The audience quickly fell silent.
The outer wall of the training hall had been neatly sliced in half.
Although the walls were engraved with restoration magic and were beginning to repair themselves, returning them to their original state didn’t erase what had just happened.
Naturally, everyone’s gaze converged in one place.
The top student, who looked suspiciously delicate, scratched his neck awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
A strange atmosphere settled in the silence.
Everyone fidgeted, unsure of what to say, but the silence was soon broken when Cain, unable to contain his curiosity, spoke up.
“…How did you do that just now?”
He voiced the question everyone wanted to ask, hoping for a profound answer, like, ‘I focused so intensely that everything else disappeared, leaving only the sword.’
But that expectation was immediately betrayed.
“Huh? Didn’t you pay attention in class? The professor explained it all in detail.”
This incomprehensible response made everyone’s head ache.
Infusing magic into the sword, solidifying its form, stabilizing the sword aura, and connecting the inner and outer worlds to prevent the aura from dispersing—these were skills that countless warriors dedicated their lives to achieving, and yet, his response was so casual, it was almost as if he were mocking them.
“Just follow what he taught, and it should be easy.”
But Ciel’s expression was completely serious.
It didn’t look like he was hiding anything or making excuses after reaching an epiphany on his own.
‘…Did that lecture actually help?’
The same professor who seemed to mock martial arts, tormenting students without reason, and sipping coffee while students struggled through grueling training—there had never seemed to be anything worth learning from him.
Yet, Ciel’s eyes were filled with conviction.
“I’ve never learned swordsmanship, and I can’t even sense magic. So if I can do it, anyone should be able to.”
Magic Insensitivity—the congenital defect Ciel had.
Realization dawned on their faces, disbelief evident.
If they thought about it, he’d always relied on his enormous reserves of magic to cover for his lack of technique.
He was a half-baked swordsman who couldn’t even imbue his sword with his own magic.
Without being able to sense magic, there was no way for him to improve his skills.
‘How could he control an energy he couldn’t even perceive?’
The idea that he had somehow learned to handle magic and become a swordmaster without any assistance—it was absurd.
There was only one possible explanation.
‘When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’
It was still hard to believe, but…
The professor had actually taught him how to handle sword energy.
Even to a student with Magic Insensitivity.
It was akin to trying to teach a blind person to paint a landscape.
But Riyan hadn’t just taught a blind student to paint—he’d made him a master of hyper-realistic landscape painting.
‘Now that I think about it, there was always something strange about it.’
A professor who only knew magic dismissing swordsmanship—it did sound plausible.
But this was Riyan we were talking about.
A true educator of this era, who treasured his students so much he wouldn’t hesitate to risk his own life for them.
He wouldn’t insult a student without reason.
There had to be a hidden purpose behind it.
***
“…This is a little embarrassing. The professor must have taught the principles of the Heart Sword, but I couldn’t grasp it at all.”
Not fully understanding his teachings and now drawing everyone’s attention as if he’d achieved something significant made him feel ashamed.
Ciel’s words were a big hint.
Cain slowly reflected on Riyan’s statements, trying to grasp the profound intent behind them.
‘I know what swordsmanship is.’
Swordsmanship is simply the act of swinging a weapon.
At first, that might sound like an insult to martial artists, but it actually pierced right to the heart of the matter.
To swing and cut—that was the origin and essence of all techniques.
“I have no intention of teaching you swordsmanship.”
“Thus, I won’t teach you swordsmanship itself.”
“What I teach is only the essence within swordsmanship.”
“If all you expect is to improve by receiving some miraculous sword techniques from me, you’ll never get better. It’s because you keep looking for shortcuts that you fail.”
The professor had no intention of tolerating the folly of getting captivated by flashy techniques and forgetting the essence.
He would straighten out their rotting attitudes.
“Try swinging your sword ten thousand times.”
“Swinging a sword ten thousand times a day is impossible.”
“Therefore, one must swing the sword with the heart, not the hand.”
“If you don’t know how to do that, exhaust yourself until you can’t distinguish between yourself and the sword—until you truly understand the essence of the sword.”
“This, no matter how you looked at it, was an enlightenment.”
A priceless lesson delivered by a warrior who had reached an infinitely higher level than them—a rare opportunity that one might encounter only once in a lifetime if fortune smiled upon them.
It was indeed a lecture conceived by a genius professor who would go down in the empire’s history.
Only the ignorant students had failed to recognize its value.
‘I finally understand why the professor felt disappointed that day.’
The professor’s unexpected response when he had pleaded for them to at least make an effort to engage sincerely with the lecture.
“I, too, was sweating alongside my dear students… if only in my heart. It’s a bit disappointing that none of you could see that.”
At first, it sounded like he was teasing the students, but behind those words was the professor’s genuine sincerity.
Though he’d sometimes doze off as if he were asleep, Professor Riyan was undoubtedly wielding his sword in the spiritual realm, side by side with his students.
‘What does it mean to wield a sword with one’s heart?’
He had even demonstrated the Heart Sword directly, yet the students, seeing it, could only complain.
It would have been stranger if he hadn’t felt disappointed.
‘I ended up wronging Professor Riyan.’
Rather than offering thanks, I criticized him.
It was shameful, akin to repaying kindness with animosity.
If one had done wrong, it was only right to apologize.
This thought compelled Cain to turn toward Riyan.
But something continued to weigh on his mind.
All the questions should have been answered perfectly, yet it felt like he had overlooked the most critical fact.
…Now that he thought about it, ‘why hadn’t the professor been able to wield a wooden sword properly?’
It was already a given that he had attained the peerless level of the Heart Sword.
“Naturally, he should have had a swordsmanship skill that matched that level, but he didn’t.”
‘Why could that be?’ Puzzling over it, a recent incident came to his mind.
The time when the treacherous vice-director had nearly killed the professor.
Back then, he had dismissed it due to a lack of information, but thinking about it now, ‘how could someone like him have been defeated by a con artist?’
Professor Riyan could easily overpower even demons.
If he truly had been defeated, there were only a few plausible explanations.
Either the opponent had hidden his strength, or there was some reason why Riyan couldn’t exert his full ability.
As these pieces started falling into place, Cain’s face turned pale.
‘Why can’t he wield a sword?’
‘Why was he so easily overpowered by a con artist?’
“Because he sacrificed his body for the students.”
“In the fierce battle against a demon, he had unleashed immense magic repeatedly to protect everyone, sustaining severe internal injuries.”
‘Why did he start teaching this lecture at this exact time?’
“Even if he could no longer wield a sword himself, he still wanted to pass down his teachings to the next generation.”
“And finally, why did he use such complex metaphors in his teaching? Why did he hide the fact that he had reached the realm of the Heart Sword?”
The answer was all too obvious.
“A broken body. Scars that turned every breath into agony. A lifetime of martial training rendered meaningless, his life seemingly negated.”
But that was still better than seeing the sad faces of his students.
He could never allow them to bear the guilt of knowing he could no longer wield a sword properly because of the sacrifices he made to protect them all.
He had concealed his pain for the sake of everyone.
***
“Aah…”
His eyes stung. His chest grew heavy.
Tears streamed down, blurring his vision.
His legs gave way, and he collapsed to the floor without strength.
What toppled this young knight, who had sworn never to fall no matter what hardship came his way, was the boundless love of a mentor as vast as the sea.