(This chapter is from Artoria’s first-person perspective.)
Through the protective mask, my eyes observed Mordred’s sword thrusting straight toward me.
Regardless of the country’s swordsmanship, a straight thrust is the most powerful and highest-yielding attack.
In fact, to specialize in thrusting, the rapier quickly replaced the longsword among the citizenry, becoming the most widely used everyday self-defense weapon.
However, for a longsword, an all-out thrust is not a very good choice.
I didn’t retreat, nor did I dodge; instead, I faced the sword tip and parried upward at an angle.
Sword entangled with sword, and the thrust immediately changed direction, tilting upward.
Mordred’s sword quickly sank to the hilt of my sword, blocked by the curved English crossguard.
The momentum of the thrust was hard to contain, and combined with the sudden change, Mordred lost control of her sword.
I only slightly changed the direction of my force, and her sword was immediately locked.
The original thrust turned into an aimless upward swipe, and the longsword passed directly over my head.
Then, like a spiral, the tip of my longsword immediately came down, precisely striking Mordred’s mask.
This strike happened in a flash; almost no ordinary person could have reacted to it.
“Hit!”
The referee of this match—who was also the captain of the Modern Fencing Club, Matsui Soma—shouted loudly.
Mordred and I retreated to our starting positions and reset our stances; this round of engagement was over.
Although Mordred received the best education, limited by her age and experience, her swordsmanship was still too immature—as long as I used a feint, she would definitely fall for it.
As long as I made my moves change, she would struggle to respond in an instant.
As long as I used my blade and guard to lock her sword, she would inevitably lose control of her weapon.
Back in Britain, during the tournaments at the knight assemblies, she always relied on her far superior strength and unreasonable Mana Burst to force a victory.
Although she would lose every time to Lancelot, who mastered extraordinary swordsmanship, she could at least drag Gawain under the sun into a war of attrition, forcing a draw by running out the clock.
Therefore, she wasn’t particularly diligent in learning swordsmanship; her interest level wasn’t even as high as it was for mathematics, and she only learned it out of necessity under the pressure of her curriculum.
Now, unable to use Mana Burst and with her muscle strength needing to be restrained, her level of swordsmanship was laid bare.
I was not disappointed by this.
After all, she was only eight years old; it was impossible to imagine her having mature swordsmanship like mine.
And precisely because she was only eight, she still had a lot of room for future improvement; perhaps she would surpass me with just practice and honing.
After I hit Mordred’s wrist with three simple changes of direction, I brought this highly unbalanced match to an end with a score of 15 to 6—because the referee was the captain of the Modern Fencing Club, we temporarily adopted the rules of fencing: the first hit scores, and reaching a total of 15 points wins.
Thus, Mordred and I both removed our protective masks and bowed to the students watching from the sidelines.
Every student watching was applauding; this applause was not just out of courtesy, but also an acknowledgment of the match between Mordred and me.
Once the applause had mostly died down, I walked up to one of the spectators.
This person was my target for the day.
“How about it, Yoshikawa?
Are you willing to join the HEMA Club now?”
“…It just feels like such a hassle.”
The male spectator rolled his dead fish eyes, looking quite troubled.
The spectator who responded to me was named Yoshikawa Aonari.
He was 1.83 meters tall, wearing a cheap collarless T-shirt and jeans, with a very casual hairstyle and a slouchy posture.
Just looking at these things, one could tell he wasn’t the type of student who attended class properly.
In fact, that was indeed the case.
He was one of the nineteen students who hadn’t joined any clubs.
He was currently in his second year of high school with below-average grades.
It was said that he had murky connections with local hooligans, and his reputation wasn’t very good—at least, that was what the girls in Class 1-C said.
But I had no choice; among those nineteen students, he had the best physical fitness.
To make up the headcount of 5, I had no choice but to invite him to join my and Mordred’s HEMA Club.
This match was performed for him to see.
As long as he watched it and acknowledged it, he would count as the third member of the HEMA Club.
Time was limited, and preparations were very hasty.
Mordred and I had to borrow protective gear from the Modern Fencing Club, the venue was the Kendo Club’s activity room, and the swords in our hands were made of plastic—I had actually already ordered protective gear and weapons, but the shipping address was Texas, and it would take over a month to arrive, which would be after the summer vacation ended.
“Since there’s no objection, I’ll take that as you agreeing, Yoshikawa?”
“…Forget it, fine, whatever.
What bad luck, how did I end up running into something like this?”
He spoke in a very low voice, but everyone around could hear clearly what he was saying.
This naturally aroused the dissatisfaction of others.
The captain of the Kendo Club, Narita Koki, immediately walked over.
Without a word, he grabbed him by his clothes and threatened him in a loud voice: “Yoshikawa Aonari, you piece of trash, what kind of attitude is that?
Let me tell you, letting you join the HEMA Club is doing you a favor; don’t you dare think you’re something special!
With those low-life thug moves of yours, Aria could take on ten of you!
I advise you not to be ungrateful and don’t push your luck!”
Narita Koki’s words left me a bit confused.
Rather than a capable Kendo Club captain, he sounded more like one of my club members.
But that didn’t seem quite right; it felt like he had an ulterior motive.
Or perhaps he just had an old grudge against Yoshikawa Aonari and was merely targeting him personally.
“Tsk, Narita Koki, that’s all you are.” Yoshikawa Aonari scoffed, “Aria hasn’t said anything yet, so why are you getting so anxious for her?
You aren’t a member of the HEMA Club either, right?
Can’t you just do your job as the Kendo Club captain?”
“You guy…!”
Narita Koki immediately raised his fist, preparing to throw a punch.
A perfectly good recruitment match turning into this was naturally not what I wanted to see.
I certainly wanted to stop them.
However, before I could, the captain of the Modern Fencing Club, who was also a spectator, Matsui Soma, placed his hand on Narita Koki’s arm, squinting his eyes and smiling as he stepped forward to play the peacemaker.
“Oh my, oh my, don’t be so angry, Narita!
Even if Yoshikawa has ten thousand faults, you can’t treat him like this.
There’s plenty of time to deal with him after school, but this is the HEMA Club’s recruitment site, after all!
Even if you don’t give Yoshikawa any face, you have to give Aria some face, right?
Narita, calm down a bit…”
That was said with quite a bit of sarcasm.
It seemed that Matsui Soma also had a strong opinion about Yoshikawa Aonari.
The reactions of the two club captains made me curious: what exactly did Yoshikawa Aonari do to be so targeted by both club captains?
Looking at the reactions of the people around, this targeting was not only considered correct but even felt insufficient.
Before I could even ask, Mordred spoke up for me: “What’s going on?
Did Yoshikawa do something?
If he really did something wrong, he should have been expelled long ago, right?”
“Hmph!” Narita Koki let go, but he still glared intensely at Yoshikawa Aonari.
“It’s like this…” Matsui Soma explained, “About six months ago, during a club activity, Yoshikawa had a conflict with some people from outside the school.
At the time, a girl…
how should I put it, she probably misunderstood some of Yoshikawa’s words and intervened in the conflict.
Those outsiders didn’t know the meaning of chivalry; the poor girl suffered a brain injury and is still lying in the hospital today, unable to wake up.
Her parents wash their faces with tears every day, and those outsiders don’t have a penny to their names, so they can’t compensate at all.
As for our instigator…”
“Thank you for the explanation, Matsui.”
I directly interrupted Matsui Soma.
This sarcastic venting was nothing but pure nonsense.
I stared at Yoshikawa Aonari.
Even though he was quite a bit taller than me, he kept his head down, as if enduring the gazes of others, not daring to meet my eyes—from this behavior, I knew that things were not that simple.
Mordred was right; if that group of thugs had really done something, regardless of Yoshikawa Aonari’s original intention, the school would have definitely expelled him to calm public opinion.
Even if the school had withstood the pressure of public opinion, as long as the girl’s parents didn’t approve, Yoshikawa Aonari wouldn’t have stayed in school himself; he would have dropped out voluntarily.
No matter how you looked at it, this was a thorny mess.
But, in order to form the club, I could only hold my nose and accept it.
“Yoshikawa.
My younger sister and I are transfer students who just enrolled.
I’m not very interested in these past events.
I can’t guarantee you anything, nor do I want to intervene in your private affairs.
But at least in the HEMA Club, you can learn a lot.
If there is a next time, you’ll be able to handle those outsiders with just a wooden longsword.”
“Aria, do I even have a choice now?” The corner of Yoshikawa Aonari’s mouth pulled into an arc, both mocking and helpless.
“You made such a huge scene just to drag me into your club.
If I refuse, can I even survive in this school anymore?”
“Even if you join, you won’t just be’surviving’,” I said bluntly.
“The HEMA Club is a school club.
Since it’s a school club, what is taught is not just swordsmanship, but the Way of the Sword.
I think as a native-born Japanese, you understand the difference between technique and the Way better than I do.
In the Kendo Club, a member should learn how to become a samurai.
In the Modern Fencing Club, a member should learn how to become a gentleman or a lady.
But in the HEMA Club, a member should learn how to become a knight.
If you want to continue wasting your days, if you want to just get by under the shadow of the past, I can tell you straight out—it’s impossible.
A knight cannot be a coward, especially a coward who doesn’t dare face the past—a knight must face their own weakness.”
Yoshikawa Aonari pursed his lips and didn’t answer.
He probably really felt he was unlucky, didn’t he?
He was content being a member of the Go-Home Club, only to run into this kind of situation.
However, under pressure, he finally nodded, signaling his agreement.
“Fine… This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
let’s do it then.
I’ll just join…” With everyone watching and witnessing, it was unlikely that Yoshikawa Aonari would go back on his word in the future.
“Aria, I have some other things to do.
Can you let me go now?”
“Thank you for your understanding and for joining, Yoshikawa.
My words were a bit harsh; I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“How would I dare…”
With a casual wave of his hand, Yoshikawa Aonari left the Kendo Club activity room.
However, today’s events were not over yet.
Everything comes with a price.
I had borrowed protective gear from the Modern Fencing Club and the activity room from the Kendo Club, so naturally, I had to pay the corresponding price—now was the time for me to pay up.
“Then, as agreed…
Narita, Matsui, which of you will go first?”
Narita Koki and Matsui Soma glanced at each other, and finally, Narita Koki stepped forward to stand before me: “I’ll go first…” Subsequently, Narita Koki put on his kendo helmet, gripped the fukuro-shinai with both hands, bowed solemnly, and said, “Please teach me, Aria!”
“Please teach me.” Following modern British etiquette, I simply gave a slight bow.
Then, both sides took their stances, and the battle began.
…And, in less than three minutes, the match was over.
The final result was 15 to 0.
I didn’t hold back at all.
Any other result would have been abnormal.
The opponent was merely a kendo enthusiast.
Even if he had received proper training in a kendo dojo, an amateur is ultimately an amateur.
In any case, my swordsmanship is slightly higher than Lancelot’s.
If I were to be hit even once in a match against a high school amateur, it would be far too embarrassing.
Moreover, Mordred was watching from the sidelines; I couldn’t possibly hold back in front of her.
Besides, the advantage of a European longsword against a katana is simply too great.
A longsword is generally 1.3 meters long, while a katana is generally 1.1 meters; that’s a significant difference in length.
The difference in the design of the crossguard and the tsuba also makes it easier for the longsword to control the opponent.
If a katana misses a single strike, it will be quickly restricted and locked by the longsword, thereby losing the qualification to continue the exchange.
This was only fukuro-shinai against a plastic longsword; if it were a duel with real weapons, a longsword with a pommel would have a more reasonable center of gravity and be easier to handle.
Feints, false moves, and parries could be released more freely—these interaction-heavy techniques are something a katana, which emphasizes reaction and speed, cannot deal with.
Narita Koki took off his helmet and bowed again according to kendo etiquette, and I returned the gesture with a knight’s salute.
“As expected, the gap is just too large…” Narita Koki asked helplessly.
“Aria, you’re only a freshman, right?
How did you get so strong?
My old man has been training me since I was six, and I haven’t slacked off.
How could I lose so completely…”
“The intensity is different.
If Narita had undergone training at my level of intensity, reaching this level wouldn’t be difficult.”
This was the truth.
Any person with ambition who spars daily with beings on the level of the Knights of the Round Table will see their skills improve drastically.
Once one’s swordsmanship has reached a basic level, sparring with a super genius like Lancelot would allow one to reach the master realm within two years.
If one could manage to trade victories with Lancelot, they would certainly have a seat at the Round Table in Camelot.
Narita Koki’s mouth twitched, but in the end, he didn’t say anything more and stepped back.
Matsui Soma stepped forward, holding a saber.
Compared to a katana, a saber is much harder to handle.
Because it is used with one arm and is sufficiently long, the actual attack range of a saber is further than that of a longsword—this can be seen from how the saber’s ancestor, the rapier, phased out the longsword.
Moreover, the saber is extremely flexible and lightweight, making the longsword’s feints and parries less effective.
However, I still gave this Fencing Club captain a complete shutout.
I didn’t rely on variations in technique, but rather on speed and reaction capacity similar to modern fencing, seizing openings to win in a single strike.
The reason was the same as with Narita Koki.
An amateur is ultimately an amateur; he was full of openings just standing there, his reaction speed was far behind, and his grasp of distance and space was lackluster.
Generally speaking, there was still a lot of room for improvement.
“Truly exaggerated…
is this really something a human can do…”
After watching the match between me and Matsumoto Soma, Narita Koki muttered quietly.
Not just him, but the other members of the Kendo Club and Modern Fencing Club present were also whispering and murmuring among themselves.
To them, this was as incredible as an old Mauser with iron sights defeating an AWM equipped with an optical scope in a shooting competition.