Ever since he was a child, Najin had been a master at imitating other people's movements. He could readily copy techniques Ivan demonstrated just once or twice, and he rarely forgot anything he learned by watching. Sometimes he lacked the strength, flexibility, or other physical requirements to reproduce a movement, but he never forgot one he had seen.

Najin had never thought to question that ability. Only after leaving the underground city and talking with Merlin did he realize how abnormal he was.

"Normally, people can't do that, you know."

"You're the strange one."

His powers of observation and memory were abnormal even to a Constellation, one of the transcendent beings in the night sky. Yet there was something special about Najin's eyes that could not be explained by those two abilities alone.

"Doesn't it form a picture in your head as you watch? As though each movement is broken into separate pieces..."

Najin took out paper and a pen. He quickly sketched the technique Ivan had shown him just before his escape from the underground city, splitting a single movement into many separate drawings. That was how the world looked when Najin focused his eyes—not continuous motion, but a scene made by joining dozens of distinct movements together.

He memorized each movement in separate stages, then linked one motion to the next as though climbing a staircase. That was how Najin imitated other people's movements.

"Well..."

Merlin let out a breath of disbelief at the movements Najin had drawn. His sketches did not merely capture their general outlines. The places where force was applied, the angle of the sword, the abdomen drawn inward with an intake of breath—every minute detail was there.

There was no way someone could do this after seeing something just once or twice. One of the Round Table's knights had been a similar sort of genius, but even he had not copied movements this way: Galahad, the strongest knight of the Round Table. Even that monstrous knight had imitated others' movements by instinct, rather than reproducing them perfectly like Najin. To compare it to painting...

'If Galahad copied a painting by recalling its impression and working by instinct...'

Najin laid a sheet of paper over that same painting and traced it. His precision was on an entirely different level from Galahad's.

"I'm telling you, normal people can't do that!"

By now, Merlin was beginning to feel a little afraid.

2.

The guildhall.

Najin sat at one end of the counter crowded with adventurers and mercenaries, waiting for his client. There was still some time before their appointment, so he was reading an information booklet he had found in a corner of the guild.

The booklet featured the city's ranked mercenaries. Uninterested in the lower ranks, Najin checked the names and brief profiles of the five White Horn mercenaries listed at the very top.

Former Ranger of the Techel Mountains.

Hawk-Eye, Kaufman Theosis.

Former commander of House Genovels's knight order.

Sword Seeker, Richard Paulsen.

Commander of the Red Eye Mercenary Company.

Sword Seeker, Roselin Ascalo.

Only those three had disclosed their names, brief personal details, and backgrounds. The remaining two had refused. Najin rubbed his chin as he read about the people who were his immediate targets.

'I heard you receive an honorary title once you reach White Horn rank. It seems that's true.'

"It would be. Fighters at the Sword Seeker level aren't all that common inland. They're strong enough to command most houses' knight orders. It's only natural to treat them that well."

Fighters at the Sword Seeker level. People capable of commanding most houses' knight orders, who could secure positions even if they left this city for the imperial capital.

'And...'

The level Ivan and Offen had dreamed of reaching.

As Najin considered just how high the level he had chosen as his first goal stood, a shadow fell over him. He looked up. A middle-aged man stood there, with coarse stubble that looked carelessly shaved and a shabby training robe. The man took a sheet of paper from inside his robe and unfolded it before Najin.

"Are you Ivan?"

Ivan, a twenty-eight-year-old mercenary. That was the name Najin had borrowed from his mentor, and the false identity he used to work in this city. The real Ivan was in his mid-forties, but...

'Mid-forties would be a bit much, no matter what.'

Wouldn't that be far too obvious?

So he had settled on twenty-eight. Even if he later produced sword aura and proved himself a Sword Expert, at twenty-eight people would probably dismiss it with, "Hmm, a talented fellow..."

TAP.

Najin rose from his chair and nodded to the man.

"Yes, I'm Ivan."

"Hmm. You look younger than I expected. Your nameplate says you're a twenty-eight-year-old mercenary..."

"I look young for my age."

"I'm a little envious of that. Well, I won't pry."

The man grinned and held out his hand.

"I'm Volkman, a Mid-Ranking Priest of the Order of the Sword and a Sword Expert. I'm counting on you today."

* * *

Najin rode out onto the plains in a carriage with Volkman. Their destination, Volkman told him, was a small village not far from Cambria.

"Would you believe an orc settlement was discovered near that village? I snatched up the commission as soon as I heard. Couldn't let someone else get it first."

As they talked in the carriage, Najin learned a few things.

"You thought I was going to save the village? No, why would I? There are plenty of people to save villages. I just want to take my sword to some orcs. There's nothing better for gaining experience."

Volkman was quite talkative.

"Those orcs have incredibly tough hides. Tough hides and big bodies. You couldn't ask for better practice dummies. Cutting them without sword aura is extremely difficult, so they're perfect for training."

And though he was a priest, he was nothing like one.

Volkman was rather far removed from the devout, noble, incorruptible image usually associated with priests. With his sturdy build and shabby training robe, Najin thought wandering swordsman might be a better description.

'Are all the Order of the Sword's priests like this?'

"Why do you think it's the Order of the Sword? They've been around for ages, and they've always been like this. They're obsessed with swords. Though I don't know why they call themselves a religious order."

Apparently, the Order of the Sword had no patron deity. The sword in each member's hand was the god they worshipped, or something along those lines.

"Hmm, we're here."

As Najin supplied occasional responses to Volkman's chatter, they reached their destination. The carriage stopped, and an orc settlement came into view not far away.

"You can come along, or wait here until the hunt is over. Did you bring sacks for the orcs' heads?"

"Yes, I got them from the guild."

"Good. Then what will you do?"

Najin answered without hesitation.

"I'll come with you. If you don't mind, I'd like to watch your swordsmanship up close."

"Haha. What an enthusiastic young man."

Volkman smiled. His gaze moved to the sword at Najin's waist, then to his palms. The calluses embedded in his palms and every joint of his fingers proved that the young swordsman before him never neglected his training.

"Watch all you like. Just don't come too close. It could be dangerous."

"Thank you for the opportunity."

Najin followed a few paces behind Volkman. After they had walked for a while, Volkman stopped at the entrance to the orc settlement and let out a long breath.

The flow of the air changed. From that moment, Najin watched Volkman with his eyes focused intently. Every time Volkman breathed in and out, a current formed around his body.

Then his hand closed firmly on his sword, and Volkman drew it from his waist. Unlike the man's easygoing, dull-looking exterior, the sword in his hand had been honed to an exceptionally sharp edge. The moment he gripped it, his entire bearing changed.

With his sword hanging low, Volkman stepped into the orc settlement. Inside were four orcs and a swarm of small goblins that followed them.

GRRROK!

Sensing Volkman's presence, the goblins charged him. They came first, with the orcs following behind, approaching Volkman with heavy strides.

"Whew..."

Volkman let out a short breath and took one step forward. He did not swing his sword at the approaching goblins. He merely raised it above his shoulder, holding it horizontally.

No large movement was necessary. Maintaining his stance, Volkman thrust his sword forward.

THUNK.

The sword tip sank into a goblin's throat. After withdrawing it, Volkman swept it lightly to one side. The second charging goblin caught the blade and was sliced apart. Volkman took a step through the spraying blood. Already, he had returned to his original stance, sword raised horizontally.

"..."

Najin observed Volkman's stances and movements with his eyes wide. As he watched, he discovered a pattern.

'The stances repeat in a cycle.'

Volkman was repeating four stances. Each flowed into the next, and the very act of connecting them served as both attack and defense. His movements were astonishingly efficient. Even without producing sword aura, Volkman slaughtered the charging goblins with minimal effort and motion.

'It's different from Ivan's swordsmanship.'

If Ivan's swordsmanship, which Najin had imitated until now, relied on heavy, powerful blows, Volkman's was precise and sharp, creating an unbroken flow.

Disciplined stances and movements. His keenly penetrating sword combined thrusts with cuts, each motion connecting smoothly to the next. The way his stance changed with his enemies' movements and the situation almost resembled a dance.

So this was the Order of the Sword's swordsmanship. These movements were certainly worth watching and learning. But as Najin observed them, one question arose.

'It's efficient, but...'

There was no powerful finishing blow. Goblins would be easy enough to cut down, but what did he intend to do about those orcs?

THUD.

An orc charged Volkman with heavy footfalls. Yet Volkman still produced no sword aura, as though he had no need for it.

Then he tightened his grip. Volkman moved differently from before, his feet tracing a dizzying pattern over the ground. When his steps stopped, the stance he assumed was entirely different from the four he had been cycling through: sword hanging low, knees bent as though he might spring upward at any moment.

The moment the orc swung its club at him, Volkman moved. Straightening his bent knees, he swung his sword as though springing upward.

SHICK.

Najin's eyes widened. Even without sword aura, Volkman's sword smoothly tore through the orc's hide. The tip emerged after cutting halfway through the wrist holding the club and pointed toward the sky. An unadorned yet powerful rising cut.

Like a stone thrown skyward falling back to earth, Volkman turned his sword tip and swung downward. His blade flashed, carving a long wound from the orc's shoulder to its waist.

SPLASH!

Blood sprayed in a long arc. Having watched the entire sequence, Najin marveled. Precise, powerful, and beautiful. He felt a little overwhelmed by the intricacy of the swordsmanship the Order of the Sword had honed and refined over so many years.

As Najin replayed what he had just seen in his head...

"...!"

Volkman whipped his head around to look at him.

He shouted at Najin. Before the sound even reached Najin's ears, Najin had turned to look behind him. He, too, had sensed a presence.

Three goblins that had been hiding in the settlement were charging at him. It was an ambush aimed at an opening, but it posed little danger to Najin. The goblins dropping from above and darting in from the side all seemed to move slowly to his eyes. With time to spare, Najin gripped his sword and recalled the stance he had just seen Volkman use—a stance formed through precise footwork and precise distribution of force.

Where to apply strength. How to plant his feet. In which direction to raise his sword. Every detail appeared clearly in Najin's mind. With that picture complete, all that remained was to copy it. Adjusting his grip to match Volkman's, Najin took a step forward.

The first stance. Holding his raised sword horizontally, Najin lightly thrust its tip forward. It pierced the charging goblin's throat. Before he even confirmed the hit, his body was moving.

One stance connected to the next. From the first to the second. The sword tip passed smoothly through a goblin's body. The stabbed goblin collapsed, coughing up blood.

TAP.

When he had linked the stances together and returned to the first, only three goblin corpses lay beside Najin. He let out a short breath and lowered his sword.

'So that's how you do it?'

It was certainly efficient.

He had not yet tried copying the movements Volkman had used against the orc, but he felt he could manage those too with practice. Thinking that, Najin turned his head. Volkman stood there in an awkward stance, staring at him. His wide eyes trembled, and his mouth kept opening and closing.

"Priest Volkman!"

Najin shouted at the seemingly stupefied priest.

"Behind you! Look behind you!"

There were still orcs charging at Volkman. With a choking gasp and a cough, Volkman steadied his ragged breathing and turned. For now, he had to deal with the orcs before him.

"Ah, I think I know how he feels."

Merlin's voice rang in Najin's ears.

"You want to say something, but the words just won't come."

'What do you mean?'

"It's a thing, you monstrous brat."

Whatever Merlin's reaction, Volkman's response left Najin certain of one thing: his first plan, to leave a powerful impression on Volkman, had succeeded.