Infinite Mage [Remake]-Chapter 8: A New Challenge Begins

If this were a real sword fight—a battle of life and death—the difference between them might not be so great.

"Don't even think about running away. Personal feelings aside, I will surpass you no matter what."

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Rian's final words weighed heavily on Shirone, anchoring his steps.

The next morning, Shirone arrived at the library looking utterly exhausted. He hadn't slept a wink after what had happened the night before.

His restless mind made even the simple task of sorting books feel sluggish.

Stay calm, he told himself.

I'm not going to die right away. I have a month. I can figure something out.

First, he needed to gather intel.

From what he had learned, House Bishop's head had three sons and one daughter.

The eldest son was a certified Sixth-Class swordsman. The second son, Raido, was a prodigy who was expected to follow in their older brother's footsteps.

The eldest daughter, though talented, had chosen music over the sword and now served as a royal pianist.

When he broke it all down, the only one who hadn't achieved anything remarkable was Rian.

Despite having a personal instructor assigned by his father, every report had concluded the same way: Rian had no talent for the sword.

"Hah... I really screwed up. I should've just taken the beating."

Rian had spent his entire life being compared to his siblings, so of course, being humiliated in front of everyone had set him off.

It seemed even noble blood didn't guarantee greatness.

"What am I going to do? This is a huge problem."

Lost in thought, Shirone stared blankly at the real sword lying under his desk.

I don't have time for this.

Determined, he jumped to his feet and headed for the study.

Whether I fight or not, I need to be prepared.

He had confidence in his stamina from years of living in the mountains. If he could learn how to defend himself, he might just survive.

Sealing away his history books for now, he gathered every text related to swordsmanship.

There were technical manuals like The Art of Swordsmanship, philosophical works like What Is the Sword? and Only Humans Fear the Blade, and even practical guides with titles like Win with Bluffing and The Strongest Are the Ones Who Survive.

Shirone picked up a book simply titled Swordsmanship.

It covered the history of the sword and fundamental knowledge about sword fighting. Even as a magic student, Shirone found it fascinating.

Just as mages had Spirit Zone, swordsmen had something called Schema.

Schema was an imaginary body—a conceptual blueprint of one's physique.

Every human possessed an internal image of their body, but Schema was the extreme realization of that image.

Masters of Schema could understand their bodies so thoroughly that they could influence their nerves, even down to cellular functions.

Shirone set the book down and clapped his hands together in realization.

"It's the opposite of Spirit Zone!"

Mages erased themselves to become one with the world, while swordsmen did the exact opposite—they delved deeper into their own existence.

Eager to test it out, Shirone tried visualizing a second, imaginary version of himself while maintaining the same state of awareness he used to enter Spirit Zone.

"This part is easy."

However, his imagined body remained shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to perceive anything.

"So I need to strip away this darkness to fully awaken Schema. That's incredible."

He continued reading.

Each noble house had its own methods of mastering Schema, emphasizing different aspects.

Some trained their minds, others pushed their bodies to the limit. Some focused on brute strength, while others prioritized speed or reaction time.

That reminded him—

Three years ago, in a back alley, he had met a red-haired girl.

Back then, he had been too flustered to think clearly, but when he reflected on it at home, her movements were inhuman.

"She had opened her Schema! And she was around my age... What a terrifying talent."

Shirone closed the book and pondered.

Rian likely hadn't unlocked Schema either, but trying to master it himself felt like an insurmountable challenge.

"Schema isn't swordsmanship—just like Spirit Zone isn't magic."

Knowledge was vital for a mage, but a strong body was essential for a swordsman.

"Without a solid physique, the enhancement potential is extremely limited. I already have Spirit Zone, so instead of clashing concepts, I should focus on learning swordsmanship."

His plan was to use Spirit Zone as a foundation while picking up practical sword techniques.

"Alright."

He flipped open the beginner's guide to swordsmanship.

It was an unexpected turn in his studies, but with his life on the line, his concentration had never been sharper.

"Arghhh! Uraaaghhh!"

Dust flew in the air at the grand training hall—kicked up by Rian's frantic strides.

His heart felt like it was going to burst. He could barely breathe. His stomach lurched in protest.

"Ugh! Blegh!"

He vomited up his lunch but didn't let it slow him down.

His only focus was on his legs.

"One hundred laps—completed!"

The sword instructor, Kite, laughed heartily. He had never seen Rian train with such intensity before.

"You broke your record! But what's gotten into you? You actually finished your training today?"

"This isn't even real training!" Rian spat in frustration.

"Hah?! What did you just say?"

Kite's eyes widened in shock.

He had been about to praise Rian for his hard work, but the brat was already throwing a tantrum.

Yet, this time was different.

"I'm still standing! Master, give me something harder!"

Kite was taken aback.

"It's been a long time since I've seen him fired up like this."

Not since two years ago, when he had been crushed by the genius Ozent Rai.

"You went through something, didn't you?"

Dripping with sweat, Rian looked up from his knees.

"...No."

Kite didn't believe him.

There was a fire in Rian's eyes—one that only appeared when he was chasing after someone's shadow.

"Was it Rai again?"

But that didn't matter. His student was standing before him, ready to be molded.

"Good! Let's train like hell today! If you die, it's not my problem!"

"Bring it on!"

Rian picked up an iron rod twice as heavy as a longsword and swung it down.

There were no limits on repetitions.

If he couldn't grasp Schema through insight, he would push his body to the absolute extreme.

"Hah! Hah! Hah!"

Kite watched Rian's relentless swings with pride.

But then, his expression darkened.

Realization struck him. His eyes widened, and he rushed forward.

"You idiot! Stop! You'll tear your muscles apart!"

"They haven't torn yet!"

Kite stopped in his tracks.

Tears streamed down Rian's face as he gritted his teeth and kept swinging.

"Damn it! Why won't my muscles rip?! Why won't my arms break?! I can keep going! This isn't the end! I'm not done yet!"

Kite felt his own tears welling up.

"Damn it... Why isn't it working?!"

But he couldn't doubt him now.

Kite caught Rian's iron rod mid-swing with his bare hands.

For the first time, Rian hesitated.

Because it was his master's hand.

"Rian, that's enough for today."

Kite's voice was gentle, and Rian's wild energy dissipated.

His arms had long since lost all feeling.

He hadn't even noticed when the iron rod slipped from his grip.

"...Yes. Thank you."

As Kite placed an ice pack on Rian's shoulder, the young noble gazed at the distant mountains, his thoughts sharp and focused.

"I will win."

With one month left, he would give it everything he had.