Surviving the Death Hunt

The Rover family had pulled enough weight to land Amber a Quasi-Royal Knight title — no critical conditions attached, duties entirely optional, a knight only when she chose to be. She would be at Scar’s side wherever he went, no exceptions.

Excessive, considering Scar was older than her and was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but Amber hadn’t objected, and Scar had accepted before anyone could make it complicated.

Though when he thought about it, Dain had killed her father. Wanting some form of revenge wasn’t just natural, it was expected. Amber hadn’t put that into words herself, but Scar wouldn’t have opposed it if she had. He understood that particular motivation better than most.

Their lives were bound together in a way that went beyond blood, Amber’s oath had seen to that. If Scar died, she forfeited her life.

There was no casual version of that kind of tie.

It required transparency, and Scar wanted to level the ground between them before anything else so they could actually get to know each other the way people did when their lives were genuinely on the line together.

Out in the courtyard training ground, the place Scar always gravitated toward, Amber had taken the lead, walking him through swordsmanship.

"I’ve observed your swordsmanship for a while now, and to be honest, you don’t actually know what you’re doing. You simply swing your blade in whatever way is most convenient at the time."

Amber shook her head in disbelief.

"Inheritance users frequently overestimate their abilities and underestimate physical training. Against a disciplined sword master or martial artist, their strength advantage becomes meaningless."

Scar stood with his sword in hand, attention on Amber, adjusting into the stance she called for without argument.

"Swordsmanship is easy. Just whish, shish, and another whish. Anyone can do it... I believe in you."

Scar gave Amber a confused look.

Huh?

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

Amber was more confused than Scar himself.

"I told you already. Whoosh, whoosh, and then slash. Simple. That’s my whole technique."

Scar had figured it out the moment they stepped onto the training ground: Amber was a bad teacher. He’d had suspicions before that, honestly.

Her combat ability was never in question, but she’d never trained with the aspiring Royal Knights, only Valentine. That had always struck him as odd. But none of that had prepared him for this. "Whoosh, whish?"

"Being one of the strongest at sixteen doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. And honestly... I didn’t think you’d be this terrible at teaching."

Amber went briefly embarrassed, and the reason wasn’t entirely obvious. The lack of teaching skill was one possibility. The other was that she’d found something in Scar’s words worth blushing over, which opened a different kind of question entirely.

Scar exhaled in disbelief.

"Why don’t you tell me exactly how Ray trained you?"

Amber glanced through her mind for a moment, weighing her thoughts.

"Truthfully, Sister Ray wasn’t much of a teacher either. Her technique was terrible, but her physical strength lessons were monstrous. Most of my training came from the diaries your mother left behind. I think I grew this strong because of how carefully she explained each lesson in those books."

Scar furrowed his brow. He forgot sometimes that his mother had been a nun, the same as Amber. The connection was easy to miss. Though from everything he’d heard, the similarity stopped at the title. Amber’s strength was nowhere near what his mother had possessed.

How strong was his mother, really? It was a question without a clean answer, but the diary gave some indication. The fact that it alone had been enough to bring Amber nearly to her level said more than any story could have.

"If that’s true, maybe you should bring it over here. It would probably be the safest option for now."

The words had barely left Scar’s mouth before Amber’s hand moved to her pocket. What came out was a small book, small enough to sit in half her hand.

"They’re with me. There’s still so much I haven’t learned, which is why I never leave them behind."

Hmph.

"I won’t be much help if I let you read it on your own, so I’ll go through it with you. I’ve already got the experience, so I can direct you. You’ve got the strength; now it’s time to work on your technique.

"The trick isn’t learning it; it’s repeating it until your body knows what to do without thinking. You won’t really need breathing exercises or advanced techniques, but I’ll teach you a couple just in case."

Scar motioned positively.

The moment Amber began reading, Scar found the words easier to grasp than anticipated. His mother hadn’t written for an audience, it read like instructions to herself.

’All swordsmanship starts with root technique. For humans, the root is the feet. Always be mindful of how you place them.’

’Master the art of deceiving your opponent with your shoulders and gaze, and you’ll control them through every motion.’

Scar was a little disappointed, and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

It was too simple, almost insultingly so, like the answer to something complicated had turned out to be nothing worth writing home about.

And yet Amber had taken those same words and built swordsmanship that ranked among the best, despite fighting with two short swords. The simplicity hadn’t stopped it from working.

Amber stepped in and brought the words to life, demonstrating what Emily had written, so the instructions had something physical to anchor to.

Scar wasn’t flawless from the start, but he was quick. Under Amber’s watchful eye, the pieces fell into place steadily, and the pace began to build.

Once the foot technique was down and Scar moved on to shoulder and gaze control, he realized how tiring using a sword the right way actually was.

Actual weapons weren’t something most Akumas concerned themselves with. But the first time Scar had watched a human wield a sword the right way, something in him had stirred.

The battle with Joel had gone the way he wanted, the outcome was never really in question, but swordsmanship specifically? Joel had outclassed him, and Scar knew it.

Before long, Scar’s body was deciding for him, coming apart at the seams, whether he wanted to stop or not. He had work the next day.

The heavy rain from a few days ago could have served as a reasonable excuse to skip it, but there was something he needed to work on. Skipping wasn’t an option.

He needed to begin collecting information about the Chosen One tablet, and what better place to start than the underground market?