A Prayer

Several days had already passed since my meeting with Eustia.

In that time I had taken up residence in what was, without question, the finest lodging the commercial district had to offer, and I had drunk in the scenery of the Imperial Academy to my heart's content — the very landscape I had dreamed of for so long.

"Now this is the good stuff."

Over the past few days I had wandered every location that had served as a backdrop in the novel, making a proper pilgrimage of it. The result was a fullness in my chest that no words could capture — the pure, unadulterated joy of a fan standing inside the world he loved.

So this was the life of a successful fan.

Visiting the shops the characters had frequented was a delight in itself. Catching glimpses of extras who had appeared in the novel was a treat all its own.

...Though every last one of them spent the entire time bowing their heads the moment they laid eyes on me.

Was it because of my status as Grand Duke? The children of noble houses managed reasonably well, but the commoners trembled so violently whenever I passed that I almost felt guilty.

Just yesterday I had gone to a bakery so addictive that people called it a drug den — and the owner had shrieked, "Eek! Spare me! I swear I never put drugs in the bread!" which prompted the city guard to come rushing in.

Well... at any rate, I hoped nothing of the sort would happen at my upcoming meeting with Eustia. With that thought, I headed into the room I used as a training hall.

"Alright. Let's get to it."

I sat alone on the floor and crossed my legs. Even after arriving at the Academy, I had not neglected my training. This body still had not fully adapted. If I wanted to help the protagonist and the heroines — if I wanted to build a peaceful world — I could not afford to sit idle.

And living in this body had taught me something. I had already reached the realm of Sword Master. And yet I could feel it: I could grow stronger still.

There's no doubt. This body holds even greater potential.

Strength gathered in both my hands of its own accord. A realm that, in the original story, only a single person had ever attained — the protagonist himself.

Grandmaster.

I wanted the strength to protect my people from any enemy, no matter who they faced.

"Hoo."

I exhaled, slow and steady. Resting both hands upon my legs, I closed my eyes. I turned my awareness inward, observing my body, and felt the energy welling up from the depths of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my core.

Mana. A mass of energy present in living things and in the air itself. Within my own body, I felt a quantity of it so vast I could not fathom its depths.

There's so much of it.

An extraordinary amount. And perhaps because this was the flesh of a Sword Master, the mana circulated through me of its own accord, orderly and precise. I imposed a powerful will upon that orderly flow, and from it I manifested aura — aura with a nature uniquely my own.

Something flared in my hands like flame. Intense, yet stable — because I was the one in control. I opened my eyes slowly and looked down.

A blood-colored aura wavered there.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

This is the Aura of Despair...

Ordinarily, mastering even a single type of aura was enough to be called an elite among knights. This insane final boss, however, could wield no fewer than ten distinct natures of aura.

"...That's enough for today."

I wanted to continue, but the appointed hour was drawing near. Training mattered, but I could not keep Eustia waiting. Besides, I needed to hear about her life at the Academy — this was an important meeting. I dismissed the blood-red aura and hurriedly prepared to go out.

Before I knew it, the sun stood high overhead, looking down from the peak of the sky. I found the shop where Eustia and I had spoken after the entrance ceremony, and there she was — sitting by the window in a strangely rigid posture.

Golden hair, glowing warmly in the sunlight. I was certain that even a work of art come to life could not have been more beautiful.

An angel, if ever there was one.

She was lovely. The face of a girl waiting for someone. And resting upon the table, spilling forth in all their glory, were those ample pouches of maternal affection.

Then a murmur rose from the people around us.

"Wait — isn't that Her Highness the Princess and His Grace the Grand Duke?"

"So it really was true the Grand Duke was at the Academy... But the two of them meeting? What's going on?"

"Who knows. More to the point — don't they look rather well-matched?"

They were carrying on as if they had front-row seats to a show. It was a little distracting, but I let it go. Eustia was listening to their chatter with her ears perked, and the look on her face was not a displeased one.

I walked over to her at a steady pace and offered my greeting.

"Your Highness, I am delighted to see you again. I hope I haven't kept you waiting?"

"No, no! I only just arrived myself."

Eustia waved her hands in denial, her face drawn tight with nerves. Her thoughtfulness drew a smile to my lips of its own accord.

"That's a relief. How has life at the Academy been treating you?"

"Ah — we had our class placement exam yesterday. They had us take it together with the students from the Knight Faculty, for the sake of practical combat experience, and there were some people who left quite an impression."

"And who might that be?"

A class placement exam. As a fan, there was no way I could fail to take an interest. I waited for her answer, and after a moment of thought she produced a name I knew all too well.

"I remember Luke Stareil, the eldest son of Baron Stareil, from the Knight Faculty. I heard he was the top incoming student, and he was strong enough that he could have held his own against the vice-commander of the Imperial 1st Knight Order."

"Oh...?"

A murmur of admiration slipped through my lips. A name I could never forget. Luke Stareil. A boy who had received the blessing of the stars upon his entire being, born to the destiny of a Sword Saint. And the protagonist of the novel I had transmigrated into — Academy's National Power-Rank Swordsmanship Genius.

Hearing news of him, strength gathered in my hands.

The vice-commander of the Imperial 1st Knight Order would be a Graduate-rank knight — one who had already broken through the wall of Sword Expert.

For an incoming student to have already climbed that far... As expected of the one destined to become a Grandmaster. Even if the original story had changed, that talent, it seemed, had not.

"Ah, and there was an impressive student in the Magic Faculty as well. Liliana Mayflower... she's an elf, and she was assigned to the highest class along with me."

Eustia added this as if it had only just occurred to her. I murmured the name under my breath.

"Liliana..."

"Do you know her?"

"...Well. I suppose you could say I might."

I lifted my teacup at a leisurely pace and let the warm black tea rest on my tongue. When I set the cup down, Eustia was wearing an expression that looked faintly anxious.

"...I see."

She bit her lip, just slightly.

What's this? Have the two of them had a falling-out?

Nothing of the sort had happened in the original story. More importantly — Liliana Mayflower. She was one of the original heroines. An elf mage hailed as a genius of her generation.

Is it about time for that incident?

If the class placement exam had been yesterday, then the incident involving Liliana would be about to break. What was coming would be too much for her to handle alone. It involved those filthy slave-hunter bastards, after all.

I should head to the capital to see Lüdenburger.

A man of absolute influence in the imperial underworld, and my loyal subordinate. I had work for him in connection with this affair.

I spent a few more hours in pleasant conversation with Eustia. By the time a reddish dusk had begun to settle beyond the horizon, I offered her a gentle farewell in front of the dessert shop.

"Then please, go carefully."

"Will I be able to see you again...?"

Eustia looked up at me with round eyes. A note of reluctance clung to the trailing end of her words. Having spent her life in the imperial court without a faction of her own to rely on, perhaps I — someone she could trust and lean on — felt especially close to her.

I gave a faint smile and put her at ease.

"Of course. Your Highness is someone special to me, after all."

"I'm special..."

She fidgeted with her small hands, turning my words over. No matter how many times I looked at her, she was an adorable woman.

I should tell my subordinates to take especially good care of her.

I would be seeing her again soon enough, in any case. And so, doing my best to soothe the reluctance of parting, I turned my back on Eustia as she waved her hand with demure grace.

At that same hour, somewhere in a forest in the empire's southwest, a band of men was hauling a massive wagon toward some unknown destination.

"Hey! We need to make the next campsite before we're late. Move it, all of you!"

"Yes, sir!"

They had seized young elves near the Elf Autonomous Region and were bound for the capital. At the shout of a man with a brutal face, the slave hunters' footsteps quickened.

As they bustled around the wagon, a small elf girl named Ayla, huddled in the pitch-dark interior, quietly lifted her head.

Where... are we even...?

She had been locked in a space without a single window for what felt like an eternity. Confined to the wagon all this time, Ayla could feel her senses growing steadily duller. She no longer knew how much time had passed, or where she was. All she could do was wait, in that pitch-black despair, for a single thread of hope.

Her shoulders sagged, and as she hung her head, light-green hair — so like her sister Liliana's — spilled down across them.

How had it come to this?

She had only wanted to experience the outside world she had heard about from her sister. Beautiful scenery. Delicious food. And the righteous knights from the fairy tales. She had meant to slip away from the Autonomous Region for just a little while, take a journey that would set her heart racing, and then go home. And it had come to this.

I should have listened to Mother.

The warning came back to her — that she must not leave the Autonomous Region before completing her spirit contract. A shadow fell across a face as beautiful as a carved figurine.

In the moment ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she wanted to give up on everything, a small sob reached her ears. She rolled her eyes, and there they were — elf girls a year or two younger than herself, huddled in on their bodies, weeping with terror written across their faces. Friends who had been captured alongside her. It was a sight of utter despair.

Inside a wagon that not even moonlight could enter, the elf girl's desperate prayer spread silently through the dark.