Faced with Lance's counterattack, Eric hurriedly jumped sideways and avoided the horizontal cut.
He had barely recovered his balance when Lance's next attacks arrived one after another.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Three consecutive strikes forced Eric to defend each time. He could do nothing but use the basic defensive movements to block Lance's calm, unhurried offense.
'What a smooth rhythm!'
The longer they fought, the more alarmed Eric became. Lance's skill with basic swordsmanship was far beyond anything he had imagined.
The spectators had no idea how shocked Eric truly was. Most assumed he was deliberately going easy on Lance, cooperating with him so that the young master could show off a string of attacks.
Irene in particular watched Lance anxiously the entire time.
Only Eric, facing Lance's steady and increasingly oppressive pressure, could feel the truth.
Lance's command of basic swordsmanship seemed even better than his own.
Eric used his superior physical strength to force open a gap, only for Lance to close it immediately with another utterly ordinary basic movement.
He could not even form a proper counterattack before being pushed back into defense.
This was nothing like what Eric had expected.
Lance was suppressing him.
'Impossible!'
Eric roared inwardly and suddenly put far more strength into his next block.
The two wooden swords collided with a much louder crack.
Lance's eyes lit up.
Eric had used too much force and left his center wide open.
Without hesitation, Lance extended his sword lightly until the wooden tip rested against Eric's chest.
The training ground fell completely silent.
Everyone stared at the scene.
Eric looked down at the wooden sword touching his chest, unable to believe what had just happened. His thoughts were a complete mess.
"What just happened? Did I see that correctly?"
"Eric... lost?"
"Why does Young Master Lance look so skilled with basic swordsmanship? Wasn't his body supposed to be unsuited for training?"
The group of youths stared dumbfounded, whispering among themselves.
Eric stood frozen, wishing a crack would open in the ground and swallow him.
Lance withdrew his wooden sword and gave him a sidelong glance.
"You weren't paying enough attention."
Eric said nothing.
Not paying attention?
So what if I wasn't? With my talent, beating a useless fool like you should have been effortless!
Frustration twisted his face. He looked down at the sword in his hand and rasped, "Again."
Lance did not refuse.
"Fine."
They faced each other once more.
This time, Eric held nothing back. He fully exploited his superior body and attacked with wild intensity.
His Strength, Constitution, and Agility were all higher than Lance's. He refused to believe he could still lose when they were both restricted to basic swordsmanship.
'Let's see how you dodge this!'
Eric raised his wooden sword high, preparing a powerful vertical chop.
Before he could bring it down, Lance's sword drifted lightly toward his waist again.
Eric nearly wanted to cry.
'Again!'
He had no choice but to abandon the attack and bring his sword down to defend.
From that point onward, the fight entered Lance's rhythm.
Every movement Eric made seemed full of openings in Lance's eyes. Part of that was because Eric had spent so long practicing more advanced swordsmanship that he had neglected the basics.
But the greater reason was Fox.
[Warning: opponent has an 86% probability of using a diagonal guard covering the chest to lower waist. Recommended response: vertical strike to the shoulder.]
Hearing Fox's analysis, Lance smiled faintly and followed the recommendation without hesitation.
The wooden sword whistled through the air toward Eric's shoulder.
Eric's eyes widened. He could only retreat several steps.
Every one of Lance's attacks seemed to land exactly where Eric least wanted to defend. The feeling left him constrained and uncomfortable, as though Lance were always half a step ahead.
Lance's motions were perfectly standardized, and his combat awareness appeared frighteningly sharp. Even with his inferior physical condition, within the restricted framework of basic swordsmanship, Eric realized he simply was not Lance's opponent.
This was Fox's third major capability: analysis.
The master chip processed data collected through Lance's vision and other senses, analyzed it, and used the result to estimate an opponent's likely next action.
Naturally, the predictions were not perfect. There was room for error, and the accuracy was limited. Prediction was only a branch of Fox's broader analytical capability, so its combat forecasting was relatively crude.
Lance knew, however, that one of the dormant subchips at the end of his gene chain possessed a far more powerful combat-prediction function.
He simply could not unlock it yet.
Even so, Fox's current predictive ability was more than sufficient for a fight at this level.
...
"Ah!"
As the exchange continued, Eric made a mistake and was forced backward into a corner. His back struck the stone wall before he realized how far he had retreated.
Lance seized the opening immediately.
His wooden sword snapped against Eric's wrist.
Eric's weapon flew from his hand.
The blond youth's mouth went dry, and his face turned ashen.
The spectators looked at one another, speechless.
If Eric's first defeat could be blamed on carelessness, how were they supposed to explain the second?
"Young Master Lance isn't even moving that fast," one skinny boy muttered foolishly. "So why did Eric lose?"
The boy beside him broke into a cold sweat, glanced at Eric, and hurriedly clapped a hand over the speaker's mouth.
Lance put his wooden sword away.
"You were focused that time," he told Eric.
Eric remained silent.
That was exactly the problem.
He had concentrated completely and still lost.
He almost preferred the first explanation. If he could blame his defeat on carelessness, his pride would hurt less.
But this time he had gone all out and still could not win.
It had been a long time since Eric had felt this powerless.
And of all people, the one who had beaten him was Lance, the young master everyone considered hopeless with a sword.
Eric wanted to disappear.
"Don't leave. Fight me again."
Seeing Lance about to walk away from the training ground, Eric suddenly snapped out of his daze and shouted after him.
Lance shook his head.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because the result would be the same," Lance replied calmly.
Eric froze completely.
Lance walked past the group of youths, caught the still-stunned Irene by the hand, and led her deeper into the castle.
The others watched him go with a mixture of shock and newfound respect.
Only Lance himself knew the truth.
Without changing expression, he flexed the wrist of his sword hand. A dull ache had already spread from his wrist halfway up his forearm toward the elbow.
'Not bad acting, if I say so myself.'
In reality, he could not have kept fighting much longer.
Eric's physical attributes were simply too far above his own. Even a few direct clashes had left Lance's arm sore and numb, and his stamina was beginning to fail.
Why keep fighting after gaining the advantage? He was not one of those hotheaded teenagers.
If the fight had continued, the result probably would have changed.
Fortunately, Eric had never considered that possibility.
Within moments, Lance and Irene had passed through the castle doors and disappeared from the boys' sight.
...
"Brother Lance, you're amazing."
Only after they had entered the castle did Irene finally recover from her daze.
Looking at her dirty face and worshipful expression, Lance snorted.
"What were you doing out there with those boys?"
Irene immediately looked embarrassed.
"I... I want to learn swordsmanship."
Lance frowned.
"Why does a girl like you want to practice with a sword?"
Irene immediately protested.
"Brother Lance, why do you sound just like Father now? He won't let me learn, and now you won't either?"
Lance felt a headache coming on.
The situation was obvious. Irene had been spending time with Eric and the others because she wanted them to secretly teach her swordsmanship.
"Why do you want to learn?" Lance asked seriously.
Irene thought for a moment before answering.
"Only if I become good with a sword can I protect the people around me... like Father does."
"Girls are supposed to be the ones being protected," Lance said.
Irene shook her head.
"Girls can protect other people too."
As she said it, something seemed to occur to her, and a faint blush crossed her face.
Lance looked at her curiously, unable to guess what she was thinking.
Irene was Viscount Lane's adopted daughter. She had grown up inside the castle and was said to be the child of one of Lane's closest friends. The viscount had always treated her almost like his own daughter, and she had never truly suffered hardship.
'Why would a girl raised like that be so determined to learn swordsmanship?'
After thinking it over, Lance said, "Even so, you can't keep running around with that group of boys."
"But no one else in the castle will teach me!" Irene pleaded. "Brother Lance, I only just managed to get Eric and the others to agree. Please let me."
"No. Absolutely not."
Lance had no intention of letting her spend every day mixed in with a group of adolescent boys. If trouble arose, it would become a mess very quickly.
Irene looked at him pitifully, but Lance refused to be moved.
Annoyed, she grabbed his sleeve and stubbornly refused to let go.
"I want to learn swordsmanship! Father isn't even in the castle right now. Even if you're my brother, you can't control everything I do."
As she argued and clung to his arm, Lance found himself unexpectedly flustered by how close she was.
Before he quite knew what he was doing, the words slipped out.
"All right, all right. If you insist on learning, then learn. But not from them. I'll teach you instead. How does that sound?"
Irene froze for a moment. Then her eyes brightened and she broke into a delighted smile.
"Brother Lance is the best! Even Eric couldn't beat you. If you teach me, it'll definitely be better!"
Lance suddenly came back to himself.
'Wait. Why did I agree to that?'
Before he could reconsider, Irene had already skipped away toward her room. Her clothes were filthy and badly needed changing.
"Little sisters really are nothing but trouble."
Lance rubbed his forehead with a headache.
'His days were already packed. Where was he supposed to find extra time to teach Irene swordsmanship by herself?'
Well, there was no point worrying now.
He would deal with it when the time came.