Unbroken Shackles (2)
"Junon..."
"Looks like I made it just in time."
When I first heard the commotion, I hadn't been entirely certain, but hearing her call my name banished any lingering doubt.
Sylvia was right here, and something had clearly gone wrong.
Two opponents. Judging by their insignia... family knights. House Coutelli's, then?
I still lacked specifics, but one thing was undeniably clear: Sylvia was their target.
Knowing that, there was no way in hell I would stand by and let them haul her off. If nothing else, sheer pity alone forbade it.
"You insolent cur! Dropping in unannounced and lashing out with a kick—do you have the faintest idea who we are?!"
"Do I really need to?" I countered flatly. "From where I'm standing, all I see are two thugs trying to lay hands on a friend of mine."
"We are sworn knights of the Count of Coutelli! It is our sacred duty to escort Lady Sylvia, a trueborn daughter of House Coutelli, back to her estate!"
The knight bellowed with chest-thumping bravado, wrapping himself in self-righteous authority.
This is bad. Really bad.
The lingering worry I had harbored about Sylvia all along was precisely this: the dreadful possibility that her noble family might come dragging her back. After all, the world was full of wretched, unnatural parents who demanded repayment simply for giving birth to their flesh and blood.
I had assumed the count's estate had washed their hands of Sylvia by now, but given tonight's brazen ambush, I could no longer afford to watch from the sidelines.
"Duty?!" Sylvia shouted, her voice trembling with indignation. "I never asked for any of that! A count's daughter, a highborn noble—I don't need any of it! Not a single bit!!"
Well said.
Her defiance clearly struck a nerve, judging by the scowls deepening on the two knights' faces.
"My lady, your aristocratic grace has deteriorated entirely," one sneered. "It seems you are in dire need of strict re-education."
"His Lordship will be thoroughly displeased," the other added coldly. "If you surrender quietly right now, we shall graciously overlook tonight's disgraceful display."
"No! I won't! Never!!"
Their objective was to drag Sylvia away.
Sylvia's desperate wish was never to set foot in that manor again.
With their desires clashing so completely, there was no question whose tune I was going to dance to.
"Well, you heard her," I said with a thin smirk. "Just like I said from the start—you're nothing more than a pair of scumbags trying to rough up an academy girl. Isn't that right?"
Goaded by my taunt, the two men ground their teeth before drawing their blades in unison. To men who wrapped themselves in chivalric pride, my disrespect was a slight they could never suffer in silence.
"Insolent brat. We will teach you the price of running that filthy mouth when you don't know your place."
"To think a common-born mongrel dared corrupt our young lady so thoroughly! You are the source of this rot!"
"You shall pay for your insolence with your life. Daring to bewitch the young lady with your vulgar tongue... unforgivable!"
"Ha! So you're pinning the whole damn thing on me, huh?"
"Silence, mongrel! Tearing your lying lips to shreds wouldn't be punishment enough... The sin of sullying our young lady will cost you dearly!"
The moment I laid eyes on their crest, I knew this would devolve into a bloodbath.
Even so, the circumstances and conditions were horribly stacked against me.
These weren't common street ruffians; they were seasoned, well-drilled family knights. Worse, I had to fight while actively shielding Sylvia, the very prize they sought to seize. I had even left the Belshuar Ark behind to avoid drawing unwanted attention at the night market. That left me with only one option: I had to wager everything on a single, decisive opening.
"Sylvia," I muttered under my breath. "Remember when we fought the Orthoptera?"
"...When you told me not to use my unique magic?"
"Spot on. If you throw raw, unrefined magic around, seasoned knights like them will just deflect or dodge it effortlessly. And if this turns into an open chase, we're at a massive disadvantage."
Which meant we had to handle them differently.
Clang!
A sharp, metallic screech rang out again and again into the dim alleyway.
Though considerable time had passed, the clash in the shadowy backstreet showed no signs of abating.
For reasons the knights couldn't comprehend, their steel simply refused to bite into Junon's flesh.
I knew it! This little bastard is warping the trajectory...!
How many thousands of times had the knight swung his sword over the years? His forms and stances were polished through countless battles and severed lives. Yet every time his edge descended, it felt as though it struck an invisible cushion mid-swing, veering off course toward empty air.
There was only one explanation: the lowborn brat standing before Sylvia was working some underhanded trick.
"Tsk...!"
If deflecting the blade was the boy's strategy, the knight resolved to force an opening through hand-to-hand combat, convinced his physical prowess could easily crush the dark-haired youth.
Yet Junon flowed with the momentum, dropping into a clean roll along the cobblestones and regaining his footing almost instantaneously. It took him barely a heartbeat to reset his guard.
His movements were far too supple, far too experienced to belong to a greenhorn student. Even facing two seasoned combatants at once, his posture remained rock-solid. He slipped past slashing arcs with economical parries, maintained immaculate center of gravity, and even if a stray strike came close, a dense barrier of defensive magic intercepted it.
To make matters worse, Sylvia's wind magic provided perfectly timed covering fire from behind. The boy was proving to be an exceptionally thorny obstacle.
They could afford to drag this out no longer.
"────."
A low, muttered incantation slipped past the knight's lips. In an instant, crimson flames roared to life along the length of his steel.
"So you're doing it... Very well."
Catching his partner's signal, the second knight began his own chant, funneling concentrated mana into his blade.
Weapon Enchantment.
By imbuing a weapon with emission and manifestation magic to drastically amplify destructive power, it served as the very hallmark of true knights—an art mastered only by qualified martial mages.
Its only drawback was the deafening roar of raw elemental energy that accompanied it.
Resorting to magic that risked alerting the entire district meant one thing: they were done playing around. If they dallied any longer, reinforcements would arrive. They intended to end this in a single, decisive stroke.
There is no reason for me to struggle against a mere academy runt.
No matter how sturdy a shield might be, it would inevitably crumble under overwhelming force. They were proud knights of the prestigious House Coutelli; their foe was an insignificant commoner playing at being a student.
They held every conceivable advantage. Defeat was impossible.
With that conviction driving their muscles, both knights unleashed their enchanted blades at Junon simultaneously.
CLAAAANG—!
"What...?!"
"How...?!"
Both enchanted edges struck home without question. Yet what met their ears was a resonant, screeching shriek of clashing metal that defied all reason.
The boy wasn't even holding a weapon.
Even setting that bizarre fact aside, these were weapons steeped in lethal enchantments. One blade was wrapped in blazing fire, while the other crackled with razor-sharp gale blades. By all rights of elemental magic, the boy's flesh should have been incinerated to ash or sheared into ribboned meat.
Instead, Junon stood completely unharmed, holding both enchanted blades at bay with his bare arms shrouded in an unseen layer of force.
Not only had the blades failed to sever the boy's limbs, but the elemental fury washing over him produced zero magical damage.
Chilled by the sheer unnaturalness of the spectacle, the two knights instinctively exchanged glances, deciding to leap backward to reassess—
"Sylvia!"
As if he had anticipated this exact split second from the very beginning, Junon barked the young lady's name.
Sylvia, who had diligently conserved her mana instead of wasting it on wild attacks, unleashed a twin magic circle. Two monstrous, roaring twisters erupted, engulfing the two knights head-on.
"Wh-What in the world...?!"
"Damn it, we can't close the distance...!"
Though rudimentary in design, a localized hurricane fueled by every scrap of a wind mage's concentrated mana was more than enough to halt human movement in its tracks. Trapped within the howling vortex, the knights had no choice but to plunge their blades deep into the cobblestones, straining every sinew just to keep from being swept away.
Junon did not let the fleeting opportunity slip.
"What the—?!"
"Something around our legs...!"
"Hey, Sir Knights," Junon's voice cut through the howling wind, laced with dry amusement. "When you charge blindly without watching your step, you tend to fall flat on your backs."
Their lower bodies abruptly snagged on invisible, circular bands of force, wrenching them backward off balance.
The same bizarre distortion that had redirected their blade paths throughout the duel had now hooked behind their heels, utterly collapsing their center of gravity.
By the time they realized what was happening, it was far too late.
Torn from their anchors, the two knights were launched helplessly into the air, caught up in Sylvia's violent gale and hurled directly toward a dilapidated, abandoned shack down the alley.
A thunderous crash echoed through the alley as wood shattered and masonry groaned. The two knights vanished beneath the rubble, well out of sight.
"Haah... haah..."
Having squeezed out every drop of her magical reserves, Sylvia swayed violently on her feet, the severe backlash of mana exhaustion catching up to her.
"Are you alright? Can you move?"
Sylvia shook her head weakly from side to side.
She desperately tried to force her legs forward, but having completely drained her mana pool, taking even a single step felt like wading through lead. Yet that wasn't the only reason she was shaking her head.
"It's fine. We've bought plenty of distance," I reassured her gently. "If we sprint toward the main boulevard, we can alert the authorities."
They had put distance between themselves and the knights, yes, but that wasn't the end of it.
Sylvia knew a crucial truth that Junon was entirely unaware of.
"There's... still... one... mo..."
"Sylvia?"
She tried to force the words past her lips, but an agonizing burn tore through her throat. The inside of her throat felt as though it had been scorched by red-hot coals from an open furnace.
"Come on, Sylvia. Climb onto my back. If I carry you, we'll be clear of here in no time."
"No... y-you can't... There's still... one left...!"
"What are you mumbling about?! Hurry up and get on!"
Junon raised his voice in frustration, but Sylvia had desperate reason to resist.
I have to tell him... Henna was taken...!
A third man was an unforeseen variable Junon knew nothing about. Sylvia was the only one who had witnessed the third knight riding off with Henna slung over his saddle.
Yet her body refused to obey. Having pushed past her absolute limit, the darkness rushed in, and her eyelids fluttered shut as consciousness slipped away.
"Good grief..."
I surveyed our surroundings, but the only stir was the commotion caused by two armored men crashing through the roof of a shack. Having caused such an overt racket, they wouldn't dare attempt another public kidnapping here.
All that remained was to hoist Sylvia onto my back and carry her to safety—or so I thought.
"Senior! *Gasp*... What on earth happened here?!"
"...Did you run all the way here?"
"Of course I did! How could you just dash off without saying a single word?!"
Renias scanned my disheveled frame with wide, frantic eyes, checking for injuries after clearly stumbling upon the aftermath of a ferocious battle.
"Sorry. Something urgent came up."
At the mention of an explanation, Renias tilted her head, only to spot the unconscious girl collapsed against me.
"Oh? Isn't that your friend from back then?"
"Yeah. She also happens to be the daughter of Count Coutelli."
"...!"
Renias's eyes widened in sudden realization.
The mounted knights tearing through the crowded festival earlier. The Coutelli family crest emblazoned across their breastplates.
The pieces clicked into place instantly; she finally understood why Junon had bolted into the shadows.
"Don't tell me... someone was trying to abduct your friend?"
"That's my guess."
"...Please wait right here. I'll bring help immediately."
The cheerful, dessert-craving girl vanished in an instant, replaced by an air of deadly seriousness. Propelling herself forward with a burst of wind magic, Renias rushed off and returned in record time, accompanied by a patrol of academy disciplinary officers. With their assistance, Sylvia was carefully lifted onto a stretcher and transported toward the medical bay.
Junon, who had observed the transport from nearby, walked alongside Renias to provide an official witness statement. It seemed as though the night's chaos had finally reached its conclusion, but...
"My, my... Word reached us that someone was having a full-blown magic duel in the middle of a festival, but to think we'd stumble onto this..."
"Speak. Who are you, and why are you slinging an academy student over your shoulder?"
Drawn by the loud tremors of the earlier clash, Senia and Aris had arrived at the outer perimeter of the district.
Taking in the sinister sight, Senia already had her sword drawn, the cold edge aimed directly at an armored man on horseback.
"Words won't work on him, Senia," Aris warned, her voice tight with disgust. "Look at the crest. That's a knight of House Coutelli. A wretched family notorious for treating commoners like livestock."
"Is that so? Then just as you said, Aris—"
"Tch, persistent vermin!"
"Ugh...!"
Before Senia could lunge, the third knight shattered an alchemical smoke bomb on the cobblestones. Under cover of the dense, choking fog, he wheeled his steed around and galloped furiously into the night.
Damn it all! Since the main target slipped away, I have no choice but to bring this wench back instead...!
Spooked by the gathering crowd and unable to rejoin his downed comrades, the lone knight rode for his life, desperately clutching the unconscious Henna as he fled toward the Coutelli estate.