I don't know what my parents had been talking about all this time, but they seemed excited.
Their enthusiasm seemed logical to me; after all, anyone would appreciate it when an almost lethargic child began to be fascinated by what seemed to be the cultural foundation of this society: fencing.
I was sure that, before experiencing my newly awakened interest, my parents were beginning to suspect I had some kind of disability.
But hopefully now that I've found my new reason to live in this world, they can stop worrying.
But that's not what concerns you now, what concerns me is that we are now walking towards what appears to be the same place where my father and Gall Farion faced each other.
It was a bit far from home, I realized from the first moment that we lived in what seemed to be a rather mountainous area since we were always going uphill when walking Although neither of my parents showed signs of fatigue despite more than twenty minutes of walking.
"you're sure?****...****"
"Of course***Jino***he will love it"
After six months of listening to my parents speak to each other, I can now get an idea of the language of this world, but I am just learning.
I don't know what they would subject me to, what my father means by saying that I will love him, but I am expectant; anything that has to do with the sword will be well received by me.
The dojo we were heading to was completely different from the others in this place, it seemed to be an area that would cover a whole block on a street.
The buildings were in an L formation in a square area leaving the rest of the land for open-air training arenas.
And in the middle of those buildings and the largest was the dojo where Gull Farion was.
We had already entered this place and the other students were bowing to my mother and mother as we passed by until we stopped at the doors of the main dojo.
Without hesitating for a second, my father opened the sliding door of the building, revealing a view I will never forget.
In the right corner there were a total of 40 people between 20 and 60 years old all wearing white uniforms that reminded me of Karate training uniforms.
They were all sitting on the floor, the youngest ones looked at my father for a few moments before looking back at the center of the room.
In the opposite corner was Gall Farion who was sitting in an armchair with a bored expression while looking at the center of the building.
"Well...that moment has come" my father murmured and his gaze went to the same place, I followed his gaze and...
A man in his 30s wearing training clothes was in a combat stance and in front of him...was a woman.
But not just any woman, she was a woman with cat ears and tail, white hair down to her back and a white patch on her right eye.
She was also in a fighting stance as she stared at the man in front of her.
The woman, unlike all the other students and Gull, was not wearing any uniform, instead...
She was wearing simple black leather pants and a bra?...
No, that thing is too small to be called a bra, she only wore a strap on her breasts that barely covered her nipples but she didn't show even the slightest bit of shame.
In fact, she is so muscular and her gaze is just like that of a wild predator so that this detail is completely eclipsed.
"Hehe... precisely, who do you think will win?" Gall muttered with a smile as my father and mother stood by his side.
"I have no idea, master," my father replied as he stared at the two contenders in front of us.
They hadn't moved an inch since we arrived, but I could see the sweat dripping from the man's forehead while the woman remained impassive.
Why isn't anyone moving? And why isn't anyone questioning this? The other students are staring at the two people in the middle of the room, but they seem completely focused.
"Haa!! The man was the first to move.
With a movement that dented the wooden floor, her image blurred from view in an instant and less than a second later the image of the woman also disappeared from my sight.
But also...the miracle happened again, although this time it was not as majestic as Gall's but it still amazed me.
The world lost color and sound for an instant, and in the middle of the building, a spark emerged from nowhere, followed by an arc of light and...
(Baaang!!)
The man's body was thrown towards a wall...no.
His upper half did so while his lower half fell near us.
"heh..."
The whole place fell silent except for Gall's small, disdainful laugh and immediately the image of the woman appeared again in its place, the only difference is that she had unsheathed her sword nothing else.
"Nngh! You shouldn't see this!" My mother's voice brought me out of my trance as she covered my eyes with her hands.
"Haaa..." I complained as I tried to get her off me but she didn't give in, I could only listen.
"Haha, that was very stupid, don't you think, Timothy?" Gall muttered with a mocking smile and my father nodded solemnly.
Despite Gall's relaxed attitude, my father seemed to take him very seriously after all he was the most powerful swordsman in the dojo.
"Vidor hesitated and that cost him his life!" Gall's voice echoed loudly throughout the dojo, His gaze fell on the students sitting on the floor and then on the woman with cat ears in front of him.
"Your skills and today's demonstration have given a trace of your strength Ghislaine" so that is her name... "From today, I Gall Farion name you Sword King" Gall's voice was strong and imposing, Her declaration made the other swordsmen cheer and Ghislaine slowly knelt and bowed.
No one objected to this statement, even my father nodded with satisfaction at this.
Nothing important happened after that, Gall and Ghislaine went into a room and I returned home with my mother.
It was a shame not to be able to be there anymore, but even so, being able to see the miracle again made me more than happy.
...
As I grew up, living in this strange and fascinating place under my parents' tutelage and care, I learned more about the world around me.
While my father usually went out during the day to the main training halls, my mother always stayed home to look after me.
I even saw some of her sword movements as she idly practiced during her free time.
"Hah!" An arc of light shot from her sword and vanished into thin air as she smirked.
She looked at me, and a self-satisfied smile formed on her face.
"Did you see that, Jino? Even though it may not seem like it, your mother is a Sword Saint," she said, patting the muscles on her arm.
She wasn't nearly as fast as my father, but I still enjoyed her demonstrations all the same.
And as the days passed, I began to feel my once-weak body growing stronger. I saw the brilliant movements everyone around me was performing with their beautiful swords, and a desperate desire began to form inside me.
I wanted to do the same.
I wanted to hold a sword just like all of them.
However, that desire would only be fulfilled slowly. After all, even after such a seemingly long time, I was still less than a year old, and as much as I longed to wield a sword and feel the thrill for myself, I was far too young to do so.
It was disappointing, to be sure, but I made it my business to observe and learn.
After I began to pay more attention to the world, emerging from that lethargic state I'd once sunk into, I was able to somewhat understand the language after a few more months, and I was able to move my mouth in certain words, to the great happiness of my parents.
But my parents also spoke of the greatness of the "Sword God" style, which everyone in this snowy community practiced.
To begin with, this strange and isolated place where I was born was in the sacred land of the sword, the site of the central dojo and Gall Farion the Sword God.
People from all over the world traveled to this community to study the sword and reach their full potential under its tutelage.
There may have been other sword styles, with their own communities and masters, but this was undoubtedly the best and strongest. It was instilled in me, and I didn't doubt it for a moment.
The moment I learned this, and the moment I understood that this was the only place in the world where I could honestly experience the beauty of this sword fighting, I felt something akin to gratitude well up in my chest, though I wasn't sure to whom it was directed.
It seemed to me that I had truly been blessed in this world, reborn in the place I had.
But the full breath of that gratitude and contentment with a place in life, which would continue to grow as I too mature into adulthood, would not be adequately manifested until much later.
In those moments when I felt the full breadth of my luck, the full scope of how perfect this earth truly was, I felt bubbles of stress rise in my chest, formed by the persistent worry that I would never be able to repay what would have given me the opportunity to live my life in this place.
I had to take a step back and breathe in all the things I was thankful for.
Apparently, in this strange world where a person's physical power determined their social rank, there were seven levels to attain in the God Sword style, as well as all other sword styles and even schools of magic, which were apparently studied elsewhere.
The combat levels, from lowest to highest, were:
Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, Saint, King, Emperor, and God.
Only one person could reach the rank of God in the God Sword style, and that person would be the God Sword.
It seemed logical to me, though the somewhat primitive meritocracy puzzled me.
However, those rankings and the talk of becoming so strong... none of it really mattered to me.
I realized that my father, who proudly preached those values and spoke of the glories of achieving power, firmly believed in the ideals of "strength."
In another world, perhaps a place even closer to fantasy than my new home, a man like him would likely become a stereotypical villain with that mindset.
But in this place, he used it to motivate himself.
However, the idea of strengthening myself to achieve fame and glory didn't appeal to me.
Instead, I was fascinated by the beauty of style itself.
All I could think about was how good it would feel to use something as beautiful as a sword, how good it would feel to execute movements as beautiful as those of the Sword God.
But I wasn't fooling myself; I knew I would never reach the level of a genius like the man who reigned over all the passionate warriors who lived in this hostile place.
I doubted I would ever rise among those ranks of those people with motivations far greater than mine.
But at least I thought I could enjoy myself if I decided to practice with the sword in the same way.
I truly believed that in this place, in this new world I had come to know and love, I would be able to find something I could never achieve in my old life.
I daydreamed about the possibilities.
I fantasized that one day, with a sword in my hand, I could find fulfillment.