Twin Stars
In the past, a demon who had first stepped into the outside world knelt before a woman known as the Sword Goddess. Head bowed in reverence, the demon made a desperate plea.
“Demoness, you said just now that you wish to learn the sword?”
“That is correct.”
“Why?”
Because the sight of her swinging a blade was so beautiful, so brilliant, it made one jealous. The demon wished—yearned, even—to witness the sword path she traced and the world she embodied.
Please, the demon begged. Accept me as your disciple.
Cock-a-doodle-doo~ (The sound of a rooster crowing.)
At the edge of dawn, as the sky began to brighten, two blades sliced cleanly through the air, lightly flicking away the dew that clung to them.
Red hair danced in the wake of their sword winds. Black-and-crimson eyes narrowed against the sting of sweat. Lips pressed into a thin line, faint gasps slipping through.
“....”
“....”
After a light lap around Grindel to loosen their bodies, Yuri and Hans had been swinging their swords for two full hours.
They were both on the verge of collapse.
This is brutal…
I’m going to die… Maybe I should’ve just clenched my teeth and stayed in bed?
But no matter how exhausting it became, they could not stop. The only one with the authority to end this grueling, tedious training was a single person.
Or rather, a single sword.
“Haa… Sorry for lacking talent.”
“At least you know your place, Hans. However—your hands have stopped, have they not?”
“Ah.”
Their sword instructor was none other than the demonic blade Sword. Because of noise complaints about their shouting, they had kept their mouths clamped shut for roughly two hours, swinging their weapons in a trance while enduring Sword’s biting criticism and the constant ring of steel.
By the time the sun had fully risen and the sweet, savory aroma of soup mingled with the scent of freshly baked bread from the kitchen of the inn , Sword finally spoke.
Hans’s hands had gone deathly pale. Yuri’s once-soft palms were swollen and red. Only then did the relentless repetition come to an end.
“Ughhh…”
“Finally…!”
Yuri dismissed the shadow-woven sword back into her robe and collapsed onto the grass. Hans tossed Sword aside onto the lawn and sank down weakly. For a while, the only sounds in the inn’s backyard were the chirps of insects and their ragged breathing.
After enough time had passed for the two adventurers to recover some strength, Hans lay with his fingers laced behind his head, staring blankly at the fog-shrouded dungeon ceiling.
He turned his head slightly and glanced at Yuri.
At that exact moment, she was looking at him too.
Not a stolen glance, but an open, confident stare—her entire body turned toward him. Her emotionless red-and-black eyes revealed nothing at first glance, yet tiny ripples stirred within them, like the flicker of a hidden flame.
That crimson emotion was called competitive spirit.
“....”
“....”
A breeze swept through, brushing the deep-green grass and wrapping the area in awkward silence. They were not usually this tense, but before a spar they always fell quiet.
They observed each other, assessing. Stamina levels. Breathing intensity. Tremors in their hands and legs. Today’s condition. The number of corrections Sword had given.
Hans and Yuri appeared to have walked entirely different paths, yet they shared more similarities than most would guess. Both were fifteen. Both had endured painful childhoods. Strangely, both had been saved by a demon and taken one as their teacher. Neither had friends—until recently, when each gained someone they could call by that word.
They even looked alike: androgynous enough to confuse others, and both defaulted to polite speech with everyone. Most surprisingly, both possessed a fierce competitive drive. During their first spar they had swung at each other with lethal intent, forcing Sion to intervene in a panic.
“Miss Yuri, shall we begin?”
“Yes. I’ll be in your care once again, Sir Hans.”
“Haha. I’d appreciate it if you took it a little easier this time. I really don’t want to hurt you again.”
“…Is that a provocation? Hah, how amusing.”
Their eyes locked. Sparks seemed to fly between them. A scorching heat swirled through the air.
If they fought with their full abilities, Yuri—backed by the absurdly powerful familiar Kkachi—would win without question. Therefore, they limited themselves to pure swordsmanship.
Of course, Yuri had to use a sword woven from shadows since she carried none, but she refrained from every other ability. Her main skill, Contract, which partially shared Raven’s stats and combat prowess, remained permanently active until the contract was canceled, so it was unavoidably permitted.
A pure sword duel between a 1-Tier and a 3-Tier adventurer. Moreover, a rear-line fighter against a vanguard. To any observer it looked like an overwhelmingly unfair match—the victor so obvious that even the God of Gambling would bet his entire fortune on Hans without hesitation.
Yet Hans, who had already crossed blades with her once, knew better. This spar would not end so simply.
…She’s a genius.
After somehow ending up sharing a room, they had spoken about many things. He had avoided the topic of her gender out of an instinctive fear that something inside him might break, but aside from that they had exchanged countless stories.
What shocked him most was that she was only 1-Tier and had only recently begun learning weapons and martial arts. It didn’t feel that way at all.
The way she had soared freely through the sky, smashing aberrations’ skulls with a warhammer—tormenting dozens of them from above—had been utterly dominating. No ordinary 1-Tier adventurer without combat experience could have performed like that. Her combat ability that day would not have been out of place among 5-Tier adventurers or higher.
Even more astonishing was that until recently she had been so weak she could barely defeat a 0.5-Tier aberration. In less than a week she had casually surpassed a ceiling Hans had bled for three years to reach.
It was truly…
…Amazing.
He could not help but admire her.
And—
…It pisses me off.
He could not help but feel jealous.
Admiration and jealousy were separated by a single sheet of paper. Those who gazed at the stars inevitably wished to shine themselves.
Hans lifted his sword, carrying that same wish in his chest—to shine like her.
But stars do not know they are shining.
On the opposite side, Yuri wove a shadow blade as Hans’s survival machete rose. In her pupils the old longsword reflected, angled obliquely toward her. Light caught its edge and scattered faintly. It was dazzling.
To Yuri, Hans was a star.
I was only able to reach this place because of Lord Raven, but…
What about him? Though half-abandoned, unlike her—who had been born a noble—Hans had been a commoner orphan wandering the streets. Unlike her, who at least knew her father’s face, he had been discarded at birth and knew no one’s. Unlike her, who had simply been lucky, he had reached this point through his own strength, his own blood and sweat.
Of course the peculiar demonic sword that called itself a demon had helped, but surviving until their meeting and seizing the hilt with his own will had been entirely Hans’s effort.
When Yuri had dropped him into the middle of a battlefield, she had quietly watched his struggle. His refined swordsmanship and experienced movements were hard to believe for a 3-Tier adventurer. Wreathed in flame, racing across the battlefield to save others—he had looked exactly like a hero from a fairy tale.
In the past, when she had lived buried in books to escape reality, Yuri had once read a passage in a plant encyclopedia:
The sprout that blooms from the lowest place grows by straightening its body to reach the sun—higher than any other life around it.
A sprout that endures storms, blizzards, natural disasters, and natural enemies will grow into a tree no adversity can break.
Hans was that sprout from the lowest place.
Yuri was merely a lucky weed that had sprouted halfway up. A fortunate child who had barely survived thanks to Raven. A feeble being who could never compare to someone who had carved out his own path. A weak existence that would wither without a strong protector’s care.
Yet even a talentless weed like her, whose only usable magic was a small spark of light, might one day stand beneath the same sky as him if she kept swinging her sword at his side.
That thought was why she had refused Raven’s invitation to visit the market and instead grasped a sword hilt like Hans.
Her heart ached every time she remembered Raven’s dejected face, but it could not be helped. He was her first friend since birth. To catch up to that boy who stood closer to the stars than she did, she had to run with everything she had.
And above all—
To one day stand proudly beside Raven, her proud and magnificent demon, she had to stop being the weed sheltered within a crow’s wings.
“....”
“....”
Blades aimed at each other. Suffocating silence. Hands slick with tension.
The moment their burning gazes intertwined and a wind-blown leaf settled lightly onto the grass—
“Miss Yuri, I’m coming.”
“Come at me, Hans.”
—Tat!
—Tadak!
Sword and blade. Admiration and envy collided.
[Remaining Time: ∞]
[Targets]: Hans, Yuri Alcast, Raven, Kkachi, Sion
‘Admire, yearn, and ultimately become jealous.’
[Additional correction applied to the growth speed of overall proficiency.]
[Additional correction if manifestation of a specific origin is confirmed.]
[Additional correction according to the intensity of a specific origin.]