Chapter 297: Is It Because of Puberty? (5)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 297: Is It Because of Puberty? (5)
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the sea.
The waves were quiet, the sky calm. The sand glowed pure white, and the dark sky was filled with a tapestry of silver stars.
It was a dreamlike sight, but standing in the midst of it, Arsen felt a sudden chill.
The condition of the four corpses was identical.
Whether their hearts had been pierced, their throats slit, or their heads severed, none of them bore any defensive wounds. Aside from minor scrapes, each had only a single, massive injury. It meant a fatal blow had landed before they’d even had time to block.
He was not ignorant of Calian’s swordsmanship. The reason he felt a chill despite this was that he also knew just how strong the dead men had been.
“I can’t even begin to imagine… how much stronger the Prince will become.”
Those who materialized mana were mages.
Those who strengthened their bodies and swords with mana were Sword Masters.
And Calian was both.
He had figured out on his own how to freely convert mana into aura, and then into magic, and back again. As a result, he had become the only person capable of materializing aura—converted into magic—in the shape of a sword.
But that meant if his mana ran dry, the sword in his hand would vanish.
For this reason, Calian rarely used magic alongside his swordsmanship during sparring. Yet, in the battle just now, he had wielded his sword without impediment, whipping up winds and killing his opponents with a style no different from his usual one.
It was because his aura and magic were growing, and he was becoming more accustomed to wielding them. Since he had originally walked the path of the sword, it was certain that once his body finished growing and he could exert his full strength, his swordsmanship would become even more formidable.
That was why he felt a chill.
Because he couldn’t imagine how much stronger Calian would get.
“…At this rate, if I get caught making his statue, my chances of getting out of it in one piece are practically zero,” he thought.
In any case, this thoroughly insane, blue-haired lackey—who still hadn’t given up on the statue—decided he couldn’t let the distant knights notice the chill he was feeling. While he was unnerved because the state of the corpses meant his chances of surviving the statue incident had plummeted, those knights would be unnerved by Calian’s sheer power.
Therefore, Arsen decided to stop examining the bodies.
Fwoosh!
Deep red flames erupted over the pure white sand.
“Vice-Commander Hertz! Put out the fire! We must investigate.”
As Arsen suddenly conjured flames, one of the knights standing in the distance ran over to stop him. He was their leader.
Before the knight could get any closer, Arsen moved first, teleporting directly in front of him and blocking his path.
“They’re already dead. What is there to investigate?”
“They are a suspicious group that attacked the princes of Kairis. Of course we must investigate. What are you talking about?”
“I’ve never seen an assassin carry items that reveal their affiliation. Rather than wasting time, wouldn’t it be better to dispose of them quickly and follow the princes?”
“This is Secritia. We have the right to make decisions regarding events that occur in our territory.”
“Secritia didn’t involve itself in the fight, so I fail to see what right you claim to have.”
It was Calian who had stopped them from joining the battle, and Franz who had made it clear they should not interfere. By obediently following the two princes’ words, they had avoided casualties, but they had also lost any right to voice their opinions on the matter.
“The Kairis royal family will not take issue with Secritia for failing to investigate. You need not worry.”
Knowing exactly what the knight was worried about, Arsen drove the point home.
During their brief argument, the corpses’ clothing had already burned away. Even so, the fire did not die down, continuing to consume what remained. As an unpleasant odor drifted through the air, the knight frowned and looked at Arsen.
He knew Arsen’s intention was to hide the state of the bodies, but he could no longer protest.
“I hope you will take responsibility for your words.”
“As I said, I am the Vice-Commander of Valkan. I am not in a position to make promises I cannot keep.”
In the end, the knight relented, tacitly approving the cremation.
The human body is resilient.
It would take some time for the flames to erase even a single sword wound.
“Rest up. We will leave once the bodies are completely burned.”
After instructing the knights, Arsen looked around, his gaze landing on the ground.
Scattered bloodstains caught his eye. Blood sprayed in a semicircle from slashed wounds, dotted patterns dripped from the tip of a sword, and wide pools flowed from the corpses. It was all the warriors’ blood. Arsen was not one to find such a sight unfamiliar or repulsive, so he quietly began to scan the traces of the battle.
Then, his bright blue eyes locked onto a spatter of blood that seemed to have dripped heavily in front of the gray-haired warrior’s corpse.
There was no body connected to these stains. Instead of footprints, only a trail of blood marked the path where its owner must have walked. Then, at some point, the trail simply stopped.
He really was injured after all.
It was definitely Calian’s blood.
Arsen couldn’t smell it, but he could read the flow of mana. He had already guessed why Calian had been so quick to cast Clean magic when he approached the knights.
Looking down at the ground with a bitter expression, Arsen tilted his head slightly. He bent his knees, squatted down, and examined the difference in ‘color’ between Calian’s tracks and the surrounding stains.
“What on earth is this…?”
The other blood, not yet soaked into the sand, was still red. But the spots where Calian had stood and moved were different.
They were black.
The blood Calian had spilled was black.
“This is a disaster.”
Only now did he realize that Calian, who had returned with Franz, hadn't just suffered a simple cut. After erasing the stains on the ground with Clean magic, Arsen checked on the corpses in the flames. Seeing that all traces of swordsmanship had vanished within the fire, he turned around without hesitation.
`[Sleep]`
He cast a spell he rarely used, directing it at the two knights who had approached him earlier—the ones who hadn't nervously placed their hands on their swords when he first appeared.
“What are you doing?!” the lead knight asked in shock, having no idea why Arsen had suddenly acted.
Just as Arsen opened his mouth to make an excuse—
Clop, clop!
The sound of hooves echoed across the beach, where no one else should have been.
A pitch-black horse, with only its right ankle white.
It was Raven.
And he was riderless.
Galloping fearlessly across the sand, Raven stopped in front of Arsen. He then looked at the mage with eyes that seemed to say he would make a special exception and allow him to ride, so he should stop wasting time and get on.
Though his pride was slightly wounded, Arsen understood the look perfectly. He turned to the knight.
“I’ll have to explain later. Once the cremation is finished, take those two and return to the palace. If they wake up, it would be even better if you could casually ask if they have any connection to the assassins.”
With that, Arsen swung himself into the saddle, and Raven immediately bolted. Riding atop the accelerating horse, Arsen suddenly looked as if he had forgotten something and turned his head to shout.
“If you don’t mind, please bring my horse along! His name is Roro!”
And so, casting aside any detailed explanation for putting the knights to sleep, the blue-haired mage who had still found a moment to introduce his horse vanished into the distance.
* * *
Twenty-six, no, twenty-eight. No.
Thirty-two.
“…Thirty-four.”
They were not warriors of the Great Desert.
Nor were they knights of Secritia or any spies Calian recognized.
They were thirty-four swordsmen of unknown affiliation, skill, and identity.
The fortunate thing was that they showed little interest in Raven and Estina, whom he had sent away. The unfortunate thing was that two among them held swords that glowed red.
Another fortunate thing was that there were no familiar faces, so he would not hesitate. Another unfortunate thing was…
Throb!
The pain in his heart flared as he created his sword.
It was the exact same pain he had felt when he first opened his eyes in this body, in this very place. He had continuously overused the magic in his heart’s circle for detoxification and wound treatment, and it seemed the power of the blessing had finally reached its limit.
“I should have listened to you, brother,” Calian said with a dry, mirthless laugh.
Franz, staring at the shield surrounding them, spoke in a low voice. “Your words and actions don’t match.”
“Using a bit of Clean magic and a shield won’t make things any harder.”
“Not that.”
“What else could I do? If we pretend to be on bad terms now, you’ll die, brother. I’d rather save my truly fragile brother and kill every last one of these bastards.”
Franz was commenting on how he was overexerting himself by wasting magic again, especially after putting on such a show at the beach only to immediately cast a shield over him the moment they faced the swordsmen.
“It’s a rough way to spend a birthday, but since you brought this on yourself, I’ll consider the bloodshed your fault. My blood, however, is not. So don’t think about anything else and just wait.”
“Alright.”
He could see the enemies moving, inching forward.
Facing a silence that would shatter with the first move, Calian grinned.
Hummm!
With a threatening hum, two daggers floated into the air. In the dark forest, the tiny blades glowed red like the eyes of a beast.
Swish!
Crunch!
Two red streaks of light sliced through the darkness. With a sickening sound, two swordsmen collapsed.
That was the signal.
Dash!
Having seen two of their companions drop dead the instant the daggers appeared, the swordsmen charged all at once.
Even as they rushed him, Calian did not move.
Ignoring the black blood seeping through his bandages and staining his clothes, he controlled the daggers, letting them move in his stead.
The two blades that had just ended two lives changed direction. Infused with Calian’s will and wind magic, they pierced the hearts and throats of four more men.
Six, he thought.
Calian, who had unconsciously started counting the dead, shut his mouth.
Throb!
He ignored the pain, ignored the metallic taste rising in his throat, and simply smiled. He directed it toward the two warriors with glowing red swords, who stood motionless among the others.
Hummmm!
Fourteen swordsmen were dead. Calian did not move. The swordsmen’s advance halted. Calian’s daggers did not stop.
A third dagger rose to join the other two, then tore through the air like lightning. Forgetting the pain in his heart, Calian kept his eyes locked on the two warriors and continued to move his daggers.
Whoosh!
Crunch!
The moment a swordsman felt relief after deflecting a flashing dagger, another blade flew from behind and pierced his heart. It didn't matter if they were wrapped in solid muscle or wore sturdy chainmail—it was useless.
If they blocked a dagger, their sword was pierced. If they failed to block, their life was cut short.
One swordsman gave up on approaching and grabbed a bow. An arrow left his hand, flying straight toward Franz.
Whoosh!
Clang!
Franz did not dodge. The arrow struck the shield with a sharp metallic clang and fell uselessly to the ground.
Whoosh!
All three daggers altered their trajectories, converging on the archer. A brief scream rang out.
Having dealt with him, Calian turned his head toward Franz for a moment.
“You trust me too much.”
“You told me to wait,” Franz replied, not having even blinked, knowing the shield would block it. “…I must wait. You’re doing a perfectly fine job of keeping me alive on your own anyway.”
Calian let out a small laugh.
Hearing that he was saving a life, rather than taking them, didn’t sound so bad.
“Yes.”
The daggers flew again.
A dagger sprang up from beneath a man’s feet, took his life, and flew toward the next man’s throat. A dagger dropped from above, aiming for the heart of the man beside him. Before they could even take a step back, a third dagger was already flying toward their chests.
Just three daggers created continuous waves of red in the darkness. As the scent of blood grew thicker, their numbers steadily dwindled.
But that was the limit.
Thump!
Calian, who hadn’t even flinched when his wound had twisted as he jumped from Raven’s back, now unconsciously clenched his fists. The feeling of his heart being torn apart was impossible to get used to.
The three daggers instantly lost their light and faded away.
He tried to infuse them with magic once more, but the pain persisted. His heart, overwhelmed by the blessing’s power, refused to release any more.
Throb!
Twenty-seven were dead. Five swordsmen and two warriors remained. With a flicker, the shield surrounding Franz vanished.
Franz’s eyes grew sharp. A long arc formed on Calian’s lips.
“The shield is gone. If something flies at you, dodge.”
“…Alright.”
“You only need to wait a little longer.”
Hummmm!
Instead of the daggers, which were harder to create and use, he held a single, more familiar sword. A red aura swirled around it like a whirlwind, radiating a sharp edge.
“No matter what happens, I’ll make sure to keep you alive.”
The words flowed out, playful in one way, yet chilling in another.
With all seven enemies in front of him and Franz behind, Calian swallowed down the blood rising in his throat. His feet finally moved.
Step.
And then.
Another footstep, making no attempt to hide itself, sounded beside Calian’s. He furrowed his brow, but the person who had taken the step paid him no mind and drew his sword.
Standing in the dark forest, one sword shone with a brilliant red light.
One ash-colored sword that had swallowed the starlight.
And one blue-silver sword that held it.
Three swords were now held in the hands of two people.
“No.”
And with that, Franz disobeyed his younger brother.