My Adorable Daughter Can't Be A Villainess - Chapter 40 - Sparring

“I want your help with training,” Eric said, his expression calm.

Chloe’s brows lifted. “Training?”

Eric explained, “In a few days, the physical assessment will begin, and I’ll be overseeing it. I’ve been too focused on my research these past few years, and I’ve gotten a bit rusty. Some training would definitely help.”

Chloe understood his reasoning. As someone responsible for physically challenging the newcomers, he needed to sharpen his skills and be in top condition.

A few days wasn’t enough for someone to suddenly improve in combat, but Eric wasn’t a beginner. He had the technique. He had only lost his edge.

“But why me?” she asked. “There are plenty of guards under your command who would make good sparring partners.”

Eric had expected the question.

Leaning back in his chair, he set the spoon down on the table and replied, “You’re stronger than any soldier working for me, and no one understands my movements better than you. If anyone can help me, it’s you.”

Chloe stayed quiet for a moment.

Even after all this time, he still respected and admired her combat skills.

A soft smile tugged at her lips before she nodded. “Alright. I’ll help.”

“Then let’s go right away,” Eric said.

Chloe nodded, and the two of them soon headed to the back of the mansion.

….

Chloe looked down at the wooden sword in her hand.

Her fingers trembled slightly around the handle.

It had been a long time since she had sparred like this. She had fought plenty of people over the past few years, but never in a proper match.

Usually, it ended with someone slammed to the ground or knocked out.

This felt different.

This reminded her of the old days.

“Are you ready?” Eric asked, standing across from her with a wooden sword of his own.

Chloe took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. Come at me.”

The moment he stepped forward, Chloe narrowed her eyes.

His weight leaned too far onto his front leg. His grip was too tight. His stance was narrow. When he swung, the blade dipped at the end, his wrist failing to keep it straight.

Clack.

Chloe turned her blade and caught his strike with ease.

“Loosen your hand,” she said calmly.

She didn’t advance. She simply waited.

Eric adjusted his grip and attacked again. The next strike came faster, but his feet lagged behind. As he stepped in, his balance tipped forward.

Chloe tapped the flat of her blade against his shin.

“Feet.”

Eric sucked in a breath and reset. He widened his stance, focusing on how his weight settled before he moved.

He attacked again. The strike was still awkward, but it stayed on line.

Chloe parried and stepped back, always just out of reach. Her blade moved only slightly, turning his attacks aside with small, clean motions.

“Don’t chase the sword,” she said. “Chase the opening.”

Eric nodded, his jaw tight.

They began to circle each other, blades raised. The soft scrape of wood echoed through the garden. Eric’s thoughts crowded his movements, but slowly, something deeper began to stir.

He struck low, then high. The second cut was smoother. When Chloe deflected it, he didn’t freeze. He shifted his wrists and rolled into guard on instinct.

Chloe’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She countered with a short thrust. Eric reacted late, but not too late. He twisted his blade and knocked it aside, the shock running up his arm.

Pain flared in his wrist.

He welcomed it.

Their swords met again and again. With every clash, he sharpened. His grip loosened. His stance widened without conscious effort. His cuts stopped wavering.

Chloe stayed on defense, retreating in steady steps. Her breathing never changed.

“Better,” she said.

That single word steadied him.

Eric pressed forward. His blade moved with purpose now, not rushed. When Chloe parried, he followed through instead of stopping. When she tested his guard, he raised it without panic.

Moonlight slid across the wooden blades. Dew scattered beneath their feet.

Chloe suddenly pushed back with a quick series of strikes. Light and precise, meant to overwhelm.

Eric blocked the first. Missed the second. The third slipped past his guard and struck his shoulder.

He grunted but stayed upright.

He adjusted.

The next exchange lasted longer. His movements were still rough, but the gaps were closing. Memory and instinct began to align, piece by piece.

Finally, Chloe stepped back and raised her sword.

They stopped.

Eric lowered his blade, chest heaving, arms burning. Sweat dampened his hair and dripped onto the grass.

Chloe stood straight, sword resting at her side, showing no sign of fatigue.

She studied him quietly.

“The form is coming back,” she said. “Now you just need time.”

Eric nodded, then asked, “Do you think this will be enough to test those students?”

Chloe smiled wryly. “You won’t be fighting like this. Once you add mana, I’m sure you could defeat me easily.”

Eric sighed. “The truth is, when setting an example, one has to lower themselves to their opponent’s level.”

Chloe commented dryly, “I wish Professor Gilbert thought the same. My assessment would’ve gone much better.”

Eric chuckled. “That man can’t accept that someone younger than him could be better at anything.”

He remembered that day clearly, when the instructor had been forced back to the edge of the arena by a silver-haired student.

In the end, he had used mana to overpower Chloe, but she still fought him for several minutes before collapsing.

“You didn’t surrender until the very end,” Eric muttered, his gaze soft.

Chloe lowered her eyes, her cheeks warming slightly. “I never joined the academy to give up. For me, it was either win or die.”

Eric smiled helplessly at her before asking, “Can you go another round?”

Chloe scoffed, though a faint smile curved her lips. “That was nothing more than a warm-up for me.”

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