Alicization Turning Page 2

  When Eugeo had mentioned this to Kirito, the other boy had said that half the skill of noble children came from the tremendous self-esteem instilled into them for years. In terms of dedication to his craft and training, Raios couldn’t hold a candle to Volo, but his sense of self-worth (or arrogance) was far greater, and that was how his blade could have such a nasty, insistent weight.

  “But isn’t self-esteem supposed to be basically the same thing as pride? If they have so much pride, why do they stoop to petty pranks?” Eugeo had wondered.

  Kirito had thought it over and replied, “Pride is something that you have to continually prove to yourself. But self-esteem doesn’t work that way. Raios and Humbert shaped their identities by comparing themselves to others. So at each and every opportunity, they feel the need to keep us inferior, because we’re not even from Centoria, much less of noble birth. They can’t maintain their sense of self-importance otherwise.”

  Eugeo found this difficult to understand, but if Kirito was correct, that meant willfully submitting to their arrogance only fed their self-image and strengthened their skill with the sword.

  That suggested the option of returning their aggressive insults with his own, but unlike Kirito, Eugeo didn’t have the keen ability to toe the line when it came to school rules, and he didn’t want to sow the seeds of conflict for no good reason.

  And so, feeling slightly ashamed of his passive nature, Eugeo simply bowed to indicate his apology, then headed for the corner of the training hall again. As he walked across the unfinished boards, pristine and freshly cut from a nearby forest, Eugeo’s foreboding slowly eased. With all the stone buildings in Centoria, the scent of fresh wood was a precious source of peace.

  Raios and Humbert might have had personal instructors since they were children, but for seven years in Rulid, I hit that Gigas Cedar two thousand times a day. I might not have their level of self-esteem, but I certainly have pride. Even if I was only swinging an ax, not a sword…

  He stopped in front of one of the logs standing along the west wall for personal practice. These had been replaced at the same time as the floorboards, so the sides were hardly dented at all. Eugeo gripped the platinum oak practice sword with both hands, held it at default mid-level, and focused his breathing.

  “Sha!”

  He lifted the sword over his head, then brought it down with a quick cry. It smacked heavily against the right side of the thirty-cen-wide log, which trembled to its core.

  Eugeo took a step back, savoring the vibration in his wrists, then swung down on the left side. Then right, then left. After ten strikes, his mind drifted from his body and sword, leaving nothing but the block of wood.

  Eugeo’s nightly practice consisted of four hundred of these alternating high strikes. He did not practice the complex forms from class that Raios and Humbert had been performing just now. Kirito was his sword style master, and he said they weren’t necessary.

  In this world, what you put into your sword is crucial, Kirito liked to say when he was teaching Eugeo. The High-Norkia, Baltio, and Aincrad styles’ secret techniques are very powerful. Once you have the knack of how to activate them, the sword practically moves on its own. The problem is what comes next: Like you saw with Volo and me, you’re going to have more clashes of ultimate attack versus ultimate attack. Once it comes to that, the weight of the sword will determine the outcome of the fight.

  Weight.

  Eugeo understood that he wasn’t simply referring to the physical weight of the swords themselves.

  To Volo Levantein, the pride in his birth to the clan of the traditional instructors of the Imperial Knights gave weight to his sword. For Golgorosso Balto, whom Eugeo had served as page last year, it was the physical perfection of his body. For Kirito’s tutor, Sortiliena Serlut, it was the polished bite of her attacks. And for Raios and Humbert, it was the respect of their noble birth.

  So what do I put into my sword?

  When Eugeo had asked this, Kirito smirked and replied that it was his job to figure that out. But then he realized that this wasn’t a very good example for a teacher and added that Eugeo wouldn’t find it by practicing his forms.

  So all along their journey to Centoria, and even after they made it to the academy, Eugeo continued practicing his strikes nearly every day. He wasn’t a noble by birth or a swordsman—all he had was years of practice repeating those simple ax strikes in the forest near Rulid.

  But as a matter of fact, there was one other thing:

  His desire to take back Alice from her imprisonment by the Axiom Church. Even as he stood here swinging his wooden sword, the image of that little blond girl would not disappear from his mind. It had been that way ever since he was chopping at the Gigas Cedar.

  That summer day was eight years in the past now.

  When the Integrity Knight named Deusolbert Synthesis Seven took Alice away, Eugeo could do nothing but stand and watch. He was holding the Dragonbone Ax capable of cutting through steel, and yet he couldn’t even lift it. Even though right nearby, someone…a boy around his age…was screaming, begging Eugeo to act, pleading.

  And…who had that boy been, anyway? Eugeo’s only friend close enough to scream his name with that kind of passion was Alice. And yet he could practically hear the voice echoing in his ears today.

  All these thoughts passed through his mind while an automatic counter kept track of the number of swings he’d done—until a glee-filled voice broke his concentration.

  “Well, well, I must say that Eugeo’s training always surprises me with its strangeness.”

  The tip of his sword slipped and landed awkwardly, delivering a nasty shock to his wrists the way it did when he failed to land a clean blow on the Gigas Cedar with his ax.

  Eugeo was in the corner of the spacious training hall, while Raios and Humbert were in the middle, so it was no accident that he had overheard the comment so clearly. He’d heard every kind of snarky insult under the sun from them, and it ashamed him to admit that they were still effective. He resumed his exercise, chiding himself to ignore them.

  “Eugeo does that each and every night, but I wonder what meaning there can be in simple, dull swinging, without any techniques or forms, Humbert.”

  “I profess that I wonder the same thing, Raios.” They mocked within earshot, chuckling to themselves.

  Eugeo did not react physically, but inside his head he retorted, You seem suspiciously bolder when Kirito isn’t around, Raios.

  For some reason, for the last two months, Raios’s and Humbert’s provocations were totally absent when Kirito was with Eugeo. Instead, they doubled their spite when Eugeo was alone, but the circumstances indicated that it was more out of distaste for Kirito than weakness in Eugeo.

  Something must have happened between Kirito and the nobles at the end of their primary year, but Kirito never elaborated on it more than that it was “a little tiff,” and Eugeo certainly wasn’t going to ask Raios. The only detail that seemed relevant was how after the graduation ceremony, when Kirito presented Sortiliena with a pot of rare blue flowers, Raios and Humbert had been visibly pale when they saw it. Eugeo didn’t know what that meant, though.

  At any rate, he wasn’t going to complain about the fact that Kirito’s presence made the noble sons behave. On the other hand, he was an elite disciple now and couldn’t hide in the shadow of his partner forever.

  In the middle of June next month would be the first testing matches of the school year. The final ranking would be just before graduation, but if Raios and Humbert showed total superiority in the first head-to-head, it didn’t bode well for his future chances. The way that Sortiliena had finally overcome the superior Volo Levantein at the last possible chance simply did not happen, Golgorosso explained, strangely pleased for an outcome that didn’t affect him.

  Like Volo, the current first and second seats—Raios and Humbert—had lifelong training in the High-Norkia style of swordsmanship. Their personalities were devoid of any inspirational qualities, but
their skill with the blade was head and shoulders above the other nobles. With less than a month to go to the first match, Eugeo had to admit he didn’t know what he could do to overcome the challenge they posed.

  But at the very least, I can tell myself that you haven’t swung your weapon more than I have, he insisted silently, finishing off the four hundred strikes.

  He stood up straight, grabbed a towel from his waist, and wiped down the wooden blade, followed by the sweat glistening on his forehead and neck. Eugeo looked back and saw that the two men were still standing in the center of the hall, instructing each other on their forms.

  As he faced forward again and exhaled, the Bells of Time-Tolling hanging from the tower of the main school building played the melody for six o’clock—the exact same melody that had played at the church back home. As opposed to the highly regimented primary trainee dorm, the elite disciples were given plenty of leeway to determine their own schedules, and Eugeo was allowed to eat dinner at any time between six and eight o’clock. He could’ve kept practicing if he wanted, but Kirito was busy studying, and Eugeo had to bring him some food.

  Speaking of which, Kirito never specified the dish he wanted. If they’re serving those pickled knobblemelons he hates so much, I’ll get him extra.

  He put the hand towel and wooden sword back in their spots along his waist, then headed for the exit when he heard Raios and Humbert talking as they hung up their swords.

  “My word, Disciple Eugeo merely struck the log and didn’t bother to practice his forms.”

  Humbert picked up where he’d left off. “From what I hear, Eugeo was a woodcutter at some miserable rural village. Perhaps the only techniques he knows are meant for logs.”

  “Well said! As fellow students under the same roof, I suppose it behooves us to at least teach him a proper form.”

  “Why, Raios, your dedication and generosity are the very image of a nobleman!”

  The well-rehearsed farce nearly made Eugeo groan aloud, but he held it in and kept walking.

  Then Humbert spoke to him directly. “What do you say, Eugeo? Why don’t you take Raios up on his magnanimous offer? You’ll never get such a deal again.”

  Now there was no way to ignore them. If they addressed him directly and he intentionally ignored it, that would be considered impolite. Elite disciples had the right to perform disciplinary punishment on other students, but only to regular primary and secondary trainees. However, this was an unspoken rule and not an explicit one, so it was possible that they might force Eugeo to undergo punishment, too.

  He was going to murmur, “No need to go to such lengths for me” and continue on his way, but then a different thought occurred to him: What if this was actually a golden opportunity?

  Raios and Humbert were first- and second-seat disciples—the best and second-best swordsmen at the academy. Kirito constantly reminded Eugeo not to underestimate them, and he did not believe he was.

  But there was something about the nobles’ strength being rooted in their self-importance that Eugeo could not accept. Their pride in their noble birth, their derision toward students born from common stock or lesser noble houses, their mockery: Was it right that these things could be giving them strength? If he accepted it as truth, wouldn’t he be defiling the lessons of respect and love that Sister Azalia, Elder Gasfut, and his old friend Alice had taught him?

  Despite the looks of disdain he was getting, Eugeo summoned the minimum of respect—if not love—for Raios and Humbert that he could. But if that attitude was serving only to amplify their pride and self-esteem, and thus strengthen them, what was the point of it? It would be empty.

  On the other hand, he was determined not to follow their example and choose a life of insults and mockery…but he had to know before the testing match next month. What was the true nature of this strength born of self-image? Now that they were offering a “lesson,” this might be his best chance to find out.

  Eugeo had to admit to himself that this was exactly the sort of thing Kirito would come up with. He opened his mouth and said, “You’re right…I won’t get another chance for this. I gratefully accept your offer and tutelage.”

  Raios’s and Humbert’s eyebrows shot up. They hadn’t expected that response, but their lips soon curled into sneers. Humbert spread his hands wide and shrieked, “Ha-ha, of course, of course! Then go ahead and demonstrate your form to us. Let’s start with an easy one, such as the Third Form of Flames…”

  “No, Second Seat Zizek,” Eugeo said, raising his hand and choosing his words carefully. “I would hate to waste your valuable tutoring opportunity on a simple form appraisal. I would prefer to receive your blade instruction directly.”

  “…What?”

  The smile faded from Humbert’s face. It was replaced by doubt, suspicion as to Eugeo’s motive, and the cruelty of a predator toying with its prey.

  “Direct…instruction, you say? Should I take that to mean you wish for me to hit you directly, Disciple Eugeo?”

  “I would prefer the stop-short method, of course, but I am the one asking for a lesson. It is not my place to dictate the terms.”

  “Aha, I see, I see. So a first-strike duel would be agreeable, then.”

  Humbert’s slicked-back gray hair seemed to stand on end just a little bit. His already narrow eyes were down to slits now, and their gaze was vicious. Sadistic enjoyment had won out over suspicion at Eugeo’s suddenly agreeable manner.

  “As the second seat of the academy and a fourth-rank noble, you might say it is my duty to respond when my tutelage is sought. Very well, Disciple Eugeo—I shall demonstrate my style to you.”

  He promptly yanked his wooden sword from his waist with unnecessary flair. It was made of the same platinum oak as Eugeo’s, but his had fine patterns carved into the sides. Next to Humbert, Raios started to say something, but he reconsidered and clamped his mouth shut. He smiled easily, retreated three mels, and nodded to Humbert when he turned back to look.

  Emboldened by the approval of his partner, Humbert pointed his blade straight at Eugeo, who was standing still with his arms at his sides, and shouted, “Here I come! Feel the full might of the High-Norkia style!”

  He spread his legs front and rear and pulled the sword back with his right hand until it rested upon his shoulder. This was the stance for Lightning Slash, the ultimate attack of the Norkia sword style. Oddly, it wasn’t Mountain-Splitting Wave, which was the corresponding attack for the actual High-Norkia style he mentioned. Surely he hadn’t held back out of concern for Eugeo—he was probably just hesitant to show off his best moves.

  Still, Lightning Slash was not an attack to be overlooked. Even a dull wooden sword could knock you unconscious and wipe out half your life if it struck your skull. It was a terrible taboo to decrease the life of others, of course, but in a consensual duel, the first blow was essentially free. And Humbert obviously had no intention of holding back.

  The second seat’s decorated practice sword glowed blue, an impressively short period between pose and activation. But Eugeo could completely predict the trajectory the blade would follow; Lightning Slash was identical to Vertical, one of the many secret skills of the Aincrad style.

  “Sheyaah!!” Humbert screeched. His sword bolted.

  But Eugeo was already on the move. He drew his sword from the left, paused, and activated an attack of his own—he would receive the overhead smash with an upward diagonal slice, the Aincrad style’s Slant.

  Strangely, all the attacks Kirito had taught him were not in the common language but the strange and foreign sacred tongue. Even Kirito didn’t know why. It probably had something to do with his missing memories from before he appeared in Rulid as a “lost child of Vecta,” so it was a very lucky thing that he hadn’t forgotten the skills themselves.

  Like Lightning Slash, Slant was a one-part skill, but its versatility lay in how it was effectively bidirectional: you could swing it from upper right to lower left or from lower left to upper right. In the latt
er case, the stance allowed him to draw and activate directly from his left hip, which drastically shortened the time required.

  Normally, if one waited for the opponent to start a skill attack before reacting, the only choice would be to leap out of the way—and even that rarely worked. But Eugeo timed his Slant to start just after Humbert’s, the sword leaving a blue trail in the air as it swept upward to smash against the Lightning Slash. The resulting light and sound were nothing like one would expect from pieces of wood.

  “Whoa…” Humbert grunted. The surprise on his face gave way to anger, and he pressed down hard. The dark- and light-blue glows infusing the swords were still active. As soon as one of them got pushed back a few cens, the attack would conclude and give way to the other. Eugeo tensed his legs, willing his sword to stay put and swing through.

  The wood creaked and cracked, and Humbert’s sword gave way slightly. The dark-blue glow of Lightning Slash flickered, suggesting its imminent demise.

  I knew it—in a simple competition of strength, I’m superior!

  He’d expected this, but seeing the proof in action strengthened Eugeo’s resolve. He couldn’t match the nobles’ precise image control, which extended down to the very angle of their fingers and toes, but he knew that swinging that heavy ax two thousand times a day in the forest gave him physical strength. Even Golgorosso, with his steel-like muscles, said that Eugeo was “slight but well trained.”

  Some of the nobles trained in the High-Norkia style liked to label common-born Golgorosso’s Baltio style as rural swordsmanship from the sticks, but in a proper duel—not the practiced beauty of form demonstrations—arm strength was a formidable weapon on its own. And Kirito’s free-flowing Aincrad style gave Eugeo the flexibility to lock blades in any circumstance.

  Even if I don’t yet have that “something” I can imbue my sword with, the technique and strength I’ve built up are enough to match any noble’s! Eugeo told himself, summoning all the muscle he could.