The lessons in Olivia's mind flickered in and out, like whispers in the wind. One moment they were sharp and clear, and the next, they faded, slipping through her grasp.
But she didn't dwell on it long. The excitement surged back, quickly pushing aside any hesitation, as if the emotional scar had healed, the pain already forgotten. She beamed, her eyes glinting with curiosity, and turned toward Leon.
"Can I take it out and have a look?" she asked, eager yet respectful, her gaze fixed on the sword by his side.
Leon, always mindful of safety, smiled and nodded, though he added a gentle warning. "Go ahead, but remember, it's sharp. Be careful not to hurt yourself."
His words carried a weight that Olivia didn't miss. This wasn't just an object of admiration; it was a weapon, a tool of power and precision, demanding both respect and caution.
Olivia nodded, her expression turning serious. Her fingers lightly wrapped around the hilt, a moment of stillness passing between them before she carefully drew the blade from its sheath. The sword emerged with a soft, metallic whisper, its sleek surface catching the sunlight and gleaming with an almost ethereal brightness. She marveled at the craftsmanship, the way the steel seemed to shimmer with a life of its own, each edge finely honed to perfection.
With an instinctive grace, Olivia raised the sword. But halfway through the motion, she hesitated, casting a quick, nervous glance at Leon, as if seeking approval or perhaps reassurance.
Leon chuckled, his smile warm and knowing. "Why the worried look?" he teased, though his tone was kind. "If you want to try it, go ahead. There's no one around to tell your father. Just be careful; don't drop it, and definitely don't drop it on us!" He winked, adding with a grin, "It's fine to swing it here. Let loose."
Olivia's eyes lit up, a glimmer of excitement sparkling within them. "Thank you, Leon," she said, her voice soft but filled with anticipation.
Not wanting to soil Leon's sheath, she carefully righted it with her left hand and passed it back to him, her movements fluid and practiced. Once free of the encumbrance, Olivia took a few steps back, creating a safe distance between herself and the others. She turned to face the open field ahead, her body shifting into a stance that seemed natural to her.
"I haven't touched a steel sword since I last played around in the shop… three years ago," she murmured, half to herself, the memory fresh in her mind. She gripped the sword's handle firmly now, her hands steady, her focus sharpening.
For a moment, she stood still. Then, in a swift, almost imperceptible motion, she moved.
Buzz!
The air hummed as her sword sliced through it, two blinding silver arcs flashing in the sunlight. Leon blinked, taken aback. His vision blurred for a second as he tried to follow her movements.
What… what just happened?
He blinked again, trying to make sense of what he'd seen or rather, what he hadn't. In the span of mere heartbeats, Olivia had taken a step forward, then back, her body twisting fluidly between stances. She had shifted her posture effortlessly, like a dance, but… where was the sword?
Had she even swung it?
Leon's thoughts raced. She must have. Surely she had swung it. But all he'd seen were flashes of reflected light and a blur of movement. The sword hadn't even completed an arc, yet it had already shifted from a raised position to a horizontal one. His mind struggled to keep up with her speed, his memory grasping at fragments of the moment.
Was that just a warm-up? A simple change in stance? And yet, it was so fast. Too fast. The way her feet had shifted, the subtle movements of her body, he could barely follow, let alone predict.
A bead of cold sweat traced its way down Leon's temple.
What kind of swordsmanship was this? It was beyond anything he had ever seen. Her movements were so swift, so precise, that he had barely caught a glimpse of them. She had executed a side slash, a backward step, then another slash over the shoulder, all in the blink of an eye. The sword now rested in her hand, steady and controlled, as if the whirlwind of motion had never occurred.
Leon's heart raced. This girl… her skill was something else entirely.
It was as if the sunlight itself couldn't keep up with the flashing blade that sliced through the air, moving so fast that Leon's eyes struggled to make sense of it. His brain, overwhelmed by the speed and precision of the sword's arc, began to doubt what it had just witnessed.
Leon glanced sideways, seeking some validation from his companions, only to find them equally stunned.
Liam stood frozen, his mouth agape, wide enough to fit an egg. His shock was palpable, as if he couldn't quite process what had just unfolded before him.
Brandon was no better off, rubbing his eyes furiously, as if trying to shake off some illusion, unable to believe his own vision.
Yet Olivia seemed utterly unaware of their disbelief. Her world had narrowed to the sword in her hand and the joy that radiated from each swift movement. She was lost in the pure, unfiltered delight of wielding the blade.
With a soft step, she glided forward, her movements fluid and effortless. The sword whistled through the air, and for a fleeting moment, three radiant arcs of light shimmered around her, weaving a silvery veil that enveloped her figure. As her foot touched the ground, two beams of light sliced cleanly through the breeze, parting it with elegant precision.
By the time Leon managed to catch sight of the sword again, Olivia had already come to a halt. The blade rested calmly at her side, held in an "iron gate" stance, a posture of poised readiness.
"I can't move properly in this skirt," Olivia muttered under her breath, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. Without hesitating, she raised the sword slightly, then gathered the hem of her skirt with her left hand, rolling it up and tucking it into the belt around her waist.
There was no glamorous reveal beneath the skirt; no dramatic flourish. Instead, Olivia wore a practical pair of white drawstring shorts, and her legs were protected by tightly-fitted stockings. Leon noticed this, but his mind was too busy reeling from her previous display to care about the lack of flair.
His thoughts remained fixated on the impossibility of what he had just seen. He had tried, and failed, to follow the arc of the sword. It had simply moved too fast for him to track.
Before anyone could fully process what had happened, Olivia was off again. With her skirt now secured, she moved fluidly across the grassy field, her every motion precise and deliberate.
Cut! Pick! Chop! Swing! Hack! Wrap!
The sequence of moves came like a blur, as her small shoes skimmed the grass effortlessly. Forward, back, sidestep; her body twisted and spun with grace and speed, the hem of her skirt fluttering like a banner in the wind.
Her petite figure seemed to vanish into the cascade of flashing steel and silver arcs, the sword's presence becoming a phantom in her skilled hands. Olivia moved with such fluidity that the sword seemed weightless, its path invisible, lost in the blur of her movements. All the while, her golden hair swirled around her like a halo, catching the light in a mesmerizing dance of elegance and danger.
Leon eventually stopped trying to track the sword altogether. It was impossible. Instead, he shifted his focus to the subtle shifts in Olivia's body, the movement of her shoulders, the bend in her arms, the quick adjustments in her thighs, and the lightness in her steps, which now resembled a bird in mid-flight, barely touching the ground.
Only by concentrating on the graceful way her body moved through the space could Leon even begin to guess the trajectory of the sword. It was like watching a deadly dance, each step and turn a part of a choreography designed for combat. A dance of death, stunning in its beauty yet terrifying in its lethality.
Leaves, scattered by the wind, floated down gently around her. As they brushed against the invisible path of the sword, they were sliced cleanly in two, the cut so precise that it left no sound behind, just two halves drifting silently to the ground.
Then, as if the energy had suddenly drained from it, the sword slowed. Its tip drooped downward, the momentum finally spent. In that instant of stillness, a whirlwind spiraled from the blade, sweeping across the ground with a soft whoosh. The grass swayed and bent as if awakened by the sword's power, and the air rippled, leaving behind faint impressions of the blade's movement, etched in the ground like a lingering shadow.
The scene hung in the air, delicate yet charged with the lingering echoes of Olivia's extraordinary display. Leon's breath caught in his throat.
How had she become so skilled?
This wasn't just swordplay; it was something far beyond that, a mastery that defied reason. And yet, Olivia, with her calm smile and unassuming demeanor, seemed blissfully unaware of the awe she had inspired.
Olivia exhaled slowly, a satisfied smile creeping onto her face, as though she had finally indulged a long-held desire. She gracefully shifted out of her stance, her fingers deftly spinning the hilt of the sword as though it were an extension of her hand. The blade settled at her side, tip pointing upward, the pommel resting securely in her grip. She released the rolled-up hem of her skirt and, humming a lighthearted tune, sauntered back toward Leon.
Under the shade of the nearby trees, the trio of onlookers; Leon, Liam, and Brandon, were drenched in sweat, though none of them had realized it in the heat of the moment. The intensity of what they'd just witnessed had left them stunned and breathless.
Leon swallowed hard, finally snapping back to reality. His mind drifted back to the thug from the village who had brazenly threatened Olivia with a dagger just the day before. He felt a pang of disbelief, a mix of amusement and horror washing over him.
That guy… what on earth was he thinking?
Leon couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The old blacksmith had always kept Olivia away from the swords, which likely meant that even though those village thugs had been beaten by her, they had never truly witnessed her full prowess with a blade.
If they had, Leon thought, there's no way they'd have the nerve to even look her in the eye, let alone threaten her. He shook his head, bemused. How many lives do they think they have for her to slice through?
As Olivia approached, she twirled the sword lightly in her hand, the glint of the blade catching the sunlight. "It's been so long since I've had a chance to swing a sword like that," she said, her voice soft, but carrying a tone of deep contentment. Her cheeks flushed slightly from the exercise, making her look both radiant and utterly pleased.
Leon studied her for a moment, watching the way the sword seemed to belong in her hand, how natural it all looked. Then, an absurd thought crossed his mind, something almost ridiculous. "Olivia," he asked, his brow furrowing slightly in amusement, "are you sure your real name isn't Altria?"
Olivia blinked at him, tilting her head in confusion. "Huh? What? Who's Artoria?"
Leon immediately regretted the question, realizing how ridiculous it sounded out loud. He laughed awkwardly, covering his face with his hand. "Never mind. Forget I said that; it was a stupid joke."
Olivia stared at him, puzzled, but didn't press the matter. "O...kay," she said slowly, the confusion still evident in her voice.
Leon, flustered, gave his cheeks a pat to shake off the awkwardness. He glanced over at Olivia again, his curiosity now mingling with a sense of caution. There was clearly more to this girl than met the eye. The blacksmith's warning from the previous day echoed in his mind. Maybe we should leave this place before we get tangled up in something… something we don't understand.
Meanwhile, Liam, who had grown up surrounded by soldiers, couldn't contain his amazement any longer. His wide eyes were still glued to Olivia, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. "Olivia, your swordsmanship—" he said in a hushed, reverent tone, "it's incredible! Who taught you?"
His voice was filled with genuine awe, the kind that only comes from someone who truly understood the difficulty and mastery of what they had seen.
"Oh, this?" Olivia answered with a modest shrug, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I learned it from my father when I was little."
With practiced ease, she stepped up to Leon, lightly took the scabbard from his hand, and slid the blade back into its place with a soft click, as though the sword was returning to its rightful home. Her demeanor shifted, signaling that the playful practice was over. "That's enough for now," she said, smiling. "I've had my fun."
Leon, still in disbelief, couldn't help but ask, "Wait… isn't Uncle Brian a blacksmith? You mean to tell me he's also skilled in swordsmanship?" He thought back to the old man's sturdy build, the rough hands that had shaped so many weapons. It made sense now, in a way.
"Yeah," Olivia replied casually. "He used to serve in the king's army. He only came back to the village after he injured his leg."
Leon took this revelation in stride, though it suddenly made sense why Olivia was so adept. But Liam, on the other hand, was utterly shocked. His own father had been a sergeant in the Holy Land City Guard for years, and yet he had never displayed such remarkable skill. Liam's voice dropped to a near whisper as he spoke, his tone filled with disbelief. "Your father… was in the king's army?"
Olivia nodded nonchalantly, as if it were common knowledge, but Liam's mind reeled. His father had trained in the finest barracks, served in the prestigious City Guard, and yet he had never taught him anything like what Olivia had just demonstrated. The gap between her simple background and the mastery she had just displayed left him speechless.
Leon, too, was left pondering the secrets that lay beneath Olivia's calm and cheerful exterior. This village girl was far more than she appeared.
Brandon, still trying to wrap his head around it all, asked with genuine confusion, "You've learned so much from him, why would your father stay in the village forging iron with such skills? Even with his leg injury, wouldn't it make more sense for him to work as a swordsmanship instructor at a nobleman's castle? He'd surely have a brighter future there."
As he spoke, Brandon mentally compared the knights who had taught him martial arts. The girl standing before them, petite and unassuming, had already far surpassed them in terms of swordsmanship. It was almost unbelievable, if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he might not have believed that someone so young could wield a sword with such mastery.
Olivia, hearing his words, blushed slightly and awkwardly ran her fingers through her hair. "Thank you for the compliment, but that's a bit too much," she said with a modest smile. Though she had always known she was gifted with a natural talent for combat, she couldn't quite grasp the level of amazement Leon and the others were expressing.
The girl's confusion was genuine. "I don't know much about these things," she admitted. "Can my father really be a swordsmanship teacher for nobles? Is that even possible?"
Leon almost didn't know whether to laugh or feel concerned. If he didn't know Olivia to be so innocent and kind-hearted, he might have thought she was being sarcastic, her casualness came across almost too humble for someone with her skill.
"It's not an exaggeration at all," Leon said, shaking his head with a hint of disbelief. "I've never seen anyone as good as you. If your father can teach you to this level, then he's definitely qualified to be an instructor for nobles, even princes at the royal court. I'm certain of it." His tone was filled with genuine admiration.
Olivia froze for a moment, clearly surprised by his words. After a beat, she realized they had misunderstood something, and her face took on a troubled expression. She shifted awkwardly, gently rubbing her arm, as if grappling with how to explain the situation without sounding disrespectful to her father.
Leon, noticing her sudden change in demeanor, felt a pang of concern. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked cautiously, worried he might have offended her.
Olivia quickly waved her hand dismissively. "No, no! It's just that… well, you seem to have misunderstood," she said with a sheepish smile.
"Misunderstood?" Leon echoed, puzzled.
"Yeah… actually…" Olivia paused, clearly struggling to find the right words, not wanting to diminish her father's reputation in front of them. She hesitated before continuing, her voice gentle, "My father… well, he can't use the sword quite like I do. Over the years, I've mostly been practicing on my own based on the basics he taught me. But, of course, it's not that my father's bad at swordsmanship!" She added quickly, trying to salvage her father's pride. "It's just… maybe I've gotten a little better than him."
Leon and his companions exchanged bewildered glances, trying to process what Olivia was saying.
"Wait, so… what you're saying is… Uncle Brian's swordsmanship isn't as good as yours, and you've learned all this on your own?" Leon asked, his astonishment deepening.
Olivia blushed even more, waving her hands as if trying to smooth things over. "I wouldn't put it like that," she mumbled, clearly trying to protect her father's honor. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her eyes glancing away as she tried to find a more respectful explanation. "At the start, I begged my father to teach me the basics of sword dancing. He was really good at it! But over time… well, you know, he's gotten older, and with his injuries…"
Her voice trailed off, a hint of guilt flickering in her eyes. She paused for a moment, as if remembering something bittersweet. "I still remember… when I was eleven, I finally beat him in a sparring match. I'll never forget the look on his face afterward. It broke my heart," she said softly, her expression distant. The image of her father's defeated posture, the heavy burden of time and injury weighing on his shoulders, was something that had stayed with her.
The others fell silent for a moment, absorbing the quiet sincerity of her words. They could see how much she cared for her father, despite surpassing him in the one skill they had both treasured. Leon, for his part, felt a deep sense of respect, not only for Olivia's extraordinary talent but also for her humility and her clear devotion to her family.