Swordsmanship Class

Fran stood at the entrance to Swordsmanship Class. Even now, she could not figure out why a place that taught magic offered a course like this.

Yet the original owner had signed up for it. Her hazy memories left her unable to understand what the original owner had been thinking.

Besides this, the original owner only had two unfinished courses left. One was Arithmetic Class, which covered only elementary school mathematics and simple statistical methods. Fran dared say she could crush it even without the Panel.

The other was the damned Art Appreciation. The original owner had at least given a reason for that in her memories. Those paintings and sculptures are really beautiful. I want to see them again.

Art Appreciation had no assessment at all; it was purely for appreciation. The other two courses had assessments, and she could earn Contribution Points from them.

Fran now placed immense importance on Contribution Points. They could be sold for money to improve her finances, and they could be exchanged for scarce knowledge. She had already tasted their benefits. Without Contribution Points, she could not even learn a single Spell right now.

Fran entered the classroom, picked up a wooden practice sword, and began practicing according to her memories.

She had to admit that after her Physique improved, it no longer felt like those memories of struggling just to raise a sword. She could assume the stance with ease.

After finishing the basic movements they had been taught, she casually set down the wooden sword and frowned.

No prompt appeared in the Panel. That disappointed her somewhat. She had thought something like [Basic Swordsmanship] would pop up so she could grind levels like crazy.

She knew Combat Techniques existed, but their prices made her hesitate. Even the cheapest cost nearly thirty silver coins, enough to empty her savings. She could only try other methods first.

A series of "bang bang" sounds rang out. When she looked over, she saw John, the teacher of this Swordsmanship Class. He had made the sound by clapping his palms together. The sheer volume showed that his strength was not to be underestimated.

Only after the Apprentices had gathered did he announce the lesson's contents.

"Everyone will spar according to the list I call out. Striking your opponent's body or knocking away their weapon counts as one victory. Stepping out of bounds counts as a loss..."

Some Apprentices in the crowd grew excited. This was finally the moment they had been waiting for. They had enrolled in this course to show off their actual combat abilities.

This course existed because there was a major school called the Sword Chant School. Its members wielded swords in one hand and cast Spells with the other, possessing formidable combat strength.

Its admission requirements were powerful swordsmanship and a recommendation from someone within the school...

That was right. Half the schools used recommendation-based admission and did not recruit openly. Without connections, joining was nothing but a dream.

The excited Apprentices were children of territorial nobles. They either could not obtain inheritance rights or did not possess outstanding magical talent, but their swordsmanship training from childhood far surpassed that of others. They wanted to pursue this path.

They glanced at the other equally excited Apprentices. They knew these were their rivals. Teacher John would not recommend everyone who met the requirements; only a few would receive recommendations.

"First match: Mars versus Mason."

Some Apprentices had come solely for recommendations, some were simply interested, and others, like Fran, did not even know why they were here.

To John, recommending Apprentices did not hold much weight. He still wanted to properly teach these Apprentices.

Mars had come specifically for a recommendation. He possessed a family-secret Body Tempering Method, and his physical qualities far exceeded his opponent's.

Mason was highly talented. He had only picked up a sword after joining this Swordsmanship Class, yet John had frequently praised him in previous lessons.

But the gap in their Physiques was a little too large. Every slash from Mars was powerful and heavy, numbing Mason's arms as he parried until his movements began to tremble.

Although he tried to counterattack several times, Mars had numbed his hands from the very beginning, so his efforts achieved little. In the end, one chop knocked his weapon away.

Mars was brimming with pride. He had long disliked this kid who received John's praise so often. In his view, Mason's skill was only average. Why did he deserve praise?

"Mason, you lack experience. When you fall into a disadvantageous position, you should steady yourself instead of rashly attacking, especially when your opponent is stronger than you..."

John thought highly of Mason and pointed out several shortcomings in his fighting style.

When it was Mars's turn, he said:

"Mars, your attacking style is very good. It suits you well. Just keep it up." His evaluation of Mars ended after only a few brief words.

John genuinely thought that this attacking style suited Mars. There was not much that needed changing, so he simply said so directly.

But to Mars, it sounded like John cared more about Mason. He had said so much while evaluating Mason, yet only gave him a few sentences.

A sense of resentment arose in Mars's heart. The corners of his mouth, which had just lifted in pride over his victory and display of skill, immediately fell.

But as a noble's descendant, he knew he could not lose his temper no matter what. He forcibly suppressed his dissatisfaction and returned to the group.

After that, the Apprentices were paired off in various combinations. John paid close attention to balancing their strengths, ensuring that even the winners had to put in effort to win their matches.

These battles opened Fran's eyes. In her previous memories, everyone had only practiced the basics. She had not expected each person to have their own unique fighting style.

Among them, an Apprentice named Bela was the strongest of them all. Even Mars, whose physical qualities were extremely high, could not gain an advantage in their clashes. After being suppressed seven or eight times by her exquisite swordsmanship, he was defeated.

By the time it was Fran's turn, almost everyone had sparred once. John could tell who was serious and who was not. Fran's performance in previous lessons had been utterly awful, so naturally he would not waste time on students of such poor skill.

Her opponent was likewise a male Apprentice who had not been very serious in class. When he saw that his opponent was Fran, he laughed, clearly confident of victory.

After John called for the match to begin, Fran did not indulge him. She immediately darted forward. Before the male Apprentice could even assume a defensive stance, her wooden sword came smashing toward his body.

But just as Fran closed in at high speed with her sword and was about to strike the male Apprentice, a voice made her stop.

"Stop."

Only then did the male Apprentice realize that the wooden sword had reached his chest, while he himself had not even reacted.

"Fran, is it?"

"Yes."

"You will have a match with Mars."

The male Apprentice hurriedly stepped down, while Mars came onto the platform wearing an unwilling expression.

He had not watched the previous match at all. A bunch of weaklings pecking at each other simply could not interest him.

When he saw that his opponent was Fran, his dissatisfaction with John grew even stronger. Wasn't this the idiot who could send her sword flying even while turning for a slash? Was making him fight someone like that not an insult?

With contempt in his heart, he did not even properly assume a stance after the match began. Instead, he waited for Fran to attack. He held his sword up and remained still, waiting for her to strike so hard that she could not handle the force and would drop her weapon.

But reality differed from what he had imagined. Pain shot through his wrist, and the wooden sword in his hand fell to the ground.

Cheers erupted from the surrounding spectators, because this was the first time someone had ended a fight only seconds after it began.