Namgung Se-ga, the warrior, was reincarnated in Romance

It was a brilliant maneuver. I never imagined mana could be used in such a way. The binding spell, which resembled a shield in its appearance, had a completely different sensation when pierced—it was sticky.

Suspended in mid-air, with my toes lifted off the ground, I tried to cut through the bindings with my sword, but it wasn’t easy. Blood rushed to my face, and just as I was about to gasp for air, the spell suddenly released.

I landed nimbly on the ground without losing my balance. My breath didn’t settle immediately. I shook my head to clear it. The tight grip around my neck still stung.

“Edwin Kiadris, one win. No commentary. One-minute break before the match resumes.”

The judgment was silent. When I looked up, I saw Edwin Kiadris looking at me, his face pale. I had learned that such a face often appeared when a mage used too much mana, causing instability in their mana pathways.

I hadn’t intended to wear him out to win, but losing in this battle of tactics left me feeling defeated.

I rose and tightened my grip on the sword with a frown. My whole body felt sore. Even if I struck first, I now knew I wouldn’t have been able to catch him. He had realized that even if he unleashed all his magic, he wouldn’t be able to catch me either.

I needed to see more broadly and understand more deeply.

In the first match, everyone had waited for him to finish casting his spells, but in the second match, it was different. Wherever mana gathered, I placed the tip of my sword to split the core.

He noticed my strategy and tried to attack from high up, low down, or in large numbers, but I cut through it all. I dashed from one end of the wide space to the other, taking both the upper and lower positions.

It was the first time I had used so much of my power since coming to this land. I could tell that my eyes were bloodshot even without looking.

I cut through ice, fire, and wind. I understood how his spells were layered. I saw how spells, like paper thin sheets, wrapped around mana like the hem of a skirt and intertwined, singing their own song as they mixed.

I understood that when things that should be far were drawn near, and things that should be close were pushed away, the dissonance of that alignment became a source of strength.

I heard him cough weakly.

I didn’t stop; I kept cutting. The shield that wrapped around his body shattered with a soft “clink” at some point, and I shot forward.

It was the way of the wind, the way of the sky. I twisted my waist from left to right in three steps, reaching my goal.

I swung the sword down. As I made the cut from bottom to top, I saw the enemy’s neck fly off.

“Mikael Ernhardt, one win.”

This time, the signal to resume the match didn’t come immediately. I exhaled heavily and looked ahead.

The sharp blade of my sword was at the thin, pale neck, held firmly by Maelo Sanson’s aura.

The boy, with his pale face, looked at me with determined eyes, filled not with fear, but with determination, anger, and excitement… the eyes of a fighter.

I also saw blood trickling from the corner of his lips. It seemed his magic had broken, and his circle had been destabilized. I, too, struggled to catch my breath, my shoulders rising slightly with each inhale. My own breathing echoed in my ears, and I was drenched in sweat.

Sanson released the bindings and I sheathed my sword. I took two steps back. The surroundings were silent.

“It seems you’ve sustained an injury. Are you sure you don’t want to rest?”

Without responding, Edwin wiped the blood from his sleeve and raised his staff with his left hand.

The anger had left his eyes. Instead, they were now filled with a sense of pride. Meeting his gaze, I too steeled myself.

I did not know what would follow that motion, which seemed to connect the sky and the earth. With caution, I raised my sword.

When he placed his palm on the back of his hand and spun the staff in a large circle, within two breaths, the sky and earth seemed to flip.

It was a brilliant maneuver.

I sensed not the weight, but mana, from the tiles that fell toward me from above. It was an illusion. Had I not mastered the inner arts, I would not have noticed. I cut in three directions to the east and two to the south.

I heard another cough, and something was shot toward me. I parried it with my sword. This time, it was heavier. It was a rock. He threw a stone mixed in with flames. I watched it lodge into the ceiling with a loud thud and laughed again.

It was enjoyable.

Even though I kept cutting, I once thought that dying between the countless demons pouring in would be the end of my martial arts life. I believed that if I didn’t cut off the head in a single strike, I would die among desperate deaths where bodies collided, legs were tripped, and ankles were bitten.

But now, I was alive. I had cut through fire and water. The sound made by my sword clashing against things other than swords was either clear or dull, and my fingertips tingled with the sensation.

I reached out, searching for where to strike. I stepped, searching for footing. Still, the outstretched hand cut through the air, and the ground beneath me crumbled away. It was a strange spell, one that no formation in the central plains could match, yet there was a path visible. I found the most familiar shape among the formulas I knew.

The most important spell that touches the end of all magic, the one that comes first.

I pierced my sword into the shape of the Alpha spell, round and curved. I recalled the strength of the magical thread that pierced through the center of the purification spell. I struck the point where the middle of the spell began to entangle. The more I opened the gap, the clearer the path became.

I walked along the path.

The ground beneath my feet was light, but the weight on my shoulders was heavy. I did not know what method had caused the force pressing on my body, but I had been carrying iron since my youth, running through the training grounds. I could overcome it.

Opening the door to the realm of true strength, my sword reached the enemy’s throat.

“…Mikael Ernhardt, this win.”

Edwin Kiadris stood, leaning on his staff, without speaking. The smile that had crept onto my face slowly faded.

The end of the duel was respect. He had fought excellently, and so had I. I knew this victory was not because my swordsmanship and skill were superior, but because I had the advantage in stamina and internal energy.

If I hadn’t the refined internal energy within me, and the decades of experience in brutal battles day and night, I would have lost this fight.

The two professors gave us time to reflect on what we could learn from the duel. I sheathed my sword, and Kiadris lowered his staff.

After a long moment of our calm gazes meeting, he spoke.

“I’ll introduce you to a senior I know.”

“Thank you.”

“…How did you manage to break only the Alpha formula out of all that?”

“I learned it. It was on the first line of the first page of the midterm exam notes.”

“…”

Edwin’s expression was less subtle than Professor Angela Sting’s.

After staring at her for a moment, Professor Sanson lightly tapped Angela’s elbow and asked if he could also take a copy of the handout.

No matter what the professors were discussing, I extended my hand for a handshake.

This time, there was a hand to shake. It was firmly grasped, shaken up and down, and then dropped in an awkward manner.

It was a greeting I hadn’t seen in the central plains before. Now I understood that the gesture symbolized trust and recognition, a movement that could immediately seize the opponent’s pulse.

I hesitated for a moment, then approached and whispered in a very small voice.

“But it’s so difficult that I’m thinking of not taking the magic class next semester.”

“…How about fighting again sometime?”

“That sounds good.”

At that, he smiled. It was only then that I realized the duel was over.

Throughout the duel, I hadn’t heard any sound, so I thought everyone had been watching quietly, but later I realized that Professor Angela Sting had set up a soundproof barrier.

Once we left the barrier, the noisy fencing club students surrounded me.

They seemed like they wanted to lift me up and cheer, but Professor Maelo Sanson stopped them, saying it wasn’t proper.

I overheard Professor Sanson explaining to the fencing club students one by one about the transitions between moves, or how he broke the magic formulas during the fight.

As hands kept messing with my hair, and my damp strands stood up on end, I didn’t like it and pulled away.

Edwin Kiadris had also melted into the magic department students.

Even I could tell that his studies were not shallow, but to the magic department students, it seemed extraordinary.

They were talking excitedly about how he managed to implement the Ice Sphere spell fifteen times in 1.2 seconds, whether he used illusion magic to make the adhesive skill resemble a shield, or if he had actually manifested it, and whether those formulas were pre-practiced or improvised on the spot.

As I eavesdropped on them, Professor Douglas Mustang led me somewhere. Without refusal, I calmly followed, mixing in with a group of unfamiliar, older wizards.

I greeted them politely, trying to appear younger than I was. They spoke in a language I didn’t understand…

No, it was definitely Sieran, but it didn’t quite sound like Sieran. Every time they asked me questions, I had to reflect on the thoughts I had before deploying a technique and repeated the process of answering.

It was then that I received my first business card. It was a neat, square card with a name and contact address on it, and I thought it looked quite tidy and nice.

I was told it was something everyone who does business carries, and I thought I’d have one of these when I graduate.

Professor Maelo Sanson rescued me when I was being called to demonstrate in front of one wizard after another.

Since I had collected all their business cards, I had no regrets and followed along obediently.

Having drained nearly all the internal energy I had gathered, my body felt drained. It wasn’t until I looked at Sanson’s face again that I couldn’t help but grin.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, it was fun. It was more enjoyable than I expected.”

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?”

“I’m not arrogant. I was just lucky this time. If Edwin Kiadris’s spellcasting speed had been just a little faster, or if his stamina had been a little better, I know I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did.”

“Edwin Kiadris is a genius when it comes to spellcasting speed. As for his stamina… well, that’s the common affliction of desk-bound mages. But you did well, Mikael Ernhardt.”

“…Yes.”

Compliments from the martial artists of Huakyung were always sweet.

During the duel, I found myself wondering how things might have turned out if I had used some of the sword techniques I had learned later, instead of relying on the techniques from the *Changcheon Mu-ae* sword style. In the heat of the moment, my body naturally moved as it had been trained, and I couldn’t deploy all the sword forms I had hoped to try. In hindsight, I regretted not being able to use them.

I promised to discuss the details during our advanced swordsmanship class and took my leave.

That evening, the first-year men’s dormitory dining hall was bustling with seniors and friends from the advanced swordsmanship class who had gathered to celebrate.

One of the seniors brought out a pretty bottle, saying it was a drink to have while celebrating.

After taking a sip, I found it had a sweet yet slightly bitter taste, which was surprisingly good. It was a drink I had never tasted in the central plains, and after savoring it, I asked what it was. I was told it was a traditional Sieran drink made by boiling grape juice with cinnamon and a blend of spices, then chilling it.

The taste was sweet and rich, and it suited my palate perfectly.