Chapter 35 - Perseverance Theory, Sweet Cookies, and Horrible Crimes (3):
The arena fell silent in an instant.
The outer wall, sliced cleanly in half, lay exposed. Although the advanced facility's restoration inscriptions began to repair the wall, the moment that had just unfolded couldn't simply be erased.
All eyes instinctively focused on one point.
The top student, with features almost suspiciously refined, scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable under all the attention.
An odd atmosphere formed in the silence. Nobody seemed sure what to say, hesitating until the quiet was finally broken.
Cain, unable to hold back his curiosity, took the plunge.
"…Hey, how did you just do that?"
He voiced the question on everyone's mind, expecting a profound answer—something about reaching a state where only the sword remained as the self faded away.
"Huh? Didn't you listen in class? Professor Lian explained it all pretty clearly, didn't he?"
But that expectation was promptly shattered. The incomprehensible response made Cain's head ache.
Infusing mana into the blade, solidifying its form, stabilizing the sword aura. Connecting the inner world to the outer to ensure the aura retained its shape. He'd reached a level most warriors couldn't achieve in a lifetime.
Yet, this was all he had to say about it.
It went beyond baffling—almost as if they were being mocked.
"It's really simple if you just follow what he taught us."
But Ciel's expression was entirely sincere. He didn't seem to be hiding some profound understanding to keep it to himself.
'…Could that bizarre lecture really have helped?'
A professor who scorned the art of the sword, tormented his students without reason, sipped coffee leisurely while students suffered in grueling training.
There hadn't seemed to be anything worth learning.
And yet, Ciel's eyes reflected pure conviction.
"I mean, even someone like me, who's never trained with a sword and can't sense mana naturally, managed to do it."
Mana insensitivity. The innate defect that Ciel bore. As that fact dawned on him, Cain's face twisted in shock.
Come to think of it, Ciel had always used sheer mana volume to mask his lack of technique. Unable to sense mana, he'd been stuck as a half-baked swordsman who couldn't channel mana through his own blade.
Without sensing mana, he couldn't progress. How could he wield what he couldn't perceive?
The idea that Ciel suddenly grasped how to handle mana, achieving Swordmaster status, seemed absurdly far-fetched.
Only one possibility remained.
'Once all impossibilities are removed, what remains—no matter how improbable—must be the truth.'
It was still hard to believe…
But Professor Lian had truly taught sword aura mastery through his lecture—reaching even a student with mana insensitivity.
It was like teaching a blind person to paint landscapes. But Lian had not only taught a blind person to paint; he had turned them into a master of hyperrealism.
'When I think about it, something was odd from the start.'
A professor who knew only magic mocking swordsmanship. While that could happen, given Professor Lian's character, something didn't add up.
This was the same Lian who would risk his own life for his students, a true educator in every sense.
He wouldn't insult his students without reason. There had to be a hidden purpose.
"…It's a bit embarrassing. I think what the professor really taught was the essence of the 'mind-sword.' And I didn't even fully grasp it."
He hadn't truly understood the lesson, yet he stood here as if he'd accomplished something, drawing all this attention—it felt almost like showing off.
Hearing Ciel's words provided Cain with a significant clue.
Slowly, he began piecing together Lian's words, trying to understand their deeper meaning.
– "I know what swordsmanship is."
Swordsmanship is just swinging a weapon strongly.
Though it sounded like an insult, it had keenly struck at the core of the art.
The act of swinging, slicing—that was the very essence of all techniques.
– "I don't intend to teach you swordsmanship."
Thus, he wasn't teaching swordsmanship itself. He was teaching its essence.
– "You'll never improve if you expect some miraculous technique handed down to you. It's the desire to take shortcuts that leads to failure."
The temptation to get lost in dazzling techniques and ignore the fundamentals was a dangerous path. He intended to reshape that flawed mindset.
– "Try swinging your sword ten thousand times."
One cannot swing a sword ten thousand times in a day.
Thus, one had to swing not with the hands, but with the heart.
If you don't know how to do that, push your body to exhaustion—until the line between sword and self blurs, and you truly understand the essence of the sword.
…It was a revelation.
It was a rare and precious lesson imparted by a master who had reached a far higher level. An opportunity one might encounter only once in a lifetime, if at all.
This really was a groundbreaking lecture crafted by the greatest genius professor in the Empire's history.
Only his dull students had failed to recognize its value.
'I understand now why he seemed disappointed.'
When Cain had demanded that Lian take the lesson more seriously, Lian had responded with a strange answer:
– "In my heart, I was there sweating alongside my precious students. It's a little disappointing that you don't see that."
At first, it had sounded like a mockery.
But in truth, it held a piece of the man's heart.
He might have seemed to nod off occasionally, but Professor Lian had likely been right there with his students in the world of his mind, wielding his sword beside them.
The meaning of "swinging with the heart."
He had even demonstrated the mind-sword himself, yet all the students had done was complain.
Of course, he would feel disappointed.
'I've done Professor Lian a great disservice.'
He should have been expressing gratitude, yet instead, he'd insulted him.
Biting the hand that had fed him—that was the only way to describe it.
Realizing his mistake, Cain was about to walk over and apologize to Lian when something continued to bother him.
The entire situation had been explained perfectly, and yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.
'…Come to think of it.'
Why couldn't the professor wield a wooden sword properly?
It was an established fact that he had reached the unparalleled realm of the mind-sword. He should have possessed the skill to match, yet he didn't.
Why was that?
Cain's mind drifted back to an earlier incident.
The evil assistant director who had almost killed the professor.
At the time, he'd dismissed it due to lack of evidence, but now he realized—Professor Lian wouldn't have succumbed so easily.
After all, he was capable of effortlessly overpowering demons.
If he'd truly fallen, there were only a few possible explanations. Either the culprit was hiding a significant power, or something had prevented Professor Lian from exerting his full strength.
As these pieces fell into place, Cain's face turned pale. The puzzle began to make sense.
Why couldn't he handle a sword?
Why had he fallen prey to a mere fraudster?
Because he had sacrificed himself for his students.
The battle with the demons. He had cast powerful spells repeatedly, incurring serious internal injuries to protect everyone.
Why did he open this class now?
Even if he could no longer wield a sword himself, he had still opened the class to pass on his teachings to the next generation.
And finally, why had he conveyed his teachings through such complex metaphors? Why had he hidden the fact that he had reached the level of mind-sword mastery?
…The answer was painfully clear.
Even if his body was broken, and every breath filled him with pain, even if the martial path he'd devoted his life to had become useless, erasing the meaning of his entire life…
He'd rather endure that than see the sadness in his students' eyes.
Rather than let them know he'd sacrificed his ability to wield a sword for their sake, he kept his pain hidden, sparing them the guilt.
He had borne all of this for their sake.
"Aah…"
His eyes stung, his chest felt heavy.
Tears blurred his vision, and his legs gave way as he sank to the floor.
He had vowed to remain steadfast through any trial, but what broke this young knight was…
…the boundless love of his teacher.