On my birthday, the family held a small celebration.
This country doesn’t seem to have a custom of celebrating birthdays every year.
But there’s another kind of practice: when you reach a certain age, family members give you gifts.
The so-called certain ages are five, ten, and fifteen.
Since fifteen counts as adulthood, the logic is pretty easy to follow.
From Paul, I received two swords.
One was a wooden sword sized for a child.
The other was a proper sword I couldn’t even lift at my current age.
From Zenith, I received a book.
A botanical dictionary.
“Rudy really loves reading, doesn’t he?”
She said it with a smile as she handed it over.
And from Roxy, I received a staff and a protective charm.
The staff was my favorite gift by far.
After I got it, I pointed it out the window and tested a spell, and it genuinely boosted the output.
What’s the principle behind that?
I’m really curious.
“Thank you, Teacher.
I’ll take good care of this staff.”
Hearing that, Roxy responded with a wry smile.
…
The next afternoon, sword training officially began.
Mostly swinging the sword and drilling basic forms.
Starting from the ground up.
Reasonable enough.
….
The heroes in this world all seem to favor swords.
Does that mean sword users are generally stronger?
Like there’s some kind of counter-relationship at work?
Maybe mages handle large monsters while swordsmen handle smaller ones and people?
Hmm.
I turned it over, but no clear answer came.
Roxy is an A-rank adventurer, so she should rank among the more capable mages, but her raw combat ability didn’t feel particularly fearsome.
If that’s the benchmark, maybe mages skew toward a support role?
Paul, on the other hand, is something else entirely.
He can split a large boulder clean in two with a single sword stroke.
That’s not something a human should be able to do.
Whatever separates the people of this world from people back on Earth, it’s not just mana.
Paul makes that obvious.
His sword carries no mana at all, and it still shatters stone.
….
After several days of thinking and training, one thing became clear.
Magic can support swordsmanship.
If I lean into that, maybe I could develop my own style.
Like coating my body in mana to make myself impervious to blades and spears, just kidding.
Covering yourself in mana doesn’t do anything.
Mana is just mana.
It has no power on its own.
You have to shape it into a spell before it actually does something.
What a headache.
“You really do hate swordsmanship, don’t you?”
I was still working through that problem when Paul spoke up.
He’d misread my expression.
Of course he had.
Is it because I have a talent for magic?
But that’s not what I’m thinking at all.
I want to master both.
Because I’m a genius.
There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to.
“No — I actually like swordsmanship.
If anything, I’d want my swordsmanship to be even stronger than my magic.”
Paul seemed genuinely moved by that.
He nodded, satisfied, and raised his wooden sword.
“Good!
Then let’s spar!
Come at me!”
Simple guy.
“Yes, Father.
Fair warning though — I’m going to use magic.”
“Bring it on!
Land even one hit on me and you win.”
“Alright.”
I raised my sword and channeled wind magic beneath my feet.
The burst of speed I imagined didn’t happen.
The magic shoved me forward and nearly sent me face-first into the ground.
I wrestled the mana back under control at the last second and managed to turn the stumble into a charge toward Paul.
“Oh ho!
New trick!”
Paul had all the composure in the world.
He sidestepped my attack without effort.
I spun back around, pushed magic into my blade, and swung.
A current of water rode along the edge and drove toward him.
“Whoa!” Paul twisted to dodge, then his leg swept out in a low arc.
It caught me clean and put me on the ground.
“Hey, hey, hey!
Are you trying to kill your own father?!”
Yeah.
Paul is strong.
Even with magic, I’m no match for him.
Not yet.
If I could set things up further in advance, if I had more time to prepare, maybe…
I shook my head and let the thought go.
Trying to beat my own father wasn’t really the point.
“Father really is impressive.”
“Hmph.
Well, of course.”
His personality is a lot like Roxy’s.
One compliment and he’s floating.
“But Rudy — your combat instincts are a lot sharper than I expected.
That fighting style you just improvised?
You should research it more on your own.
See where it goes.”
“Really?”
“That said, I’ll be clear: you still have to master what I’m teaching you.
The swordsmanship.
At least to the intermediate level.”
“Yes, Father.”
Paul smiled and ruffled my hair.
“Alright.
One more round!”
“Yes, Father!”
➤ Next: Graduation — Heartbreak