Her Sword: Classroom of the Elite

From a Stick to a Sword (Rewritten)

My eyes widened in shock. I had never been able to make a sound before, yet words flowed freely from my lips.

"Maybe life will get easier now," I thought with a glimmer of hope.

As I reveled in my newfound voice, slow clapping echoed from the shadows.

"Beautiful, just beautiful," a male voice called out tearfully.

I whipped around toward the sound. "Who the hell are you?" My words came out clearly, if a bit shaky.

Speaking felt liberating!

"Let's test that fighter's spirit a bit more!" the man said, stepping into a slant of light.

His hulking physique was intimidating—mounds of muscle, not an ounce of fat. His face was rough, scarred from battle.

I scanned for weaknesses, but found none. This man was conditioned to perfection.

"He's trouble," I thought, muscles tensing for combat.

"Feisty eyes for a little one!" He chuckled menacingly.

Weirdo.

"Let's examine your mentality, shall we?" His tone turned scholarly.

Mentality? What was this psycho babbling about?

In an instant, his friendly pretense melted away, revealing the monster beneath.

It wasn't a man I saw, but the devil incarnate.

"This guy..." I muttered, trembling uncontrollably.

He sighed, disappointed. "Well, you lasted longer than most."

Most? How many had encountered this beast?

"I wanted someone like them," he mused aloud.

Them? Someone could withstand this monster? The thought horrified me.

"Just survive," I told myself. "Escape with your life."

I charged forward and slammed the brick into his groin. A clean hit!

But glancing up, I saw his expression hadn't changed. How?

The man's face turned demonic. "Nevermind! You're beyond them!"

A chill ran down my spine. What was this madness?

"I've decided," he grinned.

Suddenly, his fist—no, his hammer—slammed my face.

"Monster!" I thought before crashing into the alley wall, immobilized.

"You'll make a perfect sword!" he declared.

A sword? He saw me as a tool?

"I'm no one's weapon," I thought defiantly.

Mustering my strength, I forced myself up, bruised but standing.

Shock flashed across his face. I had surprised him.

Remembering a fighter's stance, I planted my feet—left forward, right back, balanced on the balls. I raised my arms to guard my head.

"A natural at martial arts!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Another chill down my spine.

"Show me more!" He charged.

Reading his footwork, I knew his legs were dangerous. But his temple...

As he threw a lethal punch, I tucked my chin and spun clockwise, using his force to accelerate.