The Open Class and the Sword Saint

I had kept the Tears of the Deceased in mind. If it had been a fleeting touch, she wouldn't have had the chance to sense its energy. But...

"...I've been sitting for so long that my legs have gone weak. Would it be alright if we stayed like this just a little longer...?"

...I couldn't bring myself to push Eisel away when she whispered those words. Held in my arms, her body trembled ever so slightly.

Eisel was a regressor. No one else in this world could understand her. No one could understand her. But I was different. At the very least, I could understand her. At the very least, I had to be someone she could lean on.

And so, even though it was a brief moment—hopefully too brief for her to clearly identify the Tears of the Deceased—I stayed still, just as she asked. I squeezed out every second I could. But eventually, as she began to bury herself deeper into my chest, I had to draw the line.

...She must have noticed something, though.

If it was Eisel, she would have sensed at least a faint trace of its energy. Sure enough, as she pulled away from my embrace, her eyes were clouded with confusion. I considered it a relief that I didn't see any hostility.

"...I should go now."

With those final words, Eisel departed. I was left alone in the quiet greenhouse. Breathing in the scent of the flowers blooming all around me, I realized that perhaps Sierra was right—maybe I did need some time to myself.

Standing silently in the garden, I gazed at a flower of a mysterious, blended hue. It was called the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠'Obscion.' Unless it was a special item, I knew next to nothing about flowers, so the story Eisel had shared about the Obscion was quite intriguing—it was information that couldn't be found in the game, or at least, information I hadn't known.

A happy ending, huh...

Perhaps it was their deepest, most desperate wish, etched into the flower's language at the very end. On one hand, I could understand why Juliut had tried so hard to save the Obscion. As someone who desperately wanted to keep Eisel alive, I, too, wanted nothing more than to place her somewhere safe if I could.

Eisel was strong. Fighting alongside her was certainly an option, but I was terrified that she might lose her life in the process. The Eisel I knew from the game... saving her had been ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠so close to impossible that her regression felt less like a gift and more like a curse.

I stared blankly at the Obscion for a long time as it drifted its subtle fragrance through the air. Could I really make Eisel happy? And it wasn't just her. A happy ending for everyone. That was what mattered to me above all else.

The weekend flew by, and the weekdays returned. I had rested thoroughly over the weekend. After constantly pushing myself, suddenly taking a break made my body itch to move, but I knew it was absolutely necessary for my mental state.

Once Edward's class ended, the cadets gathered in their respective groups, chattering away. The hot topic of conversation was the upcoming "Open Class." Lucia, looking thoroughly excited, called out to us as we walked out of the classroom.

"My little sister said she's coming this time...!"

"Your sister... you mean Liqua?" Yuri asked Lucia.

"Yes! She must have missed me!" As Lucia beamed brightly, Amon shook his head.

"It's not that... She's the successor of the Windless family, so she has no choice but to attend an event like this."

"B-but I wanted to see her... There's no way..." Lucia's face fell at Amon's blunt refutation.

Liqua Windless. She was Lucia's younger sister and the official successor of the Windless family. Unlike Lucia, she was a cold, sharp, and highly capable girl. If things went well, I might get to meet her this time.

During the Open Class period, the usually closed-off Innocence Academy would open its gates to outsiders, drawing massive crowds. It wasn't that just anyone with no connection to the academy was allowed in. Rather, the scope of invited guests was incredibly broad—ranging from the cadets' families and academy alumni to famous figures from across the continent, and representatives from knight orders, magic towers, and guilds looking to scout new talent.

This year in particular, with all four elemental families represented in the first-year class, the scale would be grander than ever. While many incidents tended to occur with so many diverse figures gathering at the academy, none of them were truly dangerous. No villain was foolish enough to cause trouble at an event where the continent's strongest powerhouses were gathered.

A petty thief does sneak in... but I should be able to handle that easily enough.

What I really needed to watch out for was something else entirely. I pondered my options, my gaze drifting to Sierra, who was floating lazily in the air. During this Open Class, her sworn enemy, her nemesis—and my ultimate goal... ...the Sword Saint would be visiting the academy.

Chris lay in the shade, escaping the blazing sun, lazily humming a tune.

"So peaceful... and quiet."

He was staying in a small village, helping out with chores in exchange for food and lodging. His primary task was farming. Lying in the shade after a hard day's work and enjoying the silence was a small but precious happiness he found in this village.

Just then, a bird fluttered down beside him.

"Hmm...?"

A letter was tied to the bird's leg. The black palm insignia branded on its belly was a familiar one to him. It was the mark of the continent's premier information guild, the Black Hand.

The Sword Saint, Chris, loved to wander. Yet, no matter where he went, the Black Hand always knew his location. Consequently, those who wished to contact him would usually go through the Black Hand. However, whenever someone sought out the 'Sword Saint,' it almost always meant trouble.

When Chris merely glanced at the bird and ignored it, refusing to take the letter, the bird tilted its head, stared at him, and began to peck at him relentlessly with its beak.

"Tsk..."

Unable to withstand the assault, Chris clicked his tongue and untied the letter from its leg. Having completed its duty, the bird flapped its wings with a rustle and flew away.

"Hmm... I hope it's not those 'Round' bastards again..."

Praying it wasn't another annoying chore, Chris carefully unfolded the letter. The letter began with the word 'Grandfather.' The moment his eyes caught that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠word, the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

"It's Kaen..."

The sender was none other than his disciple, Kaen. Though they shared no blood, he had raised her as his own granddaughter.

"She hasn't contacted me once since entering the academy..."

Had something happened to prompt this letter? Chris felt a slight pang of disappointment at the thought that she might only be reaching out because of trouble, rather than just to say hello. With a slightly solemn expression, he began to read.

Something had happened. It seemed Kaen had suffered her first defeat—and to someone wielding a sword with a reverse grip, no less.

It didn't seem like Kaen had used the swordsmanship he taught her, but even without it, she should have been overwhelmingly stronger than the average cadet. Judging by the letter, she had fought with everything she had and still lost. While it was incredibly strange that the disciple of the Sword Saint had lost in a duel of blades, what was even stranger was...

"...Why does she seem so happy about losing?"

Kaen readily admitted her defeat and was showering the boy with praise. The letter was filled with a long-winded, detailed description of him, almost as if she were describing a lover. What on earth did she mean by the sentence, 'I hope to be pricked by his needles one day'?

"An Eastern... blind swordsman..."

He had met a blind swordsman or two in his life, but none had possessed skills worth remembering. In any case... aside from her obsession with this blind swordsman, Kaen seemed to be doing well. As his eyes reached the final lines of the letter, he finally discovered her reason for writing.

"I don't know if I should call this a warm greeting or what..."

Having finished the letter, Chris fell into deep thought. He debated whether he should go or not. Since Innocence Academy was opening its gates, it was obvious that plenty of annoying people would flock there. Strictly speaking, he didn't want to go.

But since she told me not to come, it makes me want to go even more.

In the end, Chris decided to visit the academy, both to see Kaen's face after so long and to satisfy his curiosity about the punk who had defeated his disciple. He wanted to sneak in secretly, but the academy wasn't a place where he could easily do that. Still, he had more than enough justification to visit. He was the Sword Saint. If he announced his visit, the academy would welcome him with open arms.

Ending his brief deliberation, Chris tucked Kaen's precious letter into his breast pocket and stood up.

"I suppose I should contact that fellow after all this time."

Before heading out, he needed to contact his old friend, Juliut Klaus. It was through Juliut, the principal of the academy, that he had enrolled Kaen. Juliut was also the only person inside the academy who knew Kaen was his disciple.

"But how do I contact him..."

When it came down to actually making contact, Chris realized ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he didn't even know the name or location of the village he was currently in. He had simply hopped onto a passing carriage without knowing its destination, wandering aimlessly. Wondering where he could go to speak with Juliut, Chris decided to chase after the bird that had just flown away.

Since it was a bird belonging to the Black Hand, following it would surely lead him to them. And through the Black Hand, he could easily get in touch with Juliut.

Staring in the direction the bird had flown, Chris took a light step forward. In the blink of an eye, his figure vanished.

What...? What's going on...?

The Black Hand guild member in charge of managing the messenger birds was utterly bewildered. A man was walking toward the small tower where the birds gathered. Naturally, the guild member knew exactly who that man was. The strongest swordsman on the continent. The Sword Saint. It hadn't been long since they had dispatched a bird with a letter addressed to him.

In the Sword Saint's hand was the guild's messenger bird. The bird was frantically flapping its wings, struggling with all its might to return to the tower. Had the bird made a mistake? Was there an error in the letter? Or was he displeased that the guild had tracked his location? The guild member swallowed hard as he watched the Sword Saint slowly approach the tower.

Soon, the Sword Saint spotted him at the top of the tower and waved. Though the guild member had never once sought out the chief Goddess in his entire life, this time, he couldn't help but clasp his hands together in desperate prayer.

O Goddess Henerys... please... watch over me...