All Clear on the Western Front (1)
Kriel confirmed that the area was an isolated mountain valley devoid of people and drew Tuon.
"I have a question."
[Ask away, my master.]
"So, the real reason my fighting spirit's color changed is because I unconsciously wished for it? And you made it happen?"
[To a certain extent, yes.]
Orishin stared at Tuon with a look of utter disbelief. Kriel was surprised at how clearly he could read emotions from the horse's head.
[In Ket County, you insisted it wasn't you?!]
[Foolish one. What did I say? I bring no harm or ill influence to my master. What's wrong with revealing a cool black color?]
Kriel clutched his head. Honestly, considering his own personality, he couldn't swear he'd never thought, 'Black fighting spirit would look so badass~'.
"Fine. Tell me exactly how it happened...."
[Originally, your fighting spirit's hue must have felt somewhat heterogeneous.]
Heterogeneous. Kriel recalled the original pale, bone-white shade of his fighting spirit. It had felt unnaturally off somehow.
"That incongruity arose because you were suppressing your true nature."
Before he knew it, Tuon had manifested as a gray-haired girl. She stepped forward, extended both hands, and grasped Kriel's right hand. Tuon guided it toward her chest—where a human heart would be.
Kriel felt his fighting spirit naturally drawn along by the sword's lead. It was the usual authority of demonic swords that absorbed their user's vitality: forcibly manifesting the power within. But since he knew Tuon had no intent to harm him, he didn't resist the flow.
Fighting spirit gathered in Kriel's right hand. The pitch-black aura, like a starless night sky, shimmered faintly at the fingertips where it touched Tuon, evoking a wintry night's chill.
"Your current fighting spirit's glow may feel off-putting compared to before. Some might mistake you for an abyss affiliate because of it. But this is not a fall into the abyss."
Orishin listened closely to Tuon's self-defense—or conviction. The discoloration incident seemed comical at first glance, but viewed seriously, it could be seen as the process of a demonic sword corrupting its master.
"It means you've become a bit more honest with yourself."
"Honest? I've never lied to anyone."
Kriel pondered, then hastily added, "Except the abyss thing."
"It's not just deceiving others—suppressing your own thoughts is dishonest too, isn't it?"
[She gets bored and starts yapping about knighthood for self-actualization, huh?]
"My knighthood is just imitating an honorable knight."
Kriel tried to explain, but both Tuon and Orishin ignored him on this point.
Tuon continued, "It's about desires you can't proudly show to others."
"Have you ever confessed to someone, 'Isn't the Demon King title kinda cool?' or 'Light and darkness combined is the strongest'?"
Kriel shook his head. The latter was one thing, but if anyone heard the former, they'd scream "abyss sympathizer!" and drag him to the vanguard to be exiled.
"I say again: I am a tool that expresses my master's inner desires. Your suppressed natural thoughts surfaced through me, allowing your fighting spirit's form—once bound—to return to its true shape."
[That's why she kept spouting weird stuff....]
Orishin fell into thought. The sword wasn't trying to turn Kriel into an abyss slave, but it felt like a dangerous tightrope walk.
Kriel didn't overthink it. He'd heard fighting spirit's form reflected the inner self, but a few conversations with Tuon changing its color so drastically was just surprising. Focusing on the discoloration, he hit on an odd idea.
"Hypothetically, then."
"Hm?"
"Suppose I wield you and Orishin as a pair."
"No!"
[Ah, that's a bit—]
Orishin started to protest 'that's kinda no,' but changed his mind. Wouldn't he look over-immersed in Tuon's straight-vs-curved sword rivalry? 'I'll show magnanimity instead—demonstrate the difference in our caliber!'
Whether pride or some inexplicable emotion, Orishin inexplicably wanted to beat Tuon. Not outright hatred, but since she'd provoked first, he itched to win and put her in her place.
Unconsciously, Orishin blamed Tuon as the instigator of their bickering. But analyzing reality, he often struck first too. Their cores were similar despite minor differences. Tuon won most verbal spars, but,
[Yeah, thinking about it, it suits us. Assuming dual-wield?]
Tuon's eyes narrowed. Unspoken, but 'that scheming curved blade!' lingered around her gaze.
"Can I control one fighting spirit black and the other white? That'd look badass."
[Oho.]
Even Orishin perked up. 'All-black doesn't suit a unicorn symbol of purity, but white would work....'
Tuon crossed her arms and hummed thoughtfully.
"Indeed badass. To think there's such a gap in imagination between master and me—infuriating...."
Orishin nodded vigorously. Better call her a knightly fool like her master than a demonic sword.
[We've got a long way; let's think en route. Kriel, you gonna go for it?]
Kriel agonized over the shadow horse for a while. Not about claiming it as his official mount, but whether to ride it.
Would anyone accept a headless horse-rider carrying three swords approaching the city as human? Kriel shook his head inwardly. Its appearance was too ominous. Already, toting three weapons drew suspicion; add the Wraith King's headless steed, and it'd scream "Wild Hunt!"
Usable only in isolated spots or under night's cover. Kriel clicked his tongue regretfully. The ride was comfy, though.
Meanwhile, Orishin silently savored victory over the shadow horse. Yeah, gotta live up to the face. At least I'm a spirit—I can appear in public.
Tuon sensed Orishin's thoughts and mused, Surely I'm the sword that suits master more than that vulgar curved blade?
En route to the Western Front forces, Kriel resolved another village's troubles for coin—five pieces. Notably, as they neared the front, such jobs dwindled.
Orishin recalled Rolang Village where he'd met Kriel. Back then, Kriel was a knight dispatched from the Western Front at the villagers' request.
[Do Western Front troops often do civilian aid?]
Kriel eyed Orishin blankly—as if to say, didn't you live near there?
[I was just soaking in the hot springs behind Rolang Village; no clue about down-mountain stuff!]
"Not rare. Small automaton squads breaching the front or buried relics reactivating invade homes—disasters. Knights dispatch for recon and prevention."
[Huh? They're swamped holding the line, yet they spare resources? Or the commander's competent.]
"Probably both."
The Western Front commander's face surfaced. Elderly white hair and neatly trimmed beard, but a body belying his age pulsed with power to crush novice knights or wagons laughing.
'When I asked once, he said, 'Matched my age on paper to grow old with my wife.''
The commander wasn't a strategic genius or logistics prodigy. His forte was frontal combat. But he had the dignity to lead such aides.
"Stubborn geezer won't stamp my discharge...."
A sigh escaped Kriel unbidden.
"Commander, sir."
"Ah, Chief of Finance."
The Western Front commander sighed at the call. Invincible in personal might, yet the Chief's "sir" always unnerved him.
"Automaton mana circuits we capture or scrap sales to those dwarves can't cover the budget hole?"
"Good news, sir."
"Don't say that. Remember last time? Got summoned to His Majesty, chewed out, sleepless for three days."
A heavily distorted joke. The allied kingdom's king summoned him for a triumph after repelling a massive automaton raid—the "chewing" was praise. The sleep loss was from a second wave during his absence for the ceremony. He raced back horseless, then rampaged through machines spear in hand.
"Truly good news. A thank-you letter from a nearby village for dispatching a one-leaf knight."
One-leaf: a single coin's knight. Some Western Front knights aped the habit from their patron. But currently, only one external one-leaf knight would return: him. His return was good news.
"Oh."
Perfect timing. Gotta ask if he's up for long-term service.