Levi picked up the wooden sword. He didn't hesitate for long—carefully inspected it, checked the grain and the material, and judged it to be a wooden sword made from high-quality timber.
The texture went without saying—it was excellent. It wouldn't suddenly snap in the middle of a swing.
Because he was used to steel blades, whenever Levi sparred with other objects, he always felt like the weapon in his hand wasn't quite right, or wasn't hard enough.
After all, no matter how tough a blade was, it still couldn't compare to the steel blades inside the Walls.
Those blades would only break when cutting into a Titan's nape. Against anything else, it was almost always one strike, one cut—no resistance at all.
Now that they were sparring with wooden swords, checking his weapon first was absolutely necessary.
Finally, after the inspection, the two of them stepped onto the platform.
Torin first emphasized the rules: stop at the point of contact. The moment a sword landed on the opponent's body, the match would end immediately.
Hearing such simple rules, Levi nodded in agreement. That way, there was no worry about someone refusing to admit defeat—if it hit the body, the match was over.
Even if the other side tried to deny it, they'd have no way to break through the defense of a wooden sword anyway.
Once preparations were complete, the spar began.
Roger stood to the side. He looked like he was just watching, but in truth he was absorbing experience from their exchanges, using it to learn both swordsmanship and the art of reading an opponent.
Swordsmanship was a profoundly deep discipline. It demanded not only attacking your enemy, but also defending against every possible counter while you attacked—a highly technical skill.
Torin practiced two kinds of swordsmanship: one was flashy, full of technique, with an aesthetic, showy quality; the other was built purely for killing—simple, direct, and filled with dirty tricks.
Levi had been cutting down Titans beyond the Walls for years. Even if his technique couldn't compare to Torin's experience, in terms of power behind his strikes, his sharp reactions, and his speed—he completely surpassed Torin.
After all, there was an old saying in the trade: wild punches can beat an old master.
Levi believed that even if he couldn't dismantle every move, he could still crush Torin through raw force.
The match began quickly.
Torin didn't attack first. He held defense, waiting for Levi to make the opening move.
Levi immediately started, swinging down at Torin.
But at the instant he was about to bring the blade down—
He stopped.
He didn't continue the cut.
At the same time, Torin's movement also froze, returning to his neutral posture.
"Fast reaction," Torin praised.
Levi knew it too. If he had followed through with that strike, Torin's blade would have pierced in first. And even if it didn't, Torin could have perfectly dodged the falling cut. That strike absolutely could not be committed.
Off to the side, Roger watched with great interest.
He'd already learned quite a lot.
Even though it was only a single exchange—just one round.
The second round was Torin's turn to draw his blade.
But Levi didn't choose to defend—he chose to keep attacking.
And while he attacked, he easily dissolved Torin's assault at the same time.
They said offense was the best defense, and Levi embodied that to the extreme.
Out in the wild, Titans were far larger and far more brutal than the ordinary human in front of him—let alone a half-buried-in-the-ground little old man.
Maybe the old man had more experience with a sword—so what?
Levi knew perfectly well: his strike speed was faster.
Torin launched many strikes in succession, but every single one was effortlessly neutralized by Levi.
Torin's expression shifted slightly, yet he still didn't find it difficult.
Levi was stronger than he'd imagined. Those rumors passed mouth-to-mouth through the Underground weren't without reason—Levi truly had talent, far greater than Torin's had been in his youth.
Another strike—Torin's blade came in, and Levi barely blocked it in time.
At the side, Roger watched closely, memorizing every movement and every exchange.
Finally, the third round arrived. This time, neither of them held back at all.
They had both intended to end it within three rounds, but neither expected the other to be so formidable.
Levi assumed this little old man would use plenty of dirty tricks and clever, tricky swordwork.
But what Levi never expected was that Torin's grip strength was even greater than his own.
At the same time, Torin had assumed Levi would be all courage and no strategy.
Yet he never expected Levi to be not reckless at all—rather, extremely calm, repeatedly coming close to trapping Torin with calculated setups.
In the third round, they unleashed everything they had—every ounce of skill they'd learned in their lives.
The opponent was worthy of respect. Even fighting at full strength wouldn't invite ridicule.
And they both knew: if they didn't go all-out now, there would be no next chance.
A true expert understands all of an enemy's moves within three rounds.
Levi feared Torin would invent something new in a fourth round—shift his sword style—so he had to finish it within the first three.
Torin thought the same.
He expected Levi to change moves in the fourth round—but he never imagined the third round would end in a draw as well.
Both of them were surprised.
And then—
Right at that moment—
Roger, who had been sitting nearby watching with dawning understanding, stood up.
He grabbed Incursio and charged in.
Neither Levi nor Torin expected Roger to suddenly join the match, and they immediately tried to organize a defense.
But what they didn't anticipate was that Roger smashed through their combined defense in a few swift exchanges, knocking them both flying and sending them tumbling to the ground.
"Levi, your swordwork is heavy and powerful, but your openings are way too many," Roger said. Then he looked at Torin. "Mr. Torin, your moves look extremely deceptive, but in reality you're the same type as Levi. That's why you can't easily determine a winner when you fight each other.
"I added my own understanding into both of your sword styles. Turns out it works pretty well, and… it seems like I might not even need a teacher?"
Hearing Roger's words, the two of them stared at each other.
What the hell kind of monster is this?
He only watched three rounds—and he'd already completely figured them out?
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