I Raised the Villain's Daughter Too Well-Chapter 37: Didn’t Know! -
Fwoooosh—
Virdem watched the burning checkpoint for a moment before stepping up onto the carriage.
“Let’s go. Since we’re targeting only small outposts, the number we hit matters more than the size.”
“...Ah. Yeah.”
They’d already destroyed three strongholds.
Emily rubbed her eyes a few times as she watched Virdem casually hop into the carriage and yank Arin up by the scruff of her neck like a sack of grain.
The outpost was still smoldering. The elite soldiers’ corpses had dissolved into dust.
This was real.
That butler—
“What are you doing? Hurry up and get in.”
That arrogant butler—he wasn’t just some average magical swordsman.
“I-I’m getting in, okay?”
Calling any magical swordsman “average” would be ridiculous anyway.
To wield both sword and magic simultaneously is beyond hard. Even if you had two brains, it wouldn’t make it any easier.
It’s a thousand times harder than drawing a circle with one hand and a triangle with the other.
That’s why magical swordsmen aren’t just prodigies. They’re monsters.
No matter how talented you are, if someone tells you to try becoming a magical swordsman, you’d just blank out. It’s not something anyone can do unless they were born to do it.
And yet—
...Is he really a magical swordsman?
Emily, seated in the carriage, kept sneaking glances at Virdem as he stared straight ahead.
He wasn’t casting spells in brief ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) windows between sword clashes.
He was doing it while exchanging blows, while dodging attacks, even while rolling across the ground.
Right in the heat of the action—at the most critical moments—he would cast.
That shouldn’t be possible.
Maybe a mage of the Seventh Circle or higher, who could cast spells with just a whisper of focus, could pull that off...
“Hm. According to the map, it’s a bit of a ride to the next target.”
“I’m hungry.”
“This is a mana space. There’s no food here.”
“Mnnn. Still hungry...”
“...Don’t tell me you came in without eating anything? If you entered while you were hungry, you’ll stay hungry the whole time. Your condition’s locked from entry.”
“Yeah. That... probably happened.”
“Tch. Here, chew on this.”
“Okay.”
She shoved a handful of hay from the floor into her mouth like a starving mutt. So much for the dignity of a high-tier mage.
Even if he had some kind of poise, the idea of a butler being Seventh Circle... now that’s just laughable.
Only one possibility remained:
He’d learned some kind of special magic.
And Emily had heard of something like that before.
While gathering intelligence on House Seriratus, she had stumbled upon a piece of information by chance—
A butler-only, single-lineage transmission magic.
...What was it called again?
She couldn’t quite remember.
As Emily tilted her head, trying to recall it, Virdem snapped his fingers sharply while staring ahead.
“Focus for a moment.”
“...What? I was focused! And why are you talking down to me?”
“We have a slight problem.”
“What now?”
Virdem pointed silently ahead.
Thin wisps of smoke were curling into the sky.
“Another team. They’re after the same target.”
“You sure it’s another team? Maybe they’re just cooking or something.”
“Smoke that dense wouldn’t come from cooking fires. You’d need an entire building to be burning for that kind of thick, black smoke to be visible from this distance.”
He unfolded the map and frowned.
“...This isn’t good. Looks like our routes completely overlapped.”
“Can’t we avoid them?”
“We can. But the entire reason we came this far was to sweep the nearby outposts. If we dodge them now, this whole sprint becomes meaningless—and our quantity-over-quality strategy falls apart. The next cluster of targets is way farther out.”
“Mmm...”
“Shall we proceed or reroute? I’ll let you decide. You are the team leader, after all.”
“Only in moments like this, huh?”
Emily grumbled, then made her call.
“Let’s just go. If we bump into them, we can run away or something.”
“......Understood.”
“What’s with that pause? You got a problem?”
“Not at all. We should pick up the pace.”
Emily had her own logic.
Virdem, who crushed elite troops like it was nothing.
And Arin, who fought more like a beast than a person—some witch-like monster of raw power.
Tch. I hate to admit it, but...
Honestly?
Even if they ran into another team, she didn’t think they’d lose easily.
****
...This isn’t great.
I sighed, watching thin trails of smoke rise across the landscape.
In a mana space this large, effects are optimized—fires are designed to extinguish quickly.
Which meant these visible smoke plumes had been produced almost simultaneously.
Within five minutes, multiple outposts had been destroyed in rapid succession.
Whoever it was, they were moving fast. Really fast. And while the smoke was coming from a slightly different region than our target area—so the chances of running into them were low—
If we did meet, and they were hostile, retreating wouldn’t be easy.
Best-case scenario would be if it was Firnea.
Firnea wouldn’t leave smoke behind.
“...Hey, what’s your deal? If you’re that worried, we can just skip it.”
“That’s not it.”
In fact, if we don’t go, making top 10 gets even harder.
Whether it works out or not, we’ve got to smash heads and gamble.
Not that Emily had likely thought things through to that degree.
“As I said before—speed is everything. Let’s hit half the target and withdraw.”
“...Got it. And this time, don’t leave me behind.”
“Of course. You’ll need to earn your keep.”
“Ughgh...”
...Can she even fight properly?
“This one’s a food depot. Let’s move in.”
“Stop giving orders like you’re the boss...!”
We leapt from the carriage and arrived at a much more fortified structure.
Unlike the previous checkpoints, this one had real defenses: palisades, barricades, and crude but functional wooden buildings.
“W-Who goes there?!”
“We’re under attack!”
Far more elite soldiers scrambled out than before.
“What the hell? Just three of them?”
“How did they get this far?”
Judging by their reaction, no one had escaped to warn them earlier.
That meant the points here would be good.
“Hmph. I’ve got this.”
Emily clicked her heels and stepped forward, rapier drawn.
A rapier... against spears. Worst possible matchup.
Arin tried to dash in to help, but I grabbed her by the back of the collar.
“She said she’s got this.”
“But...”
“It’s fine. She’s from Roashia. She won’t lose to something like this.”
Let’s see how someone from Roashia fights.
I crossed my arms to spectate. Arin hesitated, then copied me, folding her arms too.
“Korsia must’ve gone mad, sending a kid like her into battle! Kill her!”
The elite troops didn’t hesitate. They lunged forward with their spears—
—and that’s all I saw.
—FSSSH!
“Wha—?!”
Emily’s hand blurred, and the spear shafts snapped into three pieces.
Then a hole opened in the spearman’s neck.
She’d slashed twice and thrust once with that short rapier.
That single thrust? It covered more than twice the visible range of the blade.
“...Hoooh.”
I let out an impressed exhale.
“How did you do that?”
“Roashia blades are longer than they look—wait, why are you just standing there?!”
Emily turned to glare at me, dumbfounded.
“You’re not fighting?!”
“You did say you could handle it on your own, didn’t you?”
“Well, that was obviously... I-I mean, you know what I meant!”
“Being of low birth, I must struggle to grasp noble language. Still, I do know one thing—nobles are not creatures so vile that they speak with two tongues.”
“...”
What the hell kind of posturing is that?
Emily nearly exploded with rage—only to realize this wasn’t the time. She pivoted hard and leapt aside.
“This one’s no joke—watch out!”
“She’s fast...!”
The elite soldiers, now aware she wasn’t just some girl with a sword, tightened their formation and pressured her with a much more precise offense.
Thanks to that, I got to observe her swordsmanship in greater detail.
—SHFFF!
“Damn it! Keep your distance! I don’t know how she’s doing it, but that rapier’s reach is way longer than ours!”
The hidden art of Roashia’s swordsmanship was unlike any other I’d seen.
First of all—its essence lay in footwork.
“What the hell?! I was sure I stabbed her!”
“You...! You’re dead, I swear...!”
She moved like a ghost.
So light and smooth it was as if she had no weight at all, her body gliding meters with each subtle step.
It was bizarre. Most footwork focused on speed and precision—but Roashia’s seemed to aim for illusion.
She moved like a feather, sometimes seeming to be swept away by the very wind of her enemy’s sword swings. No wonder it looked supernatural.
“KRAAGH!”
The second trait was her reach.
Strikes landed at a distance one would never expect from a rapier. That footwork, paired with such reach, made her literally float like a butterfly, sting like a wasp.
The elite soldiers couldn’t put up a fight. They fell like autumn leaves in the wind.
In less than five minutes, the fight was over.
As the soldiers' bodies faded to dust, Emily stood among them, panting hard—and glaring daggers at me.
“You... you bastard...!”
—CLAP CLAP CLAP!
I applauded. Arin glanced at me, then began clapping as well, copying my tone.
“Roashia’s swordsmanship is truly incredible. It felt like watching a piece of art.”
“...”
“The footwork flows like a dance, and your strikes are soft yet full of resolve. Each exchange was more moving than any stage play. Of every sword I’ve seen, I can say yours is the most beautiful.”
Emily lowered her head, trembling. Clearly, she was furious.
Or so I thought.
“...W-Well, of course it’s beautiful. It’s Roashia’s swordsmanship.”
Huh. That... worked?
Now twirling a strand of her hair, Emily looked like she was actually in a good mood.
No, not just good. Genuinely happy.
“Roashia’s sword is the most beautiful thing in the world. Sometimes you hear idiots say swords should just be sharp and strong—that’s such narrow thinking. What age do they think we live in? A sword isn’t for killing anymore. It’s for cultivation. Roashia’s sword is the Empire’s best—no, the world’s best. There are still so many people trapped in that old, war-minded way of thinking...”
Okay, she’s a little too happy now.
Time to rein her in before she starts quoting her family’s whole creed.
I stepped forward to calm her—
“Ah.”
“...?”
—SHIIING!
I drew my sword.
Emily flinched violently in shock.
“Wh-What are you doing?! Are you seriously—?!”
I ignored her.
And swung.
“KYAAAH?!”
She squeezed her eyes shut just as—
—CRACK!
—not the sound of flesh tearing, but something shattering.
When she cautiously opened her eyes...
“D-Dammit...!”
A crossbowman who had been hiding behind the ramparts turned and fled.
I exhaled and looked down at Emily’s trembling eyes, brimming with tears.
“You did well, but never let your guard down. Even in a mana space, this is still a war zone.”
“Y-You...”
“No need for thanks. We’re on the same team.”
“If you were going to use magic, just use magic! Why the sword?!”
“Ah.”
Right. She still thinks I’m a magical swordsman.
It’d be a pain to explain—but if I didn’t say anything, she’d probably assume I’d just pulled a sadistic prank.
I was about to give her a vague answer—
When she nodded to herself, as if she’d figured something out.
“R-Right. That’s what it is. Of course.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that...”
“It’s because of Geminos, right?”
“...Excuse me?”
I wondered if I’d heard her correctly.
Emily nodded again, satisfied, like she’d just cracked a riddle.
“Yeah. Just like the texts said... You’re not just a butler—you’re the butler-chief.”
“...”
I still don’t really know what Geminos is.
Maclaine always dodged my questions, and I’ve never found any mention of it in any written records.
...
Now, something just as important as the test had landed in front of me.
