Amaku Yasashii Sekai de Ikiru ni wa

"Okay? First of all, this is [rotary slaughter]. Next thing you know, this is [Slash Up], and from there, [Slash Aerial]!

After using the skill of [Rotational slashing] to rotate one leg around the axis, and using its centrifugal force to slash the top of a thick wooden pile protruding to the ground into one letter, Mr. Obza slashes the top of the pile again with the skill of [Slashing up], further slashing some of the piles that danced into the universe in the air with that momentum. And as Mr. Obza delivered his sword to the sheath with a kinky, tall sound, a tree broken in the air fell to the bottombottoms and the ground.

"It's [slashing up] and [aerial slashing] in the application of the basic [slashing] and [rotating cutting] swords that I just taught you. Now, do it."

............... Try it, that's probably a big mess to teach, dude.

into my heart an adventurer named Obza, who told me so with a smile all the time without evil. A short distance away, my mother and Uncle Wynn are laughing and watching this one for tea at the prepared table. Unlike in the morning, there is Merrill beside my mother, so I feel all sorts of relief.

"Good. Hey! Yeah. I guess this is just about right for Master Doyle. Come on, let's do it!

If I regained consciousness to Mr. Obza in the voice I heard, beside a pile that was about the adult he was slashing earlier, a pile was available about half as thick as my back length. And he pointed at that pile and said, "It's okay! You can do it!" and I head to the side of the pile, looking at Obza, who holds his fist all the time and supports him.

Why is this happening, and with a big sigh in my heart, I gripped the pattern of my sword.

I was just thinking that I needed to build up more training to get my skills quickly, and I felt dark in front of my father's conversation and the possibilities for the future that I had in mind as a result.

If I fail to gain skills like this, instead of being a [Spear Brave], I finally realize the possibility that I might lose my place in the country if I do poorly.

I don't even think my parents, Merrill, Gray or Claire will dispose of me because I couldn't be [Spear Brave], but I'm sure I won't be able to bear the look of disappointment when the expectations of my father or grandfather, who expects me to carry on the trail, Gray, who is admitting me even though he says something, and Claire, who tells me I'm the best.

And then I realized I was almost there, and I didn't remember lunch.

I think I had lunch with Uncle Wynn and his grandfathers in a blurry memory, but when I returned it to me, the lunch was over, and I stood here with my sword in my hand.

From the vague lunch memories and the conversation between my mother and Uncle Wynn, who followed me as a rescue and surveillance officer, she had a conversation about what it was like to be able to use various weapons as well as spears if I were to serve His Highness in the future, but I don't remember it at all.

But when I realized it, there was a motivated Mr. Obza in front of me, and on top of that, I held the sword I first saw, not the usual spear. Carefully raise the sheath of your sword from your hips.

And the table set deliberately prepared on the side of the workout was accompanied by Merrill so that Uncle Wynn and his mother could sit back and there were no disabilities for the two visitors, not an atmosphere in which they could say no altogether.

I unwittingly sigh as I look sideways at Mr. Obza waiting for me to set up my sword with an exciting look.

To be honest, I'd rather train spears now than learn the sword, but uncle Wynn, who seems to be the culprit, can't say anything because of a valued customer. I couldn't tell Obza anything more about exposing my skills in public for me, who was only a stranger, and helping me acquire them.

Thinking about it, it was my fault that I couldn't say no clearly......

I lay my hands on the sword I offered to my hips in one unintelligible mood right now.

My anxiety and anxiety swirl around my chest because of my future that I thought of before lunch. I want to get some spear or bar skills as soon as possible to reassure you, even instruction from a swordsman with first-rate arms enough to be a Marquis escort, is only frustrating as far as I'm honored.

But that doesn't mean you can't put my anxiety and rush on a valued customer. Feeling frustrated, I told myself it was just today's patience, and I grabbed my sword and pulled it out of my sheath.

Or can I be dealing with a child even though I'm here as an escort?

Set up a sword with that sentiment with Obza, who seems to be so hands-free that an amateur with a sword like me will probably be instructed.

Hold a slightly longer sword, classified as a long sword, in front of your body, in the joints at the base of the four fingers, together with the snares of your handshake, with your thumbs up. By holding it with your thumb up, you can support the long sword with your thumb, which stabilizes the grip. They also smoothly cut back the front and back blades of the sword by sliding their thumbs left and right.

The grip Mr. Obza taught me is certainly stable, and the long sword he felt like it was too long at his own height even feels easier to grip than when he was holding a spear.

Anxious for some reason about the feeling of a sword familiar to my hand, I once again laid my sword before myself, took a big, deep breath, and then rushed over to the protruding pile.

As soon as I'm in between swords, I activate the [Rotational Slash] I just learned. That way the body naturally rotates one foot around the axis, using its centrifugal force to try to slash the top of the wooden pile protruding to the ground into a single letter, as Mr. Obza had done.

And the moment the pile was slashed down by [rotary slaughter], I consciously swung the sword out toward the sky as Mr. Obza had done.

- - I've mastered [slashing] -

Feeling the skill acquisition of [Slash Up], he further slashes the pile in the air in anticipation of the moment when the pile that danced to the universe falls in its momentum. I put my sword back into the sheath from the last sight of the broken pile falling to the ground with a light hand against the sound of Zan.

At that moment, I unwittingly distort my face when I see that the letter "I have mastered [aerial slaughter] in the back of my brain" jumped.

I felt my mouth dried rapidly to the skill of the sword, which I had easily mastered after having received a great deal of miscellaneous explanations from Mr. Obza and just trying to imitate it in appearance.

"No, you're a boulder! It was brilliant [slashing] and [aerial slashing]!

I made a laugh and looked back at the voice I was called from behind along with the sound of a patsy, but I felt like I couldn't laugh well and had a snarling grin.

But it seems that the grin I felt as if I had failed was not so much of a concern, and Mr. Obza deepens his grin as if nothing had happened and picks up the shards of the tree I slashed and looks down at that cross section.

"- Yeah. Nice move, and a beautiful cross section. You would have mastered your skills.

"……………………… Yes"

I almost lied that I hadn't gained the skills for a moment, but I thought it was too dishonest with Mr. Obza on the boulder, and I swallow the words of denial on the verge. And with all the last resistance and plenty of time, I told him about my skills.

That way Mr. Obza gave me the piece of wood he picked up while saying "I knew it".

"Look, the cross section of the tree is so beautiful, isn't it? These cuts are evidence of using your skills to kill them."

That's what Mr. Obza told me. When he put another piece of wood on the ground and broke it, he handed it to me and urged me to pay attention to that cut.

"Take a look. This is the cut I just slashed without using any skills. The cross section would be ragged and there would still be after a thousand cuts of wood skin on the end? So, this is the cut you just slashed, Doyle. It's like polishing the surface with a scratch or something. It's a beautiful cut, isn't it?

".............................. Not at all"

"Yes, this is the difference between using your skills and not using them. If someone makes a very beautiful incision, you should be aware that he is using some skill."

Hear the pieces of wood given to you and the words of Mr. Obza, and remember the spears of your father and grandfather. A hole that was clearly larger than the diameter of the spear when his father or grandfather poked the straw was empty as if he had cut that part of the straw. On the other hand, I remembered that the straw I poked was no bigger than the diameter of the spear, and that the straw felt like a thousand pieces in the hole.

At that time, I thought I was an immature cause, but maybe Father and Grandpa used their skills unconsciously.

I have read the theory that some people who can handle higher skill use the lower skill unconsciously without being aware that it is a skill.

"Like when cooking or cutting firewood, you don't have to use your skills to do the" cut "thing, but using your skills is not something anyone can do. As you can see from this cross section, the availability of skills is different in power. Imitating the skill behavior itself can be done if you repeat the workout, but with just imitating the behavior and skill, the higher the move, the more pronounced the difference. Different dimensions."

Bite your lips at the words told to you by Mr. Obza. My father and I should have known how big the skills were. So I've always been anxious, in a hurry, in a sense of crisis. But with my actual use of skills, I felt poked out in front of me about something I'd never thought about before.

A thick tree that just activates your skills and captures the subject with your eyes, without having to think about weight movement, blade angle, etc., and your body attacks the object of movement naturally, and cuts off with only light resistance, like when you're cutting vegetables and fruits without having to cage your forces.

And the reality that the first time I held a sword today, I would be a first-rate swordsman just because I used my skills. A cut that is no different from Mr. Obza's, I would be able to break both trees.

Is this the difference between the skilled and the unskilled?

Looking at the cross-section of wood pieces handed to me, I feel like I once again know what my skills are like. At the same time, his heart beats faster as he beats hard and his heart sounds unpleasant. Even Obza's explanation, which I thought was a big mess, gives me a bad feeling that the skills that I could acquire just by imitating the behavior with seemingly imitating it.

Even though I practiced so much the skills my fathers showed me, I couldn't master one...

For the first time today, I held the sword, and the skill of the sword that I had mastered by appearance imitation, and the spear that I had been desperately waving the spear for four years but could not master one skill.

What those two differences show is something.

.................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Shake your head to shake off the possibilities that come to mind. And I didn't want to look directly at the reality I had glimpsed, and I stopped thinking about it any more.

Even my father said it was about a short while before he entered the middle section that he gained spear skills. There will be three more years until the age of twelve when he rises to the middle. You said your father and father didn't know what was missing and gained skills. Skills are naturally acquired in battle, so when you realize it, you can use them.

Though I tell myself so desperately, the theory that 'some people who can handle higher skill use the lower skill unconsciously as a skill' runs through my head all the time, and sweat permeates my hands carefully.

The hard ground should be at your feet, but suddenly I feel like the ground is rough and I feel sick.

And to me like that, Mr. Obza kept telling me to chase him.

"Daily workouts are important, of course. Because using the same skills differs in strength and duration between a trained body and a flesh that fails to train. But as you can see from this piece of wood, the availability of skills in action makes a fatal difference. With this skill, a stone as big as a fist would be easy for you to slay. That's why, if you choose to fight with weapons, it's important to know your aptitude and skills well. How many seemingly imitative and unskilled weapons did you have to imitate? No matter how much time you spend, it's hard to beat someone with skills"

Mr. Obza said that to me slowly, but in a firm tone, as he stared straight at me with those reddish earthy eyes.

"............... you are still young. I think you can try all kinds of possibilities without sticking to one thing. It's harder to fight someone with different tactics than someone who can only fight one way."

Maybe he's giving me advice as an adventurer. Only the words and weights of adventurers who have crept through numerous training grounds.

But is it too much of my thinking that I feel the meaning is in Mr. Obza's words now?

I was stared at with scary, seriously colored eyes, and the obvious words I was told were kind of very painful, and I couldn't say anything. Why would Mr. Obza say that at this time?

Because today is the first time that Mr. Obza knows about my troubles and impatience, I don't think it's pure advice as an adventurer to my friend's blood relatives.

But if it's really just advice, why do I feel so much less inclined to think deeply about the meaning of Mr. Obza's words? Though it feels blurry and divisive, my heart, which refuses to think any deeper, does not let me grasp certainty.

I want to know, but I don't want to know.

Allow your gaze to wander, sparing your inexplicable emotions.

I know it's the quickest way to ask the person what the word means, but Obza's profound attitude, which sees through my heart, makes me hesitate to ask the sincerity.

I feel like knowing what the hell this guy knows, but I feel stronger not wanting to know. If I find out, I don't feel like I can go back.

Being attacked by unspeakable anxiety like the sudden loss of a foot I had ever had, I couldn't say anything and looked at the person in front of me without knowing what to do. I saw a terrible, pitiful face in those red-eyed eyes, and I thanked Mr. Obza for blocking me between the table where my mother and Uncle Wynn were at the corner of my head.

Mr. Obza stroked me with a troubled look on his face, not to say anything, but a pitiful face that seemed to cry now.

"- - - Don't look like that. I just wanted to say that you have all kinds of possibilities. If I could make you look like that, I'd give Winn a big eyeball."

Obviously unfamiliar with stroking, stroking my head with a fearful hand, Mr. Obza had a troubled grin.

An unscrupulous but gentle big hand with a hot thing up his throat. I can't do anything about it, even though I know it'll get me in trouble. If I look up at Mr. Obza with his soaked vision, he will stroke me in silence with his eyebrows even lower.

I wanted to ask such a kind objector a question that no one could ask.

I was afraid to ask my father or grandfather, but I felt I could ask this man, who was not a man of this country, who had no nobility and was far from the Aginis family.

".............................. Mr. Obza"

"What?

"I..., do you think I can be [Spear Brave]?

That's what I ask of Mr. Obza, looking up at Mr. Obza with seeping vision. I've always wanted to ask someone, but I was afraid of that answer, and I couldn't ask anyone about my future possibilities.

What prevented me from gaining any skills at all after four years of gripping was my mental and physical immaturity, or - -.

"................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... Is something wrong?!?

As soon as Mr. Obza said something to the question he heard with his thoughts, he heard Uncle Winn over Mr. Obza's back. Mr. Obza, who had his shoulders jump freaked out by Uncle Wynn's voice, said, "Now wipe it!" She whispered and told him in a hurry, and when she forced him to hold the towel, he just looked back at his neck to hide me.

"- Nothing! Hey, I think I got wood scraps in my eyes when I was explaining my skills!

"That would be nothing!? Doyle, you're not a cured wild child if you leave him alone with your coarse, so bring him here immediately!

"Oh! I'm coming now! - Are you okay?

"... Yes"

"- He's a strong kid."

While Uncle Wynn was angry with me, I only cried desperately in tears to avoid wasting the care of Mr. Obza, who took care not to let me into the sight of my mothers. And if I returned the affirmative reply to the question of whether I could go back, Mr. Obza stroked my head again, even with an indescribable look on his face.

And having confirmed my face with only the tears that were floating, Mr. Obza looked a little lonely, with a sad look on his face and a small grunt of something, closing his eyes, at the next moment he smiled and let go of his hand, saying "Well, let's go".

That's how you retrieve the towel from my hand and line it up next to me, and you whisper in your ear, "See you later," and gently push your back with that big hand. As I stepped out and walked out to be led into that hand, I returned to my mother with Uncle Wynn, who waited for us in the form of an escort to Mr. Obza.