Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 4

The morning after his eighteenth birthday, Leon woke up at 5 AM, as he always did, and neatly made his bed. By now, these actions had become routine, something his body had learned through years of countless repetitions.

Of course, he was still sleepy. He wasn’t a machine, after all. After splashing cold water on his face a few times, he finally pried his eyes fully open and caught his reflection in the mirror—a face with brown hair and dark brown eyes.

He wasn’t particularly ugly, but he wasn’t exactly handsome either. He brushed his bangs back with his left hand, which bore a faint glowing mark on the back.

A new, yet now familiar voice spoke. —You up?

“Good morning, El-Cid,” Leon replied, greeting the sword with casual familiarity. He had grown surprisingly accustomed to this interaction in just a single night.

The Holy Sword, El-Cid was the same legendary sword said to have been bestowed by the goddess to Holy King Rodrick himself. If the Church caught wind of its existence, the pope would probably come running barefoot. Yet, despite the weapon’s grand title, El-Cid’s personality was surprisingly easygoing. That dramatic first meeting must have just been for show.

“El-Cid, are you awake even when I’m asleep?” Leon asked, voicing a sudden curiosity.

—I can sleep if I want or stay awake if I want. It’s not like I can actually do anything while you’re knocked out, though.

“So you could be my night watch if you wanted?”

—How insolent!

Leon chuckled at the immediate outrage and started changing clothes. It struck him then just how long it had been since he had laughed like this.

His every day consisted of nothing but training, and then some more training. Leon had chosen to isolate himself. He didn’t have anyone he could truly call a friend. Chloe had approached him occasionally, but he kept his distance. He didn’t want any rumors swirling around about him getting close to a girl who was involved with Lyon. Talking to someone first thing in the morning and bantering over silly, insignificant things was oddly refreshing, but it wasn’t bad at all.

“Oh, right,” Leon said suddenly. “You said you wanted to see how I handle a sword, didn’t you?”

—Yeah. If I’m to teach you, first, I need to see where you’re at.

“You’re probably gonna be disappointed,” Leon muttered, but immediately winced at his own accidental slip.

El-Cid, however, replied without a hint of mockery. —I won’t be disappointed. Leon, you did your best with what you were given. What kind of teacher blames a student for not learning what they were never taught?

This was an unexpected reply. Feeling a blush creeping in and his eyes watering slightly, Leon quickened his pace.

The bond between a Holy Sword and its wielder wasn’t physical; it was forged through the heart. And El-Cid’s sincerity hit Leon like a hammer to the chest. To have someone believe in you—how powerful that was. He clenched his wooden sword tighter without even realizing it.

By the time they reached the training grounds, El-Cid was casually surveying the surroundings.

—I guess the sun’s not up yet. It’s pretty dark.

Leon couldn’t exactly tell how a sword embedded in the back of his hand was “seeing” the world, but whatever it was doing, it definitely seemed to be very thorough, almost as if it had no blind spots that most creatures would have.

Leon limbered up quickly, then gripped his wooden sword and said, “Well then. Let’s get started.”

There wasn’t much to show. His swordsmanship amounted to basic movements, slightly modified at best. Leon thought that he didn’t possess anything worthy of showing a legendary sword that carried the memories of a great hero, but El-Cid’s earlier words pushed him forward. With that support, he concentrated harder than ever.

The wooden blade sliced through the air with a clear sound, like the wind being sliced without disrupting the air flow. It was a perfect strike that he could only pull off once every hundred swings at best. But today, something was different. Leon, fully immersed in the sword, moved without hesitation.

From a downward slash straight into an upward cut, then into a diagonal swing—he repeated the movements again and again, seamlessly. Not just once by chance. But over and over again.

Ten times. Twenty times. He moved without pause, without error, until finally, he heard El-Cid’s voice.

—Stop.

Leon reluctantly halted at the command, but then soon realized why he was told to do so. The wooden sword in his hand was riddled with fine fractures, about to shatter into pieces, even though he had only been swinging it through empty air. One couldn’t mimic the same cracks even with a hammer.

Leon stared, wide-eyed, while El-Cid remained calm, though, in a way, even he was impressed.

—You weren’t even aware you were using it, huh? Sure, practicing the fundamentals is supposed to be good for developing it, but I didn’t know someone could pull it off without even using Aura.

“What exactly happened?” Leon asked.

—Don’t worry about it for now. If you start relying on it too early, it’ll only stunt your growth. I’ll explain when the time’s right.

Leon badly wanted to know more about this new “power,” but he suppressed his curiosity. If the Holy King himself said to wait, then waiting was what he would do. Even if Rodrick told him to train with a broomstick instead of a spear, Leon would have listened to him.

Picking up on his accepting attitude, El-Cid chuckled dryly and continued his evaluation. —You’ve done a fine job polishing your basics. Nothing major to point out there. We just need to teach you how to actually control your body.

“Control my body? Not sword techniques?” Leon asked, surprised by the unexpected shift in the lesson.

—What, you don’t need your arms to swing a sword? Body control is the foundation of martial arts. You’ve clearly built up your muscles through training, but that’s not exactly the same thing.

After his brief explanation, El-Cid thought for a moment before giving Leon a new instruction. He had seen enough of Leon’s technique. Now it was time to test his physical capabilities.

—Start running.

“Run? For how long?”

—Until I tell you to stop. Oh, and be ready to follow random commands while you’re running. Stuff like handstands or hopping on one foot.

Leon, who had been confidently tossing off his jacket, froze. Running wasn’t a problem. But hopping on one foot? Doing handstands while circling the training field? That, he hadn’t exactly practiced.

Even so, Leon took a few quick breaths and took off, his face slightly more tense than usual. He ran across the familiar dirt field, trusting his feet more than his eyes, bracing himself for whatever bizarre command El-Cid would throw at him.

And as he ran the laps, the sun began to rise over the distant hills. It was a view he was quite familiar with.

***

The middle-aged man standing at the front of the classroom read from the textbook in a low voice.

“That’s why soldiers in the North alternate between two types of armor. Metal armor does offer excellent protection, but it can’t withstand the brutal cold when even waterskins freeze solid. Likewise, soldiers stationed in the desert, where the heat is relentless, often wear armor made of cloth or leather. This is an example of how environmental factors can limit the functionality of armor itself...”

Classes at the Royal Academy were almost evenly split between practical and theoretical lessons. Moving one’s body all day was inefficient, so after training in swordsmanship and physical fitness, cadets were taught a variety of subjects, like humanities, natural sciences, and military strategy.

Because of the broad scope of the curriculum, the cadets inevitably lacked depth to their acquired knowledge. However, even superficial understanding created a huge gap compared to knowing nothing at all. After all, simply having strength didn’t make a knight valuable.

Modern knights needed to be capable of serving as field commanders, when necessary, with the judgment to handle a wide variety of situations immediately. Unless one was exceptionally talented in martial prowess, strength alone wasn’t enough anymore.

God, I’m tired, Leon thought as he mechanically took notes, fighting to keep his heavy eyelids open.

He wasn’t exactly a model student, but he wasn’t the type to doze off during class, either. He must have been truly exhausted. El-Cid had truly pushed him to his limits.

He had repeated some seemingly pointless movements hundreds of times—until he was on the verge of throwing up. The result of that brutal training came down to El-Cid’s simple evaluation of Leon.

—You’re a perfectly made blank canvas. A real treat to paint on.

There was an old saying from the East: “Great vessels take time to complete.” But Leon’s vessel was already built. It only needed to be filled. El-Cid was the Holy Sword carrying the memories of Holy King Rodrick. It had more than enough to pour into Leon. If it passed down even a portion of the ancient heroes’ swordsmanship and cultivation methods, Leon would easily reach the level of a Swordmaster, though that wasn’t enough for El-Cid.

—No way I’m letting my first successor in three hundred years stop at Swordmaster. Let’s see... You need to be able to swat down dragons like flies. As for the Demon King of this era, I don’t actually know how strong they are, but half my strength ought to be enough to take him out, he had said.

The goddess who had been quietly watching from the heavens nearly fainted at his words, but El-Cid, oblivious to her horror, made up his mind. He would forge Leon into a warrior who could stand at least halfway alongside him. From the warrior’s perspective, it was the moment the gates of hell swung open—and he didn’t even realize it.

—Leon.

At El-Cid’s call, Leon pinched his thigh under the desk as he internally answered, I’m listening.

He had to stay focused, not missing a single word of El-Cid’s lesson.

Satisfied at his attitude, El-Cid continued his lesson. —Good. I think I know where to begin our lesson. Leon, what do you think is your biggest weakness?

Uh... my swordsmanship or maybe Aura?

El-Cid shot him down instantly. —Wrong. It’s your eyes.

My eyes?

—Exactly. There’s a saying—I don’t know where it originated, but it goes: “First comes insight, footwork comes second, courage third, and strength comes last.” Insight is the most important. Then footwork. Then courage. Strength is last.

Leon fell silent, pondering the words in his mind, so El-Cid elaborated.

—Of course, strength matters too. But it means there are three things that are even more important. I don’t agree with everything about it, but it does show just how vital your eyes are.

Eyes... Leon already knew vision was important, but how did one train their eyes? Simply rolling his eyes around wouldn’t improve dynamic vision.

Sensing his confusion, El-Cid spoke again. —Leon, from now on, you’re going to learn how to see. You’re going to understand just how useless your eyes have been until now.

He paused to let the words sink in, then gave his first command.

—Focus straight ahead. Look at the teacher standing in front of the chalkboard. Focus on him for ten seconds and remember everything.

Alright.

Leon widened his eyes and stared at the deep green chalkboard and the middle-aged man standing in front of it. Brown hair. Green eyes. Chalk dust clinging to his fingers. A red necktie. A sprinkling of gray in his mustache. Brass cufflinks shining a pale gold on his sleeves.

Ten seconds passed.

—Now close your eyes and tell me: how many lines of text were written on the chalkboard?

What!? Leon panicked at the unexpected question. Wait, you told me to look at the teacher!

—I told you to focus, didn’t I? Who said anything about focusing only on him?

You’ve gotta be kidding me....

He tried to recall the scene just now, but nothing came to mind. He could picture the teacher’s shirt buttons clear as day, but he had no memory of what was written on the chalkboard.

El-Cid chuckled knowingly. —Nothing, right? You must’ve seen the board with your own eyes, but you can’t recall a thing. Why do you think that is, even after focusing so hard for ten seconds?

I don’t know...

—It’s simple. You only tried to look at what you needed to see.

The eyes were wasteful organs, far more than people realized. Humans had about a hundred and eighty degrees of horizontal vision, a hundred and twenty vertically. If they moved their eyes, the field expanded even more. Yet, hardly anyone actually used the full breadth of their vision.

Maybe to filter out unnecessary information, most people didn’t even remember what was at the edges of their sight. What had just happened to Leon was completely normal.

—Focus on your entire field of view. Memorize everything your eyes take in, like painting a picture. Relax your gaze and learn to see broadly. One day, you’ll need to do it constantly, not just for ten seconds.

Leon fought the urge to say that was impossible. Deciding something was impossible only made it harder. He had never expected the Holy Sword’s training to be easy. Besides, hadn’t El-Cid warned him from the beginning that gaining the sword didn’t grant him instant strength, and that the trials ahead would be far harsher than the opportunity itself?

I can’t start whining already.

Gritting his teeth, Leon forced himself to focus. Changing habits formed over eighteen years couldn’t happen overnight. But mindset—mindset could be corrected immediately. Seeing that manifest in Leon, El-Cid smiled inwardly, though he remained stern.

—This time, look at the top of the chalkboard. Same deal. Focus for ten seconds.

Got it!

Fired up, Leon glared forward with renewed determination. This was noticed by someone three seats over.

Lyon tilted his head, glancing sideways at Leon, wondering what he was doing. For some reason, his eyes were drawn to the back of Leon’s left hand where a sun-shaped golden mark shimmered faintly, but unmistakably. However, it was invisible to someone not recognized by it.

In the end, Lyon never figured out what that strange feeling was, even by the time class ended.