Furan stood at the entrance of the swordsmanship class; she still couldn't understand why a place that taught magic would offer such a course.
Yet, her original self had signed up for this class, and her blurry memories left her puzzled as to what her predecessor was thinking.
Aside from this, there were only two courses her original self hadn't completed: one was an arithmetic class, which only covered elementary School math and simple statistical methods—Furan was confident she could crush it even without the panel.
Then there was that damn Art Appreciation class. Her predecessor's memories did provide a reason for that one: "Those paintings and sculptures are quite beautiful; I want to see them again."
Art Appreciation didn't have an assessment—it was purely for enjoyment—whereas the other two courses had assessments that awarded points.
Furan now placed great importance on points; they could be sold for money to boost her finances or exchanged for rare knowledge. She had already tasted the benefits of points; without them, she couldn't even learn a single Spell right now.
Furan walked into the classroom, picked up a wooden training sword, and began practicing according to her memories.
It had to be said that after her constitution improved, she felt different from the memory of struggling to lift the sword; she could now strike a pose with ease.
After finishing the basic movements she had been taught, she set the wooden sword down with a deep frown.
No notification popped up on the panel, which disappointed her slightly. She had thought something like [Basic Swordsmanship] would appear, allowing her to grind levels aggressively.
She knew that Combat Skills existed, but the price was prohibitive; the cheapest ones cost nearly thirty silver coinss, which would completely drain her savings. She could only look for other methods first.
A "thump-thump" sound echoed. She turned her gaze to John, the teacher of this swordsmanship class. He was clapping his palms together, and the sheer volume of the sound made it clear that his strength was not to be underestimated.
Once the apprentices had gathered, he announced the contents of today's lesson.
"Everyone will spar according to the list I'm about to read. Striking your opponent's body or disarming them counts as a victory. Stepping out of bounds counts as a loss..."
Some of the apprentices in the crowd grew excited; the moment had finally arrived. They had signed up for this course specifically to showcase their actual combat abilities.
The reason this course was offered was because of a major School called the Sword Chant School, whose members wielded a sword in one hand and a Spell in the other, possessing formidable combat strength.
Recruitment for its members required powerful swordsmanship and a recommendation from someone within the School... Indeed, half of the Schools operated on a recommendation system rather than open recruitment; without connections, you could forget about joining.
The excited apprentices were mostly children of landed nobles. They couldn't inherit titles or had unremarkable magical talent, but their swordsmanship training since childhood far exceeded that of others, so they wanted to pursue this path.
They glanced at the other equally excited apprentices, knowing they were rivals. Teacher John wouldn't recommend everyone who met the requirements; only a few would receive a recommendation.
"First match: Mars versus Mason."
Some apprentices were there specifically for the recommendation, some were interested, and others, like Furan, didn't even know why they were there.
To John, the weight of the apprentices' recommendations wasn't that high in his heart; he still wanted to properly teach these apprentices.
Mars had come specifically for the recommendation. With his family's secret Body Tempering Method, his physical fitness far surpassed his opponent's.
Mason was very talented. He had only picked up a sword after joining this swordsmanship class, and he had frequently received John's praise in previous lessons.
However, the gap in their constitutions was quite large. Every one of Mars's slashes was heavy and powerful, leaving Mason's parrying hands numb and his movements trembling.
Although he tried to counterattack several times, his hands had been numbed by Mars's impacts from the start, yielding little result. Ultimately, his weapon was knocked away by a cleave.
Mars was in high spirits. He had long been annoyed by this kid who often received John's praise. He felt Mason's skill was only average, so why did he deserve the praise?
"Mason, you lack experience. When in a disadvantageous position, you should stay steady and not rush into an attack, especially when your opponent is stronger than you..."
John thought highly of Mason and pointed out several flaws in his fighting style.
When it was Mars's turn, he said:
"Mars, your attack style is very good and suits you well. Just keep it up for now." He concluded his critique of Mars in just a few words.
John truly felt that this style of attack suited Mars and there wasn't much to change, so he simply said so.
However, to Mars's ears, it sounded like John cared more about Mason. He had said so much to critique Mason, but only a few words for him.
This created a sense of imbalance in Mars's heart. The corners of his mouth, which had just curled up because he had proven himself in victory, immediately dropped.
But as a descendant of nobility, he knew he couldn't lash out no matter what. He suppressed his dissatisfaction and returned to the group.
Afterward, the various apprentices were paired up for matches. John paid close attention to the balance of power between the sides; even the winners had to exert some effort to secure their victories.
These battles were an eye-opener for Furan. After all, in her previous memories, everyone just practiced basic skills; she hadn't expected everyone to have their own unique way of fighting.
Among them, an apprentice named Bella was the strongest of all. Even Mars, with his high physical fitness, couldn't gain an advantage in a clash against her. He was defeated after being suppressed by her exquisite swordsmanship for seven or eight moves.
By the time it was Furan's turn, almost everyone had already competed once. John could tell who was serious and who wasn't; Furan's performance in previous classes had been simply abysmal, so naturally, he wouldn't waste time on those with such poor skill levels.
Her opponent was another male apprentice who wasn't very serious about the course. He smiled upon seeing that his opponent was Furan, looking very confident in his victory.
After John shouted for them to start, Furan didn't humor him. She lunged forward immediately. The male apprentice hadn't even set his defensive stance before the wooden sword swung toward his body.
But just as Furan was closing in rapidly with her sword and about to hit him, a voice made her stop.
"Stop."
Only then did the male apprentice realize the wooden sword was at his chest, and he hadn't even reacted.
"Furan, is it?"
"Yes."
"You and Mars have a match."
The male apprentice hurried down, while Mars walked up with a reluctant expression.
He hadn't watched the previous match at all; after all, he had no interest in watching a bunch of weaklings peck at each other.
Upon seeing his opponent was Furan, his dissatisfaction with John grew. Wasn't this the idiot who could throw her sword away even during a turning slash? Wasn't fighting someone like this an insult to him?
With contempt, he didn't even bother to strike a proper pose after the match began. Instead, he waited for Furan to attack, planning to simply hold his sword steady and wait for her to lose her grip on her weapon when she couldn't withstand the force of the impact.
But the reality was different from what he expected. He felt a sharp pain in his wrist, and the wooden sword fell from his hand.
A roar of cheers erupted from the surrounding audience, for this was the first time someone had ended a battle within seconds of it starting.