Chapter 10.2

It’s no mistake that she’s killed about twenty men. Nor is it a coincidence.

Melchor’s eyes shook slightly.

“Melchor. Are you going to spar with me without drawing your sword?”

When she asked him, who was standing still, he blinked slowly and placed his hand on his long sword.

It wasn’t enough to be called a fine sword, but it was a rather feeble-looking sword to be held by Melchor, who was half a head taller even among the tall knights.

“That’s used for practice?”

“No. For actual use.”

Melchor didn’t take his sword from its sheath and maintained a sword-aiming posture.

“…Melchor. Please draw your sword out. If you’re looking out for me there is no need.”

“I cannot.”

“You’re worried I’ll get hurt?”

Melchor didn’t reply. The silence said it all.

“Then you can stop before I get hurt. You must not have enough confidence in your sword to hurt me?”

Melchor’s sword still remained in its sheath even though she’d provoked him.

“You are not fit for my original form right now, so I’ve transformed it my way.”

“Excuse me?”

“Because with that stance it is difficult to attack an opponent shorter than yourself.”

At his words, Roseline realized what he was saying.

Roseline’s stance was the right one for a short person attacking a tall person. She wasn’t exactly short but compared to adult men, she was on the smaller side. This was all the more so if an unusually large knight were her opponent.

On the other hand, Melchor was a noticeably tall man even among the knights. Such a man didn’t experience many times when his opponent was larger than him.

Roseline’s stance was one more comfortable for facing an opponent taller than her.

Melchor’s stance was one more comfortable for facing an opponent shorter than himself.

It didn’t look like there was a common point in their respective stances, but they were perfect in that they were optimal stances to take advantage of their opponent’s strength and skills.

But what was that earlier about ‘original form’? Roseline wondered.

There is no such thing as an original form in Roseline’s swordplay. The basic swordsmanship of the academy and the standard swordsmanship of the knight training center were different. Her sword was an anomalous skill specialized for ‘Roseline’ to wield, not a ‘knight’.

I’ll know the meaning once we start.

There was no need for a signal to start. The moment the sunlight beaming off the blade shone sharply Roseline quickly entered Melchor’s zone.

Melchor is right-handed.

When the slanted sword was swung using the power of her wrist, it twisted like a rose vine, then it suddenly stretched out and rose toward his left shoulder. At the same time, Melchor’s sheath hugging his sword swayed down ever so slightly.

Roseline heard the slick sound of the blade rubbing. Melchor didn’t undo the sheath but struck Roseline’s sword with part of the blade that appeared only about a finger long.

Damn it.

Roseline quickly swung the sword back. That he didn’t draw the sword from the sheath simply wasn’t because he looked down on her.

He’s trying to change the trajectory of my sword on his own.

Swordfight was not about hitting each other’s blades at the same time but spilling the opponent’s blade. But if the blade is fully exposed it flows down along the slippery surface, so the movement increases, causing unnecessary friction.

As Melchor used his sheath to expose the blade as much as he needed, Roseline’s blade was fixed in just one direction. If she didn’t swing her sword back fast enough she would get caught.

Since he has a large stature, I naturally thought he would put forth his strength.

In a surprise attack using the terrain, she didn’t know, but in a head-to-head confrontation, the superiority and inferiority due to force could not be ignored. For a big, strong man like Melchor, it was standard to overpower the opponent with force.

But he isn’t using his strength and instead is taking advantage of my sword movements.

He had good common sense. She didn’t know why he used this method even with his physique and strength.

His strength and technique seem more to the left than I am…

How is his strength?

When Roseline didn’t strike him right away and rolled her eyes as if admiring him, Melchor, not moving a muscle, stared quietly at her, too.

“I thought you’d be stronger since you wanted to spar.”

Was he a man who knew how to talk offensively? Roseline was a bit shocked. Melchor’s expression was unexpectedly serious. Up until the point when the sparring had started, he’d talked down on her skills, but now somehow… It was faint, but he seemed to be let down.

Disappointed that he had thought he could find someone who resembled Roseline but hadn’t. She had thought he would display outstanding swordsmanship, but this was just a disappointment.

I really can’t leave without giving him at least one blow. Roseline turned the handle to grip the sword upside down. “Melchor. Damian said so, that your recovery speed is fast.”

“Hmm?”

“This is going to sting a little.”

Roseline leaned to one side, then lightly dashed off the ground. Her sword flew up like a ball that’d been thrown into the sky.

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