114 - Perspective on Talent [Part 1: Remnant Academy Invasion Operation END] [Part 2: Eternal Night's Sword, Nocturne's Ghost Story]
Even after taking down the boss, things didn't unfold entirely optimistically. With combat mode forcibly disengaged, Alperion and Sisiela escaped the dot damage judgment and barely clung to life, but the Gestalt branch chief—fugitive from the empire—had no choice but to slip out of the holy city before Adella even regained consciousness. Why didn't Abyss help? Obviously, it was a classic case of using us as disposable pawns.
The one silver lining was that the building had been neatly obliterated, letting us crash in a far better inn than before. Not that it mattered much—sleep skipped automatically anyway, so no real sensation of rest.
As always, an unfamiliar ceiling greeted me upon waking.
"Yeah. Could you just turn your voice up a bit?"
"Sounds good. Looking forward to it."
"..."
I ignored him—trust already broken from the start—and scanned the room. As I slowly sat up, a heavy pressure hit my leg. Pins and needles; blood flow cut off.
Lifting the blanket revealed a girl pillow-legged on me, sleeping soundly.
"Grrr..."
What new morning? The sun was already high noon. Exhaustion I got, but time was short—I shook Adella awake.
"Time to get up?"
"Hng... Huh? Oh, unni! Slept well nya?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yaaawn. So tired, still sleepy. Didn't sleep a wink nyaaah~!"
Adella stretched, arms flailing. Her pale, slender limbs extended every which way.
"Didn't sleep a wink? It's already 2 p.m."
"All your fault! Roughest bed ever... Kinda scary, but felt good, so forgiven this once."
"...What?"
I thought I'd misheard and asked again. "Sleep-talking, right?"
"Sleep-talking? Was it...? Yeah, probably haha...? Kinda feels like it... and not."
No time for nonsense, scripted or not—game loading and chit-chat had burned over 10 minutes already.
"Pack light and let's move."
"Move? Where? Thought Abyss branch?"
"Details on the way. Clothes first."
Stepping outside hammered home how nice our inn had been. Stretching luxury housing and nobles in fine casuals strolled the streets.
"Sleeping in District 3 inn...! Should've stayed longer, such a waste!"
Gestalt's voucher had booked us smack in the capital—guards scoured slums for laurel leaves, so dark-under-lamp strategy.
Boots echoed chillingly now and then, but strolling casually with Adella fooled passersby.
"What? Abyss branch destroyed? Then Gestalt!"
"He's fine. Nightpirate—slipped out easy. Focus: us escaping."
Bahamut capital's sealed tight. Four walls garrisoned by battalions; dozens patrol ramparts day-night. Questless clear to exit and Act 2 done—main goal.
Dodging knights, District 15: cold stone floor, armored man snoring booze-reeking, drunk midday.
"Familiar face?"
"Know him nya?"
I never forget a face—names too; could save your life later.
[Retired Knight Captain – Alphonse Schipot]
Prologue "infamy difficulty" pick: Laura beat this captain lightly. Pathetic—if that's leadership, empire's doomed. Fired since.
"You...!"
Lingering woke him; eyes bulged, pointing accusatorily.
"Th-this...! Because of you...!"
Shattered bottle gripped, he charged rage-blind, ready to kill.
Per instructions, absorbed his charge and slammed him down.
"Urk!"
"We know each other. Fought in capital once."
"Doesn't look impressive."
Adella whistled, watching.
Laura won then, but duo-to-solo shift logged as my win.
"Nonsense! I was Bahamut's knight captain...!"
Drew for sword—nothing there.
"Knight captain... was."
His rags screamed failure; perfect laughingstock.
How did Alphonse Schipot rise to knight captain? Outsiders chalked it to swordmaster dad's pull. Pressure got him in—half-true.
Trouble brewed as empires vied for colonies. Resource-rich but hollow Bahamut faltered militarily. Brass buried frontline sacrifices under numbers and gains; captains became barbarian bait quick.
No volunteers. Central picks only, but war meant frontlines. Safe capital knights clung tight. Alphonse—high seniority, narrow allies—pushed in predictably.
"Here's your sword, as requested."
But rumor flew: capital captain lost 1v1 to kid. Palace pressure pre-emperor rage forced dismissal.
New scapegoat hunt. Knights, resenting his ploy, expelled him fully—sword seized bonus.
"Thanks, kids... Truly grateful."
"Captain groveling to juniors nya? Dad swordmaster too?"
Adella puzzled.
"I'm commoner-born. In academy, Sir Schipot adopted me as son."
"Commoner in central knights? Must've had sword talent."
"None. Barely avoided expulsion; knights impossible."
"Contradicts. No skill, no central."
"Sir forced me in. Still don't get the hype."
Alphonse drooped, depressed.
He knew his place best. Post-heresy war, dad's death tossed him thorns.
Dad's heirloom: Ashtail's Greatsword. Begged why the praise endlessly.
[Keep at it.]
20 years bone-grinding swings, technique honed—ended forced retirement, humiliation.
"Should've forced magic department over knights back then..."
Nami perked at mutter, questioning.
"Know magic?"
"Magic... Loved it young. Isabella? Name fuzzy now. Childhood friend Bella chirped library self-taught spells in birdlike voice. Came to capital for her."
"Why knights then nya?"
"Bella liked sword-swinging armored guys. Trained blindly. Haha, weird reason? Total mismatch."
Alphonse sighed, lamenting. 10, 20 years devotion—no change; worse than teen rookies.
Forest path chatter filled boredom, but topic joyless. Hill overlooking walls: slammed sword earthward.
Knee down, arm horizontal chest-level, head bowed—utmost courtesy.
"Ashtail's Greatsword—Sir's sole heirloom. Thanks endless..."
Adella scratched head, awkward.
"Plans now nya?"
"No reason for capital—homeward, where I belong."
"Yeah...? Good luck."
As Alphonse turned, Nami tugged sleeve.
"More business?"
Wiki: farewell reward—lifetime sword research over cash.
"You do magic swordsmanship?"
Nami eyed arm. Two-handers build even muscles—his right thinner.
Common botched spell side-effect.
"Magic sword? Desperate hack for talentless knights."
"Show briefly?"
"If insistent..."
Alphonse drew Ashtail. Deep breath, focus—chant.
Two thin light rings spun opposite around blade.
"Long sword use—natural pickup. Hits harder."
Ki-yah! Slammed ground.
Thud-!
Stone cratered slightly. That's it. Overforce wobbled arc; missed target.
"Missed again... Done? Hope you reclaim laurel."
Sheathed, regret plain. Predictably failing swordsman strike.
"First talentless than me. Should've tried knights over academy nya."
Post-Alphonse, Adella deflated.
"Unique magic...?"
But Nami stared disbelievingly at his receding back long after.
'Struggles with own body, let alone sword—invented sword unique magic?'
Blade groove unremarkable, but 30 paces off-target: cracked earth.
"Wasted talent. More diligence could've shone."
Talent, truly—this defined it.