Arden Feltner (3)
After the sparring match with Arden, who had given it his all, I sat slumped on the floor, gasping for breath.
As the events of moments ago flashed through my mind like a revolving lantern, my face twisted with sheer cringe. Even if it was to gauge exactly how strong Arden was at this point in time, I'd actually gone and spouted a line straight out of a light novel protagonist's mouth, all that talk about friendship.
Worst of all, he's a guy I have zero interest in raising affection points with. That's the bitterest pill to swallow.
"Haah... you really are... haah... strong, Bell."
Arden's voice reached my ears as I wiped the sweat-blurred vision from my eyes. His sweat-soaked hair had gone spiky and kept stabbing at his eyes, so I brushed it aside and looked over to find him sprawled out on the floor like a corpse.
I was plenty exhausted myself, but he looked flat-out deceased. A trail of sweat running down the back of his neck was soaking into the floorboards — uncomfortable, surely — yet he didn't seem to care one bit, flashing a rather refreshing smile instead.
"Look who's talking. You nearly killed me too."
"Well, you're the one who told me to come at you with everything I had."
"...Tch. Can't argue when you put it that way."
Clicking my tongue, I hauled myself up, fetched the two towels we'd hung on one side of the sparring room, and trudged back. Being considerate enough to run other people's errands wasn't exactly my nature, but I'd decided this much was a freebie as thanks for the guy humoring my request.
"Here."
I dropped a towel onto the face of the guy lying there as if I were distributing advertising flyers, then walked past without a word. He called out his thanks from behind me, but I didn't bother responding.
Swipe. Swipe.
As the soft towel touched my sweat-slicked skin and soaked up the grime, the discomfort finally began to fade. I felt almost human again.
Still, I actually beat this guy, huh.
Having finally propped myself upright, I gazed at Arden dabbing at his face with the corner of his towel and sank into thought. Honestly speaking, I'd won a little more easily than expected, and the whole thing left me feeling dazed.
Because the Arden Feltner of the original story was already an outlier at this point, wielding skill on a level that surpassed even Elisha's.
As is the way with the classic hidden-strength archetype, such characters are usually depicted as having no equals among the students of their own year. Of course, that varies — some are only on par with upperclassmen, while web novels with completely broken power balance introduce them from the very start as professor- or instructor-level threats.
Be that as it may, having crossed blades with him myself, I hadn't sensed anything like the overwhelming strength of his original-story counterpart. I'd never actually fought the Arden of the original, so I had no hard evidence — it was nothing more than a feeling.
That's insane.
If my guess was true, the implication was so catastrophic that I reflexively rubbed at my temples, where a dull ache was creeping in. It was enough to make a man tear his hair out.
However hard I scrambled like a dog, there'd be a limit eventually, and I might well need this guy's power — the original protagonist's power — someday. If Sirius really does infiltrate the Academy a month from now, I couldn't even guarantee I could handle that within my own means.
It was perhaps a blessing in disguise that I'd resolved early on to help him grow stronger.
Right. It's not the worst outcome. If he'd been completely useless and weak, then we'd have a problem.
The worst-case scenario I'd braced for ever since hearing that Arden had enrolled in Class E had, thankfully, failed to materialize. If it had turned out that, unlike his original counterpart, he had no hidden strength at all and was genuinely so incompetent he'd landed in Class E on merit alone, the despair might have driven me to strangle this bastard and hang myself alongside him.
Anyway, things had progressed smoothly up to this point. All that remained was to deliver the final line I'd been saving. After all, without revealing the truth, he would never so readily agree to what I was about to propose.
What goes around must come around, in the end.
"Hey, Arden."
"Yeah?"
"......"
At the sound of his name, spoken low, the guy — still dabbing at the back of his neck with the corner of his towel — turned his head. The sight was so exasperating that I forgot what I'd been about to say and let out a deep sigh.
He wasn't some delicate girl; why not just tuck the towel inside his shirt and wipe down like a normal person? Was he filming a sports equipment commercial? Fine. I'd have to demonstrate myself.
"B-Bell? Why are you taking off your—!?"
"To wipe off the sweat. Why are you being so awkward about it?"
I pulled my shirt up and started wiping the sweat pooled on my stomach and chest, and Arden panicked, averting his eyes in a fluster. Seriously? What is this modesty between two guys with the same equipment? Or wait — am I the strange one, with this utter lack of shame? Honestly, I'd call this well within the bounds of decency.
I briefly wondered whether my ethics from my past life clashed with those of this world, but racking my memory told me that wasn't quite it either. This guy was simply the theatrical type, I supposed.
In any case, I wanted nothing more than to wrap up this conversation and get back to the dormitory, so I breezed right past his flustered state and brought out the real business — though watching a grown man's ears turn red did churn my stomach something fierce.
"Arden. I have a favor to ask."
"A favor...?"
"Actually, the reason I challenged you to a spar today was because of this. It's going to be a long story."
Seeing my expression turn utterly grave, Arden's own gaze sobered in turn, and he gave a measured nod. That would be his way of saying he was ready to listen.
But just in case, I issued a warning in advance. Him nodding along so magnanimously now was one thing; him accepting what I was about to say without a second thought would be quite another.
"Fair warning — this is going to be deeply confusing. Still up for it?"
"But you need my help, don't you? Then as a friend, I have to help."
"...Unbelievable."
His logic was so absurd that I found myself at a loss for words. No wonder the original protagonist had a reputation as a pushover — the mere fact that I'd called him a friend was enough to draw out this much devotion from him.
A part of me felt grateful; another part thought him a complete fool. What on earth did he imagine I was about to ask of him, that he could be this confident?
"If you decide it's too much, refuse the favor. Don't feel obligated. In exchange — whatever I tell you here stays here."
"...Understood. It's that serious, then?"
I appreciated how quickly he caught on. In that case, everything now rested on my tongue.
I'd organized my thoughts in my head as best I could, but one slip of the mouth would shatter my credibility in an instant. All I could do was proceed in the spirit of tapping every stone bridge twice before crossing it.
As Bell's mouth opened and the facts came spilling out one after another, Arden's eyes grew steadily wider.
The incident in the Forest of the Mages, shrouded in mystery — or more precisely, the story reaching back to before it began — was far too meticulous and concrete to be laughed off as Bell's idle fantasy.
Wondering if he'd misheard somewhere along the way, Arden pressed for confirmation at intervals, but in grim testament to the cruelty of reality, Bell merely nodded with a stony face and affirmed that every word of it was true.
As the story drew roughly to a close, Arden stared hollowly at the floor with trembling eyes and murmured under his breath.
"That's... what in the world..."
He had no idea where to even begin asking. It wasn't that the story was so lengthy — it was that every piece of it was staggering enough to leave his mouth hanging open.
"Believe it or don't, that's up to you. I'm simply in the position of asking you for something."
"N-no, it's not that I don't believe you. I'm just... so confused."
At Bell's casually flung remark, Arden hastily waved his hands, making clear that he trusted him. Any other student would surely have harbored deep suspicion about the story Bell had told — no, suspicion alone would have been getting off easy. Most would have laughed it off as nonsense, snickering that he should go home and write novels instead.
But Arden was different. He was one of the precious few students who knew the Followers existed. After all, hadn't he enrolled in this Academy in the first place not simply to grow stronger, but to avenge the father they had murdered?
"So that's why you joined the expedition into the Forest of the Mages...?"
"That's right. I knew they were coming."
Watching Bell answer so matter-of-factly, Arden bit down gently on his lip. So that's why he was so passionate about the mock exam.
There had even been mocking voices in class once, asking why anyone would tag along on a dangerous expedition like that — who could have guessed there was such a story behind it? Given that reason, it was entirely understandable.
The problem was that, setting aside questions of trustworthiness entirely, a more fundamental question had risen in Arden's mind.
"...Then why didn't you tell the professors?"
"I can't discuss that right now. All I can share, for the moment, ends here. What I'm asking is simply this — can you help me, or not?"
Bell drew a firm line in an unyielding tone, and his golden eyes glinted coldly. Meeting that gaze as he tried to fathom Bell's intentions, Arden at last understood what he was really saying.
He was asking: having heard only this much, could Arden bring himself to trust him? Would he extend a helping hand?
It was, in essence, a test. Under ordinary circumstances, passing judgment so rashly on a matter of such gravity would be unthinkable.
But Arden was different.
There's nothing to think about.
The traces of the Followers he'd been desperately searching for all this time, even as he hid himself away — now, at last, they had been found from this side. If he let this chance slip, Arden firmly believed he would end up right back where he'd started: a clueless kid who knew nothing.
And there was more than one reason besides. Hadn't Bell said it himself? Friend.
Having lost his parents young, Arden had barely managed to make anything he could call a friend — but he knew at least this much: friendship that couldn't weather a bit of adversity, that couldn't reach out a hand when the storm hit, was no friendship at all.
And to Arden's eyes, the rugged wilderness Bell was now striving to forge through looked achingly impossible to cross alone. He wasn't hard-hearted enough to throw his newly-made friend into such a place by himself.
"Understood. I'll help you, Bell."
"You're sure? No take-backs once you've chosen?"
"I'm not so spineless as all that. If I've decided to help, I'll see it through to the end."
Steel-ing his resolve, Arden broke into a smile. That Bell had entrusted him with a secret of such weight could only mean he trusted him.
Even if he couldn't be of tremendous help, Arden's honest wish was to prove worthy of that trust as a friend.
He actually worked up the nerve to tell me a secret like this.
And at the same time, he felt a warmth spread through his chest at the sight of a friend who, despite their acquaintance being so short, placed such immense faith in him.
And yet, in contrast, I...
Gazing at Bell with somber eyes, Arden sank into a dilemma. Could he tell him? Since Bell had shared his own secret, shouldn't he, in turn, reveal what he'd been hiding?
Just as his deliberation reached its height, a broad hand abruptly entered his field of vision. He blinked and lifted his head to find Bell, the hand's owner, wearing a deep smile.
"Well, now that that's settled — I'm counting on you from here on out, Arden."
"Ah... y-yeah."
At that bright expression, Arden pressed shut the lips that had nearly parted, and carefully took Bell's hand.
He didn't want to betray the faith of a friend who had shown him such profound trust. Convinced that the day to reveal the truth would surely come someday, he shelved the secret to the far recesses of his mind — and forced a smile.