Love Letter From The Future

The lecture had begun.

Professor Derek’s “Swordsmanship Practice” was a class closer to training. The main activities involved wielding swords, sparring, or participating in low-grade monster hunts.

For anyone studying in the Swordsmanship Department, these activities were something they all engaged in anyway. So, the swordsmanship practice class was always quite popular.

If it was something that had to be done, it was nice to earn credits while at it.

Moreover, the Swordsmanship Department consisted mostly of physical types. Many preferred to move their bodies and sweat rather than learn theory until their heads hurt in the classroom.

However, today’s class lacked its usual vitality. The reason was simple. The attention of students who should have been focused on training was instead directed at someone.

That “someone” was none other than me. My head already throbbed.

Everyone was sending me expectant glances, and to be honest, I didn’t have confidence in beating Seraia. I was in a situation where I didn’t even remember what I had done last week.

I had at least one clue. “My muscles are honest since I’ve been dealing only with monsters.” But no matter how I thought about it, I couldn’t understand what that meant.

Was I supposed to observe how my opponent’s muscles moved amidst the chaotic exchanges?

Even if I had that level of observation, I couldn’t know about the parts covered by their clothing. It was indeed a tough problem.

While I was struggling to find an answer, I was swinging my sword with half-hearted resignation.

Thanks to the force leaving my body, my sword path was clean. It seemed that my mana had increased a bit, and my blood flow had widened quite a bit as well.

What had happened over the past week? Once more, the question surfaced, but I soon suppressed that curiosity.

After all, I couldn’t possibly reach Seraia Yuridina’s level. She was someone who had honed a talent bestowed by the heavens over her entire life. It was impossible to catch up to that gap in just a week.

While I was absentmindedly swinging my sword, Professor Derek came up next to me.

He had brown hair with a scar crossing his face and a rugged tan physique.

It was hard to believe that he was approaching old age with such a sturdy build. He was a man who had chased monsters and boasted a strong physique.

He stood, arms crossed, watching me swing my sword, and then spoke in a pleased voice.

“You’ve taken the killing intent out.”

“…Huh?”

I could only respond with that, surprised by his unexpected compliment. In response to my incredulous gaze, Professor Derek simply smiled and nodded. His hand stroked his bushy beard.

“You’ve taken the killing intent out; very well done. The sword you wielded last time was consumed by the intention to kill someone. Of course, if you achieve mastery, a fearsome sword will be born, but it wouldn’t mean anything to become a person who feels no thrill when taking a life.”

It seemed he was talking about the “mental theory” that older swordsmen believed in. Of course, it was common knowledge that the mind was important in swordsmanship.

Controlling mana was done through the mind, not the body. One had to form a mental image to advance to a higher realm. That was why the Academy forced swordsmen to absorb theory and practice meditation—there was a reason for it.

However, recently, this “mental theory” faced various challenges. Some swordsmen viewed it as a form of “mental omnipotence,” which led to criticisms of it being somewhat unscientific.

Training should ultimately yield the best efficiency only when balanced with adequate rest and nutrition. However, some swordsmen swung their swords to the limit under the theory of mind, believing that was the only way to train their minds.

It was a foolish thought. At least the younger generation of swordsmen no longer followed such training methods—unless they were high-ranking nobles who could use healing potions liberally.

The idea that one’s sword path changes according to one’s mindset was also a characteristic of those who blindly believed in mental theory. Unless one achieved the level of embodying the mental image in their sword path, the sword would simply swing as it was wielded.

Professor Derek, facing my discontented gaze, clicked his tongue. It was a reaction that suggested he expected such a response.

“Do you think I’m wrong? But I know very well how much mental strength helps in a fight where life is on the line. When faced with danger, doesn’t some latent potential get forcibly awakened?”

This was problematic. If this continued, I would have to listen to Professor Derek’s tales for dozens of minutes. While I was trying to think up an appropriate excuse to escape his stories from the past, Professor Derek became even more eager to continue.

“And most importantly, if you don’t balance body and mind, you’re sure to expose vulnerabilities. For instance, you might find the angle with your head, but your body can’t follow it, or your method of hiding intentions is so lacking that it reveals signs physically…”

“Yes, I understand. Professor Derek… wait a moment. Did you say that hiding intentions is lacking?”

I, who was planning to give polite agreement, could only be startled and ask back at Professor Derek’s subsequent words.

Lacking the skill to hide intentions. There was a nuance I felt I had heard somewhere before.

Professor Derek seemed pleased that a young person was showing interest in his words. He started to share more of his experiences with even greater excitement.

“Right, you probably lack experience fighting intelligent opponents? You can’t grasp it through sparring; there’s an instinct you can only realize in life-and-death situations… When facing lower-level opponents, it doesn’t matter, but when facing higher-level opponents, you get a feeling. Ah, that guy sees through all my actions…”

“No, is that really possible?”

My question interrupted his seemingly endless stream of speech, and Professor Derek fell silent, staring at me blankly.

However, I still didn’t understand. You sense it? How on earth could you know that?

“Isn’t it common sense? It’s tough just to deal blows with an opponent; do you think I can notice what actions they’re about to take in the process?”

Finding my question quite amusing, Professor Derek stroked his beard again and chuckled softly. However, his answer didn’t change.

“Of course, you can. I used to think like you once, you know? ‘That’s all just bravado, isn’t it?’ But the world of masters is broad and deep. You’ll understand that someday.”

With that, Professor Derek slapped my shoulder a few times with his pot lid-like hand and began to turn away. I fell into thought for a moment before asking him before he went any farther.

“Professor Derek.”

Glancing over, his deep blue eyes were staring at me. I quickly threw out my question before his interest waned.

“…Then, how many of us have reached that level?”

At that, Professor Derek smirked and laughed slightly. As if he found my question amusing.

“Not you guys! At least it has to be the top or second place, and that’s for third years or above?”

In other words, it meant that Seraia hadn’t reached that level either. The skill to hide intentions and perceive signs.

Then, it seemed that the lead pointed toward this side. However, there was a decisive problem remaining.

The fact that I had not yet reached that level myself.

The answer was hazy, and here I was lacking in skill to choose an answer.

It was a pitiful state. I sighed deeply and glanced at the place where I felt a sharp gaze.

There stood Seraia Yuridina, with a gaze like a frost.

Yeah, let’s die.

I mentally left my last words for my parents, older brother, younger sister, and Reto and Celin.

I had a feeling today would be a long day.

“Um, Senior Ian.”

It was around the time the lecture was coming to an end. Everyone was tending to their swords, slowly preparing for the next class or enjoying a brief respite.

I was chatting with Celin, praying that today would pass safely.

However, it seemed that the deity Arus was quite displeased with my usual devotion, as he ruthlessly trampled over my wish.

Seraia Yuridina stood right in front of me.

She was beautiful as ever. Her gray hair gave off a rather vintage feel than being dull, and even her perpetually stern expression emphasized her beauty, resembling an ice sculpture.

It was unfortunate that I could only perceive this beautiful woman as a reaper from the afterlife at that moment.

That sudden appearance of Seraia caused Celin, who had been chatting with me, to quickly freeze in expression.

After all, Seraia’s reason for approaching me was obvious. The collective gaze of all the students was focused on us.

Those shining eyes of the onlookers, brimming with anticipation.

“Um, may I ask for a match…? Ah! Can I please ask for a match?”

It was for revenge.

Nervous, she bit her tongue once but her objective seemed just as I suspected.

Seraia’s face became bright red. Her head drooped low, making her look quite cute. If she had been a bit more forthcoming, she would have garnered all the love from the seniors.

However, even her cuteness felt menacing to me at that moment. It made it even harder to refuse her proposition.

To ask a senior for guidance while overcoming embarrassment, and then run away?

That was particularly problematic given that I had spoken confidently to Tean before the class that I wanted to spar today.

If I had known it would turn this serious, I wouldn’t have made such a statement.

It was Celin who had taken it upon herself to be the white knight. She fidgeted uneasily before seeming to have an epiphany.

“Ah! Speaking of which, Senior Ian, you have an appointment with me after…”

“Forget it.”

But before her lifeline could even reach my hand, I cut off her words in a resigned tone. Celin looked at me with a forlorn expression.

At first, I had said I wouldn’t care whether I lived or died, but it seemed those words were just empty sentiments. I took solace in Celin’s response and smiled wryly.

“You’re just going to want to have a match anyway, right? If not today, then tomorrow.”

“…Yes.”

Seraia quietly nodded her head, but with a firm resolve. In that case, there was no point in avoiding this.

There was no way a solution would materialize in a day or two. On the contrary, if I spent my time panicking, it felt more like blood was drying up under pressure.

It was better to get it over with early, even if it meant getting beaten. Ultimately, I had to nod my head.

“Alright, let’s have a match then.”

As soon as I gave my permission, Seraia looked pleased, and for a moment, a smile brightened her cold face. It felt like I could see an exclamation mark floating above her head. It was a smile like a blooming flower.

Either way, all I could do was click my tongue as I walked toward the sparring arena located in the center of the training ground.

Today had struck out. Still, since it was a provisional absence, I wouldn’t be entirely penalized, or at least that was what I thought.

The buzzing noise, Professor Derek’s permission, and I gripped the wooden sword to move to the opposite ends of the arena.

I gazed into her cold eyes, resembling aquamarine, but I could not read her intentions. I cursed at Professor Derek inwardly for making me worry about the signs.

Signs? What a joke, I couldn’t tell anything.

In that case, there could be only one answer. I thought about it and got into position. Then with Professor Derek’s strong shout signaling the start of the spar.

“Then, begin!”

I saw Seraia charging toward me with a rush.

In the next moment, I felt a dull thud, and my body flew through the air.

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