Shattered Past (2)
With the Faction War underway—its results carrying heavy weight toward the start-of-semester evaluations—Revrant had grown comparatively quiet.
Somewhere within that stillness, the sharp ring of clashing steel echoed through the air.
It was a sparring match between senior and junior.
Yet it was far from satisfying.
A proper spar was meant to test each other's abilities, identify strengths to hone, and pinpoint weaknesses to mend. But in this bout, there was none of that—only someone fighting as though hounded by ghosts.
Before long, the junior parried his senior's blade and shifted his stance.
If this keeps up, we have a problem.
Though they had rarely crossed paths before, he had heard plenty about her prowess, making her current display all the more disappointing.
Clang!
With a deft deflection that swept upward, Senia's sword went flying through the air before embedding itself in the ground a fair distance away.
Her sparring partner sheathed his blade in silence.
"Let us end it here."
"What? I can still go. We've barely crossed swords a few times."
He flatly refused to draw again.
"Your mind is scattered. I see no reason to believe we can conduct a meaningful spar in that state."
"..."
"If a single vanguard wavers and falls, the team's rate of defeat surges by forty percent. If you took the field thinking this was just a casual bout with me, I intend to leave this room at once."
The sharp rebuke snapped Senia back to reality. There was no refuting it. If the opponent standing before her had been a demonic beast rather than a fellow student, she would have been torn to shreds by now.
God, I'm losing it. What am I doing after calling him all the way out here?
Strictly speaking, Senia hadn't arranged this match herself. As a vanguard, her training centered on martial arts and physical conditioning rather than spellcraft. Under normal circumstances, Goden or Cain would have traded blows with her. But Cain was preoccupied with caring for Lumia, and Goden, as party leader, was buried under an avalanche of administrative duties.
Yet Senia's training could not be put on hold, prompting Goden to call in a favor.
The man he had summoned was Ronelion.
"I was the one who asked for help, and I'm the one who couldn't focus. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to waste your time."
"Is that so."
Ronelion Frior von Lantana—one half of the two-person powerhouse known as the Arkab Party.
To invite someone of his caliber and then let her mind wander was inexcusable. It would have been entirely justified had he flown into a rage.
"I fail to see why you are in such a hurry."
Ronelion, however, paid her apology little heed. That was not the crux of the matter, so he cut straight to the heart of it.
"I watched you fight during the Schytz Great Subjugation Campaign. That is how I know. Right now, you are rushing as if something is snapping at your heels."
The Schytz campaign.
The Senia he had witnessed back then was vastly different from the woman standing before him today. She had been composed yet never sluggish, relaxed on the surface yet extraordinarily sharp beneath.
"You made none of the blunders common to others. Instead, what stood out was a steady, unflinching composure that few could ever hope to replicate."
She had nimbly dodged enemy strikes and swung her blade with mana measured to perfection—neither excessive nor lacking—felling foes without breaking form. It had been like watching a dancer. Ronelion had accepted this sparring session hoping to face that very woman.
"Yet now, your breathing and your footwork are far too hurried. I cannot fathom why you are so impatient. Is there truly a need for you to chase power so frantically?"
Her rate of growth already ranked near the top of Lebrant Academy. He simply could not comprehend why she approached their spar with such desperate haste.
Retrieving her distant sword and sliding it into its scabbard, Senia asked softly, "...Did it look that obvious to everyone else, too?"
"The shifts are subtle, so an onlooker likely would not notice. I only know because I crossed blades with you directly."
"Whew... really?"
Senia sank onto a rest bench and took a quick sip of water. Tightening the cap, she let out a quiet sigh.
"You're right. Unlike back then, I've felt cornered lately, and my head's been running ahead of my feet."
The impatience stemmed from a lack of confidence in herself.
How can I stay still after seeing what I saw?
In the past timeline, she had piled even more weight onto Junon's already overburdened shoulders. That burden had been born of her own weakness, making the pursuit of strength the only logical path forward.
What if history repeated itself? What if another crisis struck, forcing her to lean on him all over again?
She refused to be helpless like she had been during the Siren incident. Every time those memories resurfaced, her grip on the hilt tightened.
Today was particularly bad. That's why I acted so carelessly.
To rein in her restless thoughts, Senia closed her eyes, took a breath, and opened them again.
"I think I need a little time today. Would it be all right if we try again tomorrow, at this same hour?"
Having recognized her state, she composed herself once more. The sharp, perceptive senior who had caught Ronelion's eye during the campaign had returned.
Now that sounds like you, Senior.
Ronelion gave a faint smile and nodded.
Thud, thud.
"Hm? Were you expecting someone else?"
"...No, I didn't invite anyone."
Exchanging glances, they confirmed neither was responsible for the caller. That left only one conclusion: someone was knocking on the door of the private training room.
"I'm the one who rented the room, so I'll check."
"Understood."
When Senia pulled the door open, she found the last person she expected to see.
"...!"
"Senia..."
Aris stood there, her voice completely unhinged. She showed no signs of physical injury, but one look at her face made it painfully clear—something inside her had shattered.
"Ronelion."
"Yes."
Ronelion answered before she could even ask, having already guessed what she needed.
"Could you carry Aris somewhere she can rest?"
"Of course."
Aris had always been a headstrong woman. With pride sharp enough to border on obsession when it came to competition, paired with a fiery, impulsive temper, her personality was anything but subtle.
Yet beneath that exterior, she was utterly broken. She hadn't trudged all the way here out of childish defiance, nor was she here to throw a tantrum.
The question is just how deep the damage goes...
To get the truth out of her, they needed to be alone.
"Ronelion. I'm sorry, but would you mind giving Aris and me some privacy?"
"I will wait outside. Call me if anything happens."
"Yeah. Thank you."
To her relief, Ronelion promptly stepped out of the party room.
That left only one thing.
"Do you want to tell me what happened, step by step?"
The karmic reckoning of Aris.
Yet the moment the question left Senia's lips, Aris lapsed into severe, visible panic.
"Se-Senia... what... what do I do...?"
Trembling as though possessed, Aris looked so fragile she might splinter into pieces.
"It's all right. Take it slow. It's just you and me here, so take your time and tell me."
There was only one plausible cause, and only one thing to fear. The two inevitably converged.
"I... I did something to Junon..."
Hearing that name spill from Aris's lips was inevitable.
"There's nobody else here. Take your time, okay?"
"N-No... I...!"
Aris pulled the blanket up, burying her face completely.
Her reaction was simple enough to understand: sheer terror at what the past version of herself had done without her full knowledge. Resolving it, however, was anything but simple.
And in life, the worst-case scenario always existed.
Looks like we're living it right now.
Patting Aris's trembling back as the girl wept bitterly, Senia let out a heavy, internal sigh. Just as she had during the festival, coaxing the story out of Aris bit by bit revealed the one outcome Senia had dreaded most.
Of all people, Aris was the one who had physically raised a hand against Junon.
In the past, and in the present.
Whichever timeline was weighed, the fact remained that she had committed an act nearly impossible to forgive. Worse, having missed the right moment, approaching him to beg for forgiveness was now harder than ever.
There was no other word for it: a disaster.
I need to contact Michel first.
This wasn't a problem with an easy answer; she would have to monitor the situation closely until Aris found the courage to speak the whole truth.
Meanwhile, while Senia and Aris spoke inside the club room, Ronelion remained at his post outside.
"Quite a bit of time has passed."
By the time more than two hours had slipped by, Senia finally swung the door open, looking flustered.
"I completely forgot, I'm so sorry! I forgot you were waiting out here and didn't even say anything..."
"It is quite all right. More importantly, how is Senior Aris?"
"Huh? Ah... no real progress on that front. She cried herself to exhaustion, so she's fast asleep right now."
From the sound of it, things were far from resolved.
Senia wore a face steeped in guilt.
"I feel terrible about this. Would you like to grab a bite here before you go?"
"...Pardon?"
"It just feels wrong, you know? You came all this way, but our spar was practically useless, and then you carried Aris and waited out here for hours. Think of all the time you've wasted. Just hang on a second."
"U-Um... Senior? I am not particularly hungr—"
"Enough of that. And drop the formal honorifics! It gives me goosebumps."
Tossing the retort over her shoulder, Senia vanished back inside.
...Actually, this works out for the best.
Sparring with Senia had never been Ronelion's sole objective in coming here. There was another matter he needed to look into. Finding the right moment to ask would serve him well.
"Whew. Aris is sleeping inside, so it's probably better we eat out here."
Senia returned carrying a lunchbox.
"...It feels slightly warm. Did you prepare this to eat in the training room?"
"Yep. Can't fight on an empty stomach. A person needs good food to function, after all. Mhm, absolutely."
Yet inside the box lay a meal that seemed wildly disconnected from her austere image.
Rice balls... small, round ones at that.
Not that he disliked rice balls!
It was simply that considering Senia's sharp, prickly demeanor, the dish felt bizarrely out of character. For a woman who appeared so exacting and razor-sharp, such dainty, perfectly rounded rice balls seemed like an impossible match.
I would have expected something cut with sharp, rigid edges.
The flavor was equally surprising. With her fiery intensity, she seemed like the type to crave bold spices and blazing heat, not a subtle, comforting seasoning.
Does she prefer beer and french fries over wine and steak?
Noticing his stare, Senia narrowed her eyes.
"Why are you staring so hard? You're not... critiquing my lunch, are you?"
"N-No, not at all... Of course not."
And yet, in moments like this, she snapped right back into character.
Under her piercing glare, Ronelion found himself momentarily at a loss for words. It made him wonder if she was truly the same person—the warrior who wielded such cold precision in combat, now sitting beside him with a box of round little rice balls.
R-Right... let us not forget the original objective.
Clearing his throat, Ronelion asked in an even tone, "Do you happen to know Senior Junon?"
The corner of Senia's mouth twitched.
"Why do you ask?"
"There are a few things I wished to inquire about. I have no intention of digging into his secrets behind his back, but it is not a matter I can broach before the man himself."
"...Was this why you came here from the beginning?"
Senia crossed her arms, her face settling into a cool, impassive mask as she regarded Ronelion. A sharp, dangerous edge flickered in her dark eyes.
She could not have known in advance, nor does she appear to be fishing. Which means... her intuition is every bit as formidable as the rumors claim.
Lying under such a gaze would be fatal.
"Yes. It is a matter of paramount importance to me. So much so that I could not bear to sit idly by."
Ronelion needed to understand Junon. He was the man who had sparked an unmistakable change in Renias—the only family Ronelion had left in this world.
"I'm not particularly keen on sharing... but since you helped us out, I'll give you the surface details. But if you so much as lay a finger on him... on my friend, then..."
I will draw my sword against you.
Her unspoken warning resonated with chilling clarity.
"I am certain it will not come to that, but I shall keep your words in mind."
To evoke this level of protectiveness at the mere mention of his name...
It is not simply that he is blessed with good allies. It is his nature that draws them in.
His gravitational pull was extraordinary.
Watching Senia, Ronelion felt he was beginning to understand why his sister had been drawn to Junon in the first place.