This duel turned out a bit differently from the ones before.
While Rash still fought in an unpredictable manner and used strange moves, I had by now somehow grown used to his style. His unpredictability still gave me trouble, but I could at least defend against the moves I had already seen and no longer fell so easily for the new ones.
But—
I still lost.
Each time we dueled, the exchange grew longer, and I was even able to land a few close hits.
Still—
It wasn't enough.
I lost in the end.
But I didn't feel bad about it.
Every duel he had showed me new ways of how I could use the sword.
It was like when a football player in Europe saw how the players from South America played.
The game was the same.
But the way they moved, the rhythm they used, the tactics they applied—all of it was different.
It wasn't something grand like enlightenment.
But it inspired me.
"Your sword is still plain."
My head turned toward Rash.
He was sitting beside me, leaning casually against the wall.
That in itself felt strange.
Normally, he would have walked away after our duel. But today, for some reason, he hadn't. He had sat down beside me.
We were close, but not too close.
A few meters of sand still lay between us.
My sword is plain.
He had said that very same sentence countless times during our duels.
I never really understood what he meant.
At the same time, I had never asked.
He always walked away after our fights without giving me any chance, and to be honest, I had just forgotten about it afterward.
There was no reason to dwell on it.
But now—
With him not walking away and still sitting here, I decided to ask.
"What do you mean?"
Rash didn't turn toward me. He kept his gaze fixed ahead on the teens training in the arena. Following his line of sight, I also turned away and waited for him to speak.
"Plain…"
His voice was quiet.
"Do you see how the others use their swords? Don't you think the way they fight is… boring?"
Boring?
My eyes focused on the other teens.
The way they held their swords.
The way they swung them.
They weren't swordmasters, but they still used the basic moves.
Slashes.
Stabs.
Guards.
It looked normal to me.
I was confused by what he meant, but I remained silent, keeping my mouth shut. By now, I knew him well enough to understand that he would explain further.
And he did.
"Boring in the sense of what they do with them. A slash. A stab. A block. That's all they do. It's understandable, since those are the basic moves of the sword. But at the same time, it's disappointing."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"They should all be normal teens, with most of them having no real experience in swordsmanship. And yet they still follow the same path everyone else does. The same basic motions. The same patterns. There's nothing wrong with learning the basics. Everything else stems from them."
His tone shifted as he continued.
"But…"
There was more emotion in it now.
"They should be wilder and more creative. They were thrown into this arena. They should have adapted to their surroundings and changed the moves with it. But when I watch them… All they do is slash and stab. It's predictable."
I hadn't understood him fully at the beginning. But now, with his explanation, things became clearer.
Then a new thought came to me.
"My sword is the same?"
That was what confused me the most.
From his tone, it seemed as though he placed me in that same category. And that didn't make sense to me. I had already changed the way I fought.
The shackles on my wrists and ankles.
The collar around my neck.
The CQC techniques from Earth.
All of that had become a part of my fighting style.
It shouldn't have been predictable.
It was one of the reasons I had survived this long.
So I didn't understand his reasoning.
"Yes."
My head turned slightly toward him as I heard his answer. But he still didn't look at me.
His gaze remained on the other teens.
"Your sword is the same. I have to admit, the way you fight is wild and creative, and you use a lot of strange moves. But that's all."
Pausing, he finally turned his head toward me.
"It's your fighting style."
"Not your sword."
My eyes widened slightly at his words.
I understood what he meant—but before I could answer, he had already turned back toward the arena and continued.
"Your sword is plain. It's not boring like theirs, but still plain. A slash. A stab. That's what you do. You use the basic moves, then add your own hand-to-hand combat to them. But in the end, that still doesn't change your sword."
Silence settled between us after he finished.
We both remained still, watching the teens train.
But my mind was no longer calm.
The things Rash had just said—
I had never thought about them before.
And it didn't take long before I realized that he was right.
My fighting style was unique because of the things I had added.
But my swordmanship?
It was still the same as back at the estate.
A stab.
A slash.
A guard.
The basics.
I had trained those moves every single day until they became second nature to me, but that was all.
I only used them.
Of course, I used some variations as well. But nothing that fundamentally changed them.
In the end, they were still the same basic moves.
As my mind began replaying battle after battle, going through them one by one—a soft voice broke through it all.
Barely more than a whisper.
But what he said made every thought stop and my heart skip a beat.
"A tool."
My head turned slowly toward Rash.
I looked at him with wide eyes.
Rash still had his gaze fixed forward.
Yet he continued.
"A tool. That's what the sword is to you."
He paused for a moment before going on.
"The one who taught me how to fight said the same thing to me. That I used my sword like a tool. I didn't understand what he meant at the time. But after he explained it… It became obvious."
He paused again, as if remembering something.
"For a warrior... The sword isn't a weapon or tool. It's an extension of himself. A part of him. You take a life with it while you protect your own."
Silence fell between us again until I asked quietly.
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
Rash's answer sounded slightly uncertain, but he still spoke.
"It's different for everyone. What worked for me might not work for you. And what worked for my master didn't work for me either. But in the end, the core of it should be the same."
Now he finally turned toward me and began to explain.
"Don't move your sword like it's a tool. Move it like it's a part of your body. Don't think with your sword. Don't think: how do I make a slash, a stab, or a block? Your body already knows what it wants to do. Let it lead. And follow it."
Breaking eye contact, Rash looked down at the sword embedded in the sand between his legs.
As he pushed himself off the ground and stood up, he continued.
"You see something and react to it. Your sword moves first, and your hands and feet follow it. But that is wrong. Instead, let your sword follow your body, not the other way around. Your body moves, and your sword follows. And then you just do what feels natural."
Circling his fingers around the grip, he pulled his sword from the sand and turned toward me again.
"If you do that, the way you fight will naturally change. Your sword won't remain a weapon that only slashes and stabs. It will become part of you. And then you'll be able to react even to the most unpredictable attacks."
Now holding the sword loosely again, he gave me a small smile.
"I know it's hard to understand. It was the same for me. Even now, I don't think I fully understand what my master meant. The only advice I can give you is that it's more like a feeling. Something you gradually develop the more you step out of your comfort zone and stop using only textbook attacks."
He chuckled lightly as he turned away.
"You probably have a lot to think about now. Don't let it get too much into your head. See you later, Adonis."
And then he walked away again.
Leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.