Demonstration Class (5)
“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Zeke adjusted the grip on his bread and looked at the Second Prince.
‘This is the swordsmanship that forced me to leave a 5,700-word comment’.
But Zeke didn't let his guard down.
‘Well, actually, the Second Prince could be incredibly skilled, but the author might have just portrayed him like an idiot. In fact, even in the swordsmanship description, it was mentioned that the Second Prince possessed extraordinary skills.’
Reading and seeing in person are two different things.
If descriptions alone could explain everything, then the blind wouldn't need to open their eyes.
The author's lack of skill might have prevented him from properly expressing the prince's movements.
‘So, I need to be a little cautious.’
Zeke currently couldn't use mana.
All he had was a slightly sturdy body.
If he were to be defeated by the Second Prince here, it would be a humiliating defeat.
‘Alright, Second Prince. Come at me.’
***
The Second Prince adjusted his grip on the sword with both hands and lowered his center of gravity.
'Hooo'
He exhaled slowly, examining his opponent.
Zeke's posture was full of openings, making it seem like he would crumble with a single attack.
'He’s even holding that thing that can’t even be called a weapon. Defense is impossible'.
'Don't blame your weapon after you get your arm chopped off. That will be your arrogance’s fault.'
“Haaaaaat!”
With a shout, he kicked off the ground and charged at Zeke.
The first move.
The most basic sword strike.
A single, straight downward slash from the sky to the ground.
But Zeke swiftly shifted his body half a step back.
'Pause'.
Rosnante’s sword, which had been aimed at Zeke, abruptly stopped mid-air and immediately changed its trajectory, slicing horizontally.
Zeke took another step back.
The blade seemed to graze his chin, but it ultimately missed.
Beads of sweat trickled down Rosnante's forehead.
'Okay, he’s got skills, I’ll give him that. It’s still just the initial probing.'
In truth, Rosnante had used ‘Orbital Splitter’, one of the Imperial Knights' secret sword techniques, from his very first attack.
He desperately tried to hide his flustered expression. It was a technique that strained the joints, and his wrist throbbed with pain.
This time, he firmly secured both wrists with his gauntlets and pulled the sword back, assuming a stabbing stance.
All his senses focused on the balls and tips of his feet.
'Thud!'
He kicked off the ground, simultaneously thrusting his sword forward, launching himself towards Zeke like an arrow.
But Zeke didn't budge, his arms still lowered.
The sword aimed straight for his shoulder, poised to pierce through.
But at that moment.
'Thwack!'
Suddenly, his vision blurred.
He was flying sideways before he knew it.
Even as he was airborne, Rosnante couldn't comprehend what had happened.
'Wh-what! When did I…! That bastard didn’t even move!'
'Thud'.
His body crashed against the ground, a sharp pain shooting through his temple.
'Stagger…'
His sense of balance was gone.
He tried to get up, but his legs kept giving out.
'Thud'.
He stabbed his sword into the ground, using it as support to lift himself.
Rosnante stared at Zeke with trembling eyes.
“Get serious. Stop messing around.”
Those words, uttered with an indifferent expression, were more than enough to provoke Rosnante.
'Clench'.
His grip on the sword tightened.
'You… You… You little shit! Fine! You asked for it. I'll show you the Imperial secret swordsmanship, ‘Lotus Flower’.'
He had been practicing it, but this was the first time he would be using it in a spar.
It was a technique he wouldn't dare use in a real fight, even with a wooden sword, due to its dangerous nature.
But to unleash it now, in a duel with real swords…
It was akin to declaring that he would no longer hold back.
Rosnante assumed his stance once more, sunlight glinting off his blade.
“Secret Swordsmanship: Lotus Flower.”
His mind sank into deep concentration. He lowered his stance further, his heartbeat slowing.
He scanned his opponent's entire body, etching the location of his weaknesses into his mind.
'First, let's take care of that ridiculous bread.'
Rosnante charged at Zeke again.
He rapidly alternated between mid and low attacks, aiming for Zeke’s bread.
Just one strike would be enough to shatter it.
Slash!
Slash!
Thrust!
He spun around and slashed again!
At an unexpected moment,
From below to above,
He suddenly struck upwards.
His ultimate technique, ‘Soaring Dragon’!
'Whizz'.
'Whoosh'.
'Clang!'
A fierce gust of wind, brimming with killing intent, swept across the training ground.
'Wha… What is this, how did… No! It can’t be. It can’t be!'
The Second Prince unleashed his secret technique once more.
But Zeke, as if mocking him, simply stuck the bread to his blade,
Moving it simultaneously in the same direction as Rosnante's swordsmanship.
He swung.
He swung.
He swung!
With all his might. He swung his sword, pouring every ounce of his being into each strike.
But not a single blow landed.
His sword continued to slice through empty air.
He bit his lip so hard that blood trickled down his chin.
Sweat drenched his entire body.
“Stop running away! Fight me!”
He roared, but frustration choked his words.
'Sob'.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
He was utterly humiliated.
'The sword, at least the sword, shouldn’t be treated like this!'
'Fine, this guy might be better than me right now.'
'The Empire is vast, and it's not strange for one or two geniuses like myself to emerge.'
'However! My sword should not be subjected to such mockery, unable to land a single effective blow!'
'My sword will rule the future of the Empire!'
'And this guy, who doesn't even know its weight, dares to…!'
But,
It was as if he were swinging his sword underwater.
The hand gripping the sword felt increasingly heavy.
As if a sandbag had been attached to it.
The sensation of the blade meeting its target became increasingly faint.
***
Zeke, initially mirroring Rosnante's movements to analyze his swordsmanship, suddenly felt a strange sense of familiarity.
'Did Selena feel this way when she danced with me?'
He glanced towards the students and saw the silver-haired girl watching the duel with her lips tightly pursed.
The sword danced erratically, defying any sense of control.
Zeke's brows furrowed in annoyance.
'Damn it. He’s right. It’s idiotic. And not just regular idiotic, it’s top-tier idiocy.'
Of course, it was still better than the swordsmanship Selena had displayed back then.
But being better didn't make it good.
It was like putting a single piece of garnish on top of a pile of garbage.
Who would want it, even with a decoration?
It had been much better when he'd experienced it through the author’s descriptions in the novel.
Seeing it in person only highlighted its utter mess.
He could write 5,700 words, no, 11,400 words right here, right now, about the flaws in the swordsmanship itself, but that was beside the point.
'And this guy seriously… Does he think there's a cooldown after every swing?'
A sword strike should be immediately followed by a connecting technique, but…
One swing, a pause, another swing, another pause.
Maybe he thinks he has an invincible shield like a magical girl transforming during those pauses.
'Twitch'.
And the thing that Zeke couldn't stand the most.
The urge to give him pointers, which he had been suppressing, finally exploded.
'Argh!!! Damn it!! Stop showing me your back! Your back!!! You damn gay bastard!!!'
Selena’s shy, occasional back peek was cute.
But he really didn’t want to see the sweaty back of this golden bastard.
'What is this unwanted supply…?'
Ah, this was unbearable.
Truly.
Zeke looked at Rosnante and spoke.
“That’s enough. Rosnante. First, I'll instill some basic manners in you.”
And with that, Zeke’s baguette, which had been purely defensive until now, began to swing.
'Whack!'
'Whack!'
'Whack!'
'Whack!'
'Whack!'
As Zeke gleefully swung his bread, he thought to himself.
'The principal told me not to leave any visible injuries. Principal, I never thought you were this cruel. Do you hate him too?'
The baguette in Zeke's hand struck every part of Rosnante's body as if giving him a deep tissue massage.
Head, shoulders, arms, legs, chest, stomach, and back! Back! Back!
Each strike echoed with a resounding thud, but no bruises appeared on Rosnante’s skin.
So, to those watching, it looked as if he was being playfully hit with a large, soft mallet.
The sight of the Second Prince, unable to retaliate against Zeke, being pummeled like a child…
The students gaped in astonishment.
“Hey, hey. What’s going on?”
“N-no way… He’s joking, right…? I sparred with the Second Prince earlier, and I got completely wrecked…”
“Dude, do you see how that bread is moving?”
“N-no. But, but… It can’t actually hurt, right?”
“I’ve been hit by that thing before. It hurts like hell. That thing… Ugh…”
But these were just the ignorant ramblings of those who didn’t know what was happening to Rosnante.
'It hurts! It hurts! Damn it!!!!'
The baguette wasn’t just painful.
It wasn’t the searing pain of a cut,
Nor the dull ache of being hit by a wooden sword.
It was a deep, bone-jarring pain that seemed to penetrate his very core.
And it was relentless! Continuous! Unceasing!
When had the Second Prince, with his noble Imperial blood, ever been beaten black and blue like this?
Not even during his first swordsmanship lessons, when he sparred with the invited instructors, had he experienced such pain.
Back then, it was considered common courtesy to stop a strike before it made proper contact.
But this man knew no such restraint.
Even amidst the agony, Rosnante tried to block Zeke’s bread, extending his sword.
However, the moment he moved his sword, the bread was gone.
Like a slippery loach, it weaved and bobbed, striking him from unpredictable angles.
“Waist.”
Pain flared in his lower back.
“Shoulder.”
A sharp, piercing pain shot through his shoulder.
“Head.”
His brain rattled inside his skull.
“Back. Back. Get that thing off my back.”
It was as if Zeke had a personal vendetta against his back, striking it with the most force and persistence.
He felt like every bone in his body was about to shatter.
The thought crossed his mind that he might actually die from the pain.
“Ze…Ze…Ke…Ugh!”
'Whack!'
'Whack!'
'Whack!'
“Please…Ugh!”
'Whack!'
“Please…Stop…!”
'Whack!'
Rosnante tried to surrender, to utter the words that would end his suffering.
But Zeke showed no mercy, continuing his relentless assault.
In the end, Rosnante could only curl up on the ground, shielding himself as best he could.
It was a pathetic sight for the Second Prince, a member of the Empire’s most noble bloodline.
But it was a matter of survival.
'Whack!'
Even then, Zeke didn't stop.
In fact, with Rosnante's back now exposed, his swings became even more vigorous.
As pain tore through his body, Rosnante finally managed to cry out.
“I…I…surrender!!!”
'Whack!'
“Alright, I heard you.”
Zeke nodded, finally lowering his arm.
'Damn…He…He heard me… Why that last hit…? You…You bastard…'
Zeke examined the bread he had been wielding.
Meanwhile, the defeated Second Prince lay on the ground, tears streaming down his face, a mixture of pain and humiliation.
He tried to stifle his sobs, his shoulders shaking.
It hurt like hell.
He felt like every bone in his body had been pulverized.
'Sniffle'.
He wiped his nose and looked up.
Zeke, who had been inspecting the bread, met his gaze.
The moment their eyes locked, the Second Prince felt a chill run down his spine, a primal fear gripping his very being.
'Tinkle…'
A yellowish puddle began to form beneath Rosnante, staining the training ground floor.
'Thud'.
And with that, he fainted, collapsing sideways.
Silence.
The principal, who had been watching the duel with his mouth agape, blinked a few times.
Snapping back to reality, he rushed over to Zeke.
“You! What in the world was that?!”
“Is there a problem?”
“Problem?! You call that a problem?! The Second Prince has fainted!”
“As you instructed, Principal, I made sure there were no injuries.”
Zeke gestured towards the unconscious Rosnante with his finger.
The principal hurried over to Rosnante, his nose twitching.
'The… The smell… It’s quite… strong…'
He frowned, examining Rosnante closely.
It was true.
There wasn’t a single mark on the unconscious prince.
Not even a bruise, which he had fully expected to see.
His skin was as smooth and unblemished as a baby’s, a testament to his noble lineage.
Only his sword hand was slightly torn, a few drops of blood staining his fingers.
'Well, it was just bread after all…'
'And the Second Prince… Well… He fainted after being hit by bread…'
“…Just who in the world is this guy…?”
Muttering to himself, the principal called out to Eric, who was standing there dumbfounded.
“Eric!”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“Quickly, take the Second Prince to the infirmary!”
“…Yes, sir.”
Eric, too, seemed to have noticed the smell emanating from the Second Prince, his face contorting in disgust.
Trying his best to avoid contact with the… source of the odor… he carefully lifted the Second Prince into a princess carry.
And with that, he made his way out of the training ground.
“I won. I believe I’m due a declaration of victory.”
The principal narrowed his eyes at Zeke.
Now, even the sight of that indifferent expression was enough to irritate him.
'Sigh… What’s going to happen to the academy from now on…? Damn it. I knew it was never truly peaceful, but looking back, it was practically heaven.'
But a duel was a duel. A victory was a victory.
And Zeke had defeated his opponent without inflicting any visible injuries.
It could even be considered an honorable act.
'Honorable, my ass.'
This was the first time he’d seen that stoic face look so… pleased.
“…The victor of this duel is Zeke Clayman.”
But no one dared to clap.
Zeke simply nodded.
“Good. Now then, shall we resume the lesson?”
“…????”
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Lolol
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ReplyDeleteThe difference between the Rofan and the Dark Fantasy genre he was summoned to is staggeringly similar to Super Wenie Hut Jr and the Salty Spitoon.
I think it's more like he played too much elden ring, other bosses just look too easy
DeleteThat no-injuries bread smacking make me miss silver bat from old novel
ReplyDelete