The Covenant of Vows (1)

Justin opened his eyes in the infirmary.

Faint sunlight filtered through the barred window, staining the blanket a warm gold. He turned his head to find Catherine sitting beside him, reading a book.

"That was reckless, Justin."

"...I suppose it was."

Justin smiled wearily. He stared down at both hands and curled them into fists. The strength still wouldn't quite come.

"Forget the Sword Princess—I couldn't even beat Hershey."

"Obviously not. Hershey Minerva isn't just some girl with an overinflated ego."

Catherine snapped the book shut with a soft thud and fixed him with a piercing glare.

"Her confidence comes from her ability, plain and simple. You're Low Class—of course you couldn't last a single moment against her. Honestly, what do you even carry that thing around on your head for?"

Justin had nothing in particular to say to that.

"Fine, then. Let me ask you outright."

"Ask away."

Justin pushed himself upright, wincing. His abdomen still throbbed with a dull ache.

"Why on earth did you challenge the Sword Princess to a duel like some green recruit with a death wish? Did you lose your mind and want to die?"

Justin stared blankly at the ceiling before answering.

"Because she was the strongest."

"What?"

Catherine's brow hardened.

"You picked a fight with her because she's strong?"

"That's right. Naming someone weaker than me would be pointless. If I want to grow stronger... I have to fight the strong."

"You're insane."

Catherine spat out a word most unbefitting a noble as she shot to her feet.

"I always knew you were a little off, but I had no idea you were this far gone."

"Is it... really that strange?"

Justin gave a crooked smile.

"Of course it is! It's enough to make me question whether you're sane at all! Think about it—you'd need to be fairly strong yourself for that to work. What good does fighting the Sword Princess do when she's already beyond student level? Did getting pummeled by Hershey actually get you anything?"

Justin smiled awkwardly.

"No, not really."

"And yet..."

Catherine hesitated for a moment. Then, realizing there was no reason to hesitate around Justin, she asked point-blank:

"Was that really all it was?"

"What do you mean, 'all it was'?"

"...Was she really just the strongest opponent you could find?"

Justin nodded slowly.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Catherine sighed and sat back down.

"When you named the Sword Princess, you looked at her like she was your mortal enemy."

"...Huh?"

"Like you had a million stories behind that stare. Did the Sword Princess do something to you? From what I've heard, she's supposed to be remarkably righteous."

A flicker of confusion crossed Justin's face.

"...So that's how it looked, huh."

"Out with it. I've been waiting seven hours out of sheer curiosity."

"Wh-what? Seven hours?"

Startled, Justin looked out the window.

The weather was just as bright and sunny as it had been right before he'd collapsed. There was nothing about it that suggested evening.

"Yes, seven hours. You've been out cold ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for three days. Oh—don't get the wrong idea. I only came because you wouldn't wake up. Anyway, that Hershey girl... no, Hershey Minerva. She apparently doesn't know the meaning of restraint."

Catherine said ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it as if the very thought displeased her.

"If it were me, I wouldn't waste a high-tier spell on a mere Low Class opponent."

"...You're Low Class too, Catherine."

Catherine, furious, punched him squarely in the abdomen.

"Gahk!"

"Watch your mouth, commoner. What did I tell you? I was merely unlucky on exam day. I have more than enough skill for the Expert Class—"

"Sorry."

Justin clutched his stomach. It hurt—beyond hurting, it burned.

"Anyway, back to what we were saying. Why did you make that face? There's a story behind it, isn't there?"

The words Justin had been about to say slipped away, swept aside by Catherine's rapid-fire questions.

"Yeah, I figured as much. The Windsor I know has a crueler streak than anyone—'righteous'? Don't make me laugh."

"...Can I talk now?"

"I've been telling you to for ages."

Justin let out a long breath and spoke.

"It's true, actually."

He was at a loss. He had never once imagined his expression would give him away.

"...Challenging that Sword Princess—someone with that overwhelming presence—isn't exactly an easy thing to do, you know. Even for me."

"What?"

Justin paused, then continued haltingly.

"Somehow, ever since I was young, I only got stronger when my opponent was a villain. So... I walked over there telling myself, over and over, that she was a terrible evil. Otherwise I wouldn't have had the courage—or the strength."

As a rule, commoners who entered the Imperial Academy possessed exceptional talent.

It came down to scholarships. Realistically, no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠commoner could afford the Academy's staggering tuition on their own.

But Justin had no talent.

In terms of tiers, he stood at 1st Tier. He could manage simple everyday magic, but nothing beyond that.

By all rights, such a meager gift should have kept him from so much as setting foot over the Academy's threshold.

The reason he had made it in at all was a professor by the name of Lefpen Chaser.

One year ago, Justin had lost his parents.

They had been killed by a man in a black robe.

He didn't know who it was. He didn't know why his parents had been killed.

All he knew for certain was that before his very eyes, they had been slain in an instant—and that Justin, enraged beyond all measure, had manifested a strange power even he himself could not understand.

It was a pure white sword made of light. He had been in such a state of extreme agitation that he never got a proper look at it.

The black magic those men wielded had shattered effortlessly before Justin's power.

And so Justin had been able to take his revenge swiftly.

As it happened, Lefpen Chaser had witnessed the whole thing. Lefpen had told him many things.

With Lefpen's help, Justin had been able to enter the Academy afterward.

The problem was that in the entire year since, he had never once been able to call upon that power again.

And yet it had undoubtedly been cast with his own mana, by his own hand.

Justin felt suffocated by it. The power flickered just within his grasp, and yet he could never seize it.

'...If only I could reclaim that power, then someday—someday I'd have my revenge.'

He had discussed it with Lefpen at length, but the only clue that ever surfaced was one.

Rage without end.

But that was no easy thing.

Given the kind of person Justin was, he couldn't bring himself to truly hate anyone so easily.

Anger only ever came to him when he was looking at a villain.

The idea had struck him that very day.

When he saw a magic he had never witnessed before, his craving for that power swelled beyond all containment.

Watching a small boy no taller than his own chest cast such mighty magic had shaken him to his core.

And so—

In the deepest recesses of his heart.

He decided to act on something he had only ever permitted himself to think.

It was a mind-map: conjuring an imaginary foe, picturing that person as a villain without equal, and using that imagined malice to draw his power to the surface.

Even knowing it was pure fabrication, the thought of it made his conscience squirm, which was why he had avoided trying it for so long.

But it would stay inside his head, and he had no intention of ever letting it show. More than anything, in that moment his hunger for power had simply been too great.

So he tried it. He pictured Amelia as a monstrous villain and forged his mind-map around her.

Except—

"So it leaked out onto your face after all."

Justin decided to stop. No matter how private the exercise, nobody enjoys being cast as the villain.

"You're unbelievable, you know that? Do you have two lives to spare? Harboring murderous intent toward a duke's daughter over that?"

"...It wasn't murderous intent. I just... thought of her as a bad person. That's all."

"Look, I'm hardly the one who should be saying this, but you need to learn how nobles work. Nobles and knights will forgive almost anything—except slander. Never slander. And the Sword Princess, of all people... you couldn't have picked a worse target. You'd have been better off throwing yourself at Hershey."

Catherine grumbled as she rose to her feet.

"Come on."

Justin gave her a puzzled look.

"Where?"

"To eat, obviously!"

Catherine crossed her arms and snapped.

"...Ah. Sorry."

"Wh—what?! You dare refuse when Catherine Oblivion herself extends an invitation to dine?"

"I'm sorry. But there's something I need to do right away."

"...Which is?"

"Apologize. I let myself feel that way about her, entirely on my own."

Justin got up from his seat.

By the time he reached the training hall to find Amelia, she was already gone.

Justin walked toward Delin's Lake, turning the matter over in his mind.

'I swear I will never appear before your eyes again.'

The Covenant he'd sworn would presumably hold. After all, he was only coming here in search of Amelia.

'But why did he even lay a Covenant on me in the first place? Because I was a bother? Or...'

Could there have been some other reason?

He couldn't say for certain, but one thing was clear: he had done nothing to earn Luid's hatred.

He had made a mistake once, sure, but he had apologized properly for it.

Most likely, Justin decided, the man had simply found him tiresome. They didn't call Luid the Indolent for nothing.

'Still... what in the world was that magic I saw back then?'

With every step toward Delin's Lake, Luid—the very person he'd tried hardest not to think about—kept surfacing in his mind.

The magic Luid had unleashed on the day of the practical exam.

Countless magic circles blooming into being, and the result when they finally manifested.

The moment Justin conjured it all in perfect clarity, gooseflesh crawled up his arms.

It had been overwhelming.

Even he, who knew next to nothing about magic, had felt a chill run through him just from watching. That was the scale of it—a magic so magnificent that the mere memory inspired dread.

'I wanted to get to know him... but I suppose that's impossible now.'

A bitter smile crossed his face. He lifted his head.

"Back here again, of all places."

Justin had come to a stop at the edge of Delin's Forest.

The last time he'd come here seeking help, he had endured an agony he would never forget.

He never wanted to return—but this once, he had no choice. Justin was the sort of person who, once something weighed on his heart, simply had to see it through.

"Whew."

He drew one long, deep breath and stepped forward.

And in that instant—

"—!"

The sun-drenched forest turned black as ink.

Justin whipped his head around, scanning his surroundings in a panic.

It was night.

A thick, impenetrable darkness in which he couldn't see a hand's breadth before his face.

"Wh-what is this?"

Alarmed, Justin looked behind him.

At the entrance he'd just come through, an enormous magic circle was rippling like water.

-Wooooooo.

From that circle, countless ghosts came pouring out, wheeling through the sky.

They brushed past the great trees, setting the leaves a-shudder. Ominous black leaves, wicked and wrong in a way that made his skin crawl.

Then his eyes met a ghost's.

The ghost stopped. One froze, then two, then three.

All of them stopped. Every ghost turned to stare at Justin. They had no eyes—and yet he knew, with bone-deep certainty, that they were looking at him.

-Krak.

The sound of teeth grinding reached his ears.

-Krak. Krak.

The sound spread, wide and relentless.

'I have to run.'

It was less a thought than pure instinct.

Justin ran for his life.