Love Letter From The Future

Chapter 320: Bread and Dagger (18)

The girl and I stood with our backs to the night.

The forest at midnight was quiet. It was not a place frequented by anyone, except for lovers meeting in secret. The only signs of life were hinted by the occasional whispered conversations.

But even those were scattered by the bird’s cries.

In the florest’s clearing, only silence remained.

It was the perfect setting to calm the mind and focus on the sword.

I relished the feel of the wooden sword I was holding for the first time in ages.

It felt cold and smooth.

I gave it a few test swings to feel its lightness. It was a sensation no metal sword could replicate.

How long had it been since I last felt free from that heavy weight?

I couldn’t recall.

In all the battles I’d fought until now, there had never been time for practice.

Every fight was a real one.

There was no room for casually wielding a wooden sword.

For months, I had always had a sharp blade in my hand, claiming victories by shedding blood and flesh. Through wielding a real sword, I had learned the weight of life.

That’s why it was especially pleasant to feel the lightness of the wooden sword after such a long time.

It had been a long time since I engaged in unburdened combat.

Was my last sparring session during Professor Derek’s lecture right before the Homecoming Festival?

Even that was the kind of training that demanded tension akin to that of a real battle, far more intense than the casual sparring sessions I had with Seria for a change of pace.

Faintly smiling , I adjusted my stance.

It was an easygoing posture.

In contrast, the girl standing across from me was visibly tense.

She took deep breaths, her chest rising and falling with each exhale. She was practising deep breathing.

It seemed as if she was trying to forcibly calm her nerves.

It was a sparring match purely to test our skills.

There was no need to be so anxious, yet Seria was pouring more determination into this duel than necessary.

I couldn’t quite understand why.

I could only guess it had something to do with her sparring against the ‘me’ from the future.

Not long ago, Seria had challenged the future ‘me.’ And she, each time and without exception, suffered crushing defeats.

What broke then was probably beyond just her body.

After all, Seria had grown up being called a genius of the sword.

As the illegitimate daughter of the Yurdina family, she had endured all kinds of hardships and solely dedicated herself to the sword. To her, it was more than just a source of pride.

Perhaps she wanted to seize this as an opportunity to prove her skills once again.

Even just being able to fight me to a draw would be enough to achieve her goal, as it would allow her to refute the claims made by the ‘me’ from the future.

The blunt assessment that Seria was no longer of any help.

So, even more, I sharpened my resolve.

It was a duel between swordsmen. If I approached it lightly, it would only leave Seria’s pride irreversibly scarred.

And just as Seria calmed herself and took her stance.

“…Here I come.”

A grey whirlwind charged forward.

Her blue eyes flashed through the dim darkness. It was a thrust so sharp, it was hard to believe it came from a wooden sword.

Thud! Our swords collided with full force and recoiled.

The sensation was heavy, as if metal clashed. In our hands, the wooden swords were no mere practice weapons.

With our intent alone, they could easily become lethal weapons capable of taking the opponent’s life at any moment.

As if to prove it, Seria’s sword strikes relentlessly surged. From the lower left to the upper right, just as she was about to slash through the diagonal trajectory—

I suddenly realised that her stance felt familiar.

It was the Yurdina family’s secret technique: the Illusory sword of the Golden Lion.

Her soaring sword strike split into three distinct slashes that came crashing down.

At the sight of those blue streaks, I recoiled in shock.

As the sword strikes grazed by, the front of my clothes was slightly torn. A few drops of blood splattered as sharp, stinging pain followed.

It was pointless to distinguish between wooden and real swords at this rate..

I couldn’t help but feel bewildered, having approached the spar with a light heart.

An urgent plea slipped from my lips.

“Seria, why are you using your family’s secret techniques in a simple spar…!”

“…Here I come!”

But she already seemed resolute.

Biting her lip, she stepped forward again. Then—with a whoosh—the space compressed as her figure shot forward.

Only then did I realise.

Why Seria had been so tense.

Seria and I entered this sparring match with completely different mindsets from the very start.

Seria was serious.

And the only way to face that was with sincerity of my own.

Gritting my teeth, I channelled my mana throughout my body.

As my dormant senses awakened, my vision began mapping the space around me. Seria was slashing downward with impeccable form.

I could see it.

Seria’s next move was forecasted by an imaginary trajectory.. My heightened senses were almost like a limited form of foresight.

Her technique was truly the most orthodox of the orthodox.

Her fluid, continuous strikes that seemed to not leave even the smallest gap. My old self would have been utterly overwhelmed.

Yes, if it were the old me.

But I wasn’t the same anymore.

My hand crumpled the solid lines of space. As the mana within me depleted, a strange sense of exhaustion arose, but it was an action worth taking.

Seria’s sword strikes continued to draw mysterious trajectories, one after the other.

In the distorted space, her wooden sword couldn’t reach me. Seizing that gap, my sword lunged forward like a beast and unleashed a flurry of strikes.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Seria hurriedly shifted into a defensive stance. Though her response was quick, she couldn’t fully cover the inevitable gaps that arose in the process.

Feigning a downward slash, I took another step forward the moment our swords collided.

Caught off guard by my aggressive advance, Seria hesitated and stepped back. Now on the defensive, she couldn’t mount an effective counterattack against me.

Then, with a solid wham, I planted a kick.

Since she had been on guard, she blocked my kick with her sword. But that didn’t matter. All I was aiming for was time.

Once more, I swung my sword down with full force, striking against her blade.

She retreated backwards with a faint groan.

It was an outcome I could never have achieved a few months ago. Back then, the gap between us was significant.

But now, I have a strange intuition.

A certainty that I could defeat her.

As she staggered back a couple of steps, my sword dropped to the lower left.

Such a large movement naturally came with its own openings.

Not wanting to miss this chance, Seria once again charged at me.

That was her mistake.

The lowered sword that suddenly shot upwards.

Only then did Seria’s eyes widen. The dynamics of our initial exchange had been reversed.

No, there was a key difference.

Even if she tried to evade, it was already too late.

Splitting from the highest point, five streaks of silver light rained down..

Seria raised her blade to block them, but there was no way to intercept each of the downpour-like sword slashes.

A cracking sound erupted.

It was the sound of the wooden sword shattering. Unable to withstand my decisive blow, Seria had to stagger back several steps.

Then, she coughed up blood as she fell to her knees.

She must have somehow minimised the impact using her internal mana .

Her mana oversaturated in the process, causing the wooden sword to crumble and a disarray of her blood vessels that led to her spitting blood.

The victor was clear.

Huuu, I deeply exhaled, steadying my breath that had begun to grow ragged, and lowered my sword.

What came out next was a faintly worried remark.

“Seria, are you all right?”

It was rather shameless of me to ask, considering I’d used even my aura to secure the victory.

But what else could I do? If Seria was earnest, I had no choice but to face her with equal sincerity.

As I quietly tried to approach her, a pale hand stopped me.

Seria patted her chest a few times, then took out a healing potion from inside her robe and gulped it down. Only then did she show signs of calming down.

Her complexion became slightly pale.

With a self-deprecating smile, Seria staggered as she stood up.

“It’s my complete defeat, Senior Ian… I’m no match for you anymore.”

“I just got lucky.”

At my humility, the bitter smile on her lips deepened.

I remained silent until Seria spoke again, offering not even the usual words of comfort.

Accepting her defeat was Seria’s burden alone.

I could only hope that, in the long run, this would help her grow. Seria wasn’t a weak swordswoman who would so easily break down; she would surely overcome the pain and rise again.

As if in response to my hopes, Seria let out a deep breath, as though she felt relieved.

A gentle curve formed at the corners of her eyes.

“You’re amazing, Senior Ian… How did you improve so much in such a short time?”

It felt as though my growth was finally being acknowledged.

And it was recognition from someone who, just a few months ago, had utterly defeated me when I couldn’t even put up proper resistance.

I couldn’t help but feel delighted.

Before I knew it, I had surpassed Seria.

To the point where I could claim victory with relative ease.