Chapter 45: Sparring Partner

I’ve always been skeptical about whether fate truly exists in this world.

But the situation now was so perfectly aligned it shook my doubts.

The eyeball monster, with its mental interference, was a tough foe for me.

Yet, right now, Nolan had gained mental resistance through calming magic, perfectly countering it.

And Darryl—Nolan’s swordsmanship teacher in the novel—her dual swords, inscribed with elven secrets, were here with me.

It was like a hint that I needed to act.

“Elven script…”

Leaning against the wall, I examined Darryl’s dual swords.

I’d seen them split from one greatsword into two.

Now, looking inside where they joined, I saw flowing inscriptions.

Darryl said they held her swordsmanship.

But swordsmanship needs detailed breakdowns, diagrams, and explanations—human languages can’t convey it in a few lines—

This was ancient primal elven script.

Elves live over five hundred years.

I didn’t know how ancient “ancient” was for them, but primal elven script was long obsolete.

Highland elves in the north, forest elves in the south, and those living among humans all used the empire’s common tongue now.

Primal elven script was a dead language, used only in rituals or old texts.

Being magical script, it packed vast abstract information into a few lines.

But that made it impractical for daily use, excluding elves with weak magical talent, so modern tribes adopted derived scripts for communication.

“Can he… learn the swordsmanship on it? He should, right…”

I thought, glancing at Nolan.

He was struggling to control his newfound strength, following my advice to move and adapt his body.

But—this wouldn’t do.

The eyeball was agile, not something brute force could defeat.

Nolan needed to master controlling his power quickly.

From what I knew, Nolan could take on weapon enchantments, but without replenishing magic, the power would fade over time.

In the novel, learning enchantment magic fixed this, but he couldn’t do that now—so we had to act fast.

“Reading elven script… requires magical sensitivity… Did Darryl teach Nolan the swordsmanship directly in the novel, or the method to read it?

No—the book said Darryl’s own swordsmanship was incomplete. Nolan deciphered the full technique from the swords… How?”

I studied the primal elven script on the blade, searching for traces of swordsmanship.

Sadly, the evil god’s knowledge didn’t include decoding elven script—

“Hey… Nolan, come here a sec.”

I looked up at the boy, who was stumbling like a toddler, unable to control his enhanced strength.

“What’s up?”

“Look… at this.”

I held out the dual swords.

Nolan approached, puzzled—

“See anything?”

“Uh… it’s—two swords?”

“Of course I know they’re swords! The writing—the writing!”

“Uh…”

Nolan scratched his hair.

“You know I can barely read common tongue…”

“Not read—feel it, feel!”

I stressed.

Yes, since it was magical script on the swords, maybe Nolan’s unique physique could unlock the swordsmanship.

Perhaps a sword spirit or magical mentor would pop up to guide him…

“Feel…”

Nolan took one of the three-to-four-foot swords, weighing it slowly—then froze.

“Uh… strike a pose or something?”

I suggested.

“A pose? Nah, I’m not a kid… What am I even doing…”

Nolan mumbled.

“Just try it, it won’t hurt!”

“Like… this?”

Nolan hesitated, raising the sword cautiously with his right hand.

“No, no—not like that.”

I grabbed the other sword, recalling Darryl’s starting stance, mimicking it:

“Like this—”

“Uh…”

Nolan shook his head, as if watching a girl play pretend, but seeing Kritiya’s seriousness, he followed her moves.

“Yes, like that… arm higher…”

I didn’t know how Nolan deciphered the swordsmanship in the novel, so I was guessing.

If this failed, I’d teach him Kritiya’s Airandil swordsmanship—

A cold glint flashed overhead—

Clang!

At the last second, I parried, feeling a massive force through the blade.

Without magic, I couldn’t hold it, stumbling back.

Looking up, I saw Nolan, sword in hand, staring in panic:

“I—I didn’t mean to, it moved on its own!”

As he spoke, he swung again at a tricky angle.

I dodged quickly, hearing him shout:

“I’ll drop it—”

“Don’t! Keep it like that!”

I yelled.

Nolan’s swing was swift and fierce, his footwork a mess but his hands unlike a beginner’s—

Seeing this… I understood.

The sword was teaching Nolan its technique!

Did primal elven script have this power?

It was like the sword had its own will—

Who knew?

Maybe that’s how magic worked.

The sword had found a wielder to dance with.

I saw Nolan grip the sword, struggling to control it, then take a deep breath, steadying himself:

“Come—attack me!”

“But…”

“You think you can hurt me?”

I shouted, recalling Kritiya’s Airandil swordsmanship—not even recalling, just slashing by muscle memory, thrusting at Nolan.

He tried to dodge, but the sword guided his parry.

I spotted his opening, striking his wrist—

Smack!

A crisp sound rang out, the sword flying from his hand.

Nolan tripped, falling to his knees.

This body, freshly healed by the Essence of Life Elixir, brimmed with energy.

Despite lacking black magic, I felt better than ever—

“Come on! Get up!”

I looked at Nolan, eyes blazing, and spoke.

Yes—learning a sword art in so little time was near impossible.

But if the sword itself guided him to perform its refined moves?

If so, with a bit of external pressure, like forging steel, he might not master it fully, but could wield it enough to fight.

In the novel, Darryl, as the whetstone, guided Nolan.

Now, it was clearly up to me.

Watching Nolan slowly rise, picking up the dropped sword, I took a deep breath, assuming the Airandil stance, blade level before my eyes.

In Nolan’s blue eyes, gripping the sword, a spark of brilliance seemed to ignite.