Chapter 13: Sense [2]
Years ago, Sir Fritz had been the knight responsible for overseeing Ilya’s swordsmanship during his childhood in the Northern Duchy.
Once a respected General of the Northern Knight Order, he had personally nurtured the talent everyone believed would one day become the pride of House Belozersky, devoting years of his life to polishing the heir’s extraordinary gift with the blade.
Then Ilya began to decline.
Unable to restore the young master’s former brilliance despite every effort he could make, Sir Fritz was eventually dismissed from his position within the Belozersky household.
Although no one ever openly blamed him, the failure to guide the North’s greatest prodigy back onto the proper path had ultimately cost him both his post and the place he had faithfully served for years.
"You’ve grown, Young Master."
"...I think it’s best if we keep pretending we don’t know each other," Ilya replied. "After all, it was because of me that you lost your position."
"No, Young Master. It was I who failed you."
Sir Fritz, however, calmly denied it.
"A knight’s duty is to guide those entrusted to him. If his student loses their way, then the fault does not lie solely with the student. I was unable to fulfill my responsibility, and I accepted the consequences of that failure."
Ilya remained silent.
Naturally, he had long known that Sir Fritz had become an instructor at the academy. Their paths had crossed countless times over the past year, yet Ilya had never once approached him, believing there was nothing he could possibly say that would justify costing the man his livelihood.
As far as he was concerned, Sir Fritz had simply been caught in the crossfire of his own downfall.
Sir Fritz slowly raised his practice sword and assumed his stance.
"Regardless of what happened in the past, we stand here today as instructor and examinee. Come, Young Master. Let me see the sword you’ve chosen to walk with."
"...."
A faint, bitter smile spread across Ilya’s face.
Ilya had already chosen to abandon the sword, and he had no intention of becoming the greatest knight the North had once expected him to be anymore.
———!
Without another word, Ilya pushed off the ground and closed the distance between them in a single step.
As he advanced, snow continued to fall around him, blanketing the battlefield in an endless winter that existed only within his own perception.
No one else could see the frozen landscape that had long since become his reality, a silent, hellish world where the snowfall never ceased.
Clang——!
Steel met steel.
Sir Fritz intercepted the strike, the collision sending a metallic ring across the training grounds as the two blades locked together before separating once again.
Neither of them immediately pressed the advantage. Sir Fritz’s eyes fixed on Ilya with that look.
The way his brows were drawn together, the disappointment directed not toward Ilya, but toward himself, as though he himself were the failure.
"...Please," Ilya said quietly as he lowered his sword. "Stop looking at me like that."
"...."
"I’ve already told you before," Ilya continued. "You taught me everything you could, and if I still ended up like this, then that’s entirely on me."
The reasoning was simple.
For generations, House Belozersky had never produced an ordinary knight. Every successor born into the family had the sort of talent where expectations within the household had never been measured against ordinary people.
They had always been measured against monsters.
By comparison, Ilya’s decline was nothing short of a crime itself.
That was the standard expected of a Belozersky. Never an average knight. Never a mediocre one.
Ironically, by ordinary standards, Ilya was still more than capable. He remained stronger than the average knight, at the very least.
Yet none of that meant anything within House Belozersky. Against a family whose legacy had always been defined by prodigies, even a knight who surpassed the average was ultimately no different from a farmer in their eyes.
Clang—Clang—Clang——!
A shower of sparks burst into the air as their blades collided again and again. Ilya managed to keep pace, but only because Sir Fritz had yet to reinforce his sword with mana.
Even then, every clash traveled straight through his arms, leaving his grip a little heavier than before.
Meanwhile, Sir Fritz remained composed throughout the exchange.
His sword moved with neither unnecessary flourish nor wasted motion as every swing arrived exactly where it needed to be. As a result, there was no opening for Ilya to exploit.
Another strike descended.
Clang——!
Ilya barely managed to raise his sword in time.
The impact forced him several steps backward. Before he had even recovered his footing, Sir Fritz had already stepped forward once more.
Then, something changed.
Whoosh——!
The endless snowfall surrounding Ilya suddenly rippled.
His eyes widened.
This was the first time it had ever happened. That frozen landscape belonged solely to him, a world that no one else could perceive, let alone influence.
Yet there was no mistaking what he had just seen, nor the strange sensation that accompanied it. Sir Fritz hadn’t touched the snow directly, and yet the movement of his sword had somehow disturbed it ever so slightly.
Then, a faint crack echoed under his feet.
———!
The sheet of ice covering the ground fractured by the smallest of margins, little more than a hairline split, but Ilya felt the vibration travel through the frozen world as though it had been struck directly.
"...Ah."
Already struggling to maintain his balance, Ilya shifted his weight the wrong way as his foot slipped across the ice.
Thud——!
His body lurched backward before he landed rather ungracefully on the ground, and Sir Fritz’s blade, which should have struck cleanly, sliced through the empty space where Ilya had been standing only a second earlier.
"...What?"
Ilya had felt it.
The instant Sir Fritz’s blade cut through the falling snow, a strange sensation ran through his entire body.
It wasn’t pain, nor was it anything remotely close to an actual wound. But there was a faint, tingling sensation, almost ticklish, as though the sword had grazed something that existed inside him rather than his physical body.
Instinctively, Ilya looked up at the endless snowfall surrounding him.
The flakes continued drifting through the air, just as they always had. Yet now, he could no longer shake the feeling that this frozen world was far less untouchable than he had always believed.
Somehow, without seeing it or even knowing it existed, Sir Fritz’s blade had managed to interfere with it, if only for the briefest of moments.
’...How?’
There was no time to dwell on the question.
Sir Fritz’s sword was already descending once more, yet before the blade had even begun its arc, Ilya felt it.
The sensation arrived first, long before his eyes could properly register the movement itself, as though something within the endless snowfall had been disturbed a second before the strike was ever unleashed.
Instinct overtook thought.
"...!"
Ilya moved to the side.
Whoosh——!
The blade passed harmlessly by his shoulder.
Sir Fritz immediately transitioned into another strike, then another, then another. Yet every single time, Ilya reacted before the sword had fully left Sir Fritz’s reach.
He moved on pure intuition rather than conscious judgment, as though the falling snow itself had whispered the attack into his ears before it ever reached him.
His eyes slowly widened.
’...The Domain.’
Every movement Sir Fritz made disturbed the frozen world surrounding him.
The snow rippled, the ice vibrated, and those minute changes reached Ilya before the physical attack itself, allowing him to perceive the intent behind the strike an instant earlier than his eyes ever could.
It was only the smallest of advantages, scarcely more than a moment, yet against a swordsman, even a single instant often meant the difference between life and death.
The realization caught Ilya completely off guard.
This Domain wasn’t merely a landscape he happened to see.
It had become an extension of himself. Every snowflake, every crack spreading through the ice, and every subtle disturbance within that frozen world all flowed back to him, as naturally as feeling the movement of his own limbs.
"If you continue avoiding every exchange, the examiners will deduct points. I believe you’ve already secured at least an A in endurance, but this is still the Sword examination."
"...."
Unfortunately, this was still an examination at the end of the day.
Although this newfound ability allowed him to extend the range of his senses, it couldn’t compensate for the gap in skill between them.
In the end, Ilya was still driven back, eventually yielding the match just as everyone had expected.
Although he had lost the duel, he had also gained something far more valuable than a passing grade.
"I’ll see whether I can negotiate your evaluation, Young Master. I’ve seen everything I needed to see."
"...Ah. Yes."
Ilya gave a small nod in return.
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