Elda Ferrenka
After the conversation had ended, heavy blows leaked in succession through the cracks of a tightly shut door in the Second Prince's residence within the Imperial Palace.
Thud. Thud.
The lingering echoes of indiscriminate violence carried all the way down the long palace corridor. Even the groans and screams that had burst out intermittently had, at some point, fallen silent. Standing guard at the bedroom door, Gawain swallowed a low sound in his throat.
His Highness has been taking out his rage for over four hours now.
Since returning from the Divelion mansion, he had already turned ten slaves into corpses — and still his fury showed no sign of cooling. Just as Gawain was about to intervene, worried the filthy stench of slave blood might soak into the palace itself, the door opened and Albireo emerged.
"Hah. Hah. Damn it..."
Albireo, his entire body stained red, gasped for breath. Clots of blood clung to his hair and cheeks. His eyes, seized by rage, bulged grotesquely.
"Fuck! How dare he send a warning to me! Behirit Divelion!!"
A violent crash exploded through the corridor.
"I can't wait until the Sword-Magic Festival! Mobilize every last soldier and kill that bastard now!"
"Please compose yourself, Your Highness. You know as well as I that it's impossible. We have no pretext to attack the Grand Duke — and anyone we sent would be nothing but meat."
"Shut up!"
Crash!
Albireo kicked over an ornamental piece displayed in the corridor, his temper erupting. As he poured out a rage he could no longer contain, Gawain quietly lowered his gaze.
...I still can't believe it.
The Grand Duke's presence that he had seen and felt when they visited the Divelion mansion. The very caliber of his existence had been on a different plane. What on earth had happened to him since he attained the realm of Sword Master three years ago? Even now, recalling the air of that drawing room — so oppressive it felt as though one needed permission simply to breathe — sent a chill down his spine.
A short while later, having calmed somewhat, Albireo caught his breath and spoke.
"Hah... Unlike me to get so worked up. I need to stay composed. If I'm going to kill them all, I have to prepare thoroughly."
"Wise words, Your Highness."
"The Grand Duke, Eustia, and everyone who aids them — I'll kill them all. Where is Master right now?"
"I believe he has finished his research in the southern empire and returned to the Magic Tower."
"I need to contact Master. He has to know the Grand Duke is the greatest obstacle to our plans. Master will attend this Sword-Magic Festival as well — together, we'll slaughter every last one of those insolent bastards."
Albireo wiped the clotted blood from his cheek with his hand as he spoke.
The Magic Tower Master of the Empire — an 8th-tier Archmage who stood at the highest rank among all living magicians. He was the teacher who had recognized Albireo's magical talent and personally taken him as a student, as well as his most powerful backer.
Though they called him Master, the truth was that he supported Albireo in the succession struggle for one reason only: Albireo provided unstinting support for the Magic Tower Master's research. He supplied quite literally everything. Treasures from the Imperial Palace. Materials from the farthest corners of the empire. At times, even living children.
This Sword-Magic Festival is going to be quite the spectacle.
Gawain quietly stroked his chin. Not only the Magic Tower Master, but by tradition the Commander of the Imperial 1st Knight Order would attend this year as well. And if the Grand Duke — who so rarely showed himself at capital events — appeared alongside the Princess, the finest stage for the Second Prince would be set.
Become the star of a glittering stage and slaughter the interlopers. It was the scenario his lord loved most.
And yet... even with the Magic Tower Master's aid, did they truly have a chance against that monstrous Grand Duke? Even if they lured him into a trap, took hostages, used poison — he simply could not picture a victory.
......
Perhaps, just as the Grand Duke had warned, abandoning the Princess's assassination was the right course. Concealing the doubt that bloomed in a corner of his mind, Gawain set off somewhere as ordered.
At that same hour, in the exclusive training ground of the Imperial Academy's highest class, a boy cleaved the night air with a longsword.
Whoosh!
A blade that cradled starlight danced through empty space. Soft hair scattered this way and that with the boy's movements.
"Hup."
A tyrannical thrust followed a deep-drawn breath. The sharp sword-tip ripped the night air apart, bursting with a sonic crack.
"Still not enough."
A fine, youthful voice spread through the empty training ground. The eyes of Luke Stareil, top of the Academy's first-year class, darkened with competitive fire.
If His Grace the Grand Duke is in the capital, he might attend this Sword-Magic Festival. I want to show him how much stronger I've become.
The first defeat he had ever tasted in his life. Advice that had become blood and flesh. The imperious gaze looking down from behind a mask kept flickering before Luke's eyes.
But... what was that power, anyway?
The sparring match at the inn. The overwhelming strength of a man who walked the sky and seized his opponent's sword dominated his mind. Could he become like that man someday? It wouldn't be easy — and that was exactly why his heart raced.
Looking up at the wide-open sky, holding a star in his heart, Luke raised his sword again with a grim expression. Then, just as he was about to draw up his mana—
"My, still working this hard at this hour?"
"Professor Elda."
A woman with a presence as quiet as a wolf walking through the forest approached from the entrance. A little taller than the average female student, with the black hair and black eyes characteristic of the northern tribes, and skin as white as snow. It was Elda Ferrenka, professor of the Knight Department.
"What brings you to the training ground, Professor?"
"Sitting in the faculty office was making me restless. The walls of the highest-class training ground are sturdy, so I figured I'd swing a sword around a bit — but looks like a guest got here first."
Elda strolled over on her long legs, unhurried. Even without a trace of makeup, her striking eyes gleamed as sharp as a predator's, gauging Luke's presence.
"My, you get stronger every single day. I've crossed the line between life and death and seen plenty of strong people, but you really are something else the more I look at you."
"You flatter me. I still have a long way to go."
"Well, humility's fine, but try having a little more faith in yourself. Confidence is what matters to a warrior, isn't it?"
Grinning, Elda patted her ample chest. As Luke gazed at her, a thought crossed his mind.
I was looking for a sparring partner anyway. Should I ask the professor?
Elda Ferrenka — a northerner who, despite being only in her mid-twenties, had reached the peak of Sword Graduate and been appointed as a professor. Someone a full rank above him might give him some kind of insight. There were limits to training alone. Wanting to become like the man he respected even one day sooner, Luke opened his mouth.
"Professor, if it wouldn't be an imposition, might I ask you for a spar?"
"Hm? A spar, you say?"
"Yes. Training alone, I've started to feel as though I've hit a wall."
"Is that so? Well, no reason not to. I came here wanting to swing a sword anyway."
An answer without a moment's hesitation. Grinning with easy confidence, Elda drew the arming sword at her hip.
Shiiing—
A friction sound that rang out clean and clear. After loosening up here and there, she put some distance between them and asked Luke at a leisurely pace.
"What about aura?"
"Would it be all right if we use it to a degree, just without projecting aura blades?"
"Of course."
Elda smiled, showing even teeth. Silence filled the space between them. Just as Luke raised his sword into a mid-guard, Elda vanished.
Left!
A downward slash came in aimed at his left shoulder. Luke instantly wrapped his blade in starlight aura and met Elda's attack head-on. A tyrannical force transmitted from sword to sword. His arms went numb from a physical strength far beyond what he'd imagined.
There's a gap in aura control.
A silver-gray aura flowed from Elda's body. It seemed related to strength or speed — and yet she still wore an easy expression, as if she hadn't even shown half her full power.
"Don't just watch the sword!"
Luke blocked a surprise kick aimed at his abdomen with his arm. As he tried to create distance and recover his stance, sword-strikes as sharp as a wolf's fangs kept coming.
Clang! Screeech!
A wave of blade-work poured down as if she wouldn't give him even a moment's rest. Parry a thrust aimed at his gut, and a sword came straight for his head. Barely dodge a downward slash, and the blade bent in at a bizarre angle once more. Every attack was extraordinarily fast — fast enough that he was reduced to blocking and deflecting.
And yet it wasn't as fast as that man's sword.
In the midst of a fierce exchange that went on and on, Luke recalled the advice the red-eyed knight had given him.
Just pouring out attacks quickly isn't everything.
What mattered was accuracy and timing. Could he do it? Whether he could or not, he had to try.
From Luke's sword, an aura resembling the Milky Way surged forth.
"That presence is no joke! But I'll wrap this up quick!"
While Luke prepared a single decisive strike, Elda accelerated as if she wouldn't give him the chance. She was so fast now that it felt less like seeing and blocking and more like blocking by instinct. As the silver-gray wolf opened its jaws for its prey, the star-blessed boy's eyes flashed.
Now.
A tiny gap, too small even to see. Perhaps a strike that relied on nothing but instinct. But he trusted himself, and loosed his sword in a single burst.
CLANG!
"Kh!"
Elda hastily parried the incoming thrust, and her follow-up lagged. Toward the slender neck of the wolf that had shown an opening, the star-blessed boy drove his sword in a single motion.
Silence settled over the training ground. After catching his breath for a moment, Luke spoke to Elda.
"Thank you for the match."
"Hah... You really do grow insanely fast, don't you? But your finish was sloppy."
Elda grinned. Sensing something off, Luke looked down — and found her toes pointed at his chest as well.
"You have to finish properly too. Right?"
"...You're right."
Elda had wrapped her toes in sharp aura, as if they were a blade. The wolf whose fangs had been broken was thrusting out its claws. The composure Luke had maintained throughout faintly cracked.
That was close. I almost took a hit to the chest...
He'd let his guard down, thinking he'd won at the last moment. He couldn't let anyone outside the family discover his secret. He'd have to be more careful from now on, Luke thought, brushing off his clothes. Having straightened her posture, Elda asked,
"Luke, is there someone you're aiming for?"
"How did you know?"
"I can tell just by looking. It's hard to explain, but people like that have a different look in their eyes. You included."
"I see."
Luke answered evenly to her sharp observation. He gazed blankly up at the night sky, recalling the red-eyed knight. Watching his expression, Elda said,
"You don't have to rush. You're getting stronger plenty fast as it is."
"Thank you for the encouragement."
"Look at that sky. The stars are shining tonight too, aren't they?"
"...? Yes."
"Right. That never changes. You just keep moving forward like always. Got it?"
Elda spoke with a confident face. Looking at her, Luke's mouth fell slightly open.
"Hm? What's wrong?"
"...You just said the exact same thing, word for word, as the person I respect."
"Whaaat!? Who is it!?"
"Well..."
Elda startled, showing enormous interest. She looked as if she'd been caught knowing something only she was supposed to know. Seeing that unfamiliar expression, Luke sank into deep thought.
Should he talk about that man? He wasn't someone Luke could go around speaking of carelessly. He couldn't afford to become a hindrance, even by accident. That said... would it be all right if he left out what happened in the forest?
After stroking his chin for a while, Luke slowly opened his mouth.