The Witch (5)
The Holy Sword's white blade sliced through space. In Ashtain's movements, which wielded the blade with effortless freedom, not a single wasted motion could be found. His restrained technique had reached a level that even the Holy Sword, which had existed for centuries, could only admire. The ever-changing sword path eventually came to a halt in one spot. The dance of blades that seemed like it would continue forever had stopped.
A single bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.
“Hoo...”
As Ashtain exhaled, a white puff of breath spread into the air. Relaxing the muscles he'd tensed with effort, he slowly sheathed the Holy Sword.
-Your insight into the sword is truly remarkable. Did you have a master?
Master.
Ashtain recalled the image of a white-haired old man smiling, then shook his head.
“I did.”
It was past tense. The Holy Sword, Karelin Paniman, wisely closed her mouth. There was no point in prodding at a painful wound if it wouldn't yield a meaningful reaction. So she changed the subject.
-I see. Still, your stamina is just as impressive. After reducing Aria to such a limp mess, how are you up so early? Your virility is truly terrifying.
It wasn't worth answering. Ashtain kept his mouth shut and lifted his head. The sky was a deep indigo. Winter mornings were particularly dark. The sun rose late.
“Aria should be waking up soon.”
-Who knows? After having her body and heart toyed with to your heart's content, wouldn't she sleep a little longer? It almost sounds like you're scolding me.
Ashtain narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue.
“You really only say things that get on my nerves.”
-Isn't it the truth?
He couldn't deny it. Last night had been that intense. Reason had crumbled, leaving only raw, instinctive desire. But why should he be condemned for it? If anything, the real culprit was Aria's demonic nature, which grew cuter with each passing day.
Just this morning, he'd struggled so much trying to sneak out of bed because she'd unconsciously burrowed into his arms. Hmm. Thinking about it again, how could such an adorable creature even exist?
As Ashtain stared blankly into space, a sharp retort came from Karelin.
-What a lovestruck fool you look.
“Sorry about that. Is it embarrassing to act like this in front of a sword that can't even date?”
When he spoke with clear mockery, Karelin responded with amusement. Though her voice took the form of a young girl, her manner of speech revealed she was an ancient hag who had lived for over five hundred years.
-Hmph, this young girl has experienced romance before, you know.
Ashtain rubbed his eyelids.
“The love life of the Holy Sword? Now that sounds interesting.”
-Are you curious?
At Karelin's question, Ashtain nodded.
“In a way, you're a living historical record.”
-Treating me like a historical document feels a bit harsh. Five hundred years is more than enough to make me an antiquated relic, isn't it?
Thinking that, Ashtain countered.
“Your test was pretty harsh too.”
-Wouldn't only an idiot fail something so simple?
Ashtain recalled the conversation he'd had with the Holy Sword last time. When she'd asked, “How does it feel to have passed the trial?” he'd been completely dumbfounded. He'd thought it was nonsense.
'How did I pass the trial? Didn't you say I failed?'
'It was a bluff.'
'A bluff?'
'The true question of the trial was this: Can you abandon the majority of people for the sake of one precious person?'
To urge him to kill the person most precious to him, only to flip her hand like that? It was an utterly malicious test. It was only natural that sarcasm spilled from Ashtain's lips.
“What part of you is holy? You're basically a demonic sword.”
-Hahaha! Ashtain! The essence of a sword is ultimately to cut others. There is neither good nor evil in that. Whether it is called a holy sword or a demonic sword is decided by your uncertain standards, is it not?
Was this something a sword enshrined by the church should be saying? Ashtain could almost picture a girl with blue hair and red eyes clutching her stomach and rolling on the floor in laughter. It was quite an irritating image. For an old hag, she had no dignity at all.
“Stop spouting sophistry, Karelin.”
-It is a thoroughly proven method. Since when did heroes who perform good deeds start weighing things with reason? If they can save someone, they save them. Even if they cannot, they still try. Aren't those foolish types exactly what we call 'heroes'? I have no interest in those calculating fools. They are simply unqualified.
“How impressive. So when are you going to tell me about your love life?”
-Eh? You really want to hear it?
Karelin's voice rose at the end with a tone of surprise. Ashtain frowned.
“What? Are you trying to back out now?”
-Hmm, it's just that the mood has improved quite nicely. It would be a shame to ruin it.
“Ruin it?”
-It's not exactly a bright story.
Ashtain looked at the sheathed Holy Sword with dissatisfied eyes. Her tone reminded him of someone.
“You act like you're about to tell me, then draw the line. Just like a senile old man.”
-Don't be like that. I'll tell you when the time is right.
“Do old people always turn to such clichéd excuses?”
-You're acting as prickly as someone who's been burned before.
Ashtain fell silent. His behavior was no different from silent affirmation. Sensing the mood had soured, Karelin skillfully changed the topic.
-More importantly, that little girl is quite pitiful.
“Who?”
-You're quite skilled at pretending not to know. I'm talking about the little witch.
The little witch? Was she referring to Azazel? Even if she looked like that, she was a woman who had lived a decent number of years. Though compared to the age of the Holy Sword, everyone must seem like a child. Ashtain spoke as he walked toward the inn.
“What's so pitiful about her? It's her own fault.”
-That's exactly why it's more pitiful. In the end, she ended up devouring her own flesh.
“Are you defending Azazel?”
-Hmm, not exactly.
“I won't forgive her.”
-Such a hardline stance?
Ashtain let out a quiet sigh. From Azazel's perspective, she probably hadn't known about Aria's past. But the fact remained that she had said things that reopened Aria's wounds. That was reality.
Aria was his person. He would not forgive anyone who harmed her. Not even a former comrade. Even if Aria were to commit evil deeds and face condemnation from the majority, it wouldn't matter. Even if everyone turned their backs on her, he alone would stand by her side and raise his sword.
It wasn't the mindset of a righteous hero. So what? Before he was a hero, he was simply Ashtain—an individual, a man. He would not lose her helplessly like he had lost his sister Amelia. No matter what happened, no matter what she did, he would protect her.
With those feelings in his heart, Ashtain grumbled to Karelin.
“How can I forgive someone who badmouths the person I hold dear? I'm not a saintess or a saint.”
-Indeed. You are a hero.
“You're not about to say that a hero shouldn't harbor personal feelings, are you, Karelin?”
-This young girl never said anything of the sort. On the contrary, I welcome it with open arms. I've felt this for a while now—heroes are all so rigid. I think it's fine to have a little flexibility.
“………Are you actually a demonic sword?”
-And are you truly a hero?
The two of them burst into light laughter. Surprisingly, they were quite in sync. No wonder they were the hero and the Holy Sword.
Karelin spoke with a subtle smile in her voice.
-Well, it doesn't seem like Aria holds any hostility toward that witch.
“She's just that much of an airhead. She doesn't even know how to get angry.”
-……Hmm. If you say so, then it must be true.
Ashtain paused as he climbed the stairs. He'd run into someone. Speak of the devil. There stood the red-haired girl they'd just been talking about—Azazel. Her eyes lacked strength and her complexion was poor; it was obvious she hadn't slept a wink.
Had she heard what they'd just said? Even if she had, Ashtain had no reason to take it back. He walked past the motionless Azazel without a glance.
“……”
The girl who would normally have snapped back remained silent. How unusual.
Azazel hadn't slept a wink last night. Even when she covered her ears with a pillow or cast a soundproofing spell, it remained burned into her mind.
Ashtain's words of love. Ashtain's affectionate voice.
A terrible, wretched emotion had been carved into her chest. The frustration was so overwhelming that she'd left her room.
Click.
When she opened the door, a narrow hallway came into view. The cold morning air helped ventilate some of her suffocating feelings. Looking out the window in the corridor, she saw a man swinging a sword. The man was familiar. It was Ashtain.
When had he woken up? Had he even slept?
Azazel watched him as if in a trance.
“……Ashtain.”
She was aware that she had spoken harshly. She knew she had been rude with her cruel words. She even thought about apologizing. But how? Having been raised on a pedestal, she was only familiar with vertical relationships. Horizontal ones were foreign to her. A sincere apology was an impossibly difficult task for her.
And even if she did apologize, would Ashtain accept it? She'd seen his expression last time. There had been no disappointment, no resignation. Only eyes filled with contempt and humiliation. Eyes that held no expectation whatsoever. It had been devastating. It felt as if a heavy rock had settled in her chest, leaving her in agony.
“Haa...”
Azazel watched him train endlessly, unaware of the passing time. She had often watched him like this before. If only she could go back to those days. Then she could have Ashtain all to herself.
Azazel pressed her forehead against the window. The cold glass cooled her feverish brow.
“Pathetic.”
To think that Azazel would be wallowing in self-pity over a single man. She scolded herself and left the window. She considered returning to her room, but she was hungry. Deciding to head to the first floor to order something to fill her stomach, she descended the stairs.
“Are you defending Azazel?”
Ashtain's voice drifted from afar. Azazel stopped on the stairs and perked up her ears. Had he already finished training? Who was he talking to?
“I won't forgive her.”
I won't forgive her. In the context of the conversation, it was clearly directed at her. Those words tightened around Azazel's heart.
Who are you to talk about forgiving me or not?
“How can I forgive someone who badmouths the person I hold dear? I'm not a saintess or a saint.”
The person he holds dear. He must be talking about that woman. So that's it. I've become nothing to you now.
She heard many more words after that, but none of them reached Azazel's ears. Her body felt like it was floating. Nothing felt real. Was this a dream? If so, it was a nightmare. A terrible nightmare.
“……”
He stopped walking and noticed her. Azazel felt she needed to leave this place. But her body wouldn't move easily. She froze like a rabbit before a crocodile. And in that state, their eyes met.
It wasn't the warm gaze from before. In his eyes, there was winter. Cold, freezing winter.
Ashtain walked past her indifferently.
Her head spun. It wasn't just her head. Her entire body felt hot, and her joints and bones ached. What was this sensation ringing inside her? The world seemed to spin. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed on the spot.
“Ah.”
An odd sound escaped her. It was a wet voice, as if she'd forced dry bread down her throat.
“Hic...”
She covered her mouth. She didn't want to cry pathetically. Azazel remained slumped on the stairs for a long time.