Chapter 12: Sword Saint V
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Is this the punishment that has been laid upon me?
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This is a tale from the past. It was her master who pushed aside countless powerful individuals to save Elise.
In truth, there were many who possessed greater strength than Elise, but that didn’t mean that anyone could save her simply because they were strong. There was something essential required to rescue her. Thus, the one who was able to help her was none other than her father, the Knight Commander of the kingdom, who was the closest person to her.
Now I understand that while her father was renowned as Ragna Gladius within the Order of Knights, the weight of that responsibility must have been immense. He likely didn’t have the leisure that those around him imagined. For that reason, despite being his own daughter, he didn’t often take the initiative to be involved in her life.
This could be seen as a form of education that allowed for independence, but on the flip side, it could also be interpreted as neglect, prioritizing work over family and child-rearing.
Nevertheless, Elise served as the commander of the knights, devoted to her duties, and she genuinely respected her father as a person of integrity. Yet, the reality that her father, who boasted of helping everyone, did not extend a hand to her led to a loneliness that, unbeknownst to her, gradually accumulated like sediment.
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She was a girl who had lived her life gripping a sword at all times. Now, she found herself seriously contemplating whether to abandon that sword. The thought of discarding her sword, which was not just a part of her but could be said to be her very soul, weighed heavily on her mind. It was not her father who saved her from this turmoil, but her master.
This was not merely about swordsmanship. The time spent with him was what truly healed her loneliness.
Unbeknownst to her—though if she were to realize it, she would undoubtedly deny it—he was not only her master but also her brother and father figure.
He never looked at Elise, the daughter of the Knight Commander, through any tinted lenses. During harsh training, he would mercilessly scold her, and when she was on the verge of collapse, he would gently encourage her. It was a mystery; just being with him made Elise feel as though she could surpass any limit.
Their time together was not solely about training. They cooked together, she would jump into his bath time, and they would walk and talk under the night sky. The moments spent with him were irreplaceable treasures for her.
Her master would likely never understand how deeply she revered him.
As she spent time with her master, she began to recognize a torrent of emotions she had never felt before.
This transformed her once mundane world into something sparkling and new.
She knew that such feelings could not last forever. The world was not that sweet. Despite telling herself this, even when she acknowledged it, she found herself yearning for her master to the extent that she would willingly dedicate everything she had to him.
In their conversations, they had joked about how the number of children could form a knightly order. Initially, it was a casual remark, but by the second time, it was a conscious statement.
Her master didn’t notice, but Elise was blushing fiercely, her ears burning with embarrassment. That line was wrapped in a jest, but it held her true feelings.
In her heart, she had long since resolved to spend her life with him.
Even if he were to refuse, even if he were to venture far away, she was determined—absolutely determined—not to part ways, with a resolve as solid as diamond.
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When was it?
Something changed.
It wasn’t until a significant amount of time had passed that she could recognize that change.
One by one, she traced her memories.
It was during the period of long-term recuperation following the Hero Party’s conquest of the Blade Labyrinth.
At that time, Hero Ryuguin had completely erased thoughts of the next labyrinth from his mind, basking in the glory of his fame as a hero and reveling in the joys of life.
Simultaneously, it was when the hero had stopped engaging in the daily routines of sword training and magical practice that he had previously never missed.
“Gripping a sword or casting spells is something only barbarians do. When violence is necessary, let someone skilled handle it. It’s about placing the right person in the right role. That’s how those in power operate,” he had said back then.
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From that point on, the hero, who had once been Elise’s guiding light, not only ceased his training but also stopped extending a hand to her.
This cast a significant shadow over her swordsmanship. The strength of the Sword Saint was acquired through extreme training and surviving the deadly trials of the Blade Labyrinth. At that stage, the title of the strongest swordsman she had earned was merely a temporary accolade.
In any field—be it academics, sports, or martial arts—just because one has achieved a difficult technique once does not mean they can continue to do so indefinitely. To maintain peak performance, it is crucial to repeatedly practice while the sensation of success is still fresh.
Elise Gladius was at a critical juncture in her growth. Perhaps because she was vaguely aware of this, even after conquering the Blade Labyrinth, she relentlessly trained, always seeking to grasp that feeling from back then.
She was clumsy yet intelligent. She quickly understood the nature of her situation. Though she was training desperately on her own after being turned down by her master, she realized that she could not reach the summit alone and that only her master could guide her.
She longed to cross swords with him again, just as she had in the past, and she often begged for training sessions. This was her way of seeking affection, reminiscent of their previous closeness.
She believed her master would respond as he always did, with a sigh, saying, “Alright, alright! Let’s have at it!”
—Or so she thought.
When Elise called out to him, the hero would always brush her off with, “I’m busy,” or “I’ll play with you another time,” or “Don’t bother me.” Ultimately, when she persisted, calling out, “Master! Master!” and following him, his attitude would shift dramatically.
“You haven’t grown much, and, well, you’re just good-looking.”
The hero’s gaze traveled from her head to her toes. She felt a glimmer of something lewd in his narrowed eyes.
“I know, I know. You’re going to say you’re good at swordsmanship, right?”
The scent of alcohol wafted from his breath.
“Let me tell you something. The people of this world might be foolish enough to value that, but to me, violence is just a negative trait. No matter how skilled you are at violence, it’s merely a spectacle.”
He spoke with a truly condescending expression.
“In other words, to me, you’re just a pretty face with no growth, a barbarian skilled in violence. So, you get what I’m saying, right? If you understand, just shut up and let me have my trophy.”
Until now, it had always been her master who guided her.
—Or so she thought.
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