episode_0132

“Understood. If Eric says so, there must be a reason behind it.”

Fortunately, Luciella didn’t take my provocation seriously and readily accepted my proposal.

She probably didn’t even consider that I might genuinely intend to fight her. No doubt she assumed this sparring match was just another attempt to teach her something, even if I lost—a cliché thought.

After all, the Luciella who trusts and follows me now is the Eric Grave who wields the power of prophecy, who supports everyone with unwavering foresight—not the incompetent Eric Grave who can’t even swing a sword properly.

But unfortunately for her, I fully intend to win.

I have my reasons. At this very moment, I know exactly how to secure victory.

I took the sword from Luciella, while she picked up an old, discarded blade lying on the floor of Training Hall 7.

“That’ll do.”

“I don’t care for arrogant remarks… but I doubt it’ll affect the outcome.”

“Right.”

The current Luciella could probably defeat me with just her pinky finger.

In previous loops, I struggled desperately just to barely keep up with her, but now, as a hardworking genius, she’s nothing short of a monster.

If she were to draw the Holy Sword in this state, she’d ascend to heights I can’t even fathom.

But at least for now—

“Mind if I take the first move?”

“Doesn’t matter. Do as you please.”

“Thanks. Then—”

I quietly steadied my stance, about to charge at Luciella, but froze mid-motion.

Of course, I had no real intention of fighting seriously. I may push myself, but I’m not stupid. How could I possibly defeat Luciella as she is now?

At best, I just wanted to land a single hit—enough to claim victory.

Even if I’m insignificant compared to her, the impact of someone like me succeeding in an attack would be all the greater.

And I was confident I could do it—until she raised her guard.

A wall.

Even though she was just casually holding her sword horizontally in a defensive stance, I couldn’t envision any way to break through.

Faced with what felt like the Great Wall, I let out an involuntary sigh.

“Ha.”

No helping it. Charging in like this would be like throwing myself bare-handed against a brick wall.

Feeling the crushing weight of my own weakness, I forced a dry cough.

“This won’t work.”

“Won’t work?”

“I can’t find any openings. I thought I could at least land one hit, but I must’ve underestimated you. My bad.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just glad you realized it now.”

“So, I’d like to change the rules a bit. That alright?”

“You still plan to continue?”

“Of course. I need to fix that bad habit of yours for good.”

“…If it’s reasonable, I don’t mind.”

“Yeah? Then—”

I briefly explained the adjusted rules I had in mind.

“Understood. So, we’re switching offense and defense?”

“Right. Rather than trying to break through and land a hit on you, dodging around seems like a much better way to win.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. This way, I might actually beat you. All I have to do is avoid your sword.”

“…Jokes are in poor taste. Even if meant in jest, to someone who treats their sword as an extension of themselves, your words are deeply disrespectful—”

“I’m serious.”

“Huh?”

It was Luciella who faltered at my calm demeanor.

“I see. You’ve always been like this, haven’t you? Weak, yet always…”

“Always?”

“It’s nothing. If you win, what will you demand?”

“It’s true I’m weaker than you, but hear me out. Learn different sword styles as I say, and meet the people I introduce—no matter how useless you think they’ll be for your swordsmanship. They’ll help you in ways you can’t imagine.”

Dragons, retired sword saints, runaway mercenaries, elves—Luciella met countless individuals, learning and stealing their techniques to grow stronger.

With my knowledge, she’ll encounter even more mentors, and naturally, she’ll grow even stronger.

Not all of them will help her through swordsmanship alone.

“Understood.”

“And you? What do you want?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Demanding something for an inevitable victory is laughable. That’s why I said I don’t need anything in return.”

“Ouch. That hurts.”

“S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to belittle you. I just wanted to emphasize the overwhelming gap in our abilities.”

Of course. Luciella has never been one to consider others’ feelings.

She states facts and accepts them when spoken by others.

She thanks those who praise her and silently endures criticism—if it’s true.

But what if that “truth” is based on a lie?

In a previous loop, when time ran out and Luciella couldn’t save a village, a surviving child lashed out:

“Why didn’t you come sooner? Aren’t you supposed to be the hero who saves people?”

Her reply still lingers in my memory:

“Even heroes have limits. You’re blaming the wrong person.”

Who knows what she truly thought, but that attitude earned her many enemies.

People struggle to tolerate words that dismiss their worth.

Even Luciella’s sense of responsibility toward me now likely stems from her duty as the hero, not personal regard.

If even I, who know her well, feel this way, others would react far worse.

“Let me add one more condition.”

“Hm?”

“If I win, fix that habit of yours.”

Luciella will have to navigate countless social situations going forward. For the sake of at least one of her future mentors, she’ll need to learn basic manners.

“What habit?”

“If I win, lie for me. Say you can do it. Promise to protect everyone. And learn to shed tears in front of others.”

“I don’t see the point. People grow by accepting their weaknesses. Those who can’t don’t exist. My tears and apologies won’t change anything.”

“People are pettier than you think. You can’t help how you speak, but don’t assume others will always take your words at face value.”

“Is that all you ask?”

“Yeah.”

Ideally, I’d love to sit her down for a “How to Speak Nicely 101” course, but time isn’t on our side.

Luciella’s no fool. If she follows my advice, she’ll at least cut back on those blunt, all-encompassing remarks.

“Then, here I come. Even if you fail to dodge, you won’t get hurt, so don’t worry.”

“Just try it.”

I deliberately wiggled my fingers, provoking her again. And before I could react—

In the next instant, Luciella was already before me.

She swung her sword as naturally as breathing, and—

Clang!

My blade slid perfectly between her sword and my body, intercepting its trajectory.

“Haah… haah… See? Told you. You can win like this.”

Gasping for breath, I steadied myself. I’d expected it, prepared for it—but the sheer force behind that strike was absurd.

“…How? To my knowledge, you have no talent for the sword—”

Luciella cut herself off.

“The you I know hadn’t awakened your sword talent yet. Did you inherit it from your parents?”

“I’d be a proud son if so… but no. This was just a trick among tricks.”

Of course, facing Luciella now meant certain defeat. Even if I blocked the first strike, three—no, ten exchanges would leave my guard in shambles. But at least this one counter was flawless.

Having watched her swordsmanship closer than anyone, I knew how she moved, where she’d strike.

Against stronger foes, she’d use unpredictable techniques, but against someone as weak as me? She’d take the most familiar route. And I’d memorized that first strike’s trajectory.

This adjusted match only worked because Luciella had no idea I already knew her swordsmanship inside out.