"Let's leave it at that for now."
"That child should be waking up soon."
"Have you figured out how you're going to comfort her?"
The moment Arthur heard that, a cry of "Ah!" came from the next room. He would have recognized that voice even if he were deaf. It was his dear little sister, Mordred.
Her cry had probably come partly from the shock of waking after being defeated by Scathach. The other reason was likely the panic she felt upon waking and discovering that her beloved brother was not beside her.
What followed was the rapid sound of footsteps and a door being thrown open. Mordred rushed in at top speed. Scathach, who had just been standing in the doorway, naturally stepped aside and let Mordred charge straight into Arthur's arms without obstruction.
"Brother! Brother, brother, brother!"
"It's all right. Be good, it's all right now."
Arthur gently stroked Mordred's hair as he comforted her. Unlike him, who knew Scathach would not kill them, Mordred did not know Scathach well. This was their first encounter. So when she had been defeated, she had been overwhelmed by negative emotions.
She could not help being afraid, terrified.
Afraid of death like any ordinary person.
Even more afraid of Arthur's death.
So now, Mordred was having a trauma-induced stress reaction.
The reason Scathach had neither stopped nor commented on her was because she had been through it herself and understood what was going on.
For Little Mo right now, what she needed most was the warm, broad embrace of Artorius Pendragon—the person she trusted and loved most, the person she regarded as the pillar of her life.
Just as they had expected, after Arthur comforted her for quite a while, Little Mo finally calmed down.
"What's the situation now?"
She had returned to her usual state as "Arthur's number one loyal hound," incomparably obedient. The kind of obedient where if her brother told her to go east, she went east; if he told her to go west, she went west; if he told her to report someone, she stabbed them in the back; if he told her to catch chickens, she caught chickens. Then she asked Arthur what exactly was happening.
After Arthur told her what he had learned from Scathach, Little Mo nodded seriously. "Understood." Then she said nothing more, still looking entirely ready to follow her brother's lead.
"That's how it is." Arthur looked toward Scathach. "Teacher Scathach, I'll be relying on you for the next seven days."
"Mm, of course." Scathach nodded. Then she looked at Mordred, then at Arthur.
"Be nicer to that child, you."
"Of course."
Arthur rubbed Little Mo's hair. "She's my little sister. If I'm not good to her, who would I be good to?"
"..."
Scathach had originally wanted to say something else. But seeing Arthur's smiling face, she found herself unable to say anything.
After thinking it over, Scathach decided to give up. It would not be her getting chopped up and suffering in the end anyway. She would treat it as a lesson for this overly self-satisfied disciple of hers.
And so, Arthur and Mordred's training journey began.
They left the black castle, which looked like the reflection of the Tower of White Chalk, and arrived at the open ground before it.
There were all sorts of training equipment here. Arthur understood some of it, while some of the rest were beyond even him. They must have been left from the Peak Period of the Shadow Country's hero training camp. This place had once been a training ground as well. But with the Decline of the Age of Gods, the Shadow Country had become a secret realm difficult to enter, and the training camp had declined as well.
"Basic training in a dream will not affect your physical body."
Having changed back into that tight, hollowed-out silk-and-leather armor resembling a female warrior's outfit, Scathach made Arthur quietly sigh to himself. She held her spear like a teaching pointer and gestured toward Arthur and Mordred.
"Fortunately, both of you have decent physical qualities. Just remember to train yourselves in the future."
"Then what exactly are you going to teach us?"
Little Mo always seemed a little unruly when dealing with anyone besides Arthur.
Hearing Scathach say that, she muttered unhappily.
"Techniques, skills, and experience. And of course... magecraft."
As she said this, Scathach looked at Arthur.
As one of the greatest magi of this era, Scathach could naturally tell that Arthur specialized in enhancement magecraft. This was similar to Scathach herself—when she had used runes earlier, she had enhanced herself as well.
Teachers naturally liked clever children.
But compared to clever children, teachers naturally liked children who resembled themselves even more.
Artorius happened to meet both conditions, so it was foreseeable that Teacher Scathach would be especially strict when teaching him.
With that, Scathach tossed out two Gae Bolgs, one for Arthur and one for Mordred.
"Teacher, don't you use dual spears?" Little Mo asked. "Why are you only teaching us to use one?"
"Because this is the foundation," Scathach answered. "You normally fight with swords, right?"
"We use spears too," Little Mo replied—
Indeed, how could a knight not learn Spear Techniques? It was only because Arthur possessed the Demon Sword Clarent, and Mordred was her brother's number one fan, that they used swords.
"It's different. The techniques of a lance and a long spear are not the same. The former places greater emphasis on coordination with the warhorse and thrusting. The latter focuses more on intricate changes. In short, with me, you must start learning from the beginning!"
"..."
Little Mo muttered a few words, seeming rather unhappy. But she obediently went along with it.
After all, a good Little Mo did not take immediate losses.
"And with this knight's talent, I'll be able to learn all her Spear Techniques in no time, right?
Then I can get revenge. Hehehe... just wait, old woman. I'll collect today's debt from you all at once!"
Feeling that Little Mo's state was a little strange, Arthur tilted his head and glanced at her. Once he confirmed she was fantasizing about impossible things, he gave Teacher Scathach a look, as though pleading for leniency on Little Mo's behalf.
Teacher Scathach smiled gently and nodded, agreeing to Artorius's request. Then, during the training that followed, she became increasingly strict with Mordred.
Author's Note:
Today's second update. Please vote with recommendation tickets.
It'll be going premium next week.
Peaches Are the Foundation of Spear Techniques (Third Update)
"The foundation of the foundations of Spear Techniques—first comes the thrust. The position, angle, and force of the thrust. Watch my key movements, method of exerting force, and techniques carefully—"
As Scathach spoke, she wielded Gae Bolg and demonstrated the moves. First, she showed them directly, attacking a humanoid target with an extremely standard posture and set of movements.
Her spear seemed like an extension of her arm. With extreme precision, she swiftly raised and lowered it, then thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust—leaving a peach-shaped pattern in the humanoid target.
"Did you see that clearly?"
"This is easy. I could do it too." Mordred spoke casually, happily courting death with her attitude of "I recognize no one but my brother."
"Is that so?"
As she spoke, Scathach snapped her fingers, and the peach-shaped target returned to normal. She stepped back, leaving room for Little Mo to perform.
"Fine, watch me!"
Little Mo was extremely confident. She stepped forward without hesitation—
Of course, confidence was not the same as blind confidence.
Before actually attacking, she loosened up her body and swung the spear around, getting a feel for its weight, length, and handling. After performing a couple of forms on the spot, she strode forward confidently. Then—yahdahdahdahdah! In an instant, the restored humanoid target once again displayed a peach-shaped pattern much like the one before.
"How was that, Teacher Scathach?"
Mordred grinned as she looked over, with a faint hint of provocation in her eyes.
"Not bad."
That was Scathach's evaluation.
"Just 'not bad'?"
Hearing Teacher Scathach say that, Mordred could not help frowning. "They're clearly the same peaches!"
"Artorius."
This time, Scathach did not answer directly. Instead, she called to Arthur. "Explain it to Mordred."
"It's like this, Little Mo."
Arthur walked forward with a smile. With a snap of his fingers, the peach-shaped target that Teacher Scathach had restored appeared again beside Little Mo's target.
"Take a closer look, Little Mo."
"Oh... oh!"
Mordred was not stupid. On the contrary, she was very smart. She had simply lacked a physical reference earlier, and since she was personally involved, she had failed to notice.
Now that Arthur had pointed it out, she understood immediately.
Teacher Scathach's peach and Mordred's peach looked almost identical at first glance, but the difference became obvious upon closer inspection.
The round holes in Teacher Scathach's peach were all the same size. The edges of the punctures were perfectly smooth.
The round holes in Little Mo's peach varied in size, while some of the puncture edges still had wood splinters attached to them, with jagged ridges inside.
"It's the technique of exerting force, the angle of the thrust, and also..."
Mordred frowned, carefully considering the gap between herself and Scathach.
"And willpower and spirit, Little Mo."
Before coming to this world, Arthur would never have talked about such things. He would have been an emotionless geometric martial arts master, perfectly incorporating Euclidean and non-Euclidean geometry into his spear and sword techniques to make cutting people easier—
But unfortunately, the Type-Moon World was a world where the mind shaped reality. Spirit and willpower really did have a damn effect.
This was also one reason Arthur felt he could not reach the pinnacle of martial skill. He did not think his own spirit and willpower were particularly idealistic. He preferred flexibility, clever tricks, and scheming. It was difficult for him to imagine sacrificing himself for anything other than Father King or Little Mo.
Artorius was extremely materialistic, and his soul was not noble. He could not sacrifice everything for some cause.
Arthur knew himself well. He had always been certain that he was one of the ambitious figures, not a hero.
"Even if you say that, I still..."
Rather than having a sudden realization after hearing Arthur, Little Mo merely frowned. Things like willpower and spirit were indeed too difficult for her.
"Then watch carefully."
This time, it was Teacher Scathach's turn to teach—but she did not use words or writing. Instead, she chose something more direct.
"Mordred, stand where you are and watch my moves—"
As she spoke, she swung her spear and thrust it toward Mordred—
Mordred: "!"
She instinctively tried to dodge or block, but her body could not move—it was Scathach's magecraft binding Mordred's body.
Am I done for?
Just as Mordred could not help thinking that, Scathach withdrew her spear.
Mordred had clearly felt her skin come into contact with the cold spear tip. Yet not a single bit of skin had been damaged. Scathach's control over her strength had reached the point where she could withdraw and release it at will. Who knew how far she was from the so-called "perfect strike"?
"Don't space out. Watch carefully!"
While Little Mo was astonished that she had not died, Scathach shouted at her again, making Mordred come back to her senses. Then she began watching seriously.
Seeing things from a third-person perspective at the side felt different from seeing them in first person. More importantly, one's perspective and state of mind when observing were also different under intense danger, while desperately striving to focus.
"I see. I saw it, I saw it. So that's how it is. This woman is amazing. No wonder I couldn't beat her!"
Watching Scathach's offensive, Mordred entered the zone. She even forgot her fear, focusing entirely on Scathach's moves and committing everything to memory. Only then did Scathach withdraw her spear and release Mordred's Immobilization Spell.
Then Mordred flopped onto the ground with a slap.
Her body was not tired. Her mind was.
"You learned it, right?"
"Yes, Teacher."
This time, Mordred called her teacher wholeheartedly.
Unlike the Mordred on a certain timeline, who had not received Father King's recognition and thus developed a tsundere, awkward personality, the Mordred of this moment was still bright and cheerful.
"Mm."
Before you continue