Episode 10

He steadied his disturbed mana and raised his sword. There was no follow-up attack from Luke; he merely watched for an opening. —Was he being underestimated?

Van had learned the sword under his grandfather, Masfelt. From a young age, he had lived with the sword above all else. No one had forced him to do so. He had admired Masfelt, the strongest swordsman of all, and aimed to become like his father, who had been hailed as the next Sword Saint.

(No openings at all…)

The knight before him looked to be around his own age. A pretentious man who called Zeke his best friend. Van had been aware of his existence as someone who also used the sword, but from the very first time he saw him, there was just something about him he could not stand.

Now that he thought back on it, the first time he had ever seriously crossed swords with someone his own age had been with Zeke. He had done nothing but sword training since childhood, but there had been other children learning swordsmanship just like Van. There had been chances to spar in so-called mock battles, but they had always been decided instantly, not even worth his time. He had never lost to anyone his own age, and even against adults, he had never been outmatched. It was around then that Van had stopped looking anywhere but upward.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you coming?”

“…”

After meeting his archenemy Zeke, Van’s world had changed. The very foundation of the strength he had believed in had been overturned, and for the first time, he had tasted defeat.

Speed too fast for the eye to follow. Overwhelming magic that kept everyone else at bay. The insight to see through everything, and the power to change the situation all by himself. Everything about him was above Van, filled with things Van did not have.

He had not wanted to admit it. The Sword Saint, his father, the top knights of the order aside, he had believed that among everyone else, he stood at the top, that there was no way he could lose to someone his own age.

“Anti-Form Flame Slash!”

It was Van’s specialty: a flying slash of flame. He swung his sword twice in an instant. The twin blades of fire closing in on Luke were avoided with only the bare minimum of movement. Despite seeing it for the first time, Luke had already read Van’s sword. —An unpleasant memory resurfaced.

“Damn it! I can’t afford to lose to anyone ever again!”

He kicked off the ground and closed in on Luke at once, forcing the battle into close quarters. In pure swordsmanship, he would lose to no one. If it was only the sword, he had not even lost to that monster.

“You’re fired up. Your sword is…”

He drove into Luke the sword Masfelt had hammered into him. Every day, from morning until night, he had swung that sword. At times he had been shouted at, beaten mercilessly. Even so, he had never once let go of the sword.

“But that’s all. Your own color isn’t there.”

“Shut up…”

Their swords clashed fiercely, scattering sparks. He aimed for Luke with every technique he had, as if pouring his whole life into those strikes, but every one of them was blocked. Luke took them head-on, deflected them, parried them. His sword would not reach.

“The Sword Saint and you are different people. Hasn’t someone else told you that too?”

“Shut up!”

He swiftly returned his sword to its sheath and instantly concentrated his mana all at once. The image was a flash. He unleashed a single slash in an instant.

“Scarlet Sword: Draw Slash!”

Van’s finest sword technique. A sharp, lightning-fast iaijutsu strike. At this range, Luke would have no choice but to block with his sword. At the moment of defense, there had to be an opening. That was Van’s aim, and the moment the match would be decided.

Just as he intended, Luke raised his sword in defense. Van’s proud scarlet blade rushed in on him.

—Whoosh.

“…Huh?”

The sound of cutting empty air echoed hollowly.

Van’s sword had definitely caught Luke, and yet there was no impact. Luke’s figure still stood right before him. Even so, Luke remained standing there without the slightest change in expression. —A chill crept over him from behind. He realized it too late.

“—Relaxion. You really are bad with magic, aren’t you?”

A false image created through the refraction of light. The Luke reflected in Van’s eyes right now was a fake with no physical form.

“The idea that swordsmen use only swordsmanship… is old-fashioned. Far too outdated.”

Luke’s words seemed to deny everything Van had lived by up until now. He wanted to argue back, but the pressure emanating from behind him kept him from moving.

“I’ve had mock battles with Zeke many times before, and not once have I taken a single point off him. Do you understand what that means?”

A surging torrent of mana burst forth. The calm, still mana changed completely, and Luke’s mana transformed into something powerful.

“If you’re falling behind even against me, there’s no way you can ever do anything to Zeke.”

He had lost to Zeke without ever truly crossing swords with him. That was why he had been able to make excuses.

“It would be better if you broke once. Ideals and reality are not the same.”

A magic circle appeared beneath Van’s feet. His body was swallowed by the pillar of light emitted from the shining geometric pattern.

“—Saint Pillar.”

Van’s vision turned white.

He looked toward the swordsman who collapsed on the training ground. He seemed conscious, but he could not stand. Most likely not because of injury, but for mental reasons. A feeling of resignation was coming from Van.

(If he’d been at his true strength, he probably would have given me much more trouble…)

Even if someone had ability, if all they did was swing their sword wildly at the mercy of their emotions, they were no threat. Even if Van had talent, he lacked experience. And… he also had no one he could truly trust.

(I’m not one to talk either, but you’re far too fragile.)

Because of his family’s death, Van’s emotions were all tangled together. He did not know whom to direct his anger at, or what exactly he should grieve. —That was why he had created an easy enemy. An archenemy named Zeke.

(If we’d met in a different way, maybe we could have gotten along. But… I’m not a good person.)

Van was an extreme case, but the ill will directed toward Zeke and the Lagias name had not started today. It had gone on for a long time, and Luke had seen it many times. That was precisely why he had chosen the path of becoming a knight in order to set it right.

(What I should prioritize. You’re not included in that. Sorry, but I’ll have you break here.)

Just by crossing swords, he had understood. Van had talent. He simply did not know how to use his power; his potential was extremely high. He was different from those people who denied Zeke for no reason at all just because of the name Lagias. He had talent, strength, and hidden charisma. If a person like that were ever to stand at the forefront of the anti-Lagias faction in the future, he would become a threat.

(Zeke’s enemies are my enemies.)

He quickly chanted a spell.

It would hurt, but it would not kill him. If Ciel’s sacred arts were available, then all the more so. —That was why he would not hold back. If Van would become an obstacle later, then he had to be removed here.

“—Arc Ray.”

From the magic circle that appeared before Luke, a beam of light burst forth as if to pierce straight through. The holy light should have swallowed the battle-spent Van—yet it was blocked by a black curtain that materialized as though crawling up from the depths of darkness.

“…Shadow Curtain.”

“Atri…?”

Van stood there stunned, and Atri with her usual faint emotions. Atri standing over the collapsed Van. The training ground grew noisy with the sudden intrusion.

“What is this… so you really do have someone too.”

A smile naturally spread across Luke’s face.

“What the hell are you doing, Atri…?”

When he lifted his face from where he lay collapsed, there was a familiar face before him. His childhood friend, whose expressions were always faint and whose emotions rarely changed. They had known each other for more than five years now.

“…That’s my line. Why are you lying around in a place like this?”

The way their conversations slightly failed to connect was business as usual. That familiar exchange actually made him calm down.

“I’m not lying around. …Like you can see, I got completely wrecked.”

There were no excuses left now. Zeke’s absurd strength was one thing, but this time he had lost in a sword fight against someone his own age. As for magic, it went without saying. Luke was above him there too.

“…So, then what?”

“Huh? No, I’m telling you, I lost.”

Her expression had not changed, but after knowing her for years, he could tell. This feeling meant she was angry. She seemed to be angry about something.

“…That’s just what Van is saying. The match still isn’t over.”

“Don’t say something impossible. The moment you interrupted, I lost by default. Even without that, I would’ve just lost normally and that would’ve been the end.”

Luke’s sword and magic. After seeing that, there was no way anyone could claim he had not yet lost. His body and heart had both accepted defeat. He might still have been able to keep fighting, but the result would be the same. It would only waste time.

“Van. …No matter how hard Van tries, he can’t beat Zeke.”

“!? Why is that guy’s name coming up? I’m fighting Luke right now, aren’t I?”

“That’s right. Your opponent is Luke. And yet Van keeps thinking only about Zeke.”

“…That’s…”

He could not argue back. Just as Atri said, even while fighting Luke, thoughts of Zeke kept crossing his mind. Now that he thought about it, it had been that way for the past two years.

“It’s not that Van wanted to become Mr. Masfelt. —Van wanted to become Zeke.”

“!? Me… him?”

He was bewildered by the absurd statement. What in the world was she suddenly saying? —And yet, there was something in it that struck a chord.

“No matter how hard you try, Van is Van. First, admit that.”

The first time he saw Zeke, he had thought he was foul-mouthed. He had been shocked and despairing when he saw his broken sword, but honestly, he had also thought Zeke was amazing. Watching him wield magic like a master mage had made him marvel at something he himself could never imitate. The sight of him saving so many people with absolute power had been… cool.

“Zeke is Zeke (a god). He’s not someone a nobody like Van can ever beat. The whole way of thinking is wrong from the start. Van is a swordsman.”

A swordsman. The thing he had admired since he was little.

At first he had only swung around sticks, but with the Sword Saint’s guidance, he had eventually come to proudly call himself a swordsman. But recently, that had become so natural to him that he had forgotten the feelings he once had.

“You can’t beat Zeke. But… losing to anyone else is unacceptable. It would be unfair to Mr. Masfelt. If he saw Van losing like this, he wouldn’t be able to rest in peace.”

He looked at the sword lying on the ground, just like himself. His proud blade had been broken by Zeke twice. The sword he carried now was not a masterpiece, just an ordinary blade. It was as ordinary as Van himself.

“Your dream was to become the strongest swordsman. …Was that a lie?”

“!? Atri, I…”

It was the dream he had told Atri when they first met. Atri had been in Alhi Village, which he had visited with his father during a trading journey. She had been smaller than him, and yet her eyes had been strong. That was why, refusing to lose, he had told her about his dream.

“Van is a coward, so I’ll keep an eye on you. …That blond one is dangerous. Eliminate him.”

Why was it that being called weak filled him with strength? He felt that with this childhood friend, he could grow strong no matter how far. Perhaps Van had been able to keep trying precisely because the ever-straightforward Atri had always been close by. …He had not quite caught the last part. Van had heard nothing, and he knew nothing.

Van picked up his sword and rose powerfully to his feet. Beside him stood a partner he could trust. Against a mage whom even the Sage thought highly of, he himself was only Van. Only Van, who had gotten completely beaten down by this so-called Zeke (a god). But… that was fine. For now, that was enough. Someday, he would become the strongest swordsman.

“Sorry, Luke. You can complain later.”

“…He specializes in the light attribute. I’m darkness. The rest is up to Van.”

Atri’s magic overlapped with Van’s sword. The pitch-black mana born from darkness resonated with Van’s flames, and the ordinary sword changed shape.

What dwelled in Van’s sword was a black flame. A faint rainbow-colored light leaked from it.

“…This might be a little bad.”

For the first time, the ever-composed Luke’s expression faltered. Cold sweat had formed on his brow.

—In one world, the three of them had bonded as childhood friends. In this world, they had met in a different form and crossed blades. The great, irresistible current had indeed changed.

Just before the two forces collided, a voice called for them to wait. Everyone turned toward Glanz.

“This is sudden, but I’ve just received word. It seems multiple regiments of the knight order have suddenly begun moving. —The answer we seek is most likely there.”

Both sides sheathed their swords. Their decision was swift.

Located at the easternmost edge of the Kingdom of Diabalet, the Telone Plains lay before them. Beyond them was the border, the destination Eris and the others were aiming for.

Thanks to Simon and his men, the group had been able to grasp the knight order’s movements in advance and slip through the encirclement. They had faced critical situations, but with help from ties formed years earlier, they had somehow made it this far.

“Just one more step… would be the way to put it, perhaps?”

Blocking the carriage carrying Eris and the others was a deployed unit of the knight order. Many knights stood there with swords drawn. At their head stood a woman in armor unlike that of the other knights. She appeared to be a regimental commander, just like her father Strohk.

“How…?”

“Shall I answer your question, Eris-san? The reason is simple. For some reason, you people seemed to be determining your route after grasping our movements. Therefore…”

The regimental commander explained that they had used a decoy unit to lure Eris and the others instead. The main force had remained hidden and only appeared before them at the very end.

“Even so, I must say I was surprised. I thought you had more collaborators.”

The commander looked at Eris, Kratz, and Simon. She was watching them with clear interest.

“You really did well, the three of you alone.”

“Hah? What are you talking about? We’re going on ahead.”

Even before nearly two hundred knights, she did not flinch. Eris and the others had done nothing wrong.

“You’re spirited, aren’t you? …To be honest, I don’t really care about the rest of you. I wouldn’t mind where you go from here.”

The female knight said something unexpected. Kratz panicked, while Simon frowned.

“If you leave behind what’s inside the carriage behind you, we won’t pursue. I, Eltia Rosecircle, a regimental commander, will guarantee your safety.”

She wore a gentle smile, but what she was saying was ruthless. She was threatening them: give up on Zeke, and your crimes would be overlooked.

“Negotiations are over, then. There’s nothing to discuss.”

“I see. That’s unfortunate.”

Eris raised her dagger and short staff. Seeing that, Eltia stepped back and the other knights moved forward. Simon was about to move, but the one who stepped out first as if to stop him was Kratz.

“I-I’ll manage something here, so you guys go on ahead…”

Kratz stammered badly. His voice shook, and his body was obviously shrinking back. His hand was on his saber, but it was trembling violently.

“I-I’m not useless Kratz anymore. I’m going to protect my comrades…”

“Kratz… you…”

A mysterious light overflowed from Kratz. Perhaps because it carried water mana, it shone with a pale blue glow.

“I want you to tell Zeke how brave I was.”

Kratz drew his saber and raised it to the sky. He was shouting loudly, perhaps trying to fire himself up. The knights around him grew even more wary.

“I-I’m going in! Waaahhh—!”

Kratz charged forward. A soldier who chose to sacrifice himself to protect his friends. The sight of him rushing alone into a large force of knights was, in truth, heroic.

It burned itself deeply into the eyes of Eris and Simon. They would probably never forget it—except that what returned to them was Kratz being knocked away by a knight and rolling back toward them.

“!? He’s way too ridiculously weak!?”

Despite his words, Kratz had been beaten down with ease. He did not seem injured, but he was whining that it hurt.

This was not enough to even serve as a decoy. Eris was at a loss as to what to do, but the knights felt the same.

“W-What is this guy…!?”

“He’s too weak. …Don’t tell me!? Did they plant something on him!?”

“Poison!? You despicable foreigners! Hey, call a healer over here!”

“No one touch him! You’ll go insane!”

Because Kratz was just far too weak, the doubt born from one knight’s question spread into suspicion, then fear.

“T-That’s too cruel! What is wrong with the people of this country!?”

Thinking from the knights’ point of view, it was not incomprehensible. Eris and the others had managed to break through an encirclement spread across the entire country with only three people. It was only natural to suspect they had some hidden trick. For Eris and the others, it was a convenient misunderstanding.

“…Eris, Kratz. I’m leaving the rest to you.”

Facing the confused knights, Simon strode forward boldly. To Eris, the back of Simon, who had steeled his resolve, looked incredibly large. The bracelet he wore was glowing with mana.

“I’m glad I met you all. Glad Zeke-sama has friends who care about him.”

“Simon… a capable subordinate like you is wasted on that guy.”

“Heh… I’m honored.”

The bracelet shone even more brightly and enveloped Simon. As soon as the blinding light faded, the ground shook violently.

Before them stood Simon, now a giant figure so huge they had to look up at him.

“Uoooooohhhhhhhh—!”

His thunderous roar echoed across the Telone Plains.