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Chapter 5
The moment Edward stepped into the training grounds, he felt the sharp, overwhelming aura in the air and let out another sigh.
And the instant he saw Erin, he couldn’t help but wear a puzzled expression.
She looked perfectly calm, as if she couldn’t even sense the intense aura of the swordsmanship students.
Was that even possible? Just like a herbivore instinctively fears a carnivore, an ordinary person shouldn’t be able to withstand the pressure radiating from trainee knights.
What an odd sight.
Still, Edward didn’t think much of the incongruity. Perhaps Erin was simply born unusually insensitive to such things.
Convincing himself of that, he walked toward the center of the training grounds. He could feel the students’ eyes turning toward him.
“Good morning.”
Edward greeted them briefly.
Some of the students outranked him in noble status, but that didn’t matter inside the academy.
The sharp tension in the air seemed to ease slightly.
“You all look refreshed—must have rested well.”
With that, his eyes swept over the gathered students.
The swordsmanship students of Athenze Academy were all exceptional prodigies.
For a non-imperial citizen from the Kingdoms to enter, they had to be among the top three swordsmen of their nation.
It was a place every aspiring knight dreamed of joining.
Except for one person.
Edward’s gaze settled on Erin, standing before him.
She had thick brown hair and pale skin that looked as though it had never seen proper sunlight.
Doesn’t even look like she can hold a sword properly.
His judgment was swift.
“On the first day, we start with a light swordsmanship assessment.”
He spoke and then pointed at a student.
The evaluations began.
Edwin Kingdom’s Philip.
Liamond Kingdom’s Bianca.
Russell Kingdom’s Homer…
Erin waited patiently for the others to finish their turns.
She already knew the order Edward was calling names in.
On the first day, advanced and beginner classes took the assessment together.
He’s going in order of strength.
Ferdinand and Derek from the advanced class had already finished their assessments and left the grounds.
Ferdinand’s sword was steady and weighty, while Derek’s was sharp and precise.
Their unexpectedly overwhelming presence made Erin’s eyes glimmer.
She didn’t miss a single swing from any of the participants.
As she was watching, someone approached her.
She knew exactly who he was—Philip of the Edwin Kingdom, who had just finished his own assessment.
He’s always hated me.
No one took more pride in being part of Athenze Academy’s swordsmanship department than he did.
And among all the students, he despised Erin the most.
“You think staring like that is going to change anything?”
She simply looked up at him instead of answering.
Philip was so tall that Erin, being on the shorter side, had to crane her neck to meet his eyes.
His expression twisted into something hostile as he spoke.
“Want me to tell you what’s going to happen? How much you’re going to humiliate yourself?”
“Oh? Do you have the gift of prophecy or something?”
“…What?”
Philip was genuinely taken aback by her reply. He had intended to rattle her.
He knew exactly how imposing his physique could be. Even among broad-shouldered knights, his frame—packed with muscle—was impressive.
Just standing in front of someone should have been enough to intimidate them.
But she answered him calmly… without even seeming nervous.
In fact, when their eyes met, he was the one who felt his breath catch.
She was just a small, ordinary girl who hadn’t even trained with a sword. So why—?
Regardless of his confusion, he couldn’t just ignore her.
He forced himself to speak again, even as cold sweat trickled down his neck.
“You’re not even a knight…”
The words stirred an old memory for Erin. She had heard them countless times from Philip in the past.
Back then, she couldn’t refute him—because he was right. She wasn’t even a trainee knight.
Who would acknowledge someone who couldn’t even hold a sword properly as a student of the swordsmanship department?
But if her past self had been given the choice, she would have become a knight without hesitation.
Now, there was no reason to accept his insults anymore.
Erin began unwrapping the bandages from her hands.
Philip frowned at the odd action. He’d thought those wrappings were nothing but a sham—some pitiful attempt to gain sympathy.
He recalled the rumors he’d heard:
“Erin Lisus was attacked by a swarm of monsters. If Sir Recken hadn’t been there, it would’ve been bad! Guess it’s divine punishment.”
And for someone supposedly attacked by monsters, she bore no visible injuries except for those bandages.
Just as I thought—it was all for pity points.
But as her hands were gradually revealed, Philip fell silent.
They were covered in scars. He knew exactly what those marks meant—he’d seen them dozens of times since he was young.
The blisters, the bleeding, and the calluses that followed…
Those were the hands of someone who had trained with a sword from the very beginning.
Erin’s hands told him the truth—she could wield a blade.
Another rumor surfaced in his mind:
“I heard Erin Lisus actually fought off those monsters. What a ridiculous lie.”
The last of the bandage slipped from her hands and dropped to his feet. For some reason, that light strip of cloth felt heavy on him.
“Watch from there.”
“…”
“See for yourself whether I’m really a knight or not.”
Before Philip could respond, Edward called her name.
“Erin Lisus.”
In an instant, every gaze turned toward her.
Suspicion, disdain, complete lack of expectation.
She walked forward under the weight of those eyes.
Her arms trembled as she raised the sword—it was the weight of the steel that made them shake.
A faint snicker reached her ears.
Though no one dared openly insult her with Edward watching closely, they were more than ready to enjoy her humiliation.
In the past, the sound of that mocking laughter had brought her to tears on this very spot.
“Pathetic.”
“Knew it. She should just know her place and disappear.”
Those words whispered from her memory.
Back then, no one pitied her, and she didn’t pity herself either.
Only after living three lifetimes did she truly understand—no one cared if you were sad.
If you were frustrated and resentful, you had to become stronger.
So she had worked herself to the bone.
And now she knew how to wipe her own tears.
The trembling in her arms stilled. The faint, almost negligible mana within her body stirred, lending strength to her limbs.
It wasn’t much—barely the amount any living person would naturally have.
For an ordinary person, it would be useless.
But she was not ordinary.
Her arm extended fully, this time without a hint of wavering.
Lisus swordsmanship was known for its overwhelming power in every strike.
Many claimed it was ill-suited for women.
Rubbish.
Erin could dismiss such talk in a single word.
She could execute Lisus swordsmanship more perfectly than anyone.
The Marquess of Lisus had never become a Sword Master, so everyone expected Caron to achieve it. Erin herself had once believed so.
But in her generation, no Lisus would reach mastery.
Caron Lisus had failed.
No one could have predicted it.
But now, she knew the reason better than anyone.
The sword chose me.
Mana reinforced her body as she moved. The blade in her hand hummed with weight and vibrated.
Perfect Lisus swordsmanship flowed from her grip.
Each clean, unshaken arc of her blade carved the air, and sharp sounds split through the training grounds.
No one could believe such flawless form came from the Erin Lisus they’d heard about.
A moment ago, her thin arms had barely lifted the steel, yet now she moved with the skill of a seasoned knight.
When she finally ended her brief demonstration, silence blanketed the grounds.
In that stillness, the instructor spoke.
“An… excellent display of swordsmanship.”
Before his words even finished, Erin sheathed her sword.
Edward made no effort to hide his astonishment—his mouth opened and closed as if he’d lost the ability to speak.
He seemed too shocked to say anything more.
Sweat trickled down Erin’s forehead, and her torn palms were slick with blood.
The noisy training grounds remained utterly quiet.
The eyes watching her had completely changed.
Her hands trembled faintly as a small thrill crept up her fingertips.
She had changed the past.
