who would never wake again.

Parents desperately shaking their fallen sons.

The marketplace...

Had become a graveyard.

The victory we had barely achieved...

Had cost far too much.

Some villagers glared at Romelo with burning hatred.

Others silently picked up stones from the ground.

One after another...

More fists tightened.

Lucas immediately stepped forward.

He stood between Romelo and the crowd.

Like a wall.

Like a shield.

Romelo remained motionless.

He didn't wipe away the blood running down his face.

He didn't defend himself.

He didn't offer excuses.

Perhaps...

He believed he deserved every ounce of their hatred.

After all...

The dead would never return.

And no apology...

Could ever change that.

-----

The confrontation never escalated.

Not because the villagers had forgiven Romelo.

But because they no longer had the strength to continue.

Hatred could wait.

Survival could not.

One by one, the remaining villagers gathered whatever belongings they could salvage.

Blankets.

Food.

Tools.

Family heirlooms.

Everything they could carry.

No one spoke.

No one looked back.

The village that had once been their home...

Their birthplace...

The place where generations of their families had lived...

Was abandoned before sunset.

Within an hour, the once-lively settlement had become eerily silent.

Only six people remained.

Romelo.

Lucas.

Sophia.

The mysterious silver-haired woman.

Myself.

And...

The lingering ghosts of those who had fallen.

---

Inside our home...

No one spoke for several minutes.

The silence was almost suffocating.

Then-

The silver-haired woman suddenly stood up.

She bowed so deeply that her forehead nearly touched the wooden floor.

"I'm..."

"I'm truly sorry."

Her voice trembled with guilt.

"I destroyed your village."

"I never should have brought them here."

"I-I..."

Before she could continue...

Romelo gently raised a hand.

"That's enough."

She slowly lifted her head.

"You came here seeking help."

"There is nothing shameful about that."

His expression remained calm.

"If anyone is to blame..."

"It is neither you..."

"...nor us."

He let out a weary sigh.

"This tragedy happened because of the bitter fate."

His words hung heavily in the room.

No one argued.

No one could.

---

Lucas folded his arms.

"So..."

"What do we do now?"

Romelo answered without hesitation.

"We leave."

His reply was immediate.

Firm.

Certain.

Sophia looked toward the window.

"But..."

"Where would we even go?"

"The capital has fallen."

She lowered her gaze.

"If the Kingdom of Elpis truly collapsed..."

She swallowed nervously.

"Then the major cities..."

"The provinces..."

"They're probably all under Nivgorod's rule by now."

Her voice became quieter.

"Humanity..."

"...is no longer safe on its own land."

As she spoke...

She gently rocked me in her arms, believing I had already fallen asleep.

...

Sleep?

At a time like this?

Impossible.

There's no way I'm missing a strategic meeting.

I remained perfectly still.

Pretending to sleep.

Listening to every word.

---

"I... have a suggestion."

The silver-haired woman timidly raised one hand.

Everyone turned toward her.

Lucas smiled gently.

"What is it, Isabella?"

"Don't be afraid."

Isabella hesitated for a moment.

Then took a deep breath.

"I think..."

"We should become nomads."

"...Nomads?"

Romelo frowned.

She nodded.

"If every major human settlement has already fallen..."

"Then trying to reclaim them now would be suicide."

She looked around the room.

"The wisest course of action..."

"...is to disappear."

"Travel."

"Hide."

"Survive."

Her voice gradually became firmer.

"There must be countless human refugees scattered throughout the continent."

"People hiding from slavery."

"People fleeing the monsters."

"If we gather them together..."

"We can rebuild."

"Not a kingdom..."

"But a new beginning."

Silence filled the room.

Not because they disagreed.

But because...

It made sense.

Romelo was the first to nod.

"...You're right."

His eyes slowly brightened.

"If humanity has truly lost its kingdom..."

"Then countless survivors must be wandering this world."

"If we can find them..."

"We won't have to start from nothing."

Lucas looked toward Sophia.

"What do you think?"

Sophia smiled softly.

A tired...

Yet trusting smile.

"I'll follow wherever you go."

"As long as we're together..."

"I'm happy."

Lucas chuckled.

"Then it's settled."

He stood up.

"In that case, we should begin preparing imme-"

Knock.

Knock.

Three gentle knocks interrupted him.

Everyone froze.

...

Someone's outside?

I thought every villager had already left.

Romelo cautiously approached the door.

His hand slowly rested on the handle.

"...Who's there?"

A young voice answered from outside.

"It's me."

"Hubert."

"Greg's son."

Romelo's eyes widened.

"...Hubert?"

He quickly opened the door.

Standing outside...

Was a boy around fifteen years old.

Dust covered his clothes.

His eyes were swollen from crying.

Yet despite that...

He stood perfectly straight.

Like someone who had already made up his mind.

---

Romelo lowered his head almost immediately.

"...Hubert."

His voice was heavy with guilt.

"Have you come..."

"...to take revenge for your father's death?"

Without another word...

He bowed deeply.

"I deserve whatever punishment you choose."

The boy's eyes widened in panic.

"W-Wait!"

He hurried forward and grabbed Romelo's shoulders.

"Please don't bow to me!"

"I didn't come here for that!"

Romelo slowly looked up.

"...Then why?"

Hubert clenched his fists.

His lips trembled.

"I came..."

"...because I want to go with you."

Everyone in the room fell silent.

"...What?"

Romelo stared at him in disbelief.

Hubert took a shaky breath.

"You said..."

"...that we must never kneel before our enemies."

He wiped away the tears streaming down his face.

"My father..."

"...used to tell me those exact same words."

A faint smile appeared through his grief.

"Even though he was only a merchant...And have no experience in swordmanship..."

"...he was the first person to step forward and fight beside you."

His voice cracked.

"I understand now..."

"Why."

Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I want..."

"...to follow in his footsteps."

"I turned back..."

"...because I knew I'd find you here."

For several seconds...

Romelo simply stared at him.

Then-

The village chief broke down.

He wrapped Hubert in a tight embrace.

His shoulders trembled violently.

"...Hubert..."

He sobbed openly.

"From this day onward..."

"I'll protect you..."

"...as though you were my own son."

Hubert silently nodded.

The room remained quiet.

Yet this time...

The silence no longer felt empty.

It carried hope.

Small.

Fragile.

But hope nonetheless.

---

The following morning...

Our journey began.

Six of us.

Two wagons loaded with supplies.

Enough food to last several weeks.

Lucas and Romelo sat at the front, guiding the caravan.

Sophia, Isabella, and I remained inside.

As the wheels began turning...

No one looked back.

Because there was nothing left to return to.

Thus...

Our lives as wanderers quietly began.

---

The journey proved far longer than any of us had imagined.

To avoid monsters...

We traveled through forgotten roads hidden deep within forests.

To avoid bandits...

We took winding mountain paths few travelers dared to use.

Sometimes we advanced only a few miles in an entire day.

There were nights of relentless rain.

Weeks when illness spread through the caravan.

Days when we were forced to stop because someone could no longer walk.

And throughout it all...

Mother cared for me tirelessly.

Six months passed.

At last...

We reached our destination safely.

By then...

I had finally learned to walk properly.

...

Finally...

Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for this moment?

A ninety-year-old genius trapped in a toddler's body for over a year...

That should qualify as psychological torture.

The instant the caravan came to a halt...

I climbed down onto the grass with both feet.

My first proper steps.

Into a completely new future.

-----

After six long months of travel...

We finally arrived.

The caravan rolled to a gradual stop atop a gentle hillside.

I eagerly climbed down from the wagon, stretching my legs before lifting my gaze toward the landscape ahead.

...

For a brief moment...

I forgot to breathe.

A vast forest stretched as far as the eye could see.

Ancient trees towered toward the heavens, their emerald canopies swaying beneath the afternoon breeze.

Crystal-clear rivers wound gracefully through the wilderness like ribbons of sapphire.

Beyond the forest...

A magnificent volcanic mountain range dominated the horizon.

Smoke drifted lazily from several dormant peaks.

Sleeping giants.

Silent.

Majestic.

Waiting.

...

Beautiful...

Absolutely breathtaking.

I slowly scanned the surrounding terrain.

My old habits immediately resurfaced.

Observe.

Analyze.

Evaluate.

The rivers.

The soil.

The mountains.

The forests.

Everything.

...

Excellent.

A freshwater source suitable for both agriculture and fishing.

Volcanic mountains rich in minerals.

Fertile volcanic soil.

An endless supply of timber.

Natural terrain perfect for defensive fortifications.

The excitement within me grew with every observation.

This place...

It's practically the Fertile Crescent of my previous world.

Whoever had chosen this location...

Had excellent judgment.

...

And...

We're no longer alone.

I turned around.

Behind our wagon stood several more caravans.

Families.

Merchants.

Former soldiers.

Farmers.

Blacksmiths.

Hunters.

People from different towns.

Different backgrounds.

Different lives.

Yet...

They all shared one thing.

They had lost everything.

Driven from their homes by the same enemy.

Bound together by the same hatred.

Seventy people.

Including us.

That was all that remained.

...

Originally...

There had been many more.

But the journey had been merciless.

The elderly succumbed to exhaustion.

Disease claimed others before they could reach safety.

Some simply...

Never woke up again.

Survival itself had become a privilege.

---

"Isabella!"

Romelo called from the driver's seat.

"We're here!"

A sleepy voice emerged from inside the wagon.

"Mmm..."

"Is it morning already, dear...?"

Romelo couldn't help laughing.

"Morning?"

"The sun's practically overhead!"

The wagon curtains slowly parted.

Isabella stepped outside while rubbing her sleepy eyes.

...

A lot had changed during those six months.

Most notably...

Romelo and Isabella had become husband and wife.

At first, Isabella insisted it was merely her way of repaying him.

A gesture of gratitude.

An apology for bringing disaster upon his village.

Yet...

Anyone with functioning eyesight could tell that explanation no longer held true.

The two of them looked at each other with a tenderness that couldn't be faked.

Love had quietly blossomed somewhere along the journey.

And judging from how often they smiled at one another...

Neither of them seemed to regret it.

---

Isabella stepped down from the wagon before slowly surveying the landscape.

A nostalgic smile spread across her face.

"...I missed this place."

She pointed toward the endless forest.

"I escaped through these woods years ago."

"Back then..."

"I was fleeing from my parents' palace."

Everyone listened attentively.

"This forest may look dangerous..."

She smiled softly.

"But strangely enough..."

"There aren't any wild monsters living here."

"I crossed it safely all by myself."

...

...Seriously?

I blinked.

No monsters?

In a forest this enormous?

That...

Sounded almost impossible.

If true...

This would be one of the safest and the most strategic places on the entire continent.

---

Romelo smiled.

"How are your parents doing these days, Isabella?"

"I imagine the Elven Kingdom is still in turmoil."

The smile on Isabella's face slowly faded.

"...I don't know."

She lowered her head.

"I haven't heard anything..."

"...since I left."

Silence followed.

Romelo immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Don't lose hope."

"I'm certain they're still alive."

Isabella leaned gently against him.

"...Thank you."

Though her smile returned...

It no longer reached her eyes.

---

The caravan continued deeper into the forest.

Just as Isabella had said...

The journey was astonishingly peaceful.

No monsters.

No predators.

Only gentle wildlife.

Wild deer wandered freely through the trees.

Herds of wild cattle grazed along the riverbanks without the slightest concern.

Birdsong echoed endlessly overhead.

It felt...

Too peaceful.

...

Something isn't right.

I narrowed my eyes.

The ecosystem is wrong.

The deer showed no fear.

Neither did the cattle.

No signs of territorial behavior.

No predator markings.

No remains.

No scent of death.

...

Impossible.

A forest this large should support an entire food chain.

Predators.

Scavengers.

Competition.

Balance.

Yet...

Everything here behaved as though predators simply...

Didn't exist.

...

That's unnatural.

A perfectly balanced ecosystem without apex predators cannot sustain itself.

Unless...

I glanced deeper into the silent forest.

Something much higher on the food chain exists.

Something so overwhelming...

...that nothing else dares to hunt here.

A faint chill crawled down my spine.

...

I hope I'm overthinking this.

---

Several hours later...

The forest gradually opened into a vast river valley.

The caravan finally came to a halt.

Dark brown soil stretched across the valley floor.

Even from a distance...

I could tell.

It was extraordinarily fertile.

One of the farmers immediately jumped down from the wagon.

He scooped up a handful of soil before crushing it between his fingers.

His eyes lit up.

"This is excellent!"

"The soil is incredibly fertile!"

Another elderly man approached the river with a fishing net.

After only a brief glance...

He burst into laughter.

"The river is teeming with fish!"

"We'll never go hungry here!"

Excitement spread throughout the refugees.

For the first time in months...

Hope returned to their faces.

Lucas smiled before driving a wooden stake firmly into the ground.

Thud!

The sound echoed throughout the valley.

He looked around at everyone gathered there.

"From this day onward..."

He declared proudly,

"This..."

"...will be our home."

A thunderous cheer erupted.

Some laughed.

Some cried.

Others simply collapsed to their knees in relief.

After months of endless wandering...

They had finally found a place where they could begin again.

---

Work began immediately.

Tents were erected.

Supply wagons were unloaded.

Fields were marked for cultivation.

Trees were carefully felled for lumber.

With the aid of magic...

The workload became far more manageable.

Earth mages flattened uneven ground.

Fire mages cleared stubborn roots.

Water mages redirected portions of the river into future irrigation channels.

Watching them...

I couldn't help but smile.

Interesting...

Magic isn't merely a weapon.

It's an industrial tool.

An agricultural tool.

A construction tool.

Its true value...

Lay in civilization itself.

Perhaps...

That was why this world had survived for so long despite living beside monsters.

---

"This is exhausting..."

Hubert collapsed onto a pile of freshly cut logs.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead before taking several deep breaths.

Romelo laughed.

"You're tired already?"

"How do you expect to become stronger with that attitude?"

He pointed toward Lucas.

"Look at Uncle Lucas."

"He's been working nonstop since this morning."

"And he still hasn't broken a sweat."

Hubert looked over.

Lucas was carrying three massive tree trunks...

With one hand.

...

"...He's obviously using enhancement magic."

Hubert muttered.

Romelo burst into laughter.

"Hahaha!"

"Excuses already?"

"If you keep blaming your exhaustion instead of overcoming it..."

"You'll never become as strong as him."

He playfully smacked Hubert on the back.

"Come on."

"Those trees won't chop themselves."

Hubert let out an exaggerated groan.

"...Fine."

"I'll do it."

Watching the two of them...

I couldn't help smiling.

Romelo wasn't merely raising another survivor.

He was raising the next generation.

---

Meanwhile...

I was enjoying life from the safest place imaginable.

Inside the tent.

Resting comfortably in Mother's arms.

Watching everyone else work.

...

Ahh...

The privileges of being a baby.

Perhaps staying one years old forever wouldn't be so bad after all.

Sophia looked down and giggled.

"Hehe..."

"Our little Arzad looks so comfortable."

I smiled lazily.

"Ma~"

(Exceptionally comfortable.)

She gently kissed my forehead.

The warmth of her embrace...

Somehow felt even more relaxing than the softest bed I'd ever slept on.

For the first time in two lifetimes...

I found myself wondering...

Whether a peaceful life like this...

Might not be so bad after all.

----

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks became months.

And before anyone realized it...

Months quietly became years.

The small refugee camp that had once consisted of nothing more than a handful of tents gradually transformed into a thriving settlement.

The fields yielded consistent harvests.

The livestock multiplied with each passing season.

Wooden houses slowly replaced temporary shelters.

Watchtowers rose above the tree line.

Defensive walls began taking shape around the settlement.

The cries of newborn children became increasingly common.

Life...

Had finally returned.

For the first time since the fall of the Kingdom of Elpis...

People smiled without forcing themselves to.

Meanwhile...

I celebrated my fifth birthday.

And naturally...

The very first thing Father did-

Was drag me into training.

---

"Gah!"

My wooden sword flew from my hands before tumbling helplessly across the grass.

I had barely managed to stand back up...

When Father knocked me down again.

"..."

I lay there for several seconds.

Staring blankly at the blue sky above.

"...This is unfair."

I slowly sat up while rubbing my sore backside.

"You said you were going to teach me swordsmanship."

I glared at Father.

"But all you've been doing..."

"...is bullying me."

Lucas burst into laughter.

"Hahaha!"

"When I first picked up a sword..."

"My own instructor treated me exactly the same."

He casually rested his wooden practice sword across one shoulder.

"So keep getting up."

"Until you can finally land a hit on me."

...

Wonderful.

Intergenerational bullying.

I always assumed only schools and corporate offices operated on that system.

Apparently...

Swordsmanship had inherited it too.

I picked up my wooden sword again.

"At the very least..."

"You could teach me a proper technique first!"

Father merely smiled.

"Show me you're worthy of learning one."

His stance lowered.

"Then I'll teach you."

"..."

Tsk.

How unreasonable.

Still...

Complaining wouldn't help.

I charged anyway.

With absolutely no plan whatsoever.

Father effortlessly sidestepped my swing.

His counterattack came immediately.

Thud!

"Gah!"

I found myself kissing the ground for the tenth or more times approximately.

"..."

My face burned with embarrassment.

---

Watching from nearby...

Mother could no longer stay silent.

"Dear..."

She looked at Lucas worriedly.

"Don't you think you're being a little too rough on him?"

Lucas shook his head.

"It is precisely because I love him..."

"...that I can't go easy on him."

His smile disappeared.

A serious expression replaced it.

"The world outside these walls is merciless."

"If I pamper him now..."

"The world will show him no mercy later."

He returned to his stance before looking directly at me.

"Get up, Arzad."

"I didn't raise my son to become weak."

His words struck harder than the wooden sword.

"..."

I silently stood.

Gripping my practice sword once more.

My eyes locked onto Father's.

A quiet fire began burning within me.

---

The truth was...

I had absolutely no experience with swords.

None.

I had never held one during my previous life.

Why would I?

I was a scientist.

Not a knight.

Not a soldier.

The closest I'd ever come to swordsmanship...

Was watching historical demonstrations and martial arts videos online.

Back then...

I'd secretly laughed at them.

"Why spend years mastering a sword?"

"If someone pulls out a handgun..."

"You're dead before your blade even leaves its scabbard."

I had considered swordsmanship obsolete.

An outdated relic.

Something preserved only for sport or tradition.

...

Now?

I deeply regretted every arrogant thought I'd ever entertained.

...

This...

...is karma.

The universe possessed an excellent sense of humor huh?

---

Father patiently waited.

He made no attempt to attack.

He simply observed.

Giving me time to think.

...

I took a slow breath.

Then another.

Emotion won't win this.

Think like a scientist.

Analyze.

Adapt.

Survive.

I slowly closed my eyes.

Memories resurfaced.

Video after video.

HEMA demonstrations.

Historical fencing.

Modern sparring footage.

Anime fight choreography.

Even random clips I'd casually watched long years ago.

Thousands of fragmented images flashed through my mind.

Most of them useless.

Some...

Potentially valuable.

...

Professional.

Approach this professionally.

My body may belong to a child...

But my mind doesn't.

I reopened my eyes.

Then...

I adjusted my stance.

---

"Hm?"

Father's eyebrows rose slightly.

One foot stepped forward.

My weight shifted evenly.

The wooden sword rested before my abdomen.

The point angled toward Father's centerline.

My eyes fixed upon his dominant shoulder.

Not the sword.

Not his face.

His shoulder.

...

Middle Guard.

One of the simplest guards I'd remembered from historical European swordsmanship.

Perhaps...

It would work.

Father smiled.

"Oh?"

"That's quite an improvement."

He twirled his sword once.

"Let's see what you've learned."

The instant he finished speaking-

I lunged.

Fast.

Far faster than before.

Father's expression shifted.

He immediately swung from my left.

But this time-

Clack!

I intercepted the strike.

The impact rattled my arms.

Pain shot through my wrists.

Yet...

My footing remained stable.

Good.

Proper stance.

Proper weight distribution.

The force dispersed correctly.

But before I could recover...

Another strike came.

Then another.

Left.

Right.

High.

Low.

Each attack arrived from a different angle.

And each time...

My gaze remained fixed on his shoulders.

Noticing subtle muscle movements.

Tiny shifts in posture.

The slightest rotation of his hips.

They revealed every attack before the sword itself moved.

...

Interesting.

The shoulders telegraph the strike before the blade does.

So that's how experienced swordsmen read each other.

I continued defending.

Learning.

Adapting.

Every exchange taught me something new.

Every clash refined my understanding.

Meanwhile...

My mind desperately searched through old memories.

There has to be another technique...

Come on...

Remember.

Father suddenly smiled.

"...You've done well."

His grip tightened.

"But let's see if you can handle this."

Without warning-

He raised his sword high above his head.

Mana surged into the wooden blade.

Then-

He brought it crashing down with overwhelming force.

The sheer pressure froze me for a split second.

...!

My pupils contracted.

The attack was too fast.

Too powerful.

Too late to block directly.

Then...

A memory surfaced.

An anime duel I'd watched very long years ago.

The scene flashed vividly across my mind.

The timing.

The footwork.

The angle.

...

That's it!

Without thinking...

My body moved.

Instead of blocking-

I stepped diagonally to the side.

Just enough.

Father's heavy strike missed me...

By less than an inch.

His sword slammed into the ground.

The tremendous momentum carried his body forward.

For the briefest instant...

His guard opened completely.

Now!

I drove my wooden sword forward.

A perfectly straight thrust.

Thock!

The tip struck Father's forearm cleanly.

Silence.

Father's eyes widened.

He stared first at his arm...

Then at me.

For the first time since training began...

Pure astonishment appeared on his face.

...

Huh...?

I blinked.

...Did I actually hit him?

Even I couldn't believe what had just happened.

For the first time in both of my lives...

I had successfully landed a sword strike.

And somehow...

It had been against the strongest swordsman I knew.

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