Sylvia Sarubia (4)
It was the Rune of Swordsmanship!
"Sniff... sniff... What's wrong, Master?"
"Shut the hell up, you bitch!"
"Hiiik... Y-you're so mean..."
I didn't have the luxury of paying attention to Misha right now.
I'd finally found it.
The rune I'd searched for all night without success!
The Rune of Swordsmanship!
"With this... I should be able to survive even when Walpurgis Night comes..."
"Wal... what night?"
"None of your business."
"Sniff..."
I placed my palm against the tree stump where the rune was carved and recited the exact line from the novel.
"O Rune, grant me your power!"
That was when it happened.
A brilliant flash erupted from the stump, and a strange voice echoed forth.
"Do you desire power...?"
"Huh? Y-yeah, I do!"
"I am the rune that holds the power of the First Hero... Tell me why you seek the First Hero's strength..."
"...The reason I want power?"
I hesitated for a second—should I just be honest, or dress it up with something noble?
But somehow, I got the feeling that lying would get me caught either way.
"I... I need it to survive!"
"...I see... Well... that's not so bad... Perhaps an honest one like you is better... But listen well, seeker of power..."
"Listen to what...?"
"You are likely dreaming of a quiet life, far from the whirlpools of this world, concerned only with your own safety."
Nailed it.
Of course.
I was just an extra, after all.
"Yet those who claim the power of a rune will inevitably be swept into the great current of fate. The future you desire will almost certainly never come to pass. Know this, and take the power if you still will..."
"...Even so, I... I need this power!"
Otherwise I'd die on Walpurgis Night.
"Very well... I entrust the Rune of Swordsmanship to you. From this moment, you shall be able to recreate the First Hero's swordsmanship as if it were your own. Use this power... justly..."
With a sharp flash, the light vanished.
And I could feel it.
The terrifying talent for the sword now dwelling inside my body.
...Heh.
Misha Greenwood had completely forgotten to keep up her crying act. She stared, utterly absorbed, as Jack absorbed the rune. Admiration stirred deep inside her.
What the hell is with this guy... I thought he was just some aimless idiot wandering around, but he was looking for a rune?
Of course, it was no coincidence that Misha had been sitting right on top of the stump where the rune was carved.
She was one of the very few who even knew the runes existed.
Because... she had been the First Hero's elf partner.
She had been at his side even when the First Hero lost his life.
"I've decided."
"Are you... serious, Johannes?"
"Yeah. I'm going to divide my power into six runes and scatter them across this world. So that someday... good people who need strength can use my abilities."
"You aren't worried about them being misused?"
"That's why I'll only tell the bare minimum of people about the runes."
"And I'm one of them?"
Misha asked.
Back then, the stench of blood still clung under her fingernails.
Johannes, facing death, smiled as he spoke.
"Of course! Misha, you're my comrade! Look after my runes for me! I'll entrust the Rune of Swordsmanship to you! Keep an eye on whoever obtains it! It's the one I treasure most!"
Keep an eye on them, Johannes had said.
Hmph... Come to think of it, this guy... I knew he looked familiar...
Watching Jack, Misha recalled a face she had missed.
He looks like Johannes...
It was true. Jack had something of Johannes about him.
Suddenly Johannes's final words seemed to brush against her ears once more.
"Don't cry, partner. I'm not dying. I'll come back to your side again."
No way... Impossible. That can't be.
The First Hero Johannes had been someone truly special to Misha. Before she met him, she had been a bloodthirsty witch.
A berserker who led the elves on a mad rampage across both the Demon Continent and the human lands—that was Misha. Then she clashed with Johannes, who had taken a commission from the people.
"So you're the mad witch, Misha? I won't let you harm any more people."
"And who the hell are you? A mere human, daring to stand against me?"
Their battle raged for ten full days. A clash like dragon against tiger, and in the end Johannes emerged victorious. At last Misha lay face-down in the dirt.
"There. I win."
"Damn... it... This can't be... How could I lose to a human...?"
"Hahaha! So what? Life's full of wins and losses. But tell me, Misha—losing doesn't feel all that bad, does it?"
"........."
A bright, radiant smile directed at the opponent he had just fought to the death.
That smile left Misha momentarily stunned.
And she thought to herself:
He's right.
Losing... actually feels kind of good.
—That was the moment the elf who longed to be verbally abused was born.
The memory had resurfaced now because Misha was overlaying Jack with Johannes. The one difference, of course, was that Johannes himself had never once abused her...
No... what am I even thinking? There's no way Johannes and this skirt-chaser are the same person. They just look a little alike... Johannes never hit on every girl he saw. It was the opposite, actually. Yeah... no more stupid thoughts. This Jack guy is just someone to toy with for a bit and then throw away. Being around him might be fun, sure—but nothing more than that.
"So this... is the talent for swordsmanship? The First Hero had this level of skill? Unbelievable... I can feel this ridiculous power settling into my body. It's on a completely different level from guys like Teo or Sylvia... This... is the First Hero's power?"
Watching Jack swing an imaginary sword through empty air as if he actually held a blade, Misha thought to herself that the First Hero's true skill had been nowhere near that clumsy.
She looked on with open pity at Jack, who had claimed the rune yet could only manage a half-baked imitation.
Sensing her gaze, Jack spoke.
"What are you staring at?"
"...Pardon?"
For a moment Misha had forgotten to act.
When she came back to herself, she realized just how completely she had been absorbed in watching him.
This wouldn't do.
She reminded herself she had to keep playing the weak, helpless slave.
"Hiiik! I-I'm sorry! Master was putting on such a ridiculous one-man show in midair that it was too funny—I just stared! I wasn't glaring, I swear! Please forgive me!"
"Have you lost your mind?"
Jack's words were pure honesty. Misha's slave act was that transparent. Anyone—not just Jack—would have thought she was deliberately picking a fight.
"We're heading back to the cabin now. You crawl there on your own two hands and knees. Move."
"Y-you're so mean... I'm not some animal..."
"You're worse than an animal. Start crawling! Or should I just kill you right here where no one will ever know?"
"Y-you're so meeean... Hic... Ugh..."
Misha pretended to cry as she began crawling on all fours. Even then, she was still thinking she would kill Jack someday.
This guy will get boring soon enough. When that happens, I'll just kill him. It's only a temporary amusement... Hmph...
What Misha didn't know was that she would go on to build a long, deep friendship with Jack. At the time, she couldn't even begin to imagine it...
Morning broke over the Academy. The hottest rumor lately was that the porter Jack had quit his party, but rumors had nothing to do with class. Students still had to show up at the appointed hour. Today was swordsmanship class.
Instructor Olivia, famous for her excessive passion, summoned the students to the training grounds. Her lessons consisted of handing every student a wooden practice sword and making them swing it without rest.
She believed nothing was more important than building a solid foundation.
"All right, swing those wooden swords! Let me say this in advance—a true swordsman can gauge an opponent's skill from a single swing. I'm not neglecting you. I'm walking among you one by one, judging the fragments of your talent. Starting now, I'll evaluate how much each of you has grown. If you've been training hard, show me the results!"
Olivia's words were no empty boast. She looked over the students one after another, assessing their potential. Most were thoroughly ordinary. Only Teo and Sylvia could really be said to possess outstanding talent.
As expected... expecting real swordsmanship talent from students who haven't even graduated yet is asking too much, isn't it? Still... I was hoping at least one of them would show some exceptional growth...
Yeah... all I've had them do is swing wooden swords. What kind of growth did I expect?
I should move on to the next stage soon... Wait?
That was when it happened.
Olivia's gaze locked onto one particular boy.
Whoosh.
Whoosh-whoosh.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.
He was only swinging a wooden practice sword, yet an extraordinary aura poured from him—
"That guy is...? Why is he producing movements that could only be called the absolute pinnacle of beauty? He's just... some skirt-chaser who hits on every girl he sees, isn't he...?"
—It was Jack Slave.