"Swordsmanship…."

Ihan cast a wary glance at the twig drifting through the air.

It was nothing more than a mere twig, yet he refused to let his guard down, not even for an instant.

Click.

"You’re taking this quite seriously. It’s just a twig, nothing more."

"...From where I’m standing, I don’t think this is just a twig. If anything, it might be more troublesome than an actual sword."

"You deduced that on instinct? Impressive."

"Not instinct, just…."

Thwack!@@novelbin@@

—Ihan wasn’t being paranoid. He had simply read too many martial arts novels to dismiss it carelessly.

Bracing himself, Ihan kicked off the ground and swung his sheathed iron sword.

He hadn't drawn the blade yet; this was just a test clash. When the scabbard met the twig—

Boom!

"...A physicist would have a stroke seeing this."

The impact resounded like hammers colliding.

There was no way a brittle twig should have that kind of weight. Ihan had no logical explanation for what had just happened, but he reminded himself that superhumans operated outside the realm of common sense.

So, rather than questioning it—

‘I’ll just treat it as another sparring partner.’

Ihan decided to take the simplest approach: treating the twig attacking him as an actual swordsman, a proper training opponent. He adjusted his stance, preparing to evade.

Why dodge instead of blocking or countering?

Because dodging was the obvious choice.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Especially when he wasn’t dealing with just one opponent, but seven.

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