Lucius was a saint who possessed the skill known as [Holy Magic]. However, he was unaware of it.

  This could have been due to the little time he had spent being revered by the headquarters of the Church. Throughout his pilgrimage with Primus, he had kept his identity concealed.

  So, what did he think of himself?

  A swordsman.

  Lucius saw himself as a swordsman.

  From this thought, a new question arose. How should one describe a swordsman who has lost his sword?

  The great sword had been shattered, and the knife destroyed. Lucius stood there, stunned.

  That great sword had been a keepsake from Seneca's father. It had been a symbol of resolve. And now, due to his own ck of foresight, it was ruined.

  Anger welled up in Lucius's chest.

  The enemy was himself.

  It was his own immaturity that caused the fury.

  He had lost himself, and in doing so, lost the very symbol of his identity: his sword.

  Lucius bmed himself over and over again.

  The Metal Liger, in a sense, had also lost itself.

  It had celebrated the destruction of Lucius’s weapons with a triumphant roar.

  But, quickly regaining composure, it resumed its stance, no longer allowing itself to rex. Had Lucius not been stunned, his magic could have obliterated the beast. It was a pse in concentration that had created such an opening.

  In his mind, Lucius watched the Metal Liger.

  As the enemy readied itself for battle, Seneca’s words suddenly came to him.

  "Sometimes, fleeing is just as important."

  "That's right," Lucius murmured aloud.

  It didn't matter if he couldn’t win right now.

  If he simply survived, there could be a next time.

  He had not lost yet. He wasn’t dead. He had just lost his sword.

  Regret could come ter.

  In an instant, the fog in his mind cleared.

  Looking ahead, the Metal Liger was leaping towards him, cws raised.

  Lucius narrowly avoided the attack.

  The beast, pivoting mid-air, now aimed to pounce directly at his face.

  In a fsh, Lucius tumbled backwards, evading the strike and, with his feet, kicked the Metal Liger away.

  The beast filed in the air, and Lucius gathered his magic into his fist before delivering a powerful blow to the Liger’s left rear leg.

  Crack!

  Blood poured from his hand, and his bones broke. Yet, in return, the beast’s leg was now marred with fine cracks.

  Lucius felt as if his vision had suddenly cleared.

  The change in his opponent's movements became unmistakably clearer.

  Lucius realised there were now infinite options before him.

  He could strike, he could kick, and if needed, he could flee.

  It was such an obvious realisation that he had forgotten until now.

  Somewhere along the way, he had convinced himself that the only way to defeat an opponent was to cut them down with a bde. But there were other options, weren't there?

  His enemy was stronger, and it was he who was cornered.

  It was only when he found himself in such a situation that Lucius was able to call upon all of his faculties.

  "Seneca was always free. I should be just as free."

  As he spoke the words aloud, they seemed to sink deep within him.

  Lucius resolved to give it his all.

  Having caused an injury to the enemy’s leg by chance, he now saw an opportunity to flee if necessary. While he could still recover, his foe had no means of doing so.

  Moreover, as soon as he remembered Seneca's freedom, an interesting idea formed in his mind.

  “A sword... I still have that.”

  A faint smile tugged at his lips as his hand opened, fingers outstretched.

  His hand could serve as a sword.

  "Hand-sword swordsman"—that sounds amusing!"

  Lucius began to press forward with his martial arts, his strikes becoming more aggressive. The Metal Liger’s movements had slowed, making it easier for Lucius to nd a few blows. Each strike with his "hand-sword" caused intricate breaks in the creature’s bones, requiring him to use healing magic each time.

  Gradually, Lucius began to accumute minor injuries on the beast. He no longer sought a decisive victory—simply a draw would suffice.

  The concept of using his hands as swords was, strangely, exhirating. He had always had a sword within him, hadn’t he?

  "That's right. The sword is within me."

  He thought he heard a voice in the back of his mind.

  Pcing a hand over his chest, Lucius clenched his fist, feeling as if he had grasped something essential.

  The battle had shifted. The Metal Liger, now at a disadvantage, seemed confused, unsure of how to proceed. Its previous certainty of victory had evaporated, and it was now faltering, unsure of its next move.

  In desperation, the Metal Liger decided to take a gamble.

  Seizing a moment when the distance between them was greater, it gathered what little magic it had left, focusing it on its injured leg.

  It concentrated, squeezing all the power into a single, focused strike.

  With a mighty roar, it lunged at Lucius, mouth agape.

  Lucius, watching the beast's reckless assault, extended his hand forward. In it, he held a staff of magic, formed from the energy of [Holy Magic].

  "Do you know?"

  He spoke aloud, addressing the Metal Liger as it charged.

  “There was once a young swordsman known as 'Stick-wielder.' When I first fought her, I couldn’t nd a single blow. Since then, she’s always been my goal.”

  He thrust the staff into the Liger’s open mouth.

  The beast, startled, attempted to close its jaws, thinking it could simply bite through the staff.

  "This is a sword."

  With a surge of magic, Lucius extended his “sword” to its full length.

  The beast's muffled growls reverberated from its throat.

  And with a final strike, Lucius’s “sword” pierced the Metal Liger's body, impaling it through and through.

  Level 3 achieved. [Defensive Magic] is now avaible. Physical capabilities have increased dramatically. Magic power has risen significantly. Sub-skill [Sword] acquired.

  Lucius had conquered the Path of Shura, the path of warrior.

  After resting in the pza, Lucius made his way to the shrine, where a stone inscribed with complex patterns y on the ground. This was, no doubt, the token of having completed the Path of Shura.

  He picked it up and began his journey back.

  At the base camp, he searched for Mofu but found no sign of them. He prepared his belongings and went to sleep without eating.

  The next morning, as Lucius practiced swordpy, Mofu returned.

  Upon hearing the news of the Path of Shura completion, Mofu congratuted him with a grin.

  After discussing their pns, Lucius decided to return to Padokia, while Mofu chose to continue training along the Path of Shura, feeling they were on the verge of something significant.

  Lucius returned to Arankuna, taking the next few days to leisurely explore. Yet, his mind was preoccupied with deep thoughts.

  According to the Church’s teachings, when one reached level 3, they would gain [Defensive Magic] and [Barrier], with their unique traits becoming apparent only at level 4.

  However, what Lucius had acquired at level 3 was the sub-skill [Sword].

  This ability allowed him to conjure a sword using his magical energy. While he still intended to carry weapons, this marked his freedom from them in a sense.

  Lucius had followed the Church's methods up until level 2, but after leaving the royal capital, he had stopped using their prescribed techniques or even relying on the Desert Rose. Despite this, his ascension to level 3 had been surprisingly swift.

  When he fought the Metal Liger, Lucius had realised, in an almost intuitive sense, that his skills were something more than just a result of systematic training. They were organic, evolving in response to his emotions, his inner state.

  The Church's method was undoubtedly efficient, but it was mechanical. It seemed to Lucius that skill could—and perhaps should—be more dynamic, responsive to one’s spirit.

  In history, as demonstrated by the so-called “Sword God,” those who wielded the lower-tier skills were likely more attuned to this organic, emotional use of power. They didn’t just follow rigid rules—they adapted, and in doing so, gained tremendous strength.

  Lucius felt certain of this.

  ...

  Back in Padokia, Lucius reported his success to the headmaster.

  He was hailed as a hero of the school. While praise flowed in, so too did envy.

  As Lucius continued to receive accodes, he began to lose interest in the school and its people.

  Three weeks ter, Mofu returned, having completed the third yer of the Path of Shura.

  Mofu had gained a new strength and, for the first time in a while, was full of energy.

  Now, neither Lucius nor Mofu had any rivals among the students.

  The Path of Shura forged strength through the trials of nature, while the students’ strength was confined to a structured environment. Lucius’s kind of strength couldn’t be attained here.

  The two of them suddenly began an intense study session.

  They secluded themselves in the library, consulted teachers, and debated with each other.

  In no time at all, they had mastered all the material the school had to offer.

  Their second year was drawing to a close.

  Then, one day, urgent news arrived from Primus.

  ...

  Lucius and Mofu began preparing to leave their dormitory.

  They would sell or give away their furniture to nearby students.

  The message from Primus was urgent: “Signs of a stampede near the city of Trias, within the Romanus Kingdom. Return immediately and lend your aid.”

  Trias was a major city, the first one to pass through when entering Romanus from the Kemenes Empire.

  A stampede there would cause considerable chaos, and information was likely being shared with the Kemenes Empire as well.

  Primus's pn was to have Lucius achieve military merit in this battle and decre his emergence as a new saint to the world.

  If Lucius earned recognition and fame, the Church's factions would no longer be able to suppress him. He would be able to live his life more freely, without the current constraints.

  The letter also included an apology for the current situation, suggesting that Primus felt deeply conflicted.

  After discussing it, Lucius and Mofu decided to leave Padokia Magic Academy.

  They could have chosen to take a leave of absence, but neither of them wanted to return to the school ter.

  When they informed the headmaster, he swiftly granted their early graduation.

  "I’ve heard that you two have already mastered everything this school offers. Moreover, there’s no one here who can rival you. I can’t very well keep you here."

  With a grin, the headmaster quickly processed the necessary paperwork.

  There were some people Lucius wanted to meet before leaving, but there was no time for that now.

  As they packed, Lucius and Mofu spoke idly, making pns for their journey home.

  “Hey, Lucius. In the end, we didn’t figure out anything about the Desert Rose, did we?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. We tried so hard to learn, but…”

  “But you know, someday, I really want to go back to the Lizardman vilge.”

  “We’ll definitely go. When we’ve gotten stronger, and when we have some trustworthy allies by our side.”

  With wide smiles, they hurried towards Trias.