Chapter 26
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Chapter 26
Theo let out a low whistle.
"She's pretty, I'll give her that. Standing among all these dark-uniformed cadets certainly pleases the eye."
"What good is being pretty for becoming a Knight? Though, I wonder if she's useful for anything else? If the rumors are true."
Michael twisted his lips. Pretty enough, perhaps, but in his view, Teresa, her older sister, was far more beautiful.
No one sat near Echinacea Loaz. The space around her remained empty as if an invisible wall surrounded her. Arriving cadets deliberately avoided that area and sat elsewhere. Yet among them, one newly arrived cadet walked directly toward her.
"Isn't that Alice Winterbell?"
Alice, dressed in a sharply tailored cadet uniform, approached Echinacea and said something to her. Echinacea, who had been responding halfheartedly, was startled when Alice sat beside her. As Alice spoke with a smile, Echinacea seemed flustered and averted her gaze, then rested her chin on her hand and sighed.
And a faint smile crossed her face—a laugh that seemed to overflow despite her attempts to suppress it, impossible to contain. An expression of embarrassment and shame mixed with undeniable joy flickered briefly across her features.
"...Huh."
Michael, who had been watching her, saw that smile too. Something lurched inside him in that instant.
"Huh? What?"
The boy muttered like an idiot. What was this feeling? What had he just seen? No, it was just some girl smiling a little. Michael rubbed his eyes with his hand, looked back toward Echinacea, then slapped his own cheek.
"What are you doing?"
Theo asked in a bewildered tone. Michael, one cheek flushed red, fixed his gaze on the tournament arena ahead.
"Nothing."
Something churned strangely inside him. Michael transformed it into anger. To be captivated by some girl who prances around in dresses trying to seduce men. He felt pathetic and ashamed of himself. At eighteen, the youngest by Military Academy enrollment standards, the boy gripped his sword tightly. He prayed for his turn to come quickly.
"Number 7, Michael von Frang Almari! Number 8, Echinacea Loaz!"
Cadet Representative Ian called out their names loudly. Michael sprang to his feet and entered the arena. Echinacea approached from across the way, stepping lightly. With the woman in the white dress before him, it felt less like standing in a tournament arena and more like standing in a ballroom.
If this were a ballroom, he would place his hand over his heart, bow elegantly, and ask her to dance. Michael thought this unbidden, then twisted his face in disgust. Dressing up unnecessarily and making him think such things. It was all that girl's fault. He would smash this "lady" act to pieces and forget about it. The boy glared at Echinacea with angry eyes.
"...May the victor be blessed with mercy and magnanimity, may the defeated accept their loss with grace and honor, and may the blades of the duelists be imbued with justice and righteousness. Ar Sebattiem."
A third-year assisting the proceedings drew a sword and held it between them, declaring the duel with ceremonial grace, then stepped back. The moment the crossed blades disappeared, the match began.
Michael held his sword vertically. The swordsmanship of his house, Frang Almari, specialized in solid defense and counterattacks built upon that foundation. Teresa had reached the rank of Master in that style and even ascended to the position of Giosa Owners. Michael did not doubt his own technique.
'Come on. Just come at me...!'
Rather than rushing forward immediately, Echinacea held her sword at an angle and studied Michael. Her violet eyes reflected the boy's form. Michael grew irritated. Why didn't she just attack already? What was she thinking, that woman?
In that moment, she stepped forward. One—a large stride, and two—the sword that had been hanging loosely rose in a semicircular arc. Michael gauged the trajectory and prepared to parry. And three.
Clang.
Michael's sword flew through empty air. No one could comprehend what happened before the sword that had been suspended in midair fell to the arena floor. It rolled across the ground with a loud clatter.
Michael stared blankly at his now-empty hand. A light breeze swept through, tousling his bangs. He raised his head. The blade's tip stopped just before his forehead. Beyond that blade, violet eyes curved gently as if looking at a cute little child.
"...Number 8, Echinacea Loaz, victory."
"What, what?"
"What just happened?"
"Did you see?"
"No, what was that...."
After the third-year's bewildered announcement, a flood of murmurs erupted. Echinacea calmly sheathed her sword and returned to the waiting room. The sound of her heels striking the ground echoed crisply.
Michael stood frozen as if his soul had been stolen. A third-year who approached tapped him repeatedly to bring him back to his senses. Then Michael's face flushed crimson from his neck to his forehead, and instead of heading to the waiting room, he rushed outside.
Theo assumed his roommate had fled in embarrassment over his pathetic defeat and followed him. After searching around the training ground for a while, he finally spotted the distinctive golden hair. Michael stood at a corner outside the Indoor Training Ground, banging his head against the wall.
"Michael, you let your guard down...?"
Theo, who had grabbed his shoulder half-jokingly, swallowed his next words upon seeing the boy's eyes as he turned around. His face was still flushed, and his green eyes were hazily unfocused. The angelic boy looked strangely dangerous with such an expression. Theo, flustered, stammered and patted his back.
"You, are you okay? Hey, everyone makes mistakes sometimes. It's fine, it's fine."
"It wasn't a mistake."
"What?"
"I said it wasn't a mistake. Didn't you see it?"
"See what?"
"Forget it if you don't know. Live your whole life not knowing. You only see what you understand."
"Have you lost your mind? What are you talking about?"
Mikhail pressed his flushed cheeks with both hands, his voice dreamy and distant.
"I've never seen a woman like her before."
"...."
Theo concluded his roommate had lost his senses from the shock of such a swift defeat. Mikhail rubbed his face several times, slapped his cheeks with both palms, and gradually steadied his gaze.
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"We need to keep watching. I can't miss a single match of hers."
"...Who? The lady?"
"Yes, come on. And this time, keep your eyes wide open and don't miss anything. You'll thank me later."
Mikhail grabbed Theo and dragged him toward the Spectator Stands. Theo, bewildered, was pulled along before he wrenched his arm free.
"Hey, you're eliminated, but I still have matches left."
"Oh."
Mikhail's eyes blinked. Then his expression grew serious.
"I'm really eliminated?"
"This guy's been spouting nonsense since earlier."
"I really wanted to participate in the demon subjugation."
"Give up. Go wash your sword and get some sleep."
"It's fine. After the ranking tournament ends, I can challenge someone in the top three to a duel."
Mikhail laughed desolately. Theo snorted in exasperation.
"Getting knocked out in the first round by a single strike from the lady's blade—aren't you ashamed? You really need more training."
"After this ranking tournament is over."
Mikhail headed toward the Spectator Stands, gripping Theo's shoulder firmly. The boy lowered his golden eyelashes and whispered as if in a dream.
"No one will find it shameful to lose to her."
"...What does that mean? That losing to the lady is inevitable?"
"You'll understand when you see. So watch carefully. You're the one who needs more training."
Mikhail pushed Theo away and headed toward the Spectator Stands stairs. Theo, unable to comprehend, scratched the back of his head and returned to the Waiting Room.
* * *
Echinacea Loaz had no particular thoughts. She had applied muscle pain ointment, drunk ginger tea with antibiotics, and slept soundly, yet her body still felt somewhat heavy. Everything felt bothersome.
'Since I'm tired, I should finish quickly.'
After deciding to rank first in the freshman ranking tournament, she had planned to put on some spectacle. Nothing grand—just to lead the matches with flashy techniques that would captivate the novice cadets' attention.
But with lingering soreness, even that felt tedious. After all, she only needed to overwhelm them enough to avoid any sordid rumors. As she stood before Mikhail, her first-round opponent, she resolved to end it as swiftly as possible.
Watching the boy take his stance, a distant memory surfaced. It was the same preparatory posture as Teresa, the Giosa Owners, who had clung to her to help Dietrich escape.
'He's her younger brother, so it makes sense.'
I didn't remember clearly how I had killed Mikhail. He was merely one of many I had cut down like bundled straw. I remembered him only because Teresa, who arrived late to Agenka, had wailed while clutching his corpse.
Teresa specialized in defensive swordplay. Her blade was like a sturdy, towering, beautiful fortress wall. That technique suited her temperament perfectly, and it suited her Giosa, Demonic Sword, just as well. After all, the Demonic Sword was a "blade for protection," forged from human sorrow and the instinct to safeguard.
'She modeled herself after her older sister. But defensive swordplay doesn't seem to match her disposition very well.'
I could sense something just from the way he held his sword. It was thanks to having fought against Teresa's blade before.
'For Teresa's sake, if the opportunity arises, I should offer him some guidance.'
With that thought, I drew my sword. Then, exploiting the obvious weakness before me, I struck his blade away in a single, decisive blow. Following through, I pointed my sword at his brow and ended the match.
His dazed expression was endearing. A living face. Teresa would be alive too, and surely the two of them were close siblings. I felt the reward of turning back time here as well. Pleased by that thought, I smiled slightly.
When I returned to the Waiting Room, Alice approached me. She gazed at me with bright, eager eyes and whispered.
"You display quite a different demeanor than when you sparred with me, Miss Loaz."
"Just call me by my first name, Miss Winterbell."
"May I truly do so?"
"Please do. I can't bear the formality—it makes me uncomfortable."
When there was distance between us, formal speech and courteous titles felt natural enough. But being addressed that way while receiving such reverent looks was mortifying. I said what I'd been meaning to say, then sat down carefully so as not to wrinkle my dress. I paid no attention to the gazes of the other cadets pressing in around me.
"If you call me by my first name... will you spar with me again next time?"
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org