Swordsmanship is an important skill for self-defense.
It is something everyone must possess—especially in the world of the novel that brought me here.
Now, I am in a vast place. The ground beneath me is different from the outside, where red carpet covered the floor. Here, it is plain—hard concrete.
Right in front of me stands a wide circular platform, reached by a five-tiered staircase. From the concrete floor below, its height is about half of mine.
On the left and right sides of the staircase are two wooden compartments. Inside them rest various weapons made of the same material—from spears and greatswords to a blade with a sharply curved tip, similar to a katana from my old world.
From the doorless opening high above, light pours in with sharp intensity, striking the arena-like platform—and the ten people who have been staring at me without blinking.
I swallowed my saliva.
I don't know why they've been scrutinizing me like that. The sharp gazes they direct at me feel hostile. Their hands grip their weapons tightly, as if they might attack all at once.
…Have I ever made a mistake towards them before?
I don't think so. I haven't even crossed paths with them—how could I have wronged them?
I took a long breath. My gaze narrowed.
…Calm down, me. There must be a way out.
After a while, subtle movements began to show. I shifted one foot back, preparing for an emergency. Their hands lifted slightly. I moved back a few centimeters. Their bodies leaned forward, their steps tightening.
And just as they moved—
"Oi…! What are you guys doing there?!"
A heavy voice—still leaving traces of newly grown maturity—echoed in the room, stopping their steps.
I reflexively looked at the person who made the sound. My gaze looked around and stopped at the right corner of the room, the dark part where the light fell obliquely in front of it.
"..."
His footsteps were slow. His body gradually emerged from the shadows. The light that fell into the room was blocked by his right side—catching first on the greatsword hanging behind his back, glinting faintly off its perfectly round hilt.
His white hair reflected the light. His pale pupils sharpened as they fixed on me from afar.
I swallowed my saliva. My eyes narrowed slightly.
"..."
His steps echoed through the room. The people who had been trying to attack me stepped aside as he passed. He moved slowly, carrying a sharp aura with him. After a few steps, he stopped.
My gaze shifted upward.
Before I realized it, he was standing right in front of me.
His sharp eyes stared at me below. The curve of his eyebrows was clearly visible.
…What should I do?
I don't know. I don't understand why it could be like this.
My throat was dry. I tried to swallow again.
It was heavy—so heavy that even swallowing felt difficult. My breath caught. My mouth refused to make a sound.
After a while, his gaze settled on me. His hand moved from his side.
And then it was on my shoulder.
I don't know what he was doing.
His hand was raised, keeping a distance from my shoulder. And quickly, he lowered his hand again.
My eyes closed, then opened again a moment later.
Suddenly, the person in front of me burst out laughing, tilting his head back. His hand kept striking my shoulder again and again. I don't know why he started hitting me, but one thing is clear—it hurts.
He showered me with several blows. Not long after, they stopped—his laughter fading with them. He scrutinized me for a brief moment.
The armor he wore, marked with the symbol of an orca and a raven, made a soft sound as both his hands came to rest on his waist.
I raised my gaze.
There, I could see his face clearly.
A handsome man, without a single wrinkle on his face. His long white hair was parted in the middle. His sharp eyes were slightly wide. Now, a thin grin appeared on his face, looking at me below him.
"...Hello, little brother. What's your name?"