CHAPTER 31: CH:31 CARVE YOUR OATH

Sarios stood tall in the center of the training ground, his longsword gripped in his gloved hand, its sacred white blade reflecting the morning sun. Across from him, his mentor—a seasoned knight with a jagged scar under one eye—rolled his shoulders, preparing to spar.

"Mentor," Sarios said, his voice steady. "I’m ready."

The older knight smiled faintly, lifting his own blade.

"Good, good. Let’s see it then."

His tone was low and measured, like a man who’s seen many blades rise and fall.

But as Sarios adjusted his stance, his eyes drifted—drawn not to his opponent, but somewhere distant.

A memory.

He was seven again.

Sitting cross-legged by the wooden window of his home. Outside, the wind rustled gently through the trees. Inside, the smell of iron filled the air—his father was sharpening a sword on a whetstone, rhythmic scrapes echoing through the humble room.

His father glanced at him with quiet curiosity.

"Why do you want to be a hero, son? Why Not just a regular knight?"

Young Sarios smiled brightly, eyes full of dreams.

"I just wanna save people in a flashy way!"

He grinned even wider.

His father paused, letting out a short, amused breath.

Then he reached out and patted his son’s head gently.

"Oh really... flashy, huh? Heh. Then go do it. Carve your own oath. Be a hero of justice, yeah?"

He gave a thumbs-up, his smile warm but firm.

"Just don’t let the world fool you."

The memory began to fade.

The stone. The wind. His father’s voice—

"Carve your own oath."

Then—

"SARIOS!!"

The blurry voice snapped him back.

His mentor’s sword was already swinging in a fast arc.

—Clang!!

Sarios instinctively raised his blade, catching the strike just in time. Sparks burst from the steel-on-steel impact. The force of it pushed him back, his boots skidding slightly across the dirt.

The two blades locked for a moment before the older knight stepped back with a low chuckle.

"Seriously... were you spacing out? In the middle of a duel?"

Sarios straightened, catching his breath.

His mentor smirked and pointed his sword at him.

"Tell me, boy. How did someone like you beat the Scorpion Boss in that village during your first mission?"

He scoffed, almost playfully.

"Are you a hero... or just another mediocre wannabe?"

The mentor narrowed his eyes, then tapped the flat of his blade against his shoulder.

"I see something in you. A spark. But you’re still not here. You’re somewhere else. And that’s not where warriors belong."

Sarios clenched his fists around the hilt of his blade.

He lowered himself into a true stance this time—calm, sharp, focused.

"I’m here now."

The wind brushed past him again, as if carrying a whisper from the past.

"And I will carve my oath."

The mentor smile

"Let’s see about that, huh?"

And than The mentor’s voice came with a grin, then—

Whoosh—shing!

His blade swung low, a fast undercut meant to trip or strike.

Sarios stepped back, then twisted his body with a smooth spin—his cape trailing behind him—just barely avoiding the edge. In one fluid motion, he rotated mid-step and swung his sword sideways.

"Tch—!"

The mentor caught the attack, bracing his own weapon by gripping the hilt and laying his hand flat against the blade’s broad side. Sparks flew as steel kissed steel.

"Not bad," the mentor said with a smirk. "But not enough."

With a swift push, he jumped backward, his boots digging into the ground. Then, in a blur, he leapt high into the air—blade raised above his head.

Sarios’s eyes sharpened.

But as the sword came down, he dashed sideways, his armor clinking faintly as dust kicked up beneath his feet. The attack slammed into the dirt, sending a shockwave through the ground.

"I was just warming up," the mentor chuckled, rising again. "Testing your reflexes."

Sarios exhaled sharply, then grinned.

But just then—

From the edge of the training ground, dressed in her fluffy royal gown and standing like she was out for a casual afternoon walk, Dila stood waving lazily.

"Sarios~~!" she called with absolutely no sense of timing.

She twirled her hand in the air. "Hi~!"

Sarios blinked. "...Princess?"

He chuckled—just for a second.

"Sarios, behind you!"

Dila’s voice shot out with warning.

"Wha—?"

Sarios snapped back just in time to duck—whoosh!

A flash of steel passed right above his head as the mentor came down from behind, both hands gripping the sword in a powerful vertical slash.

The impact hit the ground where Sarios had just been—dust exploded upward.

"Never let your guard down for a woman—

Especially not the Princess!" his mentor barked.

Sarios tumbled backward with a half-laugh, landing in a defensive crouch.

"Hey, I wasn’t distracted! I was just—greeting her!"

"Haaa—!" he exhaled, shaking off the dirt as he got back on his feet.

The mentor smirked again, raising his blade.

From the distance, Dila placed a hand on her cheek.

"Oops~ Maybe I did distract him."

Nari giggled faintly in Dila’s mind.

☆ A little. But it was kinda cute, Master~ ☆

Dila rolled her eyes. "Not helping."

Back in the arena, Sarios stood tall again, eyes locked on his mentor.

The duel continued—fierce, fast, and with no more distractions.

The sound of clashing steel rang through the training grounds.

Clang! Cling! Ting!

The mentor’s sword danced—flashing through the air in a relentless flurry. It was a Sword Art Technique: Rapid Stab, and it came down like a storm. Each strike shot forward with blistering speed, aiming straight for Sarios’s chest, shoulders, and sides.

"Hah—! Hah—! Hah—!"

Sarios grit his teeth, blocking and parrying with all he had.

Sparks flew wildly.

Cling! Clang!

Each deflected blow sang against his blade.

Some thrusts scraped against his black armor—

Ting! Tong! Tang!

—rattling through his chest like drumbeats of war.

But then—

One strike found its mark.

"Urgh—!"

The blade slid past his defense and nicked through the armor at his side.

He stumbled back, breath ragged, sword dragging as he dropped to one knee.

"Haaa... Haaa..."

Sweat ran down his face. His chest rose and fell like a drumbeat.

His hand gripped the sword tighter, frustration biting at him.

"I can’t believe it..." he muttered.

"First, I was humiliated by that masked man... and now—my own mentor."

The mentor stopped his advance. With a calm breath, he sheathed his sword over his back and stepped closer.

"You’re too harsh on yourself," he said, voice steady, yet kind.

"Your swordsmanship isn’t polished enough yet to wear the title of Hero..."

He smiled slightly.

"But—you’ve got potential. It’s all there. You just need time."

He extended a strong arm.

Sarios hesitated, then reached out and took it.

With a solid tug, the mentor pulled him to his feet.

"Hah..."

Sarios stood, brushing the dirt from his shoulder, wincing slightly from the hit.

"You gave me a cut, Mentor."

The older man scoffed.

"Excuses. No pain, no gain."

He gave him a firm pat on the back.

Sarios chuckled quietly.

"Right."

Then, standing tall, he gave a crisp salute, fist to chest.

"Thank you for the lesson, sir."

The mentor laughed, turning away, his sword resting across his shoulder.

"You’ve got a long way to go, Sarios. But don’t forget—every hero starts exactly where you are now."

He paused and glanced over his shoulder.

"Make sure you keep walking forward."

Sarios nodded sharply.

"Sir, yes sir!"

And just like that, the sun glinted off their blades, and the morning wind swept gently across the arena—carrying with it the sound of steel, sweat, and a young hero’s burning resolve.

Meanwhile, at the edge of the training field, Dila stood with her arms crossed, two knights at her back and the ever-persistent maid quietly watching her posture.

She called out casually, voice echoing across the grounds,

"Sarios! Are you going to just stand there cooling off like grilled meat? Nice fight, though."

Sarios turned to face her, wiping a line of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His armor was scratched and his breathing still heavy.

"Nice fight?" he chuckled. "I was this close to getting turned into sliced salmon wrapped in a tin can."

Dila couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing, a rare and honest sound.

"Yeah! You really did look like you were on the menu for a second there!"

The maid behind her stifled a giggle while one of the knights tried not to smile.

Sarios shook his head, grinning as he slung his sword over his shoulder.

"Glad I could be your entertainment, Princess."

Dila smirked and replied with mock elegance,

"Oh, absolutely. What else is a Princess supposed to do but enjoy a sword show before tea time?"

They both shared a laugh—an easy, genuine moment in the middle of a world full of pressure and danger.

And for a brief instant, neither titles nor burdens mattered—just a boy and a girl, poking fun under the sun.