Kenshin watched his right side stitch itself back together—muscle weaving, skin smoothing—then turned to Khan.

Khan stood with his katana resting against his neck, posture loose, smile still in place.

"What was that?" Kenshin asked.

"Swordsmanship. With a little touch of mana."

"I know swordsmanship. We performed swordsmanship."

"Yeah, that’s normal swordsmanship. The physical aspect."

Kenshin’s brow furrowed.

"Your swordsmanship—even though you learned it years ago—doesn’t show on your status sheet. Not because you learned it years ago. Because you haven’t learned awakened swordsmanship. You haven’t actually learned formal swordsmanship techniques that involve mana."

Khan shifted his weight, settling into the explanation.

"You learn the basic application of mana with swordsmanship. Then the advanced application. Then you train harder. You become an expert—able to do things with mana through your sword. Send flying slashes. Execute techniques. Then you master techniques. From there, it’s more about how much power, your suave, your connection with your sword."

He tapped his katana against his shoulder. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

"Like Parting Rivers. It’s a master-ranked technique. It sends an arc—" He paused. "Well, no need to explain what it does. You felt it."

Kenshin’s eye twitched.

"And that was pure mana. Later, you learn to add attributes to your attack. Elemental and all." Khan’s smile widened. "You should train harder."

Kenshin stared at his katana. "You said mana coating was a sign of what rank of swordsmanship?"

"It depends on how thick the mana coat is. How long you coat it. How strong it is. Little nuances."

"So what would you say this places me?"

A silver aura bloomed around Kenshin’s blade—dense, uniform, crackling with contained force.

Khan’s expression froze.

Bro. I just explained this to you. I wasn’t even giving you a coherent explanation.

He appeared before Kenshin in a flicker of motion. "Let me see."

Kenshin held the blade steady. "Hmm."

Khan’s expression turned serious as he studied the katana. "Let’s clash swords again."

He moved backward across the ruined field. Lightning arcs danced around him, excited, hungry.

Kenshin settled into a stance.

Boom.

The sound reverberated as they crashed together again—blades meeting, force meeting force, the air between them compressing until it screamed.

"How can you maintain such control of your mana so quickly?" Khan’s voice was tight, impressed despite himself. "So dense. Sharp. Durable."

They moved across the field in a blur of silver and blue. Kenshin turned mid-stride, swung his katana, met Khan’s descending blade.

The shockwave ripped outward, flattening what remained of the training ground’s surface.

---

"How’s that possible?"

Eden’s voice was barely a whisper.

He had watched Kenshin switch from his obvious niche—hand-to-hand combat—to fighting with swords against Khan. Someone whose swordsmanship rivaled Eden’s. And Khan had split his focus across numerous other fields, all reaching mastery—S-rank—yet still kept pace with Eden, who was solely a swordsman.

Someone of that caliber shouldn’t have had a problem facing an obvious novice.

So Eden had thought.

When he heard the "nonsense" Kenshin had spouted about learning swordsmanship to advanced stage in half a day, he had scoffed. It was obviously mortal swordsmanship. Still impressive on its own terms, but when compared to the expectations Kenshin’s other feats had created, it tracked.

Then the fight had begun, and Eden was shocked again. Yes, it was still pseudo-mortal swordsmanship, but Kenshin was progressing at rates he hadn’t expected. He could even keep up with Khan.

That would have ended when Khan began using actual swordsmanship techniques instead of brute-forcing his way to match Kenshin. The fight had taken a slow burn—Khan teaching Kenshin about actual swordsmanship.

But Kenshin had learned mana coating in seconds. On his first try. With the most informal teaching imaginable.

And he could maintain it with such intensity.

What a monster.

What a genius.

Eden gripped his sword harder. He had to train harder. Mastery should not be complacency.

Excitement kindled in his chest at the prospect of facing Kenshin himself—imagining he could become an even better swordsman than this.

"Are you shocked?"

Dean’s voice cut through Eden’s reverie. A chicken leg dangled from his mouth, and his oily hand was already settling on Eden’s shoulder.

"Don’t be. This is quite normal. I too learned mana coating easily. It’s mana projection that’s next. That should be easy too." He snickered, wiping his hand on Eden’s shoulder. "Just pray he doesn’t develop a technique right here. You might lose your mind."

"You shouldn’t do that," Daemion said.

"What? Wipe my hands on him? He doesn’t mind."

"No. Undermine Kenshin’s talent. Just because you can do it as well doesn’t make it less of an anomaly."

"Mm." Zephyr nodded.

"Meh." Dean stuck out his tongue.

Aelric facepalmed.

The rest of the class turned to Eden.

His face was distraught with shock.

Kenshin had just used mana projection with his sword.

---

"Hahahahaha!"

Khan laughed crazily as he dodged the crescent wave of mana slashes. "This is quite fun!"

Kenshin had a wide smile on his face, like a child who had just found a new toy. He swung his katana again—another arc of silver light screaming across the ruined field.

"Okie, I’m not a training dummy." Khan snorted.

He swung his own sword in quick succession. Three arcs of mana flew from his blade, intercepting Kenshin’s projectiles mid-flight. The crescents collided and dissolved, scattering silver light across the battlefield.

"Your ’Parting Rivers’ is just a mana arc," Kenshin said. "What makes it more special than the one I’ve been throwing around?"

"Someone is a little too smug." Khan’s smile didn’t falter. "Parting Rivers has intent and attributes. Its intent is severing—abilities, spells, techniques, whatever is in its path that cannot defend itself against it... is severed. Its attribute is mana itself. So it’s as pure as normal mana slashes. But it has intent."

He tilted his head. "You should know what intent is. Your class teaches everything. And magic talks about intent."

"I see." Kenshin nodded slowly.

Then he swung his sword.

A straight line of silver light moved from his blade to Khan—and detached his arm.

"Hmm. I knew something was missing." Kenshin’s smile was smug.

"YOU—" Khan screamed, then caught himself. He stared at Kenshin, calm settling back over his features as his arm regenerated, flesh reweaving, bone reforming. "You freak. How did you do that?"

"Intent. I wanted to slash your arm in revenge. Attribute—pure mana." Kenshin shrugged. "And I still didn’t make a flowing river."

"That’s because you missed the method, you bastard."

"Method?"

"Your stance, in basic terms. The way you build up mana. All the nitty-gritty. One normally puts thought into a technique before they create or learn it. They don’t just do it out of spite." Khan’s voice rose. "It’s like you’re the better genius than I am. I can’t have that."

He planted his feet. "I’ll just create a sword technique right now. A lightning attribute."

"Then I’ll create one of my own."

"Fine. We’ll see who creates the most."

Heh. You just learned swordsmanship and want to create techniques. How do you think you can contest with me—someone whose ability makes me a swordsman?

Khan’s internal smirk faltered.

But hold on. He just learned swordsmanship. Isn’t that too crazy? Bro, come on. Be human.

The irony was not lost on him. Khan had only seriously studied swordsmanship for three months, all while learning other divisions of combat.

Thus began the battle of showoffs.

---

"Is this how the battle is going to end?" Dean asked, disappointed. He tossed aside the chicken leg, now stripped to the bone, and summoned another from his storage ring.

"You should have stayed at home. You just had to watch two anomalies fight." He nudged Eden with his elbow.

His serious expression just made him an easy target.

You know who acts serious all the time? War veterans and douchebags.

And Eden just happened to fall under douchebag.

"Let him be," Sam said, exasperated.

Eden had to ask his ancestors who he had sinned against for Dean to take an interest in him.

Sam smile internally

"Aww, I had expected the fight to be a lot more fun." Kya pouted.

"The fight was exciting. The stakes were removed the moment Khan decided to teach Kenshin swordsmanship." Virelle sighed.

"You would think it’s because they already know who won and who is weaker." Rhaegar’s voice was thoughtful.

"Oh, you know who won?" Aelric asked.

"Khan won, of course." Eden’s answer came quickly, but his gaze remained fixed on Rhaegar, eager to hear what he would say.

"In the context of the spar, Khan won. But in an actual fight..." Rhaegar paused. "I don’t know. I’m not god. But I would give it to Kenshin. I know more of his abilities and trust his innate ability over Khan’s. But my personal opinion does not affect the truth." He spread his hands. "So I can only say that in this spar, Kenshin lost."

"If it were me, I would call it a draw."

The voice drifted toward them from behind. The students turned.

Zeke stood at the edge of the ruined training ground, hands in his pockets, silver-streaked hair catching the light.

"One: he’s my student. Two: they both hurt each other without actually hurting each other. They both healed."

"Professor!" The class’s voices overlapped. "You’re back!"

"Of course." Zeke pointed at Dean. "Look at this building. You destroyed it. And Dean—you littered."

Dean scratched the back of his head sheepishly, a chicken bone still clutched in his other hand.

"I told you to watch your students."

A new voice drifted in. Elio materialized beside Zeke, cigar smoke curling around his face.

"Your student fought as well. Don’t pass all the blame to me. That’s not a trait a good professor should have, Sir Elio."

Elio stared at Zeke in response. He snorted, took a long puff, and deliberately blew the smoke into Zeke’s face.

"What a shame." Zeke didn’t flinch. "I like secondhand smoke."

Elio’s eye twitched.

Can you be less shameless? No wonder your students are like this. They get it from you.

The two kings stared at Zeke incredulously.

Is this the professor of the class of weirdos?

What a weirdo.

"Ahem. Let’s put a stop to this." Zeke turned toward the decimated training ground.

Khan and Kenshin had stopped trying to come up with actual techniques. They were now just spamming variations of mana arcs at each other, their earlier rivalry reduced to a childish contest of who could throw the prettiest slash.

Elio sighed. "The academy was quite normal until this set of students."

"It must have been boring, then." Zeke vanished. Elio followed.

---

"You did the same thing two moves ago," Khan said, aggrieved.

"You did the same thing a while ago. I didn’t say shit."

"Well, you’re you. I’m me."

"You’re a child."

"I’m a fucking teenager." Khan’s voice cracked with frustration. "You know what? Fuck this. Take my ultimate move."

He twirled his katana, building momentum.

"You think you’re the only one with an ultimate move?" Kenshin sneered. He brought his katana to his face, holding it solemnly.

Pow.

Zeke appeared behind Kenshin and slapped the back of his head. Kenshin’s face met the ground—hard enough to crater it.

Elio grabbed Khan by the collar. "You have extra training."

Zeke mirrored the gesture, hauling Kenshin up from the ground until they were face to face.

"Did I not tell you not to lose again?" His voice was low, menacing. "Tsk, tsk." A pause. "Lucky for you, it isn’t a loss."

He stared at Elio, eyebrows raised—say something, I dare you.

Elio stared back, deadpan. He turned to Khan. "This is why I want you to train. So you don’t become something like him."

He vanished.

"Tch." Zeke kissed his teeth and dropped Kenshin.

"Kids, I’ll be seeing you all tomorrow." He waved.

As he vanished, he threw a wink toward Rhaegar—a flicker of acknowledgment that went unnoticed by the rest of the class.