At the city gate, everyone stared in astonishment at the blood-soaked woman.
They had heard about the incident involving the Barton knight—how she had ultimately struck him down with a single stab, avenging her father.
The brutal scene was still fresh in their minds.
However, joining the army—a place dominated by men, fraught with danger and high mortality rates—was a perilous choice.
Without the resolve to defend one's country, enlisting was nearly indistinguishable from seeking death.
Under the oppressive gaze of the Third Princess, the blood-soaked woman clenched her fists tightly, refusing to retreat.
The chaos of war had already claimed her mother, and now her father had been cruelly killed by a knight from the Barton Kingdom.
She was an orphan.
At this moment, her heart burned with the fire of vengeance.
She wanted the Barton Kingdom to pay for what they had done.
At the same time, she was keenly aware that if not for Alan, she would have likely been humiliated and then brutally killed by the Barton knight.
Alan was her savior.
She wanted to repay him, but as of now, she had nothing.
She needed to become stronger.
"Your Highness! I have made up my mind. I will never regret this decision!" The blood-soaked woman's expression was unshakably resolute.
Seeing this, the Third Princess did not attempt to dissuade her further. She could sense the unwavering determination radiating from this woman.
"What is your name?" the Third Princess asked earnestly.
"Sophia! My name is Sophia!" The blood-soaked woman repeated her name with conviction.
"Sophia, if there's nothing else, come with me."
Without hesitation, the Third Princess turned and left Ironblood City.
Sophia quickly followed but paused to look back at Alan.
"Alan, my name is Sophia. Thank you for saving my life!"
Alan gave her a serious nod.
At that moment, Isabella ran up from where she had been standing with Carter, her eyes scanning Alan from head to toe.
"Brother, are you okay?"
Alan smiled and patted her head.
"I'm fine. Those Sacred Battle Legion mages from the Barton Kingdom were just putting on a show. Once they saw the Third Princess, they retreated immediately."
Isabella finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Brother, there were so many mages back there. I was scared out of my mind. Don't ever be so reckless again, at least not without taking me with you."
Alan, feeling a pang of guilt, replied softly, "I won't do it again."
"Let's go. The Charlie No. 1 is about to depart."
...
With the Third Princess gone, Ironblood City quickly returned to a semblance of normalcy.
Alan and Isabella boarded the Charlie No. 1 train again.
However, the way the other passengers looked at Alan was entirely different now.
Although the Third Princess had dominated the spotlight earlier, drawing everyone's attention to herself, now that she was gone, the focus naturally shifted back to Alan.
After all, Alan's solo stand against the Barton Kingdom's mage army had left a deep impression on everyone.
Whether it was his courage or strength, he far surpassed his peers.
And most notably, Alan had earned the Third Princess's praise, standing as the sole individual rewarded amidst the many punishments she had handed down.
She had even invited him to become the captain of her guard!
Though no one understood why he declined, Alan had made an impression that would not soon be forgotten.
When many were eager to approach and build a relationship with him, Alan had already slipped into his cabin, avoiding further interaction.
...
"Brother, the Third Princess's invitation was wonderful. Did you decline because of me?"
Back in their cabin, Isabella spoke with a trace of melancholy.
She knew Alan had always fought with their family and that the military would have been a great fit for him.
With the Third Princess's support, his strength and status could only grow exponentially.
"Lioncrest Academy is an excellent place too. How can you say that?" Alan reassured her.
"Brother, when will I level up? Will I ever be as strong as you?"
Isabella's bright eyes sparkled with hope and longing.
Seeing her like this, Alan's heart ached. Gently, he said, "Once your strange illness is cured, you'll be even stronger than me."
"Really, brother?" Isabella's eyes widened. "Will I be able to protect you one day?"
Alan nodded. "Of course. If you can endure such a bizarre illness, learning magic will be child's play for you."
Encouraged by his words, Isabella gave a confident smile.
...
The siblings chatted for a while as night fell.
As the Charlie No. 1 sped along, the once noisy train grew quiet. Isabella eventually drifted off to sleep under Alan's care.
Alan, however, took a deep breath and entered a meditative state—one akin to venturing into the depths of hell.
Level up!
The earlier confrontation with the Barton Kingdom's Sacred Battle Legion had left a suffocating impression of death on Alan.
If not for the Third Princess's timely arrival, he might not have survived.
That was an experience he never wanted to repeat.
Yet, despite his reckless decision, he had gained something invaluable:
[Blade Spirit].
This was a breakthrough he had not achieved despite years of arduous training as a swordsman.
"You're lucky," a voice interrupted. "[Blade Spirit] is immensely powerful. If you can master it, it's a technique that rivals the strength of a magus."
The black-robed woman appeared in his mindscape, her expression tinged with curiosity as she observed him.
Generally, magi focused on unraveling the mysteries of the elements and refining their spiritual power.
Magi, after all, stood at the pinnacle of existence, renowned as the strongest class.
Becoming a top-tier magus guaranteed a place anywhere in the world.
Alan, however, had not awakened his magus potential during his life-or-death battle. Instead, he had emerged as a swordsman of remarkable talent.
As the woman spoke, Alan opened his eyes and asked,
"Elder, what makes [Blade Spirit] so unique? Why does it seem to have limited impact on my combat power?"
As a swordsman, he had always known of [Blade Spirit], but his understanding of it was superficial at best.
Now that he had truly grasped it, he felt faster and more precise with his strikes but saw no other noticeable changes.
Among swordsmen, it was said, "Without [Blade Spirit], one cannot be called a true swordsman," highlighting its importance.
The black-robed woman looked at him.
"Do you know why Duke Alice is so powerful?"
After a moment of hesitation, Alan replied, "Because of her unique constitution?"
The woman nodded and then shook her head.
"Her constitution plays a part, but when she fought you, she didn't rely on it. Most of her strength came from her mastery of blade aura."
"Blade aura?" Alan squinted.
Swordsmen and blademasters were somewhat similar classes, so Alan knew a bit about blade aura.
For blademasters, blade aura was a pivotal milestone—those who mastered it were prodigies, while those who did not often stagnated for life.
"Blade aura and [Blade Spirit] are fundamentally the same," the woman explained.
Alan nodded thoughtfully. "An unshakable belief?"
"Exactly," she affirmed. "Each individual's conviction varies, shaping their unique blade aura or [Blade Spirit]. You must discover and strengthen yours. This is also an opportunity to truly understand yourself."
"Only by knowing yourself can you gauge your moves with precision in battle—when to advance and when to retreat."
Alan realized that his difficulty in fully utilizing [Blade Spirit] stemmed from an emptiness in his heart.
He lacked the resolve he had possessed when facing the Sacred Battle Legion—his will to fight to the death.
With the woman's guidance, Alan felt as though a veil had been lifted from his mind, plunging him into deep reflection.
Seeing this, the black-robed woman said no more.
In both magic and other disciplines, a teacher could only guide the way.
The rest depended on the student's fortune and insight.
Alan's potential was undeniable.
If he could make significant strides in swordsmanship, it would greatly benefit his future as a magus as well.