You Should've Come Sooner
Thick sunlight poured down, and a gentle breeze carrying the scent of summer drifted softly through the air. It was a mild day.
In the alley before the Dragon Claw Inn stood two women.
"Riel."
Hera spoke as she checked her horse's reins.
"We're heading north."
"Understood."
Riel answered without hesitation. Having stood at Hera's side for over a decade, she had already seen this coming.
The Gonghyeol Group.
Hera would want them wiped out completely. In a way, it was a perfect ride on the current of the times. The Empire was about to throw itself into a full-scale campaign against the Gonghyeol Group, and if the Mukwol Squad moved aggressively and bagged them, the results would be considerable.
Not that Hera was moving for the profit. Hunting the Gonghyeol Group was the goal; the gains were merely a secondary benefit that came along for the ride.
Even before the Mukwol Squad existed, Hera and Riel had always operated this way. Whenever Hera took a fancy to something, there were always people who wanted that something done. Carefully extracting every scrap of advantage from those people was Riel's job. To make the process smoother, they had founded an organization that took commissions — and that was the origin of the Mukwol Squad.
"Let's wrap it up before summer break if we can. Then we can head to the capital."
"We should stop by headquarters first."
"Obviously."
Riel glanced behind her.
"Fenril, you head back to HQ while you're at it and lend a hand. That branch is a mess — it needs sorting out."
"Got it. Was already gettin' ready to do just that."
Fenril nodded, pleased. The timing was right for a trip to headquarters anyway. Six squad members had died in Pribil this time — eight if you counted the ones Leon had taken out. On top of that, they'd operated without pay and burned through a mountain of gold. To keep the branch running properly, they needed to go to HQ and pull some support.
Riel slipped her foot into the stirrup and asked casually,
"Heading to the capital before break… that's because of the young master, isn't it?"
Lately Hera seemed thoroughly hooked on a new interest. That the object of that interest was a man was, to Riel, genuinely astonishing — all the more so because it clearly wasn't a simple desire to kill him.
"Hmm~ Of course."
Hera ran her tongue slowly, seductively, across her upper lip.
"I've already got a date lined up."
Elprime Academy, First Training Ground.
The first-semester evaluations were over, and only a few weeks remained until summer break.
"Nnngh!"
"Uweeeegh!"
"Hwaaaaargh!"
Groans from Class A cadets spilled out from every direction. They were circling the training ground loaded down with sandbags on their arms, legs, and waists.
The moment evaluations ended, Ceren's hellish stamina drills had resumed. There was no practical training in the Tower of Illusions this time. Even so, everyone was holding up better than before — because the entire Class A had posted strong results, and the Academy had tossed each of them a high-grade elixir as a reward. Once they'd absorbed it, their bodies felt polished clean, and they were flying.
Of course, for Leon the elixir was barely worth a rat's tail. Born and raised in a ducal house, he'd been fed every vaguely beneficial tonic since childhood. So he'd decided to put his to a different use — something far more meaningful and practical.
Anyway.
"Huff, huff. Hah, hah—."
Running the training ground, Leon sank into thought. He recalled his last conversation with Bergopf.
Finish your sword properly first, he'd said.
Choosing a sword meant picking one path from among the many — Soft Sword, Strong Sword, Swift Sword, Severing Sword, Heavy Sword, and all the rest. In truth, Leon already knew the answer.
Swift. Has to be Swift.
There was nothing to deliberate. It was simply the sword that fit him best.
If he combed through his memories, the original Leon Crusif had favored the Soft Sword. He'd trained in it the most, understood it deeply, and even reached profound insights. But Leon rejected all of that outright. His particular brand of explosive temperament could not stand a slow, yielding blade. Fast, sharp, urgent — that matched his nature. It was a big part of why he excelled at and preferred successive strikes.
Naturally, he had no intention of rewriting that innate disposition now. It wasn't something you could change just because you wanted to.
So: Swift Sword.
Good.
If you wanted to learn something, you went to an expert. One suitable person came to mind.
Late afternoon, Sixth Training Ground.
"Alright~ That's it for today's training~!"
At the instructor's call, the Class F cadets let their swinging swords droop.
"Thank you for your hard work!"
"See you tomorrow!"
"Let's go~!"
Laughing with the pure joy of a hard session finally over, the cadets poured out in a noisy throng. Like air rushing from a balloon, the training ground emptied in an instant. Only quiet stillness remained, with the faint echo of departing voices.
And in that settled training ground—
"……"
—Goren Baltvin still held his place. He hadn't even sheathed the sword in his hand. His rigid, expressionless face stood in stark contrast to the cadets who'd been cackling moments before.
"……Haa."
He exhaled and raised his sword again, settling into stance.
Swish—! Swish—! Swish—!
Then he unleashed a series of crisp thrusts. So fast that the light glancing off the tip lingered in the air like a heat haze.
Goren's face twisted like a crushed tin can. Force flooded his grip until it seemed he might pulverize the hilt.
——!
Lightning bloomed from his fingertips. A thrust twice as fast as before. Had an enemy stood in front of him, that enemy would have looked down to find a hole already punched through his own throat.
"……"
Even so, Goren's expression did not ease.
Not enough. Not enough! This isn't it!
He screamed a silent scream. He'd been like this ever since the evaluations ended. More precisely, ever since he'd faced Leon.
That day, Goren had watched the tidal wave of sword strikes Leon unleashed — and dropped his blade. For a martial artist, and for a noble, it was unthinkable. Even Goren himself could barely accept it. And yet, in one corner of his heart, he still could not overcome that tidal wave Leon had created. The overwhelming pressure and helplessness he'd felt then had become a sheer cliff walling off his path.
"……Damn it."
Goren ground his molars until they threatened to crack. Defeat, inferiority, frustration — they stabbed through his chest like a red-hot iron spit. The words of the family retainers who'd come as spectators kept cycling endlessly through his mind. In his entire life, he had never disappointed them.
"Goddamn it, Leon……"
Muttering, Goren prepared another form. He loosened his body and lightened his feet. Twisted his waist slightly and drew his shoulder muscles taut like rubber bands. And his gaze fixed straight ahead—
"—Looking for me?"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
Swoooosh—!
Startled out of his skin, Goren fired the thrust he'd been winding up.
"Whoa there."
Leon simply tilted his head a fraction to the side. The blade skimmed past his carotid artery by a hair's breadth.
"Wh-whaaaaat?!"
The one who'd launched the attack was the one who nearly had a heart attack. Goren yanked his sword back and scrambled away as if he'd been burned.
"I-I. I-I mean, that's not—"
His pupils shook like an earthquake as they locked onto the other man's face. Those blood-red eyes that had haunted even his dreams.
"Wh-what have I done……"
His face went white on the spot. That strike just now — if Leon hadn't dodged, it would have killed him for certain. Accident or not, he had just launched a killing blow at a young master of House Crusif without warning.
Clang!
Goren's sword hit the training ground floor with a metallic ring.
"I-I, that……"
To the shell-shocked Goren, Leon waved a dismissive hand.
"Hey, hey! It's fine, it's fine! Scared the hell out of you, huh?"
"That's……"
"Haha, I said it's fine. Guys kill each other all the time — it's what we do."
"……"
"Hmm, come over here a second?"
Thud—
At Leon's beckoning gesture, Goren's feet moved forward of their own accord.
Thwack!
"……!"
Goren's waist folded deep.
Thwack! Crack! Crack!
"W-wait! Mmph! Nnngh!"
Crack! Thud! Wham!
Leon’s flying fists packed Goren's vision solid. Merciless.
Ten minutes later.
"……Learn? Learn? You're telling me you want to learn that from me right now?"
"Yeah."
"That's what you say after turning a man into this…… nngh!"
Sprawled on the ground, Goren curled around his stomach as a sharp jolt of pain hit. In his excitement he'd spoken too hard, and a broken bone had stabbed inward.
"Tsk tsk. Call yourself a martial artist with a body this fragile?"
Leon pulled out a potion and casually splashed it over him — the same motion as pouring liquor over a grave.
The reason Leon had come looking for Goren was simple. Among the countless sword houses spread across the Empire, House Baltvin was the most famous for the Swift Sword. And Goren was the exceptional genius that house had produced. Ranking fourth in this year's cohort was proof enough.
"Leon. What you just said — are you serious?"
Having recovered somewhat from the potion, Goren pushed himself up to sit. Leon dropped down in front of him and nodded with complete seriousness.
"Huh."
A short, incredulous breath escaped Goren. He couldn't even decide where to start pointing out the problems. Of all people, Leon had just walked up out of nowhere and dropped this on him. It was thoroughly bewildering.
"I don't really know the Swift Sword, see."
"……Are you here to mock me?"
Wasn't this the same existence that had overwhelmed him so completely in the evaluation and left him humiliated? Goren suspected the bastard had come just to toy with him.
Sensing it, Leon added an explanation. What he'd displayed back then might have looked impressive to Goren's eyes, but it was a mixed stew of too many things. To take the next step, he needed to dig deep into the Swift Sword. And since House Baltvin was famous in that field, he'd come for help.
Having had the venom thoroughly beaten out of him by Leon's fists, Goren listened without resistance.
"Alright. I understand what you're saying. But……"
"?"
"Leon, you didn't come here to learn something ordinary. Your own house would have already taught you anything halfway decent."
"True."
House Crusif was no ordinary family, after all.
"Which means what you actually want is House Baltvin's Swift Sword techniques. But we can't just hand our family's teachings over to an outsider."
"Hmm……"
Leon smacked his lips thoughtfully for a moment. Misreading the look, Goren cried out in a panic.
"Ah—no matter how much you try to force me! This will not change! I will never yield to pain—"
"Here."
"?"
Leon suddenly held something out. An ampoule the size of an index finger, filled with a luminous rose-colored liquid.
"This is the elixir the Academy only gave to the top student this time. You know what it is, right?"
"……!"
Goren's eyes and mouth stretched wide enough to tear.
Tears of Melshakra!
Snatch!
Goren seized Leon's hand with both of his own. He even pulled up mana to lock his grip tight, terrified it might be taken back.
"You should've come sooner!"
"……"
Leon gave a small nod. House Baltvin indeed — from the pivot to the follow-through, they were truly fast.
Looks like he'd come to the right place.