I Raised the Villain's Daughter Too Well-Chapter 24: Didn’t Know! -

I was Firnea’s exclusive swordsmanship instructor.

Of course, back then, my swordsmanship skills weren’t all that impressive. No matter how much I learned from knights, I was still a butler.

So, I called in other knights from the imperial palace to request lessons.

"...Uh, uh... Ah..."

"My Lady Firnea? My Lady Firnea!"

Unfortunately, it was still during the time when Firnea was plagued by trauma.

To teach swordsmanship, one naturally had to wield a sword and face off against another.

However, whether it was a real sword or a wooden one...

If it was aimed at her, Firnea would become so sensitive to hostility that she would nearly have a panic attack.

Except for one person. Me.

"...Virdem, can you do it?"

"I must."

Swordsmanship was the one thing that couldn’t be compromised.

If the head of the Seriratus Family were to show any weakness with a sword, it would not only become a laughingstock but...

For the sake of basic self-defense, she had to learn the sword.

—I had to learn the sword.

"Come at me with the intent to kill."

"...I think we should stop for today."

"Why?"

"Look at your left arm."

In the dark night, the commander of the imperial knights clicked his tongue as he looked at my grotesquely twisted wrist.

"It’s nothing."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"A little bit, yeah."

I threw myself into it as if my life depended on it.

If an ordinary man like me was to play the role of a genius’s instructor, I had to struggle ten times harder.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough.

I couldn’t even pass down half of the techniques the knight commander had taught me to Firnea.

I didn’t get disappointed in myself. There was no time for that. I had to focus on what I could do.

"Knight Commander. Could you take a look at this for a moment?"

"What is it?"

"It’s a swordsmanship technique I created."

"...What?"

What I had over others was...

Knowing Firnea better than anyone else and my sheer persistence.

With Maclaine’s help, I gathered every single swordsmanship manual, both public and secret, and compiled them.

And over the course of six months, I lost sleep and created a failed work.

Yes, a failure.

Despite being a swordsmanship technique, it demanded extreme magical talent.

I combined offensive and defensive moves into every single form.

I sculpted it to be as beautiful as possible when executed, more so than any other sword technique.

—A swordsmanship technique for only one person in this world... Firnea.

Such a technique could only be called a failure.

"Hand it over."

I waited calmly as the knight commander scanned through my six months of work with a skeptical expression.

I thought to myself, if even a single flaw is pointed out, I’ll immediately scrap it and start over.

As expected, the knight commander let out a deep sigh and looked at me, then said,

"...You always say that you’re ordinary and need to work harder... right?"

"Yes, that’s right."

"If you don’t want to get smacked, never say that again."

"...Pardon?"

The knight commander looked at me with genuine irritation and said,

"That’s called deceit, you fool."

...It seemed I had passed.

****

"What the hell—!"

Misellini stared in shock at his cracked sword.

"Are you going to call me a witch too?"

"..."

Misellini was at a loss for words, staring at his fractured sword.

Magic, by nature, required extreme concentration due to its intricate nature. It was not something that could be effectively used in the midst of a life-or-death battle.

Thus, for a magician, combat always began by maintaining a certain distance. If that distance was breached, their options became severely limited.

"I didn’t know the Serbus Family was raising magic swordsmen..."

"It’s not that grand."

...Is it?

I created it, but it was a swordsmanship technique I couldn’t master.

—To chant a spell through sword forms.

While other magicians sing their spells, I swing my sword to produce the same effects.

To the opponent, it would seem as though magic was suddenly being cast in the middle of combat. They might mistake me for some kind of magic swordsman.

Misellini, now much more alert, closed the gap in a single leap.

"Let’s see how far you can go!"

I hadn’t planned to use it during a fight... He either hadn’t learned proper swordsmanship or had learned a poor imitation.

To me, who had studied thousands upon thousands of sword techniques and cherry-picked only the best, his movements were nothing but trash.

However, sheer strength and speed covered all his flaws.

"Urgh..."

The dull blade flew at me like a club, striking with sparks every time it hit, sending shockwaves through my entire body. It felt like hitting a bowling ball with a baseball bat.

His bloodshot eyes, as if every blood vessel had burst, indicated that he didn’t have much time left.

But enduring it was excruciating. Like a beast, he didn’t give me a moment’s rest, relentlessly battering me with his blade. As if he was convinced that he would eventually break me.

As the tide of battle slowly shifted, Misellini, now partially transformed into a monster, sneered and taunted,

"Why don’t you try that little trick again, huh?"

"No reason not to."

"...?"

Thunk.

Misellini’s attack abruptly stopped.

It wasn’t Misellini who made the foolish decision to halt his onslaught despite knowing that giving me time would be disastrous.

It was the shards of thin ice that physically restrained his shoulders.

Misellini recoiled in shock, but as he watched his body gradually freeze over, he let out a terrified scream.

"T-This... this is—!"

"I told you, I’m not a magic swordsman."

Those guys are just idiots who use no-chant magic while swinging their swords.

Naturally, if their concentration is disrupted, they can’t do it. They take both the advantages and the disadvantages of being a swordsman and a magician. Against a truly strong opponent, they can only be one thing.

The swordsmanship technique I created for Firnea only takes the advantages.

Twenty-nine syllables for a single slash, thirty-two syllables for a single thrust...

It was impossible for the opponent to predict the magic being activated.

"Are you going to keep going?"

"...Shut up!"

Misellini’s skin turned even redder with excitement.

Watching the steam rise from his body amidst the blizzard, I squinted my eyes.

The side effect of synchronization... He was right on the verge of permanent monsterification.

This was one of the reasons why sorcerers were avoided, and why families that used sorcery as their secret art were looked down upon.

Sorcery was like indigenous magic — every spell carried absurd risks.

What was truly terrifying was that Misellini had no idea what state he was in.

That’s the most screwed-up thing about sorcery. It doesn’t ask for compensation, but if overused, it slowly devours you. Like a frog in boiling water.

"You..."

I started to explain his condition but stopped.

Even if I tried to convince ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) him to stop now, he wouldn’t listen.

I let out a sigh. If I killed someone in the middle of a battle during the exam, it would also bring trouble to my master, Firnea.

"Hah, with just this much...!"

Crash. The shards of ice that had been restraining Misellini shattered effortlessly.

Proof of overuse. Naturally, his follow-up strikes were even fiercer.

Clang! Clang! Clang! — The blows came down relentlessly, each strike as forceful as the last, aiming straight for my head.

Should I let this bastard live? I considered it for a moment, but for Firnea’s sake, I had no choice.

Within the barrage of strikes, I weaved a spell.

The swordsmanship technique I invented allows me to use higher-tier magic the more exchanges I endure in combat.

So far, the count was 169 exchanges.

The spell I would use was—

"One last piece of advice for you."

"What...?"

"Stop hitting on noblewomen. You’ll end up royally fucked."

"What are you—"

Crack—!

Misellini couldn’t finish his sentence before he was completely encased in ice.

****

"...A magic swordsman?"

Someone in the observation room muttered, breaking the silence.

By now, all the nobles had their eyes fixed on a single crystal sphere.

Naturally, since most of the examinees had been eliminated.

Those who had spent money to sponsor candidates let out frustrated sighs.

There was nothing they could do. The exam was just that difficult... so difficult that they wondered if anyone could pass it.

Apparently, someone had.

"But he’s just a butler. How did he learn that?"

"Doesn’t everyone know that Firnea dotes on her butler? Maybe she assigned him a teacher or two."

"No, I mean, even if he had ten or a hundred teachers, how could a butler—"

"I find that weird commoner even stranger. Is he really human?"

"No matter how I look at it, he seems like the prime candidate for the Chief Butler. Maybe he’s starting to make his debut to the public."

And so, the nobles poured out their opinions as if they were watching a fascinating animal.

—Except for one person.

"...."

Emily was staring blankly at the crystal sphere, half out of her mind.

'...I’m screwed.'

That wasn’t exactly the case, but... the term "magic swordsman" referred to a genius capable of using both swordsmanship and magic simultaneously.

Therefore, the idea that Firnea had turned Virdem into a magic swordsman didn’t add up.

—But Virdem was confirmed to be a magic swordsman.

That meant there was a legitimate reason for him to take the Special Talent Exam.

Misellini, who had money thrown at him, was now a frozen sculpture...

And Virdem would enter the academy.

Knowing full well who had ordered Misellini to target him.

"Should I... just die?"

Emily muttered in a lifeless tone, devoid of any pride.

****

"Is he dead?"

While I was catching my breath after subduing Misellini, Arin approached and tilted her head, pointing at the ice sculpture.

Her body was covered in blood. Looking back, the yetis had been completely massacred.

...Couldn’t she have been a little less brutal?

"Not at all. It looks like ice, but it’s not. He’s breathing and everything in there."

I knocked on the ice that encased Misellini.

"It’ll melt away in time. And it’s a 5th-tier spell, by the way. Got it?"

"...?"

"This is what magic is. Not that weird... whatever it is you do."

"Okay."

Arin smiled softly instead. What a strange girl.

I used partial ignition to burn away the blood clinging to Arin’s body.

"Anyway, thanks. If I had been alone, I would’ve had to resort to other means... but from here, you’re on your own."

"Okay."

"Then, see you at the academy. I’ll keep my promise."

There was still some time left, but imagining Arin failing was impossible.

She had single-handedly butchered fifty yetis. Not yetis — if a frost dragon appeared, she’d probably tear it to pieces too.

She would definitely pass.

So...

...

...

...

"Why are you following me?"

"?"

Arin followed right behind me, step by step.

When I stopped, she stopped.

When I ran, she ran.

"..."

When I glared at her, she awkwardly averted her gaze.