Chapter 1: The Last Swordsmanship Competition_2

The blade of the sword was 95 centimeters long, with no fuller. Besides its length, another distinctive feature of this sword was the club-like crossguard perpendicular to the blade. This crossguard was much larger than those on ordinary swords, almost as long as the forearm of an adult male. This oversized crossguard was the soul of the weapon, essential for executing many techniques.

Despite its length, the sword was surprisingly light. The one Winters was using weighed only 1.4 kilograms, which is about the weight of a few potatoes.

Praise be to the advancements in metalworking that allowed smiths to forge such a light yet tough and resilient blade.

The sword had a long hilt, requiring two hands to wield effectively. However, it wasn't categorized as a "two-handed sword", since that term had already been claimed by other predecessors. Although it could be managed in one hand, it certainly wasn't deserving of being adopted by the "hand-and-a-half sword" family.

Most of the time, the cadets simply called it "the sword". If they needed to distinguish it from other types of swords in conversation, they referred to it as "the sword we practice with"; or simply "Longsword", since it was longer than the average sword.

Do not underestimate those 1.4 kilograms. A forceful swing, even of only 1.4 kilograms, could easily crush a skull or slice open an unarmored enemy. This was why Winters would train in half a set of Cavalry armor even under the risk of heatstroke in the scorching summer days.

Winters, and his opponents, wielded blunt Longswords—all genuine articles, despite their blunted edges.

Winters felt nearly boiled by his own sweat; he just wanted to quickly win the duel, to beat the opponent he hadn't defeated in six years. And this was his closest chance at victory yet.

Peering through the visor grid of his helmet, Winters glanced at the scoreboard on the sidelines, his score at 17, his opponent's at 12. He had never led his adversary by as many as five points before.

The rule for swordsmanship practice in the Military Academy was first to 20 points wins, and Winters now held match point. He kept reminding himself, "Stay calm, stay calm, just three more points."

His mind raced with thoughts, "I'm at match point. He has to attack to catch up. I can wait for a slip-up." With his strategy set, Winters entered the dueling area from the waiting zone.

He tentatively stepped out half a step with his right foot, grounded himself in a stable T-stance, keeping his back straight. His right hand in front and left hand behind gripped the Longsword hilt, both hands lowering to belly-button height, with the sword's tip angled upward toward his opponent's throat.

The swordsmanship Winters and his classmates learned in class originated from the founding marshal Ned Smith. One of the crucial elements of this swordsmanship was "the guard." The guard Winters employed was called "the Plough", suited for both offense and defense, and he favored keeping both his dominant hand and leg forward.

He knew his strength was at its limit, and his stiff posture must have appeared ludicrous to the onlooking classmates. But he didn't care about losing face; he consoled himself, "It's a competition to see who's less awful. He's tired too. Winning is what matters."

Time always seems to pass quicker in the mind. Though he thought of a multitude of things, only a few seconds had actually gone by in the real world. Winters' opponent was approaching him in a posture similar to Winters'. As expected, holding match point, the opponent opted for a more aggressive and proactive approach, since a single sneak attack from Winters could end the match.

Winters' opponent also aimed his Longsword's tip at his head but took broad steps around to Winters' right side, trying to gain a flank position. Naturally, Winters was not about to let him succeed, adjusting his footwork accordingly.

They circled each other for a few steps, closing in the distance, their Longsword tips starting to clash. Winters now didn't dare to blink; when both using the Plough and their sword tips met, it meant they were both within striking range of the other.

Winters' opponent boldly controlled the clash of their Longswords with confidence, as if to provoke him. The blades chimed with a clear clink, these minor clashes not granting any advantage but serving as an effective psychological tactic, putting the opponent under pressure with such an assertive attitude.

Winters didn't realize that by deciding to play defensively, his own momentum had already diminished. What he saw as a solid and sensible choice was, in reality, an external show of his lack of confidence.

Because Winters was acutely aware that his opponent had stronger physical capabilities than himself. He couldn't figure out how he managed to be five points ahead, so he decided to play it safe. Had his opponent been ahead by five points, the onslaught would have been swift and fierce.

Seeing Winters firmly defending the centerline, his opponent began to adjust the direction of the attack. Using a counterbalance as a pivot, the opponent turned the Longsword's tip, originally aimed at Winters' right side, towards the left.

Winters immediately perceived his opponent's intent to attack. His opponent was a "strong-king", often relying on sheer physical strength to knock the opponent's Longsword off the centerline.

Then his opponent would quickly step forward, catch the enemy's blade with the crossguard, and deliver a thrust from above straight toward the chest—a signature move of his.

Winters instinctively reacted, seeing his opponent's blade shift to his right side, he too altered his posture, swinging preemptively to the right. It was going to be a head-on collision, where the advantage in the ensuing bind could lead to a point.