Chapter 122: Don't Touch Him (11)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 122: Don't Touch Him (11)
Hina smiled.
It was a bright grin, accompanied by a hand sign he’d never seen before. He had a strong suspicion it was some kind of curse.
When Calian asked what it meant, Kyrie simply avoided his gaze. Taking that as confirmation, Calian memorized Hina’s gesture perfectly.
‘I’ll have to ask Demirea.’
Demirea would tell him what it meant, curse word or not. In any case, it definitely wasn’t anything good.
Even Calian had to admit he didn’t deserve any sympathy. They had barely managed to save his life, yet only five days later, he’d slipped out of the palace with a body that hadn't fully recovered. He’d thought it would be fine since Alan was with him, but apparently, they had separated. As a result, he had collapsed again, coughing up blood. Then, while he was supposed to be resting after they patched him up again, he had snuck up to the fourth floor by himself and devoured a pile of sour tangerines on a stomach that hadn't even healed.
If only it had ended there.
– Even Your Highness’s cat listens better than you do.
As soon as his conversation with Franz had ended, Calian had headed straight for the training ground. He was supposed to stay in bed for a full week, yet he simply couldn’t sit still.
In the end, Hina had caught him and given him a thorough scolding. After all, neither the power of blessing nor her healing could replenish the blood he’d lost.
– You’re just as bad, Brother. You should have stopped him.
Kyrie was scolded as well. With Yan briefly away visiting his family, Kyrie was supposed to be the one keeping Calian in check. Instead, he’d been found standing right beside him at the training ground, making him fully deserving of the reprimand.
“Don’t worry. I really won’t overdo it this time,” Calian promised. “I’ll just watch Kyrie train for a bit and then go back up.”
– If you get hurt again, I’m not healing you. Just watch.
Hina signed with an uncharacteristically stern expression.
Calian couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. After he’d gotten hurt a few times, everyone had started to sound like Yan—not just Lemain, but Alan and Hina, too.
“Thanks, Hina, but Yan’s worrying is more than enough. You should stop and go inside before you catch a cold.”
Who was worrying about whom? Calian seemed to think Hina would fall ill the moment she stepped outside.
Nodding as if she had no choice, Hina shot him a skeptical look before turning and walking away. As her figure receded, Kyrie asked quietly, “Are you really alright? You don’t look like you’re in any condition to move.”
Calian had told Hina not to worry, but he wasn’t the type to sit still. If he were, he wouldn’t have come to the training ground in the first place.
As if to prove Kyrie’s point, Calian’s smile widened as he picked up a sword.
“Even so, you think I can’t handle you?” he provoked, his words carrying a sharp edge.
Kyrie smiled faintly, raised his own dark sword, and thrust it straight at Calian. Calian’s arm shot up to block the blow.
Clang!
Kyrie wasn’t offended by the condescending remark; he knew Calian was just trying to keep him from holding back out of concern. He put his full strength into his next move.
Calian, who parried the attack with a relaxed expression, was careful to hide his surprise.
‘He’s gotten much stronger than I thought.’
He had been so absorbed in his own swordsmanship, magic, and the schemes surrounding him that he hadn’t had a chance to properly check on Kyrie. In that time, Kyrie had grown at an incredible speed.
Clang, clang! Claaang!
After defending against a flurry of rapid strikes, Calian’s sword shot forward, aiming for Kyrie’s heart. Kyrie blocked it without much difficulty and pressed his attack once more.
A sense of joy welled up inside Calian. Kyrie was truly a hardworking genius.
‘Maybe I was worried for nothing.’
On the day of the attack by the warriors of the Great Desert, the first thing Calian had wanted to do after seeing Euria was check on Kyrie’s sword. The day he’d sat talking with Franz before the training ground, he had sensed that Kyrie was facing a ‘wall’.
Just as a mage achieves enlightenment and completes their next circle, there are moments when a swordsman surpasses their limits and ascends to the next stage. Kyrie was in the middle of that very process. That was why Calian had stopped Franz from entering the training ground—Kyrie had been sitting in the center of the field with his sword lowered, lost in deep thought.
However, since Kyrie had been practicing the swordsmanship Calian had taught him, Calian believed he had to overcome this hurdle on his own and had simply watched from afar. Later, thinking he could offer a little guidance, he had planned to see Kyrie first upon returning to the palace, but events had taken a chaotic turn.
Clang! Claaang!
The sharp sound of steel echoed throughout the training ground. Kyrie launched most of the attacks while Calian occasionally countered, observing his reactions.
“Slow,” Calian taunted, pushing Kyrie to gauge his limits.
Kyrie’s movements grew impossibly faster.
With each strike, Calian parried with an expression that suggested it was nothing special.
At this rate, a match between him and Suleiman’s knight, Yuran, would be a toss-up. Just as that thought crossed his mind, Kyrie’s sword shot forward, aiming for the space between Calian’s brows.
It wasn’t a move Calian had taught him.
Calian’s mouth curved into a wide grin.
Clang!
The moment he blocked the attack, Calian’s figure vanished from Kyrie’s sight. Instantly retracting his sword, Kyrie ducked instinctively.
Swish!
Calian’s blade sliced through the air where his head had just been. Sensing it, Kyrie spun around, his ears catching the faint whisper of Calian’s footsteps on the ground.
Kyrie didn’t hesitate.
He immediately thrust his sword toward the source of the sound.
“I told you,” Calian’s voice drifted from another direction entirely. “You’re slow.”
His speed was staggering. It was hard to believe this was the same person who had stumbled into the training ground looking as if he might collapse at any moment.
Pulling his sword back once more, Kyrie kicked off the ground. In an instant, his figure vanished as well.
Claaang! Clang! Clang!
Blurry shadows intertwined and clashed again. Confident that Calian would never be hit by his attacks, Kyrie wielded his sword with everything he had.
Dozens more exchanges flew by.
Pheeew…
Kyrie’s gaze grew profoundly still.
He felt as if he had stepped into a space where only he and Calian existed. He fell deeper into this unfamiliar sensation, something he had never experienced before.
At that same moment, a massive change occurred.
Calian’s movements began to slow in his eyes. The sound of his feet on the ground became perfectly clear. He could predict where Calian would move next.
He didn’t know how. He just knew.
Whoosh!
There was no time to hesitate.
Since he knew, all he had to do was attack.
A sharp, tearing sound split the air as Kyrie’s sword thrust forward, poised to pierce Calian’s heart.
And Calian…
`[Shield]`
…was incredibly cheap.
* * *
A shield made of aura was threatening in itself.
Calian’s shield looked as if it could shatter Kyrie’s sword at any moment. Of course, since Calian had no intention of that happening, it remained intact.
A shield poised to shatter anything. What a contradictory power.
From behind the barrier, which looked like a mosaic of broken glass, Calian grinned.
“Sorry,” he offered as an excuse. “I thought I was going to die.”
Kyrie stared, bewildered, at the tip of his sword, stopped perfectly before Calian’s heart. He didn’t fully understand what had just happened. Seeing his confusion, Calian smiled gently, like a grandfather looking at a praiseworthy grandson.
“I lost.”
Even after hearing those words, Kyrie stood frozen for a long moment. Only after time had passed did the realization sink in.
I… won.
He won. He had defeated Calian.
No miracle had occurred, like suddenly understanding the principles of the sword or releasing his aura in a flash. That was the stuff of legends, and Kyrie wasn’t one to believe in such things.
What he had done was learn how to expand his senses.
It was different from fighting with his excellent hearing. It was the ability to feel and merge with another’s presence, to trade blows in a state where only he and his opponent existed.
“Thank you.”
Though his voice didn’t sound particularly joyful, Calian could see the deeply moved smile hidden beneath Kyrie’s stoic expression.
‘Perhaps in this life, Kyrie might even be able to step onto the Path of the Sword.’
The thought suddenly occurred to him.
Pleased, Calian took a step forward, but his legs faltered.
Kyrie rushed over in surprise to support him. Calian just smiled.
“It’s just because I’m hungry.”
Kyrie let out a low sigh.
Ever since Chase’s arrival, Calian had been tearing himself apart from the inside out. He was comforting Yan, easing Franz’s burdens, worrying about Hina, and now, even looking after Kyrie. Wondering how he could ever win against such stubbornness, Kyrie had drawn his sword and agreed to the spar. But seeing Calian unable to even walk properly now, a sense of resentment welled up.
He would rather die than admit he was in pain.
It wasn’t that Kyrie didn’t understand why, but couldn’t he just say it once?
Couldn’t he just say, ‘This is too hard right now, please let’s do this later’?
Did he think Kyrie would feel grateful for his help when he was in this state? It only made him feel sorry.
Instead of voicing these thoughts, Kyrie simply bowed his head, a silent request for a brief liberty that he hoped Calian would understand.
“I will take you back.”
Asking if he could walk would be pointless, so Kyrie stated it calmly. Then, he hoisted Calian onto his back. There was no way Calian could walk in his condition.
Surprisingly, Calian let himself be carried without protest. Leaning his head against Kyrie’s back, he spoke, his voice full of laughter.
“Ah, it’s been a long time.”
He was clearly laughing, but the end of his words sounded pained.
Understanding what he meant, Kyrie asked quietly, “Have I carried you on my back before?”
“Yes,” Calian nodded. Words that should never come from a fifteen-year-old’s mouth followed. “When I was very drunk.”
Kyrie.
Wasn’t he the only thread to a past that Calian could hold onto with peace of mind?
“Did you like alcohol?”
“You liked it more than I did.”
It felt very strange. It was a matter of the past, but it also wasn’t the past. How was he supposed to take this?
As he pondered this, Calian’s voice grew heavy. “Actually, I haven’t fully recovered. My body doesn’t move the way I want it to, either.”
“I know.”
“So train harder. I won’t lose next time.”
“Yes.”
Answering, Kyrie chuckled softly.
Whatever happened in the past, all Kyrie had to do was listen. Whenever Calian let out these rare moments of weakness, all he had to do was nod. What was so difficult about that?
Thanks to Siegfried, Randel would stay quiet for a while. A warning had been sent to Tensil as punishment for Randel’s actions, so they wouldn’t be foolish enough to send knights again. As for Brissen, Franz was holding them back, so that was fine, too. And the attackers had retreated for now.
“Don’t worry and rest.”
“Yeah.”
So, for now, just put everything down and rest.
He said it, and he understood it as such.