Private Tutoring Session XXA1: Swordsmanship - Professor Vanya Luminara. Faculty. Weapons Expert.

Time - 3 Days.

Day 1: 400 Points, Day 2: 300 Points, Day 3: 300 Points

Requirements - Obsidian 1st year.

Ebony skin, silver hair, and pointed ears; she was a stunning beauty. Elf. A breathtaking elf. Her attire, though modest, did nothing to hide her allure. The leather pants hugged her curves, while her tight-fitting white shirt left little to the imagination.

For a moment, I couldn't help but gawk; seeing an elf for the first time was mesmerizing. Her presence seemed to demand attention, but then the sensation passed.

For a moment, I was a little surprised. Did I just develop charm resistance?

A faint smirk tugged at her lips as her silver eyes bore into mine, reading my every thought.

I felt a flush creep up my neck. I don't think so...

"First time seeing an elf?" Vanya's voice was as smooth as silk, her eyebrow arched in mild amusement.

"Yeah, sorry for staring, Professor."

Her smirk softened into a more genuine smile. "Don't worry. I had retracted my presence, so it shouldn't affect you."

The explanation settled my mind. It was more believable that she controlled her presence than my being immune to it. That was a protagonist perk, one that I luckily didn't have…

The two suns had just risen, casting a golden hue over the academy's training fields. I stood there, my heart pounding with anticipation and anxiety, ready to begin my first lesson in swordsmanship.

"Obsidian, right?" Her tone commanded attention effortlessly, the kind of authority that could silence a crowd. "Don't expect any preferential treatment for your pillar. The course is divided into three parts: Basic for 400 points, Practice for 300, and Mock Battles for 300."

"The course is the same as the one used by Valorians for their first year students. Only it's much more condensed."

"Would it cause problems?"

"For Obsidians, no. Your sponsor should be comfortable with your potential."

It was my second time hearing about this sponsorship concept and about my potential. "Is there more than one sponsor?" I probed, my curiosity piqued.

"It should be above five at least."

For a moment, my mind blanked. There are five monsters like the Dragon in the academy that I couldn't afford to offend. The weight of this realization pressed down on me, making my future more daunting.

I already have suspicions about the other two, so there are now two more people I need to watch out for. Perhaps a reconnaissance mission would help.

"What was the fastest record?"

"A month," she said, her expression unreadable.

I was speechless for a moment. A month? There were also little monsters running around the academy that I couldn't afford to offend.

She paused, her piercing gaze sweeping over me. "Don't worry about the fastest speed. Your speed depends on your self-study and how quickly you can learn. If you're ready, you can ask to move on to the next part."

There was some silver linings in the storm. I nodded, feeling relieved. At least the pace would be decided by me. When I checked the days, I reasoned that it would be a crash course that I would mostly forget. However, I was placing my trust in the Librarian. I even prepared a speech to cancel the third day. With the assurance, the pressure of a thousand points decreased significantly.

"I want to get a sense of your skill levels first," she continued, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "And there's only one real way to do that."

She pointed to her left, where two racks filled with various types of swords stood. "Those swords were donated by the Artificers. Pick one that suits you. I want you to fight me with the intent to kill."

Another pair of racks to her right held hand-and-a-half swords with intricate sheaths, the kind favored by I had noticed carried around by the few students.

My heart sank. This was nothing like the magic battles I was accustomed to. My last encounter had been with street thugs, and even that had ended poorly. Now, I was expected to face this formidable elf in a mock battle.

I glanced at her, hoping for some hint of leniency, but her expression remained stern. Seeing the seriousness in her expression, I rushed to the racks, my hands trembling. I needed a sword, any sword that might feel natural in my inexperienced grip.

Finally, I managed to grab a one-handed blade that seemed somewhat comfortable, its weight unfamiliar but not overwhelming.

"Well, like I said," she drew her sword, an elegant silver blade that shimmered in the morning light, "I want you to come at me with the intent to kill. And no magic."

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I swallowed.

She moved to a cleared space and took position.

No magic. Just raw, unfiltered skill—or lack thereof. I tightened my grip on the hilt, feeling the rough texture against my sweaty palm. My mind raced, recalling every basic swordsmanship lesson I had ever read.

I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and launched into a clumsy charge. It wasn't much, but it was all I had.

Vanya's stance was relaxed yet ready, a predator waiting for its prey to make the first move. Her eyes, cold and calculating, never left mine.

With a sudden burst of determination, I lunged forward, swinging the blade in a wide arc, aiming for her side.

Vanya moved with fluid grace, her silver hair trailing behind her like a comet's tail. Her sword met mine with a resounding clang, the force of her parry sending vibrations up my arm. She deflected my attack effortlessly, and stepped forward, resting her blade on my shoulder.

Watching the sword a few inches from me, I froze. It was one thing to know you were fighting and another to have a sharp blade so close, hovering with such deadly precision. The elegant silver blade was replaced by a cold, extremely sharp blade that glinted menacingly in the light, a constant reminder of how easily it could end me.

"Pathetic," she said, her voice cold. "Step back if you want another chance."

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to that single, terrifying point of contact. The reality of the fight hit me harder than any blow could, the proximity of the blade making the danger all too real.

I stumbled back, trying to form a semblance of a stance. She didn't give me a moment's respite, pressing forward with a series of swift, calculated strikes. I parried desperately, each clash of our blades echoing. My mind raced, recalling the few scenes I knew about swordplay.

"Let's check your defense," She swung wide, her attack flawless. I raised my sword to block, but her strike broke through my guard, narrowly missing me.

"Again," she said, her eyes challenging me.

Gritting my teeth, I nodded, tightening my grip on the sword. I attacked once more, but she knocked me down just as fast.

"Enough," she said, sheathing her sword. "You have much to learn, but at least you have some grit. Now I know what level of skill you have. And that is none."

As I picked myself up, bruised and humbled, I couldn't help but feel slighted. This was worse than I expected.

Fighting is not for me.

Reading about the aches and pains going through a character is all good and dandy but feeling it was far more worse.

She held out her arm to the racks to her right. "Return the practice sword and take one of these. They are what you'll be using for all training and battles. Do not draw them until I say so."

I obeyed and placed back the donated swords, and looked at the collection of sheathed blades.

These racks were different from the previous one. Dark, polished wood that gleamed under the sun, divided into proper slots, with each cradling a sheathed blade of various sizes.

The sheaths were a symphony of textures and hues: some were a deep, velvety black, others a rich burgundy with designed hilts at the top.

Crafted from sturdy leather, they were embossed with intricate patterns that looked like vines to me, each thread glowing subtly with an infused mana that seemed almost alive.

Why do magical items always have to look so... magical? My fingers traced the cool, detailed texture of the leather, amused by the ostentation. Student preference, probably. Everyone else seems to like their magic with a bit of sparkle…

I didn't need a genius to tell me that these were what proper artifacts should look like—each one meticulously crafted not just to look the part but to perform under pressure.

Back in those stories I had devoured in books back home, it was always classical wooden swords for beginners, not... whatever this is.

A fleeting concern crossed my mind as I considered the potential cost of such high-quality equipment. These have got to be expensive. What if it broke? Am I going to have to pay for this out of my already dwindling points?

But then I shook off the worry with a chuckle. It’s free until they tell me otherwise. I've already spent half my allocation, and it's not even halfway through the month. Need to keep an eye on that...

My hand hovered over the selection of sheaths, each more elaborate than the last, except for the one I found myself drawn to. As I grasped the simple leather sheath, a wave of relief washed over me. No point in drawing unwanted attention.

Smooth leather surface and unadorned, save for a single, slender vine motif that spiraled elegantly from the tip to the hilt. The simple pattern was etched lightly into the brown leather, its threads imbued with a soft, silvery glow of mana.

Once I had one, Vanya ordered it to be unsheathed with her her usual impassive expression. If she was surprised by my selection, she didn't show, unreadable as stone.

The moment shattered by the sound of a crisp, fragile snap— that reminded me of stepping on thin ice. My sword broke off right after I freed an inch from the sheath, leaving me holding a useless stub.

"What!" I exclaimed in shock and looked down in confusion while holding a broken sword, snapping off after only an inch was freed from the sheath.

Intrigued, I held my sword straight up and carefully lifted the scabbard. Glass swords, really? The blade was glass, clear and shining, reflecting the sun's lights in a spectrum of colors. Glass that easily broke when drawing.

"This is how I learned to wield a sword, and if you can master it, you will be among the greatest warriors of your generation." She picked one herself and drew it without it snapping, a perfect, shimmering column of glass.

Vanya held her glass sword aloft, its clarity catching the light, "As you can see, you are wielding a glass blade," The blade in her hand gleamed ominously yet beautifully as she effortlessly waved it in various directions, performing a series of intricate tricks and acrobatic maneuvers. "The glass on its own is strong enough not to break under its own weight, no matter how it is held or swung."

"What you can't see are the runes etched along the blade." She angled the sword to catch the light just right, revealing faint, intricate markings that spiraled down its length. "These runes grant it two special enchantments."

Clutching my own glass sword, leaned forward, my curiosity piqued despite the earlier mishap.

"You can attack with your glass sword. But—it is tricky. If the blade is a single degree off from the exact direction you're swinging, it will break against your target."

She held out her silver sword and tapped the glass sword against its back. The sword's angle was off, if only slightly, and it was a gentle hit, but the blade snapped like a thin icicle.

"That is the first enchantment. It didn't shatter into several small pieces like standard glass, but simply broke in two." Vanya knelt and aligned the broken ends of the sword. "Even if it breaks, the second enchantment allows the blade to repair itself. Simply hold the pieces together like setting a broken bone and channel your mana into the handle. The blade will heal itself in seconds." The air around her seemed to pulse with energy.

Within seconds, the blade healed, rejoining seamlessly as if it had never been broken. Vanya stood, lifting the restored sword. It gleamed unblemished, as new as before. "What these will help with is perfecting your swinging and drawing techniques. Each draw, each swing you execute will teach you about balance, control, and the acute importance of precision in combat."