Chapter 7

What a predicament this is. To avoid another encirclement, I should put my back against the wall. But that would limit my movement and turn this into a pure contest of skill—something I’m sorely lacking in.

‘I can’t stay alive by staying in a corner.’

This is the conclusion I’ve come to.

While this is my first time experiencing a one-against-many swordfight, I’ve read about scenarios like this plenty of times. The way I usually immerse myself in a story is by comparing the events to my own experiences. And this swordfight? It’s just another team sport. This fight, to me, is just like reading another story.

In sports like football or basketball, players use non-verbal communication to avoid colliding or hesitating at crucial moments. Eye contact is essential—quick, subtle, and efficient. If the knights are coordinating like that, I can exploit it.

I step forward, moving toward the center of their encirclement. The knights glance at each other in confusion, no doubt wondering what I’m up to. I can practically hear their thoughts: What’s this idiot doing?

But this isn’t random movement. If they are relying on eye contact to coordinate, then they must constantly track their allies’ gazes. That’s my win condition. I lock eyes with the knight directly in front of me. As soon as I have his attention, I shift my gaze sharply to the side—a simple act of misdirection borrowed from sports and magic.

It works. His focus wavers, his eyes are focused on the knight beside him. I rush forward, aiming a clean strike at his jaw.

“What?” one of the knights mutters as their comrade crumples to the ground.

Unfortunately, this trick won’t work again now that they’ve seen it. But even if they’re wary, I’ve already disrupted their rhythm. Their coordination will falter just enough to buy me time.

I circle back to the center, forcing them to readjust their positions. They don’t seem as confident now. Each knight hesitates before stepping into range, glancing at their companions for confirmation.

My goal isn’t to win—I know that’s impossible. My only aim is to stay conscious as long as I can.

Another knight approaches me from the front, his gaze flickering past me to his ally behind.

‘So they’re signaling each other after all.’

I notice a shadow moving beneath my feet—my only clue to the attack from behind. With the early morning sun casting long shadows, I’ll have to stay facing west to keep those shadows in my line of sight.

I duck low, sweeping my leg to knock the knight behind me off balance. Unprepared for the counterattack, he stumbles into the knight in front, sending both of them sprawling.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

For a moment, there’s a gap in their formation. I straighten up, gasping for breath.

“Hey, can we take a break? This is seriously exhausting,” I plead, trying to sound as pitiful as possible.

Their expressions, however, look like they’ve just bitten into something sour.

‘Right. After Henry’s speech, this probably sounds like I’m mocking them.’

This is going to be a long day.

***

Henry’s POV

“Sir, why did you decide to train this boy?” the vice-commander asked, his tone hesitant. “I could recommend someone far more promising for your attention.”

I paused, observing the fight below. The boy’s movements were sloppy, his strikes barely adequate. But there was something else—something that most people would miss.

“Did you see how he slipped through their encirclement?” I said finally. “Do you think that was pure luck?”

The vice-commander frowned. “No, sir. But… surely it was nothing extraordinary. He dodged an attack from behind, yes, but it’s not as if our trainees couldn’t do the same.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Is that all you see? Has all that paperwork dulled your senses?”

The vice-commander flinched, but I continued. “His eyes are constantly moving—scanning the ground, watching their gazes. He’s reading their signals and checking his conclusions with the shadows cast by the sun. He’s not just surviving; he’s adapting.”

“That may work in a spar, sir, but in real combat? Against opponents who don’t hesitate?”

“All the more impressive,” I countered. “He identified his limitations and exploited every advantage he could find. Do you know how rare that is? His tactics weren’t instinctive—they were learned. Most likely inspired by stories.”

“Stories?” he asked, confused.

“Stories,” I confirmed. “The way he observed the shadows reminds me of Asita Devala from Buddhist lore. His use of misdirection? A technique often employed by magicians. And his signal reading? Straight out of basketball.”

“Basket… what?” The vice-commander blinked, his confusion deepening. “Sir, with all due respect, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Basketball? Buddhism? Misdirection? Are these from some foreign land?”

I waved his concerns away. “Don’t worry about it. Just consider it… knowledge from another time and place.”

The vice-commander’s frown only deepened despite my consideration. ‘This ungrateful brat,’ I thought, suppressing a smirk.

The fight below seemed to be reaching its conclusion. I stepped forward, preparing to intervene before anyone got seriously hurt.

But a sudden thought struck me. If I delay my entrance, the kid will be beaten up a bit more, and I can use this time to tease the vice-commander.

“Oh, and you asked why I decided to teach him?” I said, glancing over my shoulder.

“Yes, sir!” The vice-commander straightened out of his daze, eager for an answer.

I let a small smile play on my lips. “I just want to see how the story ends.”

With that, I left him standing there, his expression a mix of disdain and bewilderment.

***

Protagonist’s POV

“Enough!” Henry’s voice cut through the chaos like a whip.

The knights immediately froze, their expressions a mix of relief and disappointment.

“Form up!” he barked.

They scrambled to obey, leaving me standing alone in the center, swaying on unsteady legs.

I couldn’t help but try to lighten the mood, forcing a smirk. “Couldn’t you show up sooner? Were you taking your time watching me struggle?”

But Henry didn’t answer right away. He just… looked around, like he’d suddenly forgotten what was going on.

I blinked. “What, are you zoning out on me?”

Finally, he met my eyes with a grin, as if everything was perfectly normal. “Sorry, you getting beat up was such an amazing sight I was caught in a daze.”

This guy… I’ll get him one day. Maybe tonight, I’ll shave his eyebrows and beard.

“All jokes aside,” he said, his tone shifting, “you did well. But did you notice what you were lacking?”

I took a moment to reflect on the fight. Honestly, everything was lacking, but I had to pick something.

“Everything. My strength, my technique, and the weapon,” I admitted.

Henry smirked at my answer. “Weapon, huh? That’s just an excuse from a sore loser.”

I frowned but pushed back. “The weapons here are custom-made to fit everyone’s needs, except mine. I already admitted my flaws, so it’s not an excuse.”

After a moment of thought, Henry sighed. “Fine. Tomorrow morning, I’ll let you commission something better.”

Inside, I pumped my fist. Let’s goooo! But I kept my expression neutral. “Thanks, Sir Henry.”

He gave me a knowing grin. “Don’t get too excited. I’m sure you’ll still be paying for it in sweat and blood.”

I couldn’t help but think about my revenge plans for later. For now, I’d let him have this victory.