Chapter 13
I was in a trance, my body moving as if it had a mind of its own. My grip tightened on the sword’s hilt as the blade cut through the air.
The rusty sword traced arcs before me, each strike flowing into the next. A downward slash turned into a parry, then with a flick of my wrist, a thrust. A sharp gust brushed against my face.
My feet shifted without command, sliding over the grass in a steady rhythm. It felt natural—like I had known these movements my entire life.
I turned toward a nearby tree, and in one swift motion, it split into two. The sound of splitting wood rang in my ears. I froze momentarily, my chest heaving as I looked down at my hand still gripping the sword.
Though my body tried to mimic that man’s moves from my dream, it was still lacking compared to his.
‘What just happened…? My body just—’
Koff Koff
I snapped my head toward the sound. There I saw Gramps standing, staring with a dazed look, his mouth slightly open.
“S-shit! You scared the hell out of me for a second. How long have you been standing there?”
“I tried calling you, but you looked so focused I decided to just spectate,” he said, his eyes still lingering in stunned amazement.
“Caelith… since when did you know swordsmanship?”
“To be honest, this is my first time picking up a sword,” I admitted, scratching my cheek.
The moment the words left my mouth, Gramps’ eyes widened. His posture went rigid, as if the ground beneath him had suddenly shifted, disbelief etched deep across his face. He studied my face, searching for any trace of falsehood, but found none.
“H-hah… you’re actually serious?” he muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead as if trying to steady himself.
“Is it really that big of a deal? I was just swinging the sword,” I said, tilting my head slightly.
“Just swinging the sword?!” he exclaimed, exasperation flashing across his face. “Do you even realize how few people could do what you just did, let alone a beginner?”
“A-alright, alright. Calm down for a sec, Gramps.” Feeling overwhelmed by the praise, I tried to rein things in.
The old man took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, then looked up at the sky and released a defeated laugh.
“Is this, what they call a natural-born prodigy?” he remarked to himself.
‘Me? A prodigy? While it certainly sounded flattering, I couldn’t see myself that way… not when those moves weren’t even truly mine.’
He suddenly shifted his gaze back to me, his expression softening.
“Looks like you don’t have to worry too much about your upcoming exam.”
“Are you sure about that? There’s still the first half where we’re graded on spellcasting.” I said, a hint of doubt in my voice.
“That’s true,” he replied, “but didn’t you also mention there’s a mock battle for the second half of the exam?”
I nodded.
“It’s fine if you don’t score well in the first half. You can still earn a decent grade if you perform well in the mock battle.”
I took in his words, letting them sink in as I contemplated my next move. Magic was definitely off the table for now, not with my condition. The next best path, then, was to focus on mastering the sword.
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh yeah, Gramps, why do you have a sword just lying around in the cabin?”
He glanced at the rusty sword in my hand. “Oh, that? It goes back to my younger days, when I dreamed of becoming a sword master.”
He continued, “But seeing as I had no talent for it, I forgot all about this sword. I only recently came across it again while sorting through the attic.”
“If I remember correctly,” he added, “I found this sword in a ruin I used to explore as a kid.”
“Wow, I didn’t expect you to actually want to be a sword master,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“That was a long time ago. I’ll have you know I was quite a spirited youngster.”
‘Tch… this old man is about to start bragging again any moment now.’
I inspected the sword more closely. Rust covered most of the blade, with tiny scratches and dents running along its surface. The hilt was wrapped in worn, cracked leather, and the guard was corroded, showing its age and neglect.
Despite its appearance, I sensed something unusual about the sword.
“The sword caught your fancy, eh?” the old man laughed. “Good—that means I didn’t waste my time and fortune for nothing.”
“Use it for your exam. Though first, you should get that rusty old thing to a blacksmith to clean it up.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m planning on doing,” I replied, tightening my grip on the hilt and giving the blade another swing.
‘Is this the place Gramps told me about?’ I thought, standing in front of a worn-down building. Its stone walls were weathered and cracked, moss growing all over, and the door sagged slightly on its hinges.
It certainly didn’t look like a blacksmith from the outside. Took me a while to find, the building was tucked away in a quiet, run-down part of the city.
I pushed the door open, and it creaked loudly. The moment I stepped inside, a blast of heat hit me, the air thick with the scent of burning coal and molten metal. A steady clang of hammer striking metal echoed through the workshop.
A burly man with a thick beard suddenly looked up and spotted me, setting down his hammer and tongs.
“What yer want, kid?” he grunted, eyeing me warily.
“Um, hello. I’m wondering if you can refurbish this sword,” I said, holding it out toward him.
He took a few moments to examine the sword, his eyes narrowing as he traced the blade. Finally, he spoke.
“Bring that sword closer, can’t see a thing from here.”
I handed him the sword, and he took it, turning it over in his hands and inspecting it carefully. I noticed his eyebrows lift, and his eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise passing over his face.
“Where did you find this sword, kid?” he asked, shifting his attention back to me.
“It was given to me by an old man. Is there something wrong with it?”
“Nothing’s wrong with the sword… it’s just that the material it’s made from is quite rare, and the craftsmanship—I’ve never seen a sword built like this.” He said, lifting the sword up.
“Where did that old man of yours find this sword again?”
“He said he found it in a ruin he explored.”
The man pursed his lips, deep in thought, turning the sword over in his hands as he examined it from every angle.
‘So are you able to fix it?” I asked.
“Hm? Oh yeah, I can definitely do it. But it’ll take a few days—say, four days, considering the material and its current state.”
“That’s great. Now, let’s move on to the payment,” I said
He waved a hand nonchalantly, a grin spreading across his bearded face. “Forget about it, kid. This one a freebie—considering I actually want to work on this sword of yours.”
I scratched the back of my head, a relieved smile tugging at my lips. “Are you sure about that? Well, I won’t say no.”
After I handed off the rusty sword, I looked around the workshop, taking in the array of swords and weapons plastered across the walls.
“Hey boss, how much for one of these?”
“Eh?” The blacksmith quickly looked up at me before returning his focus onto the sword on hand.
“Just take whichever one catches your fancy while I work on this sword of yours,” he said, not looking up from the blade in his hands.
“Now I really feel like I’m just freeloading off you, boss.” I replied with a slight smile.
He shook his head with a grunt, waving a hand dismissively. “Just treat it as a gift. You’re the first customer I’ve had in ages. Haven’t had anyone come through this door in months, and most of those weapons have been sitting there, gathering dust.”
I let out a small sigh. With the way the building looks…
I made my way over to the swords, picking one up and swinging it experimentally. The weight felt off, unbalanced in my hands, so I set it back down.
I picked up another and did the same, but once again, it felt wrong. For some reason, most of these swords just didn’t feel correct compared to the one gramps had.
In the end, I settled on a sword that felt the most similar. “I’ll take this one, boss!”
“Alright, since you decided, come back in four days—this sword of yours will be as good as new,” he said with a smirk.
“Got it. Thank you very much.” I waved goodbye and stepped out of the workshop
‘What do I do now?’
