Teacher of the Imperial Family’s Bastard - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Revenge (3)

To explain the swordsmanship, I must return to the past.

Specifically, to the time before my regression.

— Listen, will you.

The Crown Prince, who was imprisoned, spent most of his days in meditation.

After finishing his meditation, he’d test his enlightenment by tormenting me.

That day was one of those days.

— There is no aesthetic in your swordsmanship.

— What?

— The current Imperial swordsmanship lacks aesthetics. Or rather, it’s lost it. Whatever the case, this swordsmanship is just a shell.

The Crown Prince, fresh from his meditation, began to speak in abstract, dreamlike terms. I replied, irritated.

— If you’re going to spew nonsense again, go away. I’m tired.

— I refuse. There’s no one else who can understand this talk except you.

— Ugh, seriously.

That day, the Crown Prince seemed particularly excited.

His eyes sparkled, making him seem like a five-year-old boy.

But what he said that day was, unusually, interesting.

— Imperial swordsmanship is barbaric. No, to be precise, all human swordsmanship that originated from Imperial swordsmanship is barbaric.

— Isn’t that an insult to your ancestors, who founded that swordsmanship?

— No! It’s a compliment! This swordsmanship was born to be barbaric!

The Crown Prince began to explain the origin of “human swordsmanship.”

— My ancestor, the first emperor, took up the sword to liberate humanity from enslavement by other races. Your ancestors walked that path with mine.

— Why are you bringing this up now?

— Just keep listening. In the process of founding swordsmanship, the emperor designated the ‘other races’ as the enemy. Are you following?

— Roughly, yes.

— It’s a continuation of that story. If you analyze Imperial swordsmanship with that in mind, you can see the purpose behind each sword form. One of the main forms of Imperial swordsmanship, the ‘Storm Form,’ was designed to fight harpies. It was structured to disrupt the flow of the wind, just like its name suggests!

— What about the others?

— The ‘Demon-slaying Form’ was created to deal with nocturnal creatures, the ‘Sky Thunder Form’ to chase the steps of elves, and the ‘Puppet Form’ to counter the dwarves’ resilience. Each has a specific purpose.

After finishing his explanation, the Crown Prince let out a hearty laugh.

— But look at the current situation. Are we still fighting other races?

— No, in fact, we have friendly relations with some.

— Exactly! The era no longer demands the strength to resist other races. So, what happens to the meaning behind the sword forms? What happens to their purpose?

— They’re no longer needed?

— Exactly!

Having drawn his conclusion, the Crown Prince continued.

— We no longer need swords designed to struggle against other races! But Imperial swordsmanship, and all human swordsmanship derived from it, remains stuck in the purpose left by the first emperor. It’s still barbaric, designed for conflict! So, what remains of swordsmanship that’s lost its purpose and enemy?

— I wouldn’t know.

— Nothing remains! That’s why there’s no aesthetic!

At that moment, all swordsmanship had lost its way.

Humanity’s first and last Grand Master, the first emperor of Ortaire, had defined swordsmanship when fighting other races.

And since then, swordsmanship had been frozen in that era.

Realizing this, the Crown Prince set a new goal.

— We need to define a new aesthetic. A new purpose that fits the current era must be imbued into the sword.

— Hmm, well, good luck with that.

— Excuse me? We’ll be doing this together.

— ?

— Do you think I would waste my breath explaining this to someone useless?

— Didn’t you just say it because you were excited?

— You’ve heard it, so now you’re responsible too.

— This bastard…

— Oh-ho! Watch your language; it looks like we need another sparring session. Come at me!

I wanted to avoid this at all costs.

Training alone was hard enough, and there was no guarantee I’d even make it out of this prison, so why bother wasting energy on such things?

Besides, my sister was still visiting me at the time, so I had even less reason to get involved.

But the Crown Prince was relentless.

He would beat me down just to involve me in his discussions and hear my opinions.

Perhaps he was the main reason my personality became so twisted.

Nonetheless, we began to define something called ‘Sword Intent.’

It was a painstaking process of dismantling all the existing sword forms.

All I did was indulge the Crown Prince’s nonsense, offer some opinions, and help test the revised sword forms.

But still, since I helped, I guess we can say “we” did it.

The results came exactly after ten years.

— Haha! Yes! This is it!

His enlightenment began to shine.

The new sword intent was a “swordsmanship designed to fight against swordsmanship.”

Because the current era was one in which swords clashed with swords.

Thus, the ‘New Imperial Swordsmanship’ was born.

This was the reason I could counter the Crown Prince’s sword so easily.

Whack!

I landed an upward strike to the Crown Prince’s chin.

He widened his eyes, preparing to use the Sky Thunder Form.

He was planning a rapid strike.

I reversed my grip on the sword.

— So! The Sky Thunder Form is designed to chase the footsteps of elves! But we no longer fight elves! So what should the Sky Thunder Form pursue now?

— Let’s call it the ‘Sword’s Path.’

— Good! The Sky Thunder Form was originally meant to grasp the footsteps of elves in the forest! If we correct it to ‘pursue the path of the sword,’ it works!

A sword that follows the path of its opponent.

A “tracking sword.”

What’s required is understanding and speed.

— Hmm… the Sword’s Path, huh.

— Then what if you observe the changes in your opponent’s muscles? The human body signals its movements in advance, doesn’t it?

— That alone isn’t enough! Yes! We also need to follow the flow of mana.

— …Isn’t that too difficult?

— Is swordsmanship supposed to be easy?

— Ugh, if that’s the case, only a master could use it effectively.

— Those with good eyesight could use it even at the expert level. You could use it soon enough, so stop pretending it’s a problem.

I focused on sensing the Crown Prince’s sword, body, and mana.

I read the path his sword took toward my body.

But it didn’t end there.

Sword Intent is ‘the act of imbuing intent.’

‘Pursuit.’

I infused my intention into it.

I read my opponent, identified their weak points, and struck along that path.

This was the new Sky Thunder Form.

Mana surged through my body as I solidified the image in my mind.

Thump, thump, thump!

Intent and mana merged, completing a single motion.

This was the core of Sword Intent.

Sword Intent enhances the force of the sword form.

I swung my sword.

A sword imbued with intent.

A sword form that’s only a shell.

The outcome was obvious.

Ssshh—

I deflected the Crown Prince’s Sky Thunder Form.

Then—

Whack!

“Ugh?!”

I jabbed the Crown Prince’s solar plexus with my wooden sword.

It wasn’t a big hit since he was wrapped in mana.

After all, I hadn’t even used a sword technique that involved channeling mana into the blade.

But that didn’t matter.

‘The Crown Prince will never touch me until he masters Sword Intent.’

It wasn’t just a matter of Sword Intent. T

here was an even bigger reason.

Think about it: could knowing Sword Intent alone allow me to defeat a mana-infused sword without using mana myself?

Impossible.

The reason it was possible was simple.

‘The New Imperial Swordsmanship was designed to counter Imperial Swordsmanship.’

What could we do?

The Crown Prince only knew Imperial Swordsmanship, and I, having been taught by him, knew only Imperial Swordsmanship too.

The only way to test Sword Intent was to face Imperial Swordsmanship.

So, Imperial Swordsmanship was naturally weak against the New Imperial Swordsmanship.

In any case, this match was my victory.

I’d done my part, and I kept pounding the Crown Prince.

As I did so, a satisfying feeling surged within me.

‘Ah, this feels so good.’

But something was missing. The deep-seated resentment I had built up over the years heightened the sense of lacking.

‘How did I suffer again?’

I reflected.

I had been beaten all over, everywhere.

I was hit as I woke up, hit as I tried to sleep.

It wasn’t just that; when I tried to strike back, I was accused of being disrespectful and beaten again.

‘…Right.’

This was 20 years of resentment.

I needed more satisfaction.

‘Ah, a wooden sword won’t do.’

I tossed the wooden sword aside.

The Crown Prince’s eyes opened wide, filled with rage.

Was he offended that I deemed him not worth fighting with a sword?

‘Well, he’s right.’

I threw a punch.

Whack!

One to the nose.

Whack!

One to the solar plexus!

Whack!

One to the cheek!!

Whack!

And a final one to the ribs!!!

I beat him all over, spreading the blows evenly. T

he more I hit the Crown Prince, the more a smile spread across my lips, one I couldn’t control.

It was after that.

Thud.

The Crown Prince collapsed.

It felt as if something had been cleared from within him.

“Ugh…!”

Despite being beaten to a point where he couldn’t even stand, the Crown Prince hadn’t lost consciousness.

Should that be considered commendable?

Even while groaning, his eyes were fixed on me.

There was something surprising.

The Crown Prince’s eyes didn’t hold only anger.

Through his heavy breathing, he asked a question.

“That sword…”

A chill ran down my spine.

‘This persistent brat.’

He seemed to have sensed the swordsmanship.

Well, considering that its creator is his future self, it wouldn’t be strange for him to recognize it somewhat.

What excuse should I make… I can’t exactly tell him that his future self created it.

‘…That will do.’

I clapped my hands and said,

“It’s a family martial art.”

If I say it like this, he won’t pry any further.

Technically speaking, it wasn’t even a lie.

I had a hand in its creation, so in a way, it could be considered a family art.

After taking a deep breath, I asked the captain of the knights,

“Is this enough proof?”

After releasing my stress, I was hungry.

More than that, my entire body ached from exerting myself in this wretched body.

Though I wasn’t going to show it.

‘I should go home and have a meal with my sister.’

And while I’m at it, I’ll let her know that I’ve started teaching swordsmanship.

Just thinking about her happy face made me feel warm inside.

The captain of the knights stared at me in a daze for a moment before slowly nodding.

For some reason, there was an unsettling smile on his face.

“…If I were to say more proof is needed, it would make me seem too incompetent. You are quite a mischievous fellow.”

What’s he talking about?

Anyway, it means I can go home.

“In that case, I’ll be off. Your Highness, please inform me of the future schedule through a letter. I imagine your time is precious. And please don’t neglect your recovery.”

I bowed my head slightly and left.

* * *

The infirmary of the Dawn Palace was enveloped in silence.

Both the bedridden Callios and his guardian, Drenor, kept their mouths shut.

After a brief pause, Drenor was the first to speak.

“I’ve done well to keep the outcome of the duel under wraps. It was a good match, and we’ve concluded that the insights of Lord Pharos’ swordsmanship were enough to warrant him as a teacher for Your Highness.”

Callios scowled at that.

Having been defeated so disgracefully, he was ashamed because he couldn’t afford to accept the loss due to his position openly.

But it had to be done.

The sun of the empire must not bow.

“…It’s humiliating.”

“Defeat often is.”

“It stings. Both my body and my pride.”

“Pain does that.”

Drenor continued,

“It was my fault for not preparing you for provocation.”

“Don’t blame yourself.”

Callios chuckled as he replied.

“Even without provocation, I wouldn’t have been able to reach his swordsmanship. You know that too, don’t you?”

“……”

Drenor’s silence was an affirmation.

Callios looked out the window, recalling the sparring session.

A sense of disparity.

Yet consistency.

His exceptional swordsmanship instincts had felt it.

Yuren’s sword was walking the right path of what a sword should be.

The awe he felt was enough to suppress the fury that had boiled up to the top of his head.

Pure curiosity as a swordsman had brought his rationality back at the last moment.

But that wasn’t the end of the story.

The more Callios thought about Yuren’s sword, the stronger a certain feeling grew within him.

‘It was similar. To the Imperial Swordsmanship.’

Yuren’s swordsmanship was similar yet different from the Imperial Swordsmanship.

One could say that its roots seemed to stem from the same place.

Of course, all swordsmanships are said to derive from the Imperial Swordsmanship.

Knowing this and still thinking the roots were the same meant that the resemblance was strikingly close.

And, their relationship was also starkly defined.

‘A swordsmanship designed to counter the Imperial Swordsmanship.’

His instincts told him so.

The possibility of being wrong was close to zero.

Most importantly, as someone who practiced Imperial Swordsmanship, Callios could make such a conclusion.

‘Why? Why does it resemble it, and why must the Imperial Swordsmanship lose to Yuren’s?’

Such questions swirled in his mind, making his fingers twitch.

How much time had passed?

Callios suddenly remembered something.

‘…Pharos.’

The origin of that family.

At that moment, Callios let out a chuckle.

“The Great family.”

“Pardon?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Yuren had said,

―It’s a family martial art.

He had said that this swordsmanship was passed down in the Pharos family.

And there was a legend that the founder of Pharos didn’t hesitate to discipline the founding emperor whenever he strayed.

Was it just nagging that did the disciplining?

Could one truly keep a Grandmaster in check with mere nagging?

‘No.’

No.

There was a more plausible explanation.

‘The founder of Pharos…’

He was a Grandmaster.

And if he was the founding emperor’s teacher, it meant he had also taught him swordsmanship.

Thinking along those lines, everything made sense.

‘Ah, so that’s how it was.’

Callios had reached a conclusion.

And he burst into a great laugh.

‘It’s not Imperial Swordsmanship.’

The true root of human swordsmanship was not the Imperial Swordsmanship, but something that preceded it.

That was the swordsmanship of Pharos.

‘It remained hidden from history to preserve the emperor’s dignity!’

Callios felt his mind clearing.

He felt joy rather than being shocked or disappointed by this new revelation.

‘I can grow beyond this.’

The certainty that he could still improve.

Knowing that something greater than himself existed, that there was a wall to surpass.

‘Pharos.’

If he could break through that wall, he would grow.

And thus,

‘Indeed, choosing him as a teacher was the best choice!’

Misunderstandings were piling up.

———