Raising Legends in Roger’s Shadow

Chapter 347 347: Oh, Oh Wait, That’s Wrong

Ritter had no interest in how Joy Boy was going to clean up the mess over there.

He was not here to steal anyone's good reputation. And honestly, would a good reputation make his vice captain more cheerful? Of course not.

In his eyes, if that soft-hearted rubber idiot chose to take on all that trouble, then he could deal with the headache himself.

Ritter yawned. Blood mist gathered in his hand, forming the massive Black Tide greatsword.

Heh… my pride, my soul. Black Tide, Blood Dragon Calamity.

Here, he could finally use his abilities more freely.

"Let's go, kid."

With one hand, he casually lifted the enormous blade that would be unwieldy for any normal person. With the other, he took the girl's hand.

"Watching those idiots cry and bargain is boring. Come on, I'll teach you some swordsmanship. I'm a top-tier swordsman, you know."

He suddenly turned serious.

The girl immediately tensed, looking up at him.

"I was going to interact with you as an ordinary person."

She blinked, her expression quietly rebelling. "You are not ordinary."

"Since you've already figured it out…"

She tilted her head, confused. Figured out what?

"I'm actually a master swordsman."

Ritter struck a pose, clearly expecting admiration from his vice captain.

…Nothing happened.

The girl poked him lightly. "Captain… what's a master swordsman?"

Ritter fell silent.

Without another word, he pulled her along. The blood mist lifted them slightly as they landed lightly on an open patch of ground at the edge of town.

Just a bunch of defeated strays, nothing worth worrying about.

"Here."

Ritter planted the Black Tide into the ground. The blade sank in effortlessly.

"Didn't I tell you before? I'm great with a sword. You can't go around as my vice captain just playing with ice flowers. They look nice, sure… but when it comes to cutting people, this is much more satisfying. More skills never hurt."

The girl looked at him, then at the massive sword nearly taller than she was. The blood-red sheen flowing along its surface carried a heavy killing aura.

She felt it.

But there was no fear in her eyes. Only quiet curiosity.

Ritter chuckled and poked her cheek. "Watch closely. I'll only teach this once. How much you learn depends on you."

He did not start with complex theories or refined techniques. He simply gripped the sword and swung it a few times.

"0.1… 0.2… 0.3…"

He kept swinging, over and over.

The girl's gaze followed the blade, focused and unblinking.

"A sword is just an extension of your arm," Ritter said casually as he demonstrated simple slashes, cuts, lifts, and sweeps. "You cut where you want to cut. That's all there is to it."

He continued, his tone relaxed.

"It's not about looking pretty. It's about being fast enough, strong enough, and clean enough."

Suddenly, he brought the blade down in a sharp vertical strike. The motion stopped abruptly, the tip hovering just above the ground. Every ounce of force was perfectly controlled. The air pressure alone blew the dust aside in a clean fan-shaped pattern.

"Control. Know when to use force and when to hold back. Don't copy flashy nonsense. Looks good, works terribly."

He clicked his tongue.

"We go for practicality. If one strike can finish it, don't waste a second."

He glanced at her. "Got it?"

The girl blinked.

Then, very honestly, she shook her head.

Ritter sighed. "Figures. Fine. Practice beats theory."

The Black Tide dissolved back into blood mist, which reformed into two smaller crimson swords suited to her size. He handed one to her.

"Take it. Feel it. Not the weight in your hand, but how it moves. How it stops."

She took the sword, gripping it carefully. It was still a bit heavy for her, but she held it steady.

"Good. Now copy me. Swing however you want. Just find what feels right."

He slowed his movements, repeating the same basic motions.

The girl followed, her swings stiff but determined.

Her eyes, however, kept drifting… not to the blade, but to him.

"Clang."

"Hey, what are you looking at? The answer's not on my face. Watch the sword."

"Clang."

"Look at how I use force. You think staring at me tells you that?"

The girl puffed her cheeks, her already soft features turning into a little bun-like pout.

Ritter could not help himself. He poked her cheek.

Pfft.

She kept staring at him.

She kept staring.

Ritter looked away. "Busy."

A vein popped on her forehead.

"Ah—"

She bit him.

"Ow, ow, ow! Hey! You can't just bite people! I'm wrong, I'm wrong! Vice captain, I was wrong!"

After a brief bout of chaos, the girl finally let him go.

At last, they returned to actual training.

Ritter corrected her stiff posture.

"Relax your wrist! You're not hammering nails!"

He tapped her blade aside, guiding its path.

"Strike here. Yes. Be bold. It's not going to break!"

The tall man taught with what he believed was patience and seriousness. The small girl followed every movement with quiet determination.

The sunlight stretched their shadows long across the ground.

In the distance, Joy Boy and the others were still arguing about leadership and rebuilding, loud and full of hopeful trouble.

Here, there was only the sound of wind slicing through the air and Ritter's occasional commentary.

"Wrong, wrong! Use your waist, not just your arms! Hah, this kid…"

"Careful! You almost cut your own foot. That would've been hilarious."

"…Alright. That's better. You're getting it. Still nowhere near my level, though."

"Oh oh! That's wrong again!"

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