The Public Class (End)
I was on my way back to the Colosseum after my meeting with the Sword Saint.
Perhaps because everyone had already gathered at the arena, the streets were entirely deserted.
"I shall be waiting. I only hope you can find your way to me before I grow old and wither away."
The memory of the Sword Saint patting my shoulder and laughing heartily just before I left his room drifted back to me.
If I recalled correctly, the Sword Saint was still alive and well even at the game's ending, so it would be a very long time before he died of old age.
However, one question lingered in my mind...
"...Master, there is one thing I am curious about."
–Hmm? What is it?–
Sierra, who had been floating slightly ahead of me, turned her head to look back.
Perhaps because she had just declared war on the Sword Saint, she looked exceptionally triumphant.
"Why did you direct such intense killing intent at the Sword Saint? For a moment, I wondered if I was supposed to take his head. Surely your duels with him weren't matches to the death?"
Sierra giggled at my question.
–Pfft, so that was what weighed on your mind. Indeed, they were not duels to the death. As you say, the Sword Saint and his challengers do not fight to the death. Both sides are exceptional swordsmen, invaluable assets to their nations and humanity... It would be foolish to lose such vital resources over a mere title. It is likely forbidden by law. Though... I did hear that in the ancient past, things were decided simply by who lived and who died.–
"Then why the killing intent?" I asked again, listening closely to her explanation.
–Even if it was not a duel to the death... both that fellow and This Lady fought with the genuine intent to kill. I know not how it was for others, but at least it was so for us. Perhaps it simply became a habit.–
If they had clashed dozens of times in that manner, it was understandable why killing intent would naturally pour out the moment they met.
Especially since Sierra had always been the one on the losing side.
As she continued, Sierra's expression gradually darkened.
–Yet, not once... Though we clashed dozens of times, I could not grasp victory even once... This Lady had suffered from a chronic illness since youth. I knew. I knew my remaining time was short. And so, to forge a swordsmanship that could defeat him, I entered secluded meditation...–
Sierra swallowed the rest of her words.
I already knew the story that followed.
Sierra, too, had been obsessed with the sword, living a life that knew nothing else.
Her failure to claim the title of Sword Saint, her inability to become the absolute best in the way of the sword, had become a lingering regret so deep that it bound her soul to the mortal realm as a ghost.
–Every time I recall those old memories, I cannot help but think how incredibly fortunate I am to have met my disciple...–
Suddenly, Sierra drifted closer and wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace.
Though she wore a bright expression as she clung to me, I could feel a faint, unusual trembling in her spiritual form.
Her gentle, cautious voice echoed in my mind.
–So, do not leave me. No matter what happens... do not ever leave This Lady's side.–
"You worry about the strangest things. Why would I ever..."
As I patted her back to comfort her, Sierra cut me off.
–...I mean, do not die.–
"......"
I offered her a bitter smile, unable to give a proper answer.
It seemed my recent actions had caused her a great deal of worry.
'I suppose... I have been doing a lot of dangerous things lately.'
Yet, I could not stop.
A happy ending.
Would such a thing even be possible if I had to sacrifice my own life to achieve it?
At least for Sierra... it might not be a happy ending at all.
"...Let us go. We will be late."
Changing the subject, I began to walk slowly with her still clinging to me.
Sierra showed no intention of letting go for quite some time.
Inside the Colosseum, the public class was in full swing.
The duels were conducted in a format where a cadet would step forward and call out an opponent of their choice.
Before long, the protective barrier of one of the dueling cadets shattered with a resounding crack.
—Whoaaa!!!!!!
Deafening cheers from the spectators filled the Colosseum.
The prominent figures seated in the VIP section were eagerly waiting for the cadets who had left a deep impression on them during the first day to make their appearance.
Normally, during academy events open to outsiders like public classes or official exams, attention naturally gravitated toward the third-year cadets preparing for graduation. However, during this year's public class, all eyes were fixed on the first-years.
In a way, it was only natural.
This year's freshman class was exceptionally packed with monstrous talents.
From the heirs of the continent's Four Great Elemental Families to fresh faces displaying extraordinary genius, the term "Golden Generation" was on the lips of every official present.
Among them, the ones who stood out the most were the rising powerhouses, Eisel and Zeto.
Yet, their names were rarely called.
From the cadets' perspective, there was no reason to call out opponents when they knew they would only face a humiliating defeat.
As time ticked by and the sun reached its zenith, the VIPs continued to discuss Zeto and Eisel, paying little heed to the ongoing matches.
It was then that a woman with pure white hair, dressed in a flawless, pristine white gown, entered the VIP section.
A female knight clad in silver plate armor followed closely behind her.
Sensing their presence, one of the VIPs turned and cried out in surprise.
"The Saintess?!"
At his shout, every eye in the VIP section turned toward her.
Saintess Bernice had finally arrived at the academy.
Her pink eyes gently swept over the gathered dignitaries.
Her gaze lingered slightly longer on the Sword Saint, who was staring back at her from across the room.
'So that is the Sword Saint. To think he took an interest in Zeto.'
Ceasing her gaze, she placed a hand over her chest and offered a polite, elegant bow.
Lifting her head, Bernice spoke.
"I apologize for my late arrival due to some pressing matters. I am Bernice, the Saintess of Purity."
Principal Yuliut, who had already been informed of her arrival by Ecklin, the Vice-Commander of the Silver Wing Knights, stepped forward.
"Not at all, Saintess. We are deeply honored by your presence. Would it be alright if we announce your arrival to the Colosseum?"
Bernice sat down and replied with a gentle smile.
"Yes, of course. However, could you do so in a way that does not disrupt the cadets? They, not I, should be the center of attention today. I already feel apologetic for being late; I would hate to steal their spotlight."
"Haha, of course. It is almost time for recess anyway. We shall announce your arrival once the break concludes."
"Thank you."
Bernice offered a soft smile.
A moment later, Ecklin, who was standing behind Bernice alongside Ines, leaned in and whispered into her ear.
"It seems the Sword Saint has already made contact with Cadet Zeto."
"...Has it already come to that?"
"The Sword Saint's expression looks rather grim, so... I fear we might be too late. Rumors are already circulating that Zeto has become his disciple. I am terribly sorry. I should have contacted you sooner..."
Ecklin squeezed her eyes shut in frustration.
Upon hearing the rumor that Zeto had become the Sword Saint's disciple, many recruiters had already abandoned their plans to approach him.
The Sword Saint had never wished to belong to any organization, let alone a nation. It was highly likely his disciple would follow the same path.
Even during the war ten years ago, Chris had only participated quietly, achieving the miraculous feat of holding a northern plain entirely on his own while loosely following the Allied Command's directives.
"No, it is fine. Simply speaking with him will suffice for now," Bernice whispered back to Ecklin.
Nothing had been confirmed yet—whether he was indeed the blind saint acupuncturist, or if he was connected to the demon corpse found in the theater with its horn missing.
"We can worry about what comes next after we speak."
Bernice turned her gaze toward the Colosseum arena.
A male cadet was standing in the center, seemingly preparing for a duel, just as Ines had described.
Meanwhile, Ines, standing behind Bernice, was staring intently at the Sword Saint.
'To think he would show up at the academy after ignoring dozens of my letters...'
Despite her persistent invitations for him to join the Knights of the Round Table, the Sword Saint had never sent a single reply.
Commissioning the 'Black Hand' information guild to deliver those letters had cost a fortune. She had spent nearly her entire salary on those postage fees.
Chris, feeling her heavy gaze, glanced back.
He remembered Ines well.
In fact, it was impossible to forget her. She was firmly placed on his mental list of 'extremely annoying people.'
'Was she one of the Knights of the Round Table?'
For him, the title of Sword Saint was more than enough to define his status. He had absolutely no interest in tedious matters like 'maintaining continental order.'
As a subtle tension rippled through the VIP section following the Saintess's arrival, the cadet in the center of the Colosseum called out his opponent in a booming voice.
"I! Shall challenge Cadet Zeto of Class 1-A!"
At the mention of the name everyone had been waiting for, a wave of excitement swept through the Colosseum.
Jeras Clementine, who was seated next to the Saintess, struck up a conversation with her in a friendly tone.
"It is an honor to meet you, Saintess. I am Jeras Clementine."
Although it was their first time speaking, they were well aware of each other's identities. Bernice offered a polite smile.
"...Lord Clementine. It is a pleasure. I did not expect to meet the heads of the Great Elemental Families here."
"Haha, the honor is entirely mine. But... it seems fortune smiles upon you, Saintess. To witness Cadet Zeto's match the moment you arrive..."
"I have heard of Cadet Zeto from my Vice-Commander. She mentioned he is exceptionally skilled with the sword despite his blindness. But who is the cadet who challenged him?"
Indeed, the Colosseum was buzzing not just because of Zeto, but because of the identity of his challenger.
Fortunately, Jeras, who hailed from the same Terasia Kingdom, knew him well.
Although his presence had been overshadowed by the monstrous talents of this year's freshmen, he had been considered a highly promising cadet until last year.
"He is the son of someone you likely know, Saintess. His name is Kip Ockentia. He is entering his third year."
"Ah, the son of Lord Terlos?"
"Yes. He is reasonably skilled, but..."
Jeras trailed off, swallowing the words, 'he inherited his father's boundless arrogance.'
Jeras despised Terlos Ockentia. In his eyes, Terlos was not only incompetent but also thoroughly corrupt.
In fact, the entire Ockentia family was notorious for their dirty and underhanded dealings.
How such a man had become the Commander of the Golden Lion Knights, and why the King had chosen him, remained a mystery to Jeras, though he suspected a connection to the First Prince.
Bernice, who was also well-acquainted with the name Terlos Ockentia, easily understood the meaning behind Jeras's hesitation.
She nodded in understanding.
"...So you believe it might be too much for him. Thank you for the explanation, Lord Clementine."
"Not at all. Knowing the players makes the spectacle far more enjoyable."
Jeras nodded with a warm smile.
Soon, Zeto stepped into the arena, and the crowd erupted into a thunderous roar.
Hearing the deafening cheers, Bernice tilted her head slightly.
"...Is Cadet Zeto particularly popular with women?"
Among the cheers, the high-pitched squeals of young women were exceptionally prominent.
"My daughter, who is close to him, mentioned he has a way of making people feel at ease... But even without that, I suspect his striking features, which even a blindfold cannot hide, play a significant part."
"I see..."
Bernice fell into deep thought.
'Why is Lord Clementine smiling so warmly and praising him as if he were his own son-in-law?'
She had known Jeras Clementine to be a much more serious and reserved man. Was he, too, trying to recruit Zeto?
Regardless, Bernice was finally able to lay her eyes on the famous 'Zeto.'
'Striking features indeed...'
While appearance mattered little to her, even from a distance, he possessed a visual that naturally brought terms like 'beautiful youth' to mind.
As Zeto slowly walked toward the center of the arena, Bernice's eyes caught something highly unusual.
A woman dressed in Eastern attire was floating toward the VIP section.
She was literally drifting through the air.
Indeed, Bernice had spotted Sierra.
Sierra had simply drifted closer to the VIP section to see the Sword Saint's reaction to her disciple, completely unaware of the Saintess's presence.
She wasn't emitting any killing intent toward the Sword Saint. There was no need to.
The Sword Saint had wanted Zeto, yet he had failed to make him his disciple. The boy he coveted was already her disciple.
In a way, this was Sierra's first victory over the Sword Saint.
Of course, this was entirely her personal opinion.
Thus, she had come to gloat over what she assumed would be the Sword Saint's dark, disappointed expression.
–Hehe...–
Recalling what Zeto had said to the Sword Saint, a giggle escaped Sierra's lips.
'That Zeto... calling me his one and only Master...'
Lost in her pleasant thoughts, Sierra drifted closer to inspect the Sword Saint's face.
As expected, his expression was indeed grim.
However, the Sword Saint, who had been smiling until Zeto entered the arena, was actually thinking...
'Now that I think about it, our Kaen's beauty won't mean a thing to him...'
He was simply lost in a completely different set of complicated thoughts.
Meanwhile, Bernice, who had been watching Sierra closely, quickly realized what she was.
'Why is a departed soul here?'
Bernice could see spirits and astral bodies.
She was a Saintess. Her near-infinite Divine Power allowed her to perceive the boundary between life and death.
Not only could she see them, but she could also hear their voices. She occasionally encountered them in places with tragic histories.
Whenever she saw them, she would pray for them, purifying and sending them to the afterlife. However, she had never seen a spirit that maintained such a vivid and distinct physical form.
'Could this be... a specter?'
Unlike ordinary souls, specters harbored a dark, lingering energy born of deep grudges.
She could feel a similar energy radiating from the Eastern woman floating before her.
And then...
Sierra, turning away from the Sword Saint with a satisfied smile, locked eyes with Bernice.
Bernice stared at Sierra in silence.
'Should I purify her before she causes any trouble?'
Sierra stared back at Bernice, her expression turning to one of utter bewilderment.
'Who is that woman in white, and why does she look like she can see me...?'
Just then, Ines, standing behind Bernice, spoke up.
"Saintess, is something the matter?"
She found it strange that the Saintess was staring into empty space when the very cadet she had been waiting to see had just entered the arena.
'Saintess.'
Hearing that word, Sierra gasped and muttered to herself.
–A Saintess... Did Deidros not say they can see spirits...?–
Her quiet murmur, which should have only echoed in Zeto's mind, was clearly heard by Bernice.
Staring directly at her, Bernice gave a subtle, barely perceptible nod.
Finally grasping the situation, Sierra quickly covered her mouth with both hands and scrambled downward, hiding herself beneath the VIP balcony.
If she returned to Zeto's side now, the Saintess would immediately realize they were connected.
She could not allow her precious disciple to be subjected to a heresy trial because of her.
Meanwhile, in the center of the Colosseum...
...Zeto, who was preparing for his duel against Kip Ockentia, heard Sierra's voice in his mind and tilted his head in confusion.
'A Saintess?'