Chương 68: [BL] 67. Swordmanship [2]

Evening grew, and orange bled across the sky. Slowly, light waned, inviting darkness in against the reddish firmament. Willow always loved the slow dying of the sun. It proved the universe continued its existence regardless of whether she was ready for the night or not. There was just something mystical about her being so small—a mere dot on her planet—the fact that her planet was less than a bit of sand in the whole wide universe. It made her feel insignificant, and she loved that.

For some strange reason, the knowledge calmed her down. The Knowledge that in the end nothing mattered. Back then that was the case, wasn't it? Now? In the grand scheme of things, it was still the same. But there were just so many people counting on her that, slowly, ever so slowly and agonisingly, staring at the sunset no longer allowed her to detach. It was hard to accept. So she kept staring, quietly asking it to take her.

"My lady?" Willow touched the commander's tent idly. The feeling of the soft canvas ground her down. She unwillingly wrested her vision away from the sunset and smiled at one of the [Sword Master] escorting her.

"It's nothing," said Willow.

"Bring me to him." The tier-three, still in his white steel armor, opened the flap of the humble tent. Inside, Derrick had already removed his class armor and donned a comfy, loose tunic. The man looked calm as he moved a rock piece across his table and muttered to himself. Willow stepped in, observing the table. Earlier, they had found a host of Treants, perhaps about fifty of them, with early Tier-threes numbering about ten according to Leynah's scout party report.

The silver-haired woman had returned, and the news she brought saved the army from walking straight into the Treant's host. Leynah even reported that they had found the Devil's Rift inside a small cave and, to the relief of Derrick, it was confirmed the size of the rift was a medium one—just bigger than the Kobold Rift.

"Bright One, apologies, I didn't see you. Would you like some refreshment?" Derrick raised his hand to signal toward a Legionary who quickly bolted out of the tent before Willow could say anything.

"That kind of you, Lord First Sword. Actually, I want to talk to you about the next fight." Willow drew a sharp breath after looking over the fifty small stones that signified the Treants.

"I want to join." Derrick held Willow's eyes. His greying brown hair made the man look young and old at the same time, if that made sense. The man then broke into a smile.

"Why, Brightness, it gladdens me you want to fight! Of course, you're welcome. While we still prioritize having as many tier-two as possible from your Hunt Party, I reckon it's a dangerous move to halt your progression. The next fight, my son will join your party. He is a tier-one Swordman. It reassures me to know you will take the skies and rain down arrows upon—" Before Derrick got too excited, Willow cut him off.

"Actually… I want to fight in my level ten Guard class. Look! I know I might not be as strong, or my potential will not be as high as my other two classes, but I figure it better to reach tier-two as fast as possible for every single one of my classes."

"I see," Derrick's voice went low, and he asked in a deep tone.

"May I ask why you view your Guard class as having less potential?" Willow said the obvious.

"Maybe I misspoke. It's just my other two classes show they're more… special? Even as a Wind Mage, I got a corresponding Dark Wind Rune, a rune of absolute aggression, and it works well with my class. As for my Huntress class, well… it's the Bright Rune." She'd expected Derrick to say something about that; the man did not look pleased at Willow's statement as he scrunched his face.

"Very well, but Bright one. Do not underestimate your class. Should you doubt your own power, then it shall become poison. Many believe class is a mere limiter upon mana—a cage. In a literal sense, it's true, but people forgot that Class is part of them, something that grew with your body. So treat it with proper respect instead of looking down on it." Willow gulped at the sharp command at the end. She gave him a nod and excused herself. When Willow pushed the tent flap, Derrick said something.

"Tonight we'll destroy the treant Host and make our way for the Devil Rift. I'll be counting on you, Bright One." Willow exited. She drew in the evening air through her nose and stared upward, tipping her head up. Heavy. That title was heavy. Making her way toward the tent she shared with Krywen, she had to pass by multiple legionaries' tents. The men and women hung around pots that let out a delicious smell of soup. Breads were ready and held by each soldier with wooden bowls in their other hands.

They slammed them up and down and let out a collective cheer when the cooks opened the pot tops. A small smile tugged at Willow's cheek. Some of them found her, and knowing her dislike of being the center of attention, they waved at her, which she returned as she walked. I feel like a president. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Rudo and Evan were sitting by boxes stacked near Krywen and Willow's tent.

Derrick had made the poor girl handle the supply logistics. Krywen had panicked twice as she went through the list of supplies literally thirty times, and she had a fit of horror when she had to run around and arrange for the wagoners and cooks because Derrick suddenly dumped the entire Legionnaires' dinner arrangements on her. Horrified by the sudden workload, Willow had helped her, and thank God everything worked out. The result was that the normally shy girl now openly leaned against Rudo's shoulder.

She straightened when Willow came into her vision.

"My lady!" Krywen went into a half-bow, almost pushing Rudo off the box he was sitting on.

"I can't thank you enough—""Stop," Willow smiled. She took a bowl of stew from Evan and sat down on a box where conveniently three stacks were right behind her back so she could lean back comfortably.

"It's nothing, really. Also, I gained permission from Derrick. I'll be fighting along with you guys."

"With your Guard class?" Evan asked, taking a sip from his own bowl.

"Yep," Willow said, scooping a spoonful and almost burning her tongue when she brought it to her lips. The stew tasted not bad, but compared to Kroos' food banquet, it was certainly night and day.

"So, is it true, my lady? That we will face ten Tier-threes Treants?" Rudo asked. He mumbled the question, and Willow almost didn't hear him. Before she could answer, someone else did.

"Afraid already, boy?" Ragna's voice came. Ragna and Rom came to view. Wrapped around Rom's hand was a woman with brunette hair that reminded Willow of Elesis, although she did not have the reddish edge of the princess, and her face was slightly more youthful. And perhaps more interestingly... [Druid—Level 1] The Treants yielded three Druid Class stones last fight, and it seemed she was the lucky chosen.

The woman wore legionary gear—leather armor with a side sword—a set of equipment that allowed the legionaries to continue fighting even after their class abilities were exhausted. Krywen immediately offered them bowls, and they gratefully accepted them.

"I'm afraid," Rudo admitted. While Ragna frowned, Rom instead said, "That's good. Better be honest, Rudo. I heard some absurd talk among the legionaries…" Rudo's brother gave him sharp eyes.

"That you're trying to join the Devil's rift purge."

"It's a supply—""I know it's a supply team, boy. But this is still ridiculous. There's good reason why Level-one did not get chosen for even a simple supply run. Look…" Rom set his bowl atop his box and leaned close to take Rudo's hand in his.

"Please stay with Clarissa. Look after Rand for me and wait for me and Father to return. I'll fight better knowing both of you—my brother and wife looking after each other and my son."

"Rom," a deep voice cut in. Rom slowly turned his head and looked at Ragna.

"You have something to give to the Bright One, right?" At first, Rom held a pissed look at his father, but when his eyes met Willow, professionalism bled into him. He reached for one scabbard with a sword already sheathed in it. The sheath was red, longer than Willow's arm, and its pommel was a metallic circle, above which the leather wrap felt cushioned yet firm in her palm. Willow drew. Beyond the classic T-cross guards was a clean steel with a gleaming fuller and very sharp, pointy ends.

The Guidance Spirit did not tell her anything, but she could tell this was an excellent sword, albeit it had no tiers.

"This is nice, but I already have my Cold Dagger. Also…" Willow reached to her sheath, the sword Kroos gave her still there.

"Count Kroos gave me this."

"You still need plenty of training before you use that sword, My Lady," Rom told her.

"In swordmanship, it's normal to work yourself from a dagger length then to a claymore. So this arming sword will serve you better."

"That's right, lass! You're probably the last person to run out of runes, but it's better to have them. Besides, that Guard class of yours will serve you better if you learn proper swordsmanship," said Ragna. Willow nodded along. The explanation made sense, and she didn't see any reason to refuse this.

"Can I have a teacher?" Willow asked. As soon as the words left her mouth, a fleeting sense of loss made her curl a small smile. Habel was supposed to teach me, wasn't he? Willow shook her head. In honor of Habel's memory, she would even commit to shooting puppy eyes, but instead the two accepted instantly.

"Of course, it will be my honor," said Rom.

"Since Rudo's weapon of choice is also a sword, we can have both of you fight in bouts, my lady."

"That will be nice." Willow smiled. She leaned sideways, looking at Rudo.

"Don't hold back on me." Rudo beamed.

"Of course! I won't. Evan had taught me a bit, and I think I'm getting the hang of it."

"You do?" Willow raised her eyebrow.

"Every noble is required to have swordmanship practice, my lady," Evan said whilst reading his Grimoire.

"Just so we will awaken an Imperial Sword Style Enhancer."

"Wait. That's a thing?"

"It is," Krywen answered this time.

"I have Crimson Rose Sword Style as an Enhancer. I'd been practicing it long before I got my class. But for now, I favor a mace since it lets me kill much more quickly, so I can level up faster. Also, this is thanks to your Hunt Party too, of course, my lady." Hmm, she got an Archery and Swordsmanship enhancer. Could it be that if she practices proper sword style, then she would evolve her enhancer? That probably works for her [Auric Huntress], but what about the [Guard] class? Derrick's words return to her.

The First Sword told her not to underestimate her class… Also, before, back when she went to the Spirit World for the first time, Shera had shown her that in a small way, her Enhancer could travel to her other class. If. If she thought about it closely, wouldn't her [Guard] Class and [Auric Huntress] have Enhancers that coexist? [Auric Huntress] had Swordsmanship while [Guard] had Strong Strike and Halo. Her [Ravenous Anatomist] did not really have Enhancers that could coexist, perhaps, but her other two did.

Not only the three she used as examples, but Swift Steps and Silence Steps might work as well. Also, wouldn't it be great if she could use Auric Mind for all her classes? She needed to experiment.

"Can you show me the imperial style—" Trumpets blasted over the camp before she could finish. A dispatch rider rode through the camp with Kroos' family banner woven around with two hands.

"March! We march against the Treant Host!"