I Returned with the Cheat Holy Sword

“—Damn.”

Shiona scratched her cheek as she stared at the screen.
“Did you personally train this guy, Hero? No matter how I look at it, he’s not just some average newbie.”
In truth, the scene unfolding in the projection was something even a Templar like her had never seen before.

It showed Carlyle systematically dismantling the automatons one by one.
Well—sure, if one of the incoming students was really exceptional, they might be able to pull off something like that. Shiona could even think of a few names that could potentially put on a similar display.
But none of them would be able to do it like Carlyle was doing it.

…He’s good.
More than just good, really—his movements were so baffling she couldn’t even wrap her head around how he was doing it.
If it were just a matter of high combat ability, Shiona wouldn’t be this impressed.

But there was something strange about Carlyle’s movements themselves.
It wasn’t that his reaction speed was fast. Or that he was strong. Or that he had great technique.
“He’s dodging before they even move?”

It looked like he was predicting the future.
As if he were anticipating what would happen seconds in advance and aligning his body accordingly.
And for some reason, he kept his eyes shut the entire time. Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, it was eerie.

The technique he was using—Shiona had never seen anything like it before. It was unnatural.
“How is he doing that?”
“…I don’t know.”

That was the curt response she got from Gray.
“Sorry?”
“I said I don’t know. I never taught him that.”
Shiona blinked and looked at Gray.

“…No, wait. If it wasn’t something you taught him, then how the hell is he using a technique like that?”
If it was a skill not even a Templar had seen, then logically it had to be something the Hero had passed down.
“That’s what I’m saying. That thing—he—”

Gray abruptly shut her mouth.
Like she absolutely did not want to say whatever words were supposed to follow.
“…He probably wanted to use it.”

Both Shiona and Gray turned their heads at once.
Someone was walking into the dean’s office with steady steps.
An elderly man. His face—and especially one side, where a scar ran over and across his eye—left a deep impression.

“…Headmaster.”
“…”
Shiona gave a polite nod of respect, and surprisingly, Gray also gave a slight dip of her head in return.

Sior Whiteburn.
The headmaster of the Cradle.
One of the very few people whom Gray showed respect to—or in other words, someone she didn’t immediately punch on sight.

The reason was simple.
He was the Hero before Gray.
The previous strongest of humanity.

One of the rare few who carried out the duties of the Hero and still survived.
It made perfect sense that someone like that would now be serving as the head of the continent’s most prestigious academy.
“It was probably a technique he was practicing. Isn’t that right, junior?”

“…"
Gray sulked and gave a tiny nod.
Watching her, Shiona’s lips parted slightly in disbelief.

She understood what that sentence really meant.
“Wait—wait just a minute. You’re saying that’s a skill you can’t even use?”
“…”

Silence was as good as a yes.
Especially coming from someone with pride taller than the sky.
“Mind’s Eye… It’s been a while since I’ve seen that. Even among so-called prodigies, only a handful ever awakened it.”

“Headmaster, you know what that is?”
“Well, it’s basically a technique where you read all surrounding movements with your eyes closed. You’re not seeing—you’re sensing the whole battlefield.”
The headmaster yawned and plopped down in his chair.

“Think of it like this: he ‘feels’ what’s going to happen a few seconds in the future and reacts accordingly. Makes it easier to understand. It’s all about responding to everything using polished fundamentals… that’s the theory, anyway. Explaining it properly would be a headache.”
“…Aren’t you making it sound way too simple?”

His tone was light, but the content was anything but.

Life and death are decided in combat within fractions of a second.
And you’re telling me someone can read what’s coming seconds in advance?
That’s basically preloading the win before the fight even begins.

“Well, it is an absurdly difficult technique to actually pull off. It would have to be.”
“Sorry?”
“Wind Talker from the Knight of the Storm. Floating Grass from the Wanderer of Spring. Three Fundamentals swordsmanship. Any knight worth their salt knows these, right? Don’t you?”

“…Yes, sir.”
“Then let me ask you, Shiona Libelle. Could you analyze all of them, reinterpret them, and recreate something new from scratch?”
Despite being asked directly by a sky-high senior, Shiona didn’t say a word. She just stared at the screen.

You could forgive her. She was still reeling like she’d been hit with a hammer to the back of the head.
What Sior had named were techniques so well-known, so basic, that anyone aspiring to knighthood would be considered an idiot not to know them.
But.

Reassembling them. Interpreting them anew. Reconstructing them into something original…
That was a whole different matter.
“…So what he’s doing right now—”

“To be precise, he’s picking out only the necessary parts and combining them. Master-level folks do it easily, but I’m not sure if there’s any student in this academy who could pull that off.”
“…”
It goes without saying that the more universally known a technique is, the more rigorously its utility and depth have been tested.

These were the fundamentals of combat—the answers—developed by the top talents of their era.
To mix them, reinterpret them, and forge them into something new…
That meant—

You had the eye to stand beside the very giants who created them in the first place.
How should one describe that?
A monster, really.

Shiona let out a hollow laugh as she had that exact thought.
No first-year student should be able to do that.
The movements she had simply thought were “good” were actually backed by insane talent and mastery.

Even the Hero sitting next to her had just admitted she couldn’t pull it off herself.
“You brought someone really interesting, junior. Raising your own disciple already at that age?”
“…He’s just an attendant.”

The headmaster snickered.
“If you’re being serious, that’s ridiculous. How is that just an attendant?”
“…”

 
"When the exam ends, send that boy up to my office. Looks like the Gray Cardinal wasn’t trying to interfere for no reason."
"—!"

Gray’s face twisted all at once.
That was the name she least wanted to hear.
"…Why the hell is that old man getting involved?"

In response, Sior’s face relaxed—completely opposite to Gray’s reaction.
"Why? Afraid someone might snatch him away from you?"
"…You’re talking nonsense."

"Just judging by your reaction, the offer he brought was very entertaining."
"…?"
What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Gray tilted her head, confused, but Sior only smiled slyly.
***
"…"

"…"
How should he put this?
If Carlyle were to summarize his impression of Gray after serving her for a while—

This woman only ever had two expressions: angry or blank.
But the range of her blank expressions was surprisingly broad.
Blank with annoyance, blank with irritation, blank with subtle pleasure.

You could say she had a rare gift for expressing all those feelings through the slightest shifts in her face.
And based on experience, Carlyle could say that the expression she was wearing right now was: ‘Extremely dangerous. Immediate intervention required.’
She was about to explode.

Most likely because she had a mountain of things she wanted to ask Carlyle after that exam.
How the hell do you know how to do that?

Where did you learn that?
Why didn’t you tell me?
You could practically see her itching to ask.

But—rarely—there was someone in front of her she couldn’t just lash out at.
"Nice to meet you, Carlyle."
Cardinal Felix bowed her head politely.

"Sorry for calling you in so suddenly. I had a question I wanted answered quickly."
The Gray Cardinal gently poured tea into Carlyle’s cup.
"…"

How to describe this.
The whole situation felt off.
She was sitting here with the Hero, and yet it was Carlyle that Cardinal Felix was addressing first.

As if the only thing that interested her at this moment… was him.
The next thing she said only confirmed that suspicion.
"Lady Chasefield, I’m sorry—but would you mind giving us a moment alone?"

"…"
"There’s something I’d like to discuss, privately."
…For a second, Gray’s expression almost {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} cracked.

Watching her fight to suppress the surge of emotion behind her eyes made Carlyle feel even more on edge.
But eventually, Gray sighed and rose from her seat.
Looked like she was going to comply.

Wow. She held it in.
Impressive.
Incredible…!
She didn’t pick a fight right here—!
"Cardinal Felix."

"Yes, my lady?"
"If you try anything annoying, I’ll flip this whole place upside down."
"…"

Retraction. Scratch all that.
She’s still the same as ever.
Felix only smiled, as if it was nothing new.

She briefly watched Gray open the door with a scoff and walk out, then gently turned her gaze back to Carlyle.
"You’re on guard, aren’t you? Even though this is our first time meeting."
"…"

She saw right through him.
Carlyle gave a sheepish smile and took a sip of tea.
"It feels like you’ve heard something about me. Did Gray say something unpleasant?"

"Oh—no. The young lady didn’t say a word."
"Hmm… she must care about you quite a bit."
"Excuse me?"

How’d you reach that conclusion?
"If she didn’t say anything about you, it means she didn’t want you getting involved with me. Because once you are, things get complicated. Obviously."
"…"

"For her, that’s rare. You should be proud, you know?"
Proud or not—
This person just admitted, in plain words, that getting involved with her means trouble.

In that case…
"…May I ask what sort of trouble you’ve summoned me to get involved in?"
Felix let out a soft laugh.

Carlyle’s way of speaking seemed to really suit her taste.
"Don’t worry. I have no intention of harming you or Gray."
"…I see."

Carlyle replied evenly, though thoughts were racing in his head.
Hero. Can I trust anything this woman says?
[She’s not the kind of person who lies.]

“Not the kind of person who lies”— emphasis on the “lies” part.
Saying she wouldn’t cause harm didn’t mean anything good would come of it, either.
While Carlyle quietly watched her expression behind a neutral face, Felix smiled brightly and opened her mouth again.

Now then, what kind of scheming remark would she throw out—
"I want to bring the two of you together."
"…"

"Like a matchmaker for love. Would that be alright?"
…What?