Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 5

El-Cid asked, —Alright, that’s ten seconds. Now, tell me, what color was the crest on the third helmet from the left?

Leon, unsure of the answer, thought without an ounce of confidence, Blue...?

—Wrong. That was the second helmet.

The training El-Cid had begun—teaching Leon “how to see”—was far more difficult and exhausting than he had imagined. Less than a day in, and it felt like his eyeballs were going to fall out. In hindsight, maybe it was to be expected.

To put a number to it, if his eyesight up to now had been functioning at a three, then El-Cid was demanding something well beyond a ten. Of course, his overworked eyes and brain would throb. Even all-nighters didn’t give him this bad of a headache.

At least resting his eyes helped a little. However, the headache refused to fade—it just kept pulsing behind his skull. Despite Leon’s suffering, for some reason, it seemed like El-Cid was only more pleased the worse he looked.

—Hah, that’s good. That means it’s working.

Leon, hearing that, briefly wondered if El-Cid was really a holy sword—or a cursed one. However, the explanation that followed did make sense.

—Eye strain just means your eyeballs are dry or over-tensed. But headaches? That’s different. It means you’re waking up abilities you’ve never used before. It’s no different from sore muscles.

So... it’s kinda like when my arms and legs ache after training all day?

—Something like that. Technically the brain doesn’t feel pain, so it’s not totally accurate, but... actually, yeah, just think of it that way.

El-Cid cut himself off mid-thought. Maybe he figured the rest would go over Leon’s head, or that it wasn’t time to explain it yet. Leon didn’t press further and just rubbed his temples. Not like he had the energy for more learning anyway.

As expected, El-Cid didn’t care about his groaning. The training went on, relentless as ever, no matter the time or place. Questions came flying in as soon as class ended and they walked out into the hallway when Leon was eating in the dining hall while watching students pass by, and on the way back to the dormitory after the evening training session.

—The broken tile in the hallway—what shape was the tile three spaces to the left of it?

Square?

—It was a pentagon, you idiot. The guy walking next to that girl who passed you at around the three-second mark—was he wearing a belt or not?

He was.

—What about a tie?

Uh...

—Third floor of the dorms—was the light on or off in the twelfth room from the left, from your perspective?

It was on.

—And the room above it?

It was—wait, no, off.

—And the fourth room from the right on the first floor?

Uh...

After a barrage of trials, Leon finally made it to his room and collapsed, groaning in frustration.

“Aaaargh!”

A single day of El-Cid’s “vision” training was rigorous enough to wreck even Leon who prided himself on his mental toughness. His eyes burned and his head pounded. This wasn’t like normal muscle soreness. In terms of physical activity, he had not done even half his usual workload, yet his mind was completely drained.

At that moment, the sigil on the back of his hand flickered and El-Cid spoke.

—Well, for a first day, you did okay. I’ll give you points for not whining or asking for a break.

Leon flinched and asked the obvious question, “If I had asked, would you have let me take a break?”

—Nope. El-Cid answered curtly.

“Yeah, I thought so...”

Having spent all of his energy, Leon chuckled weakly at the ceiling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been pushed this hard.

He used to run laps until he vomited, gripping a wooden sword even when the skin on his palms tore. At some point, that pain had become routine. He punished his body without even thinking.

However, today—this was the first time in ages his mind had been worn out. El-Cid waited a beat before continuing, letting him recover a little.

—Getting used to something also means you’ve stopped growing. There’s a limit to what you can achieve through the same type of training. Repetition has its benefits, but your body starts finding shortcuts. That’s the problem.

“What do you mean by ‘shortcuts’? How is my body taking one?”

—I’m saying you get too used to the method. Run laps on a training ground long enough and you’ll struggle on uneven ground. Do nothing but push-ups, and you’ll find it hard to press from other angles. That’s why you need variety.

Leon finally understood the training from earlier that morning.

“So that’s why you made me hop on one leg, or run the track doing a handstand.”

—Right. You needed to find things that felt unnatural to you.

The human body was far more delicate and complex than most people realized.

Depending on how someone trained or lived, their bones, muscles, and nervous systems could develop in wildly different ways. Sailors had extraordinary balance from living on waves, hunters had an instinctive sense of direction from life in the forest, and nomads had incredible eyesight because they were used to scanning far distances.

Training was about building strengths and compensating for weaknesses and El-Cid had identified those elements in Leon right away.

—Your strengths are your stamina, forged through insane training, and the sword foundation you built from your discipline and mental fortitude. Your weakness? That foundation of yours is stuck---stiff, if you will. You lack physical and mental flexibility.

“Flexibility? What about swordsmanship or my inability to use Aura?” Leon asked, sounding surprised.

He had heard the same advice from teachers and students alike: swear loyalty to a decent noble house, and one would gain access to real swordsmanship and cultivation techniques. Those were what would make one stronger.

When Leon muttered that, El-Cid just snorted.

—Swordsmanship is just how you move your sword. If you can freely apply your fundamentals to different situations, that is swordsmanship. Sure, some techniques are ridiculously powerful—but what noble house hands out their secrets just because you swear an oath?

“Fair point...”

—As for Aura, don’t make me laugh. Did that Lyon brat beat you with Aura?

Leon let out a short sigh, then shook his head slowly as he came to the realization that there was no doubt Lyon, a high-ranking noble’s son, could use Aura—Leon just hadn’t seen it. Since Leon couldn’t use it himself, Lyon simply hadn’t bothered. However, if anything, Lyon likely possessed a stronger Aura than anyone else at the Academy.

Leon also knew that this meant learning Aura now wouldn’t help him defeat Lyon. No matter how fast he picked it up, it wasn’t going to bridge that gap in time.

El-Cid sensed Leon’s understanding and added, —Besides, if a kid with no background suddenly starts wielding Aura, people are bound to get suspicious. That’s why I’ll start teaching you Aura after you leave the Academy.

“Oh, that makes sense!” Leon exclaimed as he nodded with genuine admiration.

While he had only been focused on getting stronger, El-Cid had factored in the entire situation. That level of foresight felt worthy of a legendary hero’s spiritual avatar.

—So for now, keep focusing on how to see. We’ve got to knock that guy flat as soon as possible and get out of this place.

“Got it! I’m fired up now!”

Gone was the shriveled husk collapsed on the bed. Leon leaped up, brimming with energy again, but it seemed like even that much wasn’t enough for El-Cid.

—Nope. Still not there.

“What?”

—Didn’t I tell you? Keep doing the same kind of training and your body starts slacking off. You really gave it your all today but repeat this kind of training enough and you’ll lose interest fast.

A vague sense of dread crawled down Leon’s spine. He asked cautiously, “W-what are you gonna do, then?”

—Nothing much. Starting tomorrow, you’ll just get a small punishment every time you answer wrong.

“A punishment?”

—Want me to show you a little taste? Just to see what it's like?

Leon hesitated, briefly considering refusing it but then nodded in acceptance. It wasn’t realistic to expect he’d never get anything wrong, so he figured it would be better to experience it once now and brace himself for the real thing. Maybe it would help sharpen his nerves, too.

However, it didn’t take long for him to realize that even that resolve hadn’t been enough. The instant the mark on the back of his hand flared, Leon spasmed like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Gh—grrrk! Hhhkk! Aaa—!”

The pain was unimaginable—beyond anything he had ever conceived. Like a cramped muscle being crushed between fingers, or a tendon twisted with metal tongs. Leon writhed on his bed, unable even to scream.

It lasted maybe five seconds, but in those five seconds, Leon broke into a cold sweat like he’d emptied a whole glass of water.

He had been hit hard enough to crack bones before. He had even fallen from a horse and broken a leg once, but none of that compared to this.

—Oops. Maybe that was too much. I’ll dial it down a little... El-Cid murmured to himself, then offered a perfectly reasonable explanation. —It’s not like I’m torturing you for fun. They say fear is a powerful motivator, and it’s true. Your willpower isn’t bad, but even strong minds need a push from behind now and then.

“S-still, t-this was just way too mu...”

—That one was just because it was your first time—I couldn’t calibrate it properly. I’ll go easier next time. Though if you keep getting things wrong, the pain’s going up again. But that’s on you, right?

The so-called “Holy Sword,” El-Cid, offered those words of encouragement in his usual cheerful voice—utterly crushing Leon’s soul in the process who sat there in shocked silence.

—I shall take your silence as an agreement. Alright, then! Let’s do our best again tomorrow!

“Y-you... damn cursed sword...!”

In that moment, roughly seventy percent of Leon’s respect for Holy King Rodrick evaporated.

***

One month flew by, and the day Leon had drawn El-Cid the Holy Sword was already thirty days ago. It was a long time—or a short one, depending on how one looked at it. However, for Leon, every single day had been hell. El-Cid’s training had pushed him to the literal edge of his endurance.

There wasn’t a scrap of energy left in him at the end of each day. The moment he hit his bed, he blacked out. Not a second was wasted. Every waking moment was training.

Even Leon, infamous for his obsessive work ethic, had barely survived it. He amazed even himself for not giving up.

Alas, all that effort seemed to be paying off as a familiar kind of questions came from El-Cid.

—How many pigeons were on the dorm roof just now?

“Eleven,” Leon answered without opening his eyes, standing on the sparring grounds after a quick lunch.

The answer came almost instantly—nothing like the early days when he’d fumbled even after several seconds of thinking.

Still, El-Cid wasn’t about to let it go at that. He continued his questions.

—What color were the third, fifth, sixth, and tenth pigeons from the right?

“Gray, gray, white, gray.”

—Which one flew away first?

“The sixth one.”

—How many birds were sitting by the open window?

Leon paused for a second under the barrage of questions, then smiled.

“Hm... There weren’t any pigeons. Just a crow.”

—Correct.

A clean evasion of El-Cid’s trap.

They’d moved past the simple Q&A phase by the second week. After that, El-Cid started mixing in trick questions to mess with Leon’s judgment—and Leon, in turn, had to get reacquainted with the ‘loving punishment’ he had hoped never to feel again.

It had been another two weeks of unrelenting pain. No matter how many times he experienced it, the punishment never got easier. With bloodshot eyes, Leon pushed through day after day of brutal mental training.

And finally—today—he scraped together a passing grade.

—It still takes a conscious effort for you to notice things, but for one month, that’s not bad.

“You think so?”

—Today, I’ll cut you some slack. Take a break.

“Yes!!”

Leon raised his arms triumphantly and slumped to the ground. It was his first real break in a month. El-Cid always caught the exact moment Leon’s focus slipped. Then, right on cue, he’d fire off a question and deliver a merciless shock.

At first, Leon had wanted to tear his hair out from the sheer agony. However, over time, he started to get it. Fear really was an effective teacher.

They said a lazy man would sit still when hungry. But whip him once, and he’ll be sprinting in no time.

That was exactly what El-Cid’s “punishment” was for. Even Leon, with his insane endurance, had reached his limits during long stretches of focus but one good zap from the sword, and his mind would snap back into clarity like a bucket of cold water.

As that old saying goes: fight fire with fire. He had surpassed what he once believed were his limits—more than once.

“Leon?”

That familiar, vaguely irritating voice pricked at Leon’s ear, one he hadn’t heard in a while.

His face hardened automatically as he turned. Just as he expected—Lyon was standing there, looking at him with a slightly unfamiliar expression.