“None of my training so far has involved swordsmanship. I haven't even practiced holding a sword to get used to it... If they turn out to be unwelcome guests, will I be able to handle them? Even if they haven't had any training?”

It was a natural question. The training routine I had followed since meeting Liam hadn't included swordsmanship. All I had done was basic conditioning.

Liam answered my doubtful question.

「It will be fine.」

There was unwavering faith in his eyes.

「You will learn why everyone once feared Caravan.」

That gave me confidence.

「The blood of steel flows within you, child.」

* * *

I hadn't intended to do it. My body moved before I could think.

The unfamiliar intruder raised his axe, and a chill shot down my spine like a bolt of lightning. Immediately afterward, my body moved of its own accord.

Like a fisherman hooking a fish, the tip of my Needle pierced the enemy. In an instant.

'Fast. Could my body really move this fast?'

For one brief moment, I had the illusion that the blade and my body had become one. My arm moved with a springy suppleness, as though it had grown a handspan longer for that instant.

It was thanks to the flexibility I had worked so hard to develop.

The slender blade's tip pierced his body with astonishing ease.

“Urk...”

Needle had entered his chest, where his lungs were. His ribs should have been in the way, yet Needle had sunk very deep.

How had I aimed so precisely between his ribs? How had I performed such a master's feat when I had never learned a single proper sword technique?

'Memories.'

The answer was simple. From the moment I gripped Needle, the memories of the swordswoman Mary had been the driving force behind my movements. The sword's memories, gradually digested and absorbed into me, had become my weapon.

“That bastard!”

One of the men lying on the bed jumped up with a shout.

My heart wasn't racing. My breathing wasn't disturbed, either. It was as steady as when I jogged at an even pace.

What should I do now?

Forget swordsmanship—I had never even been in a proper fistfight. I might have gotten lucky and wounded one with a surprise attack, but what about the other three?

[“Taking contracts and living as a mercenary, I always fought at a disadvantage.”]

It was a memory that answered my unspoken question. Not my own, but that of a seasoned swordswoman.

[“I was a lone mercenary, not a knight in anyone's service, so I always had to fight alone. My enemies were many, and numbers themselves were violence. I was at a disadvantage in so many ways. I was a frail woman, I was alone, and I had no family or organization to rescue me if I was taken prisoner.”]

I pulled out the blade. Blood spattered, and a flying drop landed on the bridge of my nose.

The first man I had stabbed sank to his knees, seemingly drained of strength.

THUD

His knees struck the floor. He had already dropped his axe, and both arms hung limp.

I twisted my wrist and thrust Needle again. This time, I aimed at his throat rather than his chest.

It was instinctive—the action of a mercenary who knew that failing to finish an enemy could put her in danger.

In an instant, two small holes opened in his throat, and a horrifying amount of blood poured out.

The freshly spilled blood was hot. Once again, the smell of death spread through the manor, already thick with the reek of blood. I slid my feet back a little to give myself room.

After spilling so much blood, the man fell face-first to the floor, twitched a few times, and went completely still. Everyone here knew what that meant. Death.

It was my first killing.

But I felt no guilt, sorrow, or self-loathing. There was no excitement or trembling, either. I simply watched the remaining three with emotionless eyes.

[“That was why I had to become strong.”]

For some reason, the three brutish men's eyes were trembling. Were they afraid?

Looking into their all-too-human eyes, I recalled what Liam had said.

「The blood of steel flows within you, child.」

Perhaps those words weren't a metaphor, but the truth.

Right now, I felt as though I had become a sword.

Not a human.

* * *

“Y-you fucking...”

The hulking man glared at me, grinding his teeth and holding a very large axe.

An uneasy standoff began.

In the silence, I thought. My habitual doubts surfaced.

'Why isn't he charging?'

Physically, the man was far superior to me. Tall, bulging with muscle, broad-shouldered.

Even the weapon in his hand was superior. If my Needle met his axe head-on, it would snap in an instant. By any normal reasoning, he should have charged me immediately.

'And why have the two behind him frozen?'

There was one of me and three of them. If they rushed me together, I couldn't handle them with a single slender blade.

However much faster my body had become, piercing three throats in one second was impossible. I was just a novice who hadn't even become a sword beginner yet. So why weren't they taking advantage of their position?

「They're terrified.」

Liam supplied the answer.

「A measure of fear helps you survive, but too much obscures objective facts. It magnifies the enemy, making you imagine them stronger than they truly are.」

Ah. Of course.

After doubt came observation, with all my senses brought to bear.

The men's eyes trembled, as did the hands gripping their axe and clubs. One man standing behind the others bit hard on his lower lip, his face faintly blue. In the silence, I felt as though I could even hear their racing hearts.

My enemies were terrified.

Why?

Because an unknown boy had appeared out of nowhere and killed one of their companions with a single blade. And afterward, his face had remained impassive, without a flicker of emotion.

'To them, I must look like someone accustomed to killing. They'll assume someone accustomed to killing is skilled with a sword. And if they think I'm a pampered nobleman's son, they might imagine I'm a sword beginner or a sword runner who received professional swordsmanship lessons...'

In these intruders' eyes, I must look like a ghost. A terrifying being they couldn't fight with mere axes.

'Then there's no need to retreat.'

Backing away farther to give myself room would only lessen their fear. Now I had to maximize that fear and exploit it.

People who were too tense grew stiff, and stiff people invariably made mistakes. That was the kind of animal a human was.

I took a step. My footfall broke the silence.

“Stay back! Stay back! I've killed plenty of bastards like you, you—!”

Instead of answering, I sharply twisted my wrist. The blade's tip pointed at him.

His pupils dilated. His agitation seemed to have reached its peak.

Then it was time to act.

“I'll split your skull...”

He did exactly as I expected. His shoulders jerked upward, and he raised his axe high, preparing to bring it down in an overhead blow.

A powerful attack, but the wrong choice. The instant he left an opening, the blade in my hand shot forward like an arrow.

“Ghk—”

A hole opened in his neck. The axe fell from his hand.

They couldn't react to the speed of my Needle's thrusts. That meant the outcome was as good as decided. Mary, the swordswoman in my memories, always thrust only at her enemies' vital points—places where even one successful attack would inflict a fatal wound.

[“On the first attack, or the second, I must pierce an enemy's vital point. That is what my sword was made for. Hegel told me that, unlike in chivalric novels, real sword fights end in an instant.”]

Blood spattered again. Greater terror spread through the eyes of the men standing behind him.

“Ch-charge him.”

One of the two spoke.

“H-he can use a sword, but he's just a little brat. G-get close and fuck him up. That's how—”

“Then you go first, you f***ing bastard!”

“What? You fuck—”

Fear clouded their minds. They had belatedly thought of charging, but they couldn't forget how easily the first two men had died. At that moment, their numbers became a disadvantage. Neither wanted to go first. While they argued, I kept steadily advancing.

“E-eek.”

As the distance closed, their eyes widened. They were holding long clubs, not axes. One of them swung his club hard. It was longer than I had expected. A slight turn of my body wouldn't be enough to dodge it.

Then what?

'A dancer's body.'

My body bent with supple ease. I twisted at the waist, my firm muscles keeping me from losing my balance. I dodged the club like an acrobat. His eyes widened.

“What...”

An unnatural posture.

The swordswoman in my head spoke.

I could do it. Even from this position.

[“I am a woman. I cannot change the sex I was born with. Then I must make up for what I lack with what I do better. Hegel told me: Make the most of what only you can do. Don't try to compensate for your weaknesses; make your strengths shine even brighter. My strength is flexibility. A body as supple as the entertainers who sometimes visited the village inn. From any posture, from any angle, I can aim for an enemy's throat.”]

PFFT

With a faint sound, Needle shot forward. It pierced the man's eyeball precisely.

“Aaaargh!”

Blood sprayed with his scream. He hurriedly covered his eye, and I turned my attention away from him now that he could no longer fight. Instead, I targeted the stunned man beside him.

I was on the verge of falling. Rather than force myself to hold that posture, I tipped my chin back.

I planted my left hand on the floor as though doing a handstand. Supporting my light body with it, I flicked the wrist of my right hand, which held Needle. Needle slid forward and stabbed the enemy in the groin.

“Hup.”

He instinctively bent down. Having thrust and withdrawn Needle, I gripped it again, extended my arm, and twisted my wrist upright. The slender Needle pointed upward, then pierced beneath his chin and through his head. His body went limp.

One left.

“Uugh, uhh...”

The last man was groaning, clutching his punctured eye.

I slowly walked toward him.

“...”

Gazing forlornly at the blood staining the clean bedding Mother had cherished so much...

* * *

The four unwelcome guests who had come to my precious manor were easily dealt with.

Liam's words had been proven true. I had killed large men armed with axes and clubs without difficulty. Even when four corpses lay in the bedroom, my breathing hadn't faltered.

Now I had no choice but to acknowledge it.

The sword's specter I could now see, Liam Caravan, truly was my great ancestor. The glorious age of the 「Caravan」 family, which Father had spoken of so endlessly, was probably real as well. Therefore, Liam's teachings would lead me to lofty heights.

To heights where I could take revenge on the swordmaster Carlos, in other words. That f***ing maxim still circled in my head.

Only a swordmaster can kill a swordmaster.

That was why I had to become one.

Whatever it took.

“... I handled that well enough, didn't I?”

I buried the dead men, then painstakingly wiped up and cleaned away the blood scattered throughout the manor. Of course, its metallic reek still lingered. Perhaps that smell would last forever. I wasn't even sure it was a real smell. It might be the scent of death that only I could detect.

Only I, who remembered that day's tragedy.

「Yes. Vermin will keep flocking here. Perhaps enemies far more threatening than today's visitors will appear.」

“...”

「Rather than avoid them, you must face them and strike them down. That is what a Caravan must do. A Caravan grows greater with every battle, like a sword that grows harder the more it is hammered.」

Liam looked at me as he spoke.

「To do that, there are still steps you must climb.」

“...”

「First, you must become a sword beginner.」

His eyes flashed.

Like a blade.

「Starting today, your training will be a little different.」