“What’s going on?”
The students began to whisper among themselves.
Even though the sword in her hand was a wooden one, not a real blade, just the way Seyla held it made her radiate an aura that others couldn’t even approach.
That was partly due to her character’s innate charisma—but mostly, it was because of her striking appearance.
As countless eyes fell on her, Seyla walked with the composure of someone utterly confident.
Of course, inwardly, she was quite giddy.
‘Wow… I actually look kind of cool!’
Admiring gazes poured toward her.
She could hear people whispering—how elegant she looked, how incredibly cool she seemed.
‘Isn’t this like a scene that only happens to webtoon protagonists?’
A scene where the main character suddenly appears and the crowd parts dramatically.
When she’d read it in a webtoon, she’d thought it was cliché and overdone—but now that it was happening to her, it was thrilling and exhilarating.
Hiding that primal excitement behind her graceful exterior, she slowly opened her mouth.
“What should I do? I’ve never once thought I was in the wrong.”
Honestly, even Perbeck was slightly intimidated by Seyla’s presence. But pride wouldn’t let him show it.
“So what? Just because you think you’re not wrong, that makes it true?”
Seyla said nothing.
Still, no one there thought she was silent because she had no response.
That brief silence—it was all in her favor.
Perbeck did his best to appear confident as he faced her, but everyone could feel it.
‘Perbeck looks… kind of scared.’
‘Well, can you blame him? I’d be scared too.’
‘When Seyla gets angry, it’s terrifying.’
‘Actually, come to think of it, she hasn’t even shown anger.’
‘That’s true… but she’s still scary.’
Then Seyla spoke again.
“Those who bear swords have no need to argue with words.”
Lifting her wooden sword, she pointed the tip straight at Perbeck’s throat.
“Draw your sword, Perbeck.”
* * *
The news that a duel had been declared spread like wildfire.
“What? Seyla’s actually fighting with a sword?”
“Isn’t she a bit overrated?”
“Overrated? They say she’s nearly on the same level as Hamuun.”
“You believe that? Hamuun’s probably just been going easy on her.”
Many still doubted her achievements in the Molita village incident.
After all, Seyla came from the prestigious magical family Dvernon—most assumed her swordsmanship was just a side skill.
“You didn’t hear what she did in Molita?”
“They say a Dvernon mage helped her. I mean, come on—how could a swordswoman freeze a tidal wave? Makes no sense.”
“…Yeah, that does sound impossible.”
Of course, there were also students who believed in Seyla’s ability.
“You guys really don’t know anything. She finished Professor Rhyno’s combat exercise in record time—second only to Hamuun.”
“Hmph. Cutting stationary targets is totally different from fighting a real person.”
“Exactly. One good trick doesn’t make you a master.”
“Then how do you explain her defeating the eldest son of the first vassal family of Quaybeck—the Berock heir?”
“That was politics! Galf went easy on her for appearances.”
“Nonsense! She completely overpowered him!”
“Did you see it with your own eyes?”
“W-well, no, but…”
Regardless, once word got out that Seyla was actually dueling, students from every class came rushing.
“Fight! There’s a fight!”
“They’re dueling!”
Seyla and Perbeck faced each other.
The supervising professor today was Rhyno.
“Alright then. Go ahead—fight to your hearts’ content.”
* * *
‘I’m… surprisingly calm.’
Maybe it was because she’d dealt with so many bandit raids… or maybe because she’d met the heads of the Three Great Factions.
Either way, Seyla felt far more composed than she expected, even with a duel looming.
Having this many spectators was a little embarrassing—but honestly, she didn’t hate the attention.
‘I should conserve my stamina.’
She needed to fight efficiently.
After all, one never knew when “death’s constant shadow” might bare its fangs again.
She always kept enough strength in reserve to protect herself in an emergency.
And there was one person who bothered her.
‘Troy’s eyes… they’re murderous.’
He was only watching, yet his gaze made her shiver.
So Seyla paced herself carefully, conserving energy as she dueled Perbeck—and her calm movements left a deep impression on many students.
“Seyla looks like she’s just taking a stroll.”
While Perbeck swung with desperate intensity, Seyla’s motions were smooth and graceful.
“For that level of difference in movement, their skills must be miles apart.”
“Exactly. Miles apart.”
In truth, Seyla hardly even moved from her spot.
With minimal steps, she parried every one of Perbeck’s attacks with composure.
But from Perbeck’s perspective, she didn’t look calm at all.
“How long are you going to keep running, coward?”
To onlookers, Perbeck looked frantic, but from inside his own head, Seyla seemed the frantic one.
He imagined she was sweating bullets trying to keep up with his relentless attacks.
The difference in level was so great that he couldn’t even perceive it properly—like a child trying to fight an adult.
“You think you can represent the Swordsmanship Class with that pathetic skill?”
The more agitated he became, the wider and wilder his movements grew.
That only made them easier to read.
Seyla evaded with a single side-step each time.
Her movements were extremely efficient—minimal and precise—so much so that to untrained eyes, it looked like the attacks barely missed her by a hair.
Some students frowned.
“If she keeps dodging like that, she’s bound to get hit eventually.”
“Maybe all she can do is block and evade?”
But the students experienced in swordsmanship couldn’t take their eyes off her.
They could feel the huge gap in ability between Seyla and Perbeck.
Then, Seyla finally spoke.
“Lower your sword to the left, tilt the blade upward.”
It was exactly what she had demonstrated during Professor Rhyno’s class.
“Now swing upward to the right.”
She swung her wooden sword just as she had against the practice dummy in class.
The students who had attended that lesson gaped.
‘That’s what we learned!’
‘She’s using it in a real fight?’
‘But Perbeck learned that too!’
Normally, knowing the same move should make it easy to block.
But this was not a normal situation.
Seyla’s sword struck Perbeck squarely in the chest.
“Ugh!”
A section of his uniform was sliced open—by a wooden sword.
The cut fabric froze white, then melted away.
Perbeck stumbled back several steps, gritting his teeth.
“Don’t think this means you’ve won.”
That’s when Professor Rhyno spoke.
“Alright, Seyla wins.”
“Professor! No! I can still fight!”
Rhyno scratched his head.
“Kid, you realize I just saved your life, right?”
“…What?”
Perbeck didn’t even understand what that meant—his eyes couldn’t perceive Rhyno’s sword-drawing speed.
Seyla couldn’t either.
The only person there who’d faintly sensed the professor’s Qi blade was Hamuun.
“Look over there.”
Rhyno pointed—and there was Hamuun, grinning.
Somehow, he had drawn his wooden sword too—and it was completely frozen solid.
Amused, Hamuun tapped the icy weapon with his finger.
Crack—crack—!
Fractures spread through the blade.
“It broke~”
* * *
Seyla turned to Professor Rhyno.
“If Perbeck wishes, I’m willing to continue.”
Grateful for another chance, Perbeck challenged her again and again.
Each time, Seyla calmly deflected his attacks, waited for an opening, and struck using the same sequence.
“Lower your sword to the left, point the blade upward, swing to the upper right.”
Even though she called out the move each time—taught it to him, even—Perbeck couldn’t do anything.
This wasn’t about knowing the move; it was about the sheer difference in mastery.
Eventually, Perbeck’s wooden sword snapped—and each time it broke, he borrowed another from the onlookers to continue.
By this point, even Perbeck had to admit the truth: there was a massive gap between them.
He wanted to keep fighting—but now that he understood how vast that gap was, he simply couldn’t.
‘Damn it!’
If he persisted any longer, he’d only humiliate himself further.
In the end, Perbeck formally apologized.
He stood before Seyla and bowed deeply.
“I sincerely apologize for my rudeness. I won’t repeat such a mistake again. I was petty and foolish. You did nothing wrong. Please accept my apology.”
“I’ll accept your apology.”
‘Why does she look so cool?’
‘She’s too cool! She’s our queen!’
Amid the murmured admiration, there was still one matter left unresolved.
In truth, the real reason Seyla had kept accepting Perbeck’s repeated challenges was this:
“Between your duels and mine, a total of seven wooden swords were broken. Eight, if we include Hamuun’s.”
This academy was not a charitable place that provided free equipment.
“You’ll have to pay for all of them.”
Wooden swords were mandatory for class—and students had to find a way to replace them.
As a veteran player of 〈That Girl, That Sword〉, Seyla knew exactly how to acquire wooden swords efficiently.
And if she sold them at inflated prices, she’d make a hefty profit.
‘I’m going to make a fortune!’
Seyla grinned inwardly—but her dignified persona wouldn’t allow her to smile over money.
She simply stood tall, composed and regal.
The perfect image of a noble young lady from a prestigious family.
