“Pick up your sword. Let’s try this again,” Veldalla instructed.

Though the last thing he wanted to do was go for another round with the woman who certainly didn’t treat him as though he were a child, he begrudgingly lifted the training weapon, knowing it was his one line of defense.

Again and again, he felt it impossible to keep up with Veldalla, who had the speed of a bullet and the aggression of a bull.

Even defending against her strikes by holding the sword up still caused him to feel the strength of the blow echo through his bones.

“Come on. Move your feet! Footwork is just as important as knowing how to swing that sword!” Veldalla instructed.

–

Cling. Klang. Cling.

Sparks flew as the two steel-forged weapons clashed; he was forced to press his boots into the soil below just to stay somewhat steady, even as Veldalla opted to strike casually with only one hand wielding her sword.

…I can’t do anything! She’s too strong…! He thought.

“…Huff…”_.

He breathed heavily, falling to a knee as he was left exhausted from the first batch of lessons from the red-haired woman.

It went exactly the same way over the course of the first week of instruction.

Each day, he was battered by the dull sword, experiencing the first fits of pain in this new life as he slept with welts.

For better or worse, he also shared his room with her.

While Veldalla snored and slept as if she owned the place, there was one advantage to this arrangement: Veldalla’s nightwear allowed his imagination to be put to full use.

In a world without electronics, he had to use what he could–so the image of the snoring, brawny, but gorgeous woman with her shirt that barely covered her chest and short-shorts that left half of her rear hanging out–he did the deed that shall not be named, making sure to stay quiet under his blanket.

–

“Ow, ow, ow…!” He winced.

“Hold still, silly,” Treyna smiled after touching one of the welts on his stomach.

He quieted down, nodding as he watched his mother place her palm against his forehead with a verdant light gently manifesting.

“Hear me spirit of healing. Gentle is your way, and through all of time, your blessings have graced us with utmost kindness; grace us once more: Healing.”

The warm light settled the bruises and welts on his body, bringing him back to one-hundred-percent.

Before he went outside for his daily lessons with Veldalla, Treyna stopped him with a slight hold on his shirt.

“–?”

“I know you prefer studying magic, but please, try and give it your all here, too. Julius…really has high hopes for you, and I do, too. You don’t have to be as good with the sword as with spells, but both can certainly be helpful,” Treyna told him with a smile.

He stopped for a moment before smiling and nodding softly, “I will.”

As he met Veldalla outside, who was staying with over the course of the six month course, he held a resolved smile, pointing right at the red-haired woman.

“Let’s make a bet,” he said.

“Oh? Name it,” Veldalla smirked.

“If I land a direct hit on you, you have to let me feel your chest!” He proclaimed out loud with utmost vigor.

Even for the toned, battle-hardened woman who had a scar stretching from over her left eye down to her cheek, she looked surprised by the nature of the bet before laughing straight from her gut.

“–Is that a no?” He mumbled.

“Sure, kid! I accept your challenge!” Veldalla grinned.

The deal was set.

For the lecherous man who had undergone reincarnation into his new, young self, this bet was the perfect motivation for himself.

It was certainly a luxurious prize waiting on the other side if he accomplished his end of the bet. Half the reason he wound up being hit was that he was distracted by the two, sizable mounds on the darkly-dressed sword expert’s chest.

Waiting beyond this blade…is paradise! He thought.

Pointing his blade forward, his sight was aimed on Veldalla’s rack; the woman didn’t seem to think much about such concepts, but it was likely due to not expecting much from a boy of his age.

But, that would be a mistake.

As they begun their sparring again, this time he put to practice what he had been theorizing about the previous night–

“–!” Veldalla looked forward in surprise.

Using a burst of wind magic at his heels, he propelled himself forward with a swift dash, immediately clashing blades with her.

The confidence he now had with the bet on the table had dulled his fear of being hit, and not only that, experiencing the pain from being smacked by it so many times had made things easier for him now.

Cling. Klang. Cling.

Veldalla clashed blades with him, still handicapping herself by using one hand and hardly looking to be exerting herself, but it was still an arduous task ahead of him that he gave his all to.

…This kid. He’s seamlessly combining his magic with his swordplay? Veldalla thought.

He honed in, holding the sword with two hands as Veldalla seemed to take notice of the stance he used. Meeting him in a clash, he watched as the elite swordsman reared her blade back with one hand.

She’ll fall for it. This entire time, I’ve only used magic when guiding it with my hand. But, that’s not necessary! He thought.

As he focused only on swinging the dull blade forward with all of his might, he stomped his boot down into the soil while the natural winds of the luscious valley spectated the bout.

Just as Veldalla swung her weapon downward–

FWOOM.

A blast of wind came in, directly knocking against the red-haired woman’s weapon and knocking it back.

“–?!” Veldalla looked in on surprise with her amber eyes.

Normally, nothing short of a tornado can stop her. But, when you don’t expect an attack, anything can take you! He thought.

With his instructor left completely open, there was nothing left but to tie the knot on his strategic victory:

The dull end of his sword finally did it; it smacked against Veldalla’s abdomen.

I did it! He thought.