Vol 1 Chapter 10 – Awe, and Confusion — Lilia’s POV【Vol 1: The Hero Awakens】 

Holy Calendar 1009, August 15

How many days has it been since I last wrote in my diary?

Ever since I was little, Father told me, “A swordswoman must build the habit of recording her daily training—and the movements of her heart,” and I never missed a single day.

But what’s happened these past few days has shaken my tiny “common sense” so violently that I couldn’t bring myself to even pick up a pen.

Tonight, my heart has finally calmed down—just a little—so I’m sitting at my desk like this to sort through what happened that day.

That day—the nightmare of a day when the 《Orc Leader》 attacked the village.

When the alarm bells rang through the whole village and I rushed to the entrance with Father and the dojo students, what was there… was the very symbol of despair.

A huge body that had to be three meters tall. Bloodshot eyes. A massive club.

The guards were being blown away like bugs.

My legs locked up with fear, and I couldn’t move.

If Father hadn’t snapped at me—“Guide the villagers!”—I’m sure all I could’ve done was stand there, frozen.

Father, and everyone from the dojo, stood in front of the Orc Leader.

But our blades wouldn’t go through.

Even Father’s all-out strike was stopped by that thick fat, like it barely did anything at all.

(This is it… the village is finished.)

Everyone thought that—and then, in that moment…

He appeared.

“It’s dangerous with just Master alone!”

Fuyuya—.

A slightly strange drifter swordsman who showed up at the dojo.

He shook off Father’s attempt to stop him and jumped into the fight against the Orc Leader.

I thought it was reckless.

His sword skill still didn’t come close to mine. What could someone like him possibly do against that monster?

Honestly, I ended up thinking he’d only get in the way.

But I was wrong.

He flipped the entire battle on its head.

“I’ll give the instructions. Master, move exactly how I tell you. …Will you trust me?”

I can’t forget his eyes in that moment.

That resolve—standing in front of Father and not backing down even a step.

When Father accepted his words, I felt a tiny bit of hope… that maybe something could change.

But what happened after that went far beyond anything I could’ve imagined.

Fuyuya was like he could see the future.

He pulled the Orc Leader’s attention onto himself and made Father strike the back of its knee from a blind spot.

Right after the Orc Leader used its regeneration ability, he shouted, “Its regeneration is weaker now!” and kept firing off instructions without letting up.

Then he called me onto the battlefield, and said only one thing.

“Aim for the scar between its eyebrows! That’s its vital point!”

A scar between its eyebrows…?

No one had ever noticed something like that.

The one and only weakness—not even Father, who’d fought orcs for decades, knew it, and it wasn’t written in any record anywhere.

And he saw it at a glance.

The feeling when my thrust—exactly as he told me—pierced between the Orc Leader’s eyebrows.

Even now, it’s still vivid in my hand.

The monster screamed louder than it had the whole time.

(We did it…!)

But before I could even hold onto that thought, the Orc Leader’s club—forcing out its last strength—came crashing down over my head.

Too late—just as I accepted death, in that instant—

“—Too slow.”

The one standing in front of me was Fuyuya.

With that slender body, with nothing but a single Rusty Dagger, he caught the Orc Leader’s full-force blow.

CLAAANG!!!!—a metal scream that stabbed straight into my eardrums.

His arm was trembling so hard it looked like it might snap.

But he was smiling.

“…Lilia, you did great. The rest is on me.”

That his back looked bigger than Father’s—so much more reliable—has to be more than just my imagination.

With his final instruction, Father’s and my blades pierced between the Orc Leader’s eyebrows one more time.

Without even managing a death cry, that huge body turned into particles of light and vanished.

The whole village erupted in cheers.

Everyone called it a miracle.

But it wasn’t.

That wasn’t a miracle.

It was an inevitable victory—drawn out by one man named Fuyuya.

(Who… what is that man, really…?)

After the fight, I pressed him with that question.

But he only laughed and said, “It was just a hunch,” “I just got lucky.”

That’s a lie.

There’s no way you can do all of that with just a hunch and luck.

His words, his tactics—each and every one of them—overturned the very foundation of the sword system Father had spent decades building.

For example, a monster’s “hate.”

The idea that you can deliberately manipulate an enemy’s attention to gain the advantage in battle.

Father taught me, “On the battlefield, always watch the movement of the entire enemy.”

But Fuyuya was different. He said, “Focus a single enemy’s attention onto one point.”

For example, an attack’s “wind-up.”

He said a monster always shows tiny signs before it strikes.

Father taught me, “Feel the enemy’s attacks through spirit.”

But Fuyuya said, “Observe the enemy’s movement and read the pattern.”

It’s terrifying…

His words are too rational, too clean—no waste at all.

The logic of Glen-Style Swordsmanship, with all its long history, starts to feel like a child’s game in front of him.

But I want to know more.

I want to see the world he sees.

I want to stand beside him.

That’s why I accepted his offer.

I teach him the fundamentals of the sword, and he teaches me how to fight monsters.

A strange relationship—teacher, and student.

A few days have passed since training began.

He absorbs what I teach him at an unbelievable speed.

It’s not that he has no talent for the sword. He simply never had the chance to learn.

His sword lines grow sharper with each passing day.

And for some reason, watching him grow makes me really happy.

And the time I spend learning tactics from him is always filled with new discoveries.

“A goblin leader carries slightly better weapons.”

“A slime’s tremors get bigger right before it splits.”

Like a scholar, he knows monsters’ ecology inside and out—and his words keep shattering my “common sense.”

At first, I felt awe toward him… and a little fear.

But now it’s different.

That slightly careless smile he shows between drills.

That straightforward gaze when he honestly praises me—“That’s amazing”—when I learn a new form.

The more I learn about him, the more I understand he isn’t just some strange drifter.

He’s kinder than anyone, more devoted to his companions than anyone, and… stronger than anyone.

(“Strong” doesn’t just mean sword skill. It’s his heart.)

Writing this diary is making my chest start to thump, thump again.

What is this feeling?

It feels a little different from the respect I have for Father and everyone at the dojo.

It’s warmer… and it hurts a little, too.

I want to stand beside him.

With that single thought, I’ll swing my sword again tomorrow.

I’ll carve the tactics he taught me into my body.

So that one day, he’ll tell me, “I’m glad you’re my companion.”

My hero-sama.

For now, all I can do is chase your distant back…

But someday, I’ll definitely stand beside you and see the same view. I swear it.