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

If five top-tier warriors could fight without getting in each other’s way, they would be able to take on an enemy effectively. However, with thirty people all using different sword styles, it would be inevitable that some of their blades would cross paths at times.

No matter how skilled a warrior is, a person can only watch in four directions—north, south, east, and west. Even if you split that into more sections, it still amounts to only thirty-six possible directions. Without having learned a specialized sword style, how could anyone predict where to strike to avoid interfering with others?

Yet, despite my doubts, I had a strong belief in Maelo Sanson’s expertise and his strategic thinking.

Sir Ian Ventus had once mentioned that Sanson was always at the top of his class when he was a student.

I decided not to be stubborn and focused on fully absorbing what he was teaching, keeping my eyes wide open.

“…No, there’s no need to glare like that… It’s the first day, so we’ll take it easy. How about we all take a deep breath together? Hoo… haa…”

At Maelo Sanson’s joke, everyone burst into laughter, and I followed suit. My chest raced with excitement. Benjamin, who was looking over at me, playfully tapped my scabbard with his own.

We all took a deep breath as instructed and settled our breathing.

Sanson explained the marks he had made on the ground.

I was familiar with the range of my sword.

The distances—determined by the length of my limbs, the sword’s length, and my grip position—were very important to measure accurately.

As we helped each other position ourselves, Sanson singled out a few names and guided them to specific spots. I realized they were the ones with either exceptionally long or short sword ranges.

“Everyone, from your standing position, stretch out your sword and trace a semicircle on the ground, to the point where your blade reaches. Like this.”

Following the professor’s demonstration, everyone drew their semicircles on the floor.

Since my right hand is my dominant hand, I drew a long arc that leaned toward the right, as my sword couldn’t reach behind me.

Following Sanson’s instructions, I then drew straight lines from the ends of the arc and stood at the point of the fan-shaped area.

It was the first time I had visualized my range like this.

I compared my range with the others’. I could tell whether their ranges were longer or shorter than mine, but it was fascinating to compare them all in this way.

I made sure to remember this, thinking I could share it with my family’s knights later.

“Those using the Seiren style should take a small step forward and draw another line. Those using the Plants style should turn left slightly. Right, draw another line according to the Fourth Style method. Ernhardt, you know what to do—don’t need to tell you.”

When I extended my right arm to demonstrate the eighth form of the Ch’ang-ch’ien Mu-ai sword, I understood what Sanson meant and carried it out.

Sanson observed the students’ work and nodded with satisfaction.

Everyone was in each other’s sword ranges.

When Benjamin, standing on my left, extended his sword to the right, and I extended mine to the left, our blades would inevitably clash. I was curious what kind of exercise we would be doing, standing so close.

“From now on, the first, third, and fifth rows will swing their swords to the right first. The second and fourth rows will swing to the left first. Use any sword style you prefer, but make sure your feet don’t move.”

“Wait, so…”

“Yes, our swords will clash and tangle. Be careful not to interrupt your own blade’s path and avoid the clash. Start.”

I tried hard to focus and not lose my concentration.

Of course, I was familiar with the sword forms of Benjamin on my left and Luver on my right, so I knew I could handle either one.

But keeping our blades from crossing was no easy task.

A true warrior couldn’t let any sword coming toward them just pass by. And sure enough, as soon as we started, there were clashing sounds of swords everywhere.

Every time the swords clashed, Sanson exhaled evenly and calmly muttered:

“Again.”

I was in the third row, so I swung my sword to the right first. As expected, Luver naturally extended his sword to block mine. At the sound of the clash, I caught a glimpse of his embarrassed face.

Sanson’s voice reached my ears as he gave further guidance.

“Look carefully at the lines you’ve drawn. Observe where the lines overlap, think about how far you can extend your sword, and swing accordingly. Trust in your neighbor’s sword. You move knowing they won’t stab you. Alright, again.”

As I continued, I began to select the proper sword path, one that would avoid my opponent’s.

I exchanged glances with Luver, then Benjamin, and after doing this several times, I found I could swing my sword without clashing for about ten seconds.

Sanson walked between the students, advising on maintaining proper form as they continued.

Some students whose endurance was weaker started to let their arms droop, so he would lift their swords back up for them. When a few others subconsciously moved their feet, he fixed their positions.

Once again, I exchanged glances with Luver and Benjamin. In the end, it felt a lot like a game of rock-paper-scissors.

It seemed simple, but also complicated. Nevertheless, I was enjoying this new form of training, and a smile naturally formed on my face.

“Luver, your arm is going limp. Make sure to grip the sword properly so you don’t lose it. …There, that’s better.”

I couldn’t help but glance at his face, which was turning slightly red from the criticism. He always seemed to show signs of weakness at least once a day, and it bothered me, so I quickly looked away.

The students already possessed nearly top-tier skills. After about half an hour, everyone was able to extend their sword paths for thirty seconds without interfering with each other’s blades.

Then, Maelo Sanson had the students switch positions. As we faced different sword styles, the clashing sounds of swords echoed from all around again.

We repeated the exercise two more times, switching positions each time, until we were thoroughly worn out. I couldn’t quite figure out how he calculated the timing, but by the end of the class, I was left in awe.

This wasn’t the first time Sanson had taught like this.

Sanson had mentioned that while we practiced extending our swords sideways today, in the next lesson, we would add forward and backward motions to further expand our sword techniques.

Now I understood that the goal for this semester was to be able to extend our sword paths straight without affecting each other’s blades, no matter who was beside us.

My hands tingled from all the times my sword clashed with another. I clenched and unclenched my fists, suppressing a laugh. There was still so much more I had to learn.

For lunch, as in the previous semester, I ate with Benjamin, Luver, Lucilla, and Matt. Luver proudly boasted about his training during the break, so I complimented him on his efforts.

* * *

Every Tuesday afternoon, I would visit Professor Douglas Mustang’s office, and this time, Mage Boulder, whom I had seen before, was sitting comfortably, taking up much of the space.

He had spread his papers all over the table, and some had even spilled onto the floor.

Douglas Mustang appeared worn out, pressing his thumb into his temples to ease his headache from the morning.

I, too, was staring at the large stack of papers in front of me, lost in thought. The papers were filled with a mix of languages I could and couldn’t understand, written densely across the pages.

I stood there blankly, not knowing what to do with them, when Mage Boulder suddenly thrust a few papers in front of me.

“Here it is! The written report I promised! First, I thought it would be best to analyze the mana manipulation method shown by Ernhardt, so I’ve made that the first step. Professor Mustang mentioned that no contact with others should occur during mana manipulation, so I plan to test how much contact is acceptable…”

“No.”

“You just shouldn’t touch objects that have the flow of ki in them.”

Both Douglas and I answered simultaneously.

Douglas Mustang, looking utterly exhausted, didn’t even glance at me but spoke firmly. Considering his usual gentle nature, it was quite an impressive display of will.

“I said contact that could threaten the student’s health is forbidden.”

“This isn’t a threat; it’s a simple…”

“No.”

“…Alright then. After listening to the explanation and taking notes, I’ll confirm everything in writing. Then I’ll try to reproduce the same mana flow with a golem. Once the golem’s reproduction rate matches what Ernhardt observed, I’ll attempt to produce similar golems and change their mana flow to test them, eventually identifying the most suitable golem.”

“A golem?”

When I asked about the unfamiliar word, Mage Boulder eagerly explained what a golem was with his usual lively, loud voice.

After hearing the explanation, it seemed that a golem was essentially a zombie made of clay, though it appeared to be more useful in form and function than a corpse.

Curious about why he had brought so many written reports for something that could be explained verbally, I asked.

Mage Boulder made an exaggerated, pouty face, and when I saw him, an older man acting so childishly, I couldn’t help but furrow my brow.

Instead of listening further, I offered to help organize the papers, and Boulder began chanting some sort of incantation with his thumb and index finger.

In an instant, the papers were neatly arranged next to his bag. I was left completely dumbfounded. If it could be done so easily, why bring so many papers…?

After Mage Boulder left, I had lunch with Douglas Mustang, and during the meal, I asked about the matter. Douglas, smiling amiably, shrugged his shoulders.

“He’s just showing off to me. He wants me to notice how hard he’s working.”

“Notice what?”

“Just… anything. Wizards often have childish sides. Don’t give in just because they throw a tantrum, Ernhardt.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

Once again, I thought about how magical arts were truly fascinating as I nodded in agreement.