"Do not look at the enemy's sword, or you will be slain by his sword. Do not look at the enemy's eyes, or your spirit will be drawn in. Look at him with your mind." — Yagyu Munenori
…
The group had been resting after the long journey to the south, where Regulus's group had been stationed.
The cave was expanded using the Undetectable Extension Charm. This small rocky opening now comfortably accommodated eight young wizards and witches. The instructors stayed outside, giving the students space.
Inside the cave, Sulaiman and Regulus were discussing strategy.
"Frontline fighters will be Anders, Regulus, and Akiko," Regulus stated, drawing a diagram in the dirt. "Mid-range fighters will be Ximena, Charlus, and Hestia. The long-range fighters will be Emma and Sulaiman."
The logic was sound.
Frontline: Engage the dangers of the forest directly with physical weapons and close-quarters magic.
Mid-range: Deal heavy damage with curses and bombardment while protecting the backline.
Support/Long-range: Provide buffs, healing, and precision strikes from a safe distance.
It was a well-established team composition. The group had no argument with this arrangement. Even Hestia and Ximena, who did not get along well, put aside their differences. When it came to seriousness, Hestia conducted herself with proper stoicism. Ximena, too, knew the gravity of the task; she refrained from her usual playfulness and nodded in agreement.
Everyone went to sleep in their allotted transfigured beds.
…
The next day, Regulus woke up early to meditate.
He sat down outside the cave, cross-legged, breathing in the morning mist. A few moments later, Akiko stepped out carrying her sword. She glanced at him briefly, then moved to a clear patch of ground to practice her katana forms.
Regulus, who had been sensing the magic around him, felt a shift in the atmosphere and opened his eyes.
Akiko unsheathed her blade. It shone with a cold, white light, looking like a sliver of the moon itself. But that was not what gained his attention. The magic wreathing the blade contained a dark aura with a tinge of blood-red colour to it.
Akiko closed her eyes and began to dance with the sword.
The magic around her grew more and more corrupted, yet she remained unaffected. She was immersed in it. The dance started slowly, then gained momentum. Her strikes were precise, connecting invisible dots in the air.
Regulus watched, analyzing the movements. If a person were standing before her, that strike would hit the chest first, then sever the arms at the shoulder, and finally decapitate the head.
When she finished the offensive set, she transitioned to defense, the sword moving so fast it became a blur. Regulus's battle sense flared. He felt a sudden urge to be the person standing in front of her, sword in hand, to see how he would fare. Pure cold steel clashing against steel.
Regulus stood up. He picked up his own sword, which was near him, and approached her.
Sensing his presence, Akiko opened her eyes and looked at him in a cold manner. They did not exchange any words. Regulus unsheathed his broadsword and assumed a battle pose.
Akiko looked at him with the same cold eyes, expressionless. Slowly, she sheathed her moon-white blade and set it aside. She reached into her pouch and pulled out a different katana—this one made of standard steel.
Regulus raised an eyebrow. She didn't give an explanation.
She assumed a battle stance that looked deceptively simple, like she was testing a novice. She was overconfident.
Regulus advanced. He swung his sword with brute force, testing her guard.
CLANG.
The katana blocked the heavy sword, but Akiko's eyes widened slightly. She was surprised by his physical strength. She deflected the attack, sliding his blade aside, and moved precisely, aiming a strike at Regulus's neck.
Regulus assumed a defensive pose and parried the attack easily.
They went back and forth, assessing each other's strength. Regulus found that behind Akiko's strikes, the physical force was almost nil, but the precision was impeccable. Regulus had been practicing with his sword so as not to lose his touch, and his physical growth over the last few months helped him now.
However, he had to admit that his technical precision was inferior to Akiko's, who had trained in nothing else but the blade's precision.
With faster and faster movements, they both became a blur of motion. The sound of cold steel hitting steel rang out through the quiet forest.
Akiko leaped back, distancing herself. Seeing that this sparring match wouldn't end anytime soon with standard exchanges, she assumed a new stance.
She placed the katana back into its sheath at her hip. She crouched low, one leg forward, one leg stretched back.
Iaijutsu. The art of drawing the sword. A single, deciding strike.
Regulus noticed that her sword wasn't fully clicked into the sheath; it was drawn a fraction of an inch, ready to fly. He sensed her putting more pressure and weight onto her front leg, loading it like a spring.
He knew what she was going to do.
This strike would be the deciding moment. It was now a battle of pure agility and precision.
Regulus closed his eyes and extended his senses. He felt the magic gathering around the figure in front of him. The cold aura of the blade was beginning to buckle under the pressure of magic loading onto it.
Regulus placed his sword directly in front of him, vertical and centered. To Akiko, the edge of his blade would look like a single thin line.
A leaf detached from a tree above them. It drifted down, swaying between them.
As the leaf blocked their eye contact—
Whoosh.
Akiko vanished.
She reappeared instantly in front of Regulus, her sword fully drawn in a horizontal slash. The movement left a cold, visible line in the air from where she had been standing to right in front of Regulus's hips.
Regulus, waiting for that exact split-second, didn't dodge. He blocked.
CRACK.
The sheer pressure of the impact was too much for ordinary steel.
Both their blades cracked and shattered instantly. Shards of metal flew into the air.
Regulus stood firm, the muscles in his arms bulging slightly more than usual from the exertion of stopping her momentum. Akiko stood frozen in her follow-through.
Blood began to drip onto the forest floor.
Akiko's hand was bleeding heavily; the shattering blade had sent shrapnel into her grip.
Regulus immediately stepped forward. He now understood why she had changed the blade. If she had used her cursed battle blade, he would have been injured even if he had the means to escape it by retreating.
He grabbed Akiko's bleeding hand. She tried to pull away instinctively, but his grip was tight. He tore a strip of cloth from the hem of his own shirt and wrapped it firmly around her wound to staunch the flow. Then, he placed his hand over the makeshift bandage.
"Vulnera Sanentur."
He chanted the healing spell he had learned beforehand. Under the cloth, the skin knit itself back together. It left a faint white mark on her hands since the blade that cut her had been charged with magic, it would need a little more treatment later for the scar to disappear completely.
He removed the cloth. She flexed her hand, feeling no pain.
He turned to the broken weapons lying in the grass. He swished his wand.
"Reparo."
The shards of his broadsword and her steel katana flew back together, fusing seamlessly until they looked brand new. He sheathed his sword and handed her katana back to her handle-first.
She took it, nodded once—a sharp, respectful dip of the head—and walked back into the cave without a word.
…
The noise from the battle had awakened everyone. They stood at the cave entrance, flabbergasted.
Regulus's group had seen him use his sword before, but usually, it was a single strike to finish off a stunned beast. They hadn't witnessed his fight with the Chimaera, so they didn't know the extent of his proficiency.
The other group was even more shocked. They knew the strength of Akiko and her sword. She was usually the finisher in their team, decapitating monsters like cutting through warm butter. They witnessed her practicing her cold, terrifying forms every morning. They didn't expect anyone in their age group to match her in a duel of pure steel—let alone block her signature draw strike.
For Regulus, he stood alone in the clearing.
He did not assume it to be a draw. In his mind, it was a loss. He had relied on a defensive block and superior strength to shatter the weapon rather than outmaneuvering the strike. If it was her original sword, the outcome would have been decided instead of ending in a draw.
But there were gains.
Akiko did not communicate using words; she communicated with her sword. They had crossed blades, and understanding had passed between them. When they went to perform the mission, they would be battle-ready on the frontline now, with a silent, perfect synergy.