Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Preparation (2)
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◆
Having a family as the Hero is, in most cases, pointed out as a vulnerability.
As Felix once noted, it’s nothing more than a prime weakness for those targeting the symbol of the Hero. At best, it ends with threats; at worst, something far uglier.
But this Hero receives somewhat special treatment.
For one, her father, Lionel himself, is a martial artist who commands respect wherever he goes. And above all.
[I’ve received the message. We’ll take immediate action.]
“Please do.”
[The citizens along the path will be evacuated, and I’ll deploy the knight order to minimize any potential damage. I’ll also pass the word to the Orthodox Church. Even if we can’t get the Round Table, help from the priests would be ideal.]
Lionel wields immense social influence as a grand duke.
He’s more than capable of serving as a powerful ally publicly backing the Hero.
The Hero family’s dream support, you could say.
But even in the best-case scenario like this.
There are parts that can never be replaced.
[⋯⋯Gray. My child.]
“Yes.”
[Are you really planning to do this alone?]
“Dad.”
[I’m listening.]
“I was alone when I caught Arta, too.”
[⋯⋯.]
“I don’t need it. Help from anyone else.”
When Gray took down the dragon called a calamity at fifteen, she was alone.
⋯⋯Even her father, Lionel, couldn’t offer any aid.
She had already reached a realm far beyond what he could touch.
[I don’t think there’s anyone you can’t beat, no matter who it is⋯⋯]
“Then that’s that.”
[⋯⋯.]
“I’m the Hero, Dad. Guardian of humanity.”
[⋯⋯Right.]
Lionel reluctantly agreed.
Beneath his unease lay the deep-seated fear that even the strongest of humanity wasn’t invincible.
Any parent would naturally wish for someone—anyone—to help ensure their child stayed safe.
Even if talking wouldn’t make her listen.
[⋯⋯.]
Lionel swallowed the sigh threatening to escape, forcing it back down.
This child was always like this.
He didn’t know when it started.
It felt like she was gripped by an obsession that disaster would strike unless she handled everything alone.
And Lionel knew well the root of those feelings.
[⋯⋯⋯⋯Alright. I just hope it all ends without issue.]
He knew his words would cut deeply into that very wound.
[Next week is your mother’s death anniversary, isn’t it?]
“-”
[⋯⋯Let’s visit together.]
Gray’s breath caught deep in her chest.
Memories long buried under dust surged up like a tide from the back of her mind.
The city reduced to ashes by Arta’s flames.
Her own face, streaked with dried tears.
And her mother’s body.
[⋯⋯Gray?]
“⋯⋯.”
[Gray, my child—]
“⋯⋯I’ll hang up.”
Gray set down the communicator and closed her eyes.
A Hero was a master of battle, meaning she could instantly assess any anomaly in her body.
Her heart rate was unnaturally elevated.
Cold sweat seeped from her entire body due to stress.
“⋯⋯.”
She quietly gripped the Holy Sword she’d placed beside the bed.
A tool granted to protect people, a symbol of that duty.
If she didn’t do it.
If she didn’t handle it all alone.
-Gray, my daughter.
-I’ll save you, no matter what—
Needlessly, people die.
‘You’re alone, Gray.’
It had always been that way.
And it had to stay that way.
All duties rested solely on her shoulders. She couldn’t pass them to anyone else.
She repeated it to herself endlessly, ensuring she never forgot.
When she finally snapped out of it, she noticed.
Her hand, clenched so tightly on the sword hilt it might shatter, was trembling.
“⋯⋯.”
Gray rose silently from her seat.
‘I need to get out.’
With her mind not functioning properly, that was all that came to her.
‘I don’t want to stay still.’
She didn’t know why.
But she had to move. Otherwise, she’d go mad.
Sword practice, or if not—
“⋯⋯.”
Gray paused.
Instead of sword practice—which normally came first—something she’d never consider floated up.
‘⋯⋯This is weird.’
She frowned and grabbed her overcoat.
‘Why am I thinking of that guy?’
It was almost like.
She was ‘relying’ on him.
The first person to come to mind when troubled.
Her expression crumpled further.
As if the mere thought disgusted her.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
It wouldn’t happen.
“⋯⋯.”
⋯⋯It mustn’t.
◆
Training to maintain focus varies by person, but anyone would agree Dean Shea’s standards are brutal.
-Even a single lapse, and you’re dead. It’s that high-level a task.
The dean himself declared it so—an utterly monstrous endeavor.
The process of reshaping the Holy Sword with the vast mana from the Star’s Tear is the same. Toward embodying the Hero’s body.
But this time, the goal isn’t precise replication of the Hero’s body.
It’s infiltrating Carlyle’s body with the Holy Sword’s mana to ‘unify’ them.
Like coating his entire body with the Hero’s form from within the sword.
A fusion, basically.
⋯⋯Hmm.
“⋯⋯.”
[⋯⋯Is that the right metaphor?]
“Shut up. I’m focusing.”
Carlyle snapped irritably and slowly moved while gripping the wooden practice sword.
Controlling the mana flowing through his body, he followed the sword path the Hero indicated.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
It wasn’t just moving slow. The key was maintaining a uniform, ultra-slow speed to complete the prescribed motions.
No better training existed for controlling the overflowing Hero mana within while sustaining focus.
After five minutes, Carlyle dropped the wooden sword, sweat pouring like a waterfall from his body.
It felt like his whole body was tearing apart.
“⋯⋯Ughhh⋯⋯”
He collapsed on the spot with a dying sigh.
Even if training like real combat was efficient, bearing this level of risk wasn’t routine for him.
A single failure in mana control could rupture his circuits and kill him outright. The Hero’s mana was like gunpowder.
The dean hadn’t spoken idly.
The bare minimum for the ‘technique’ the dean demanded was moving his body while somehow containing the Hero’s mana.
In that state, for just three seconds.
If their minds merged too, something incredible would happen, or so he said.
“⋯⋯What incredible thing? He went on about metaphysical explanations.”
Something about deploying mana to defy laws or whatever.
To Carlyle, nine out of ten words were nonsense he couldn’t grasp.
And the dean hadn’t elaborated further.
[Hmm, well. I understood it.]
“Yeah? Tell me too.”
[I can’t explain to someone as devoid of romance as you.]
“⋯⋯.”
Ah, right.
This one was a hopeless romantic too.
Carlyle gave a wry smile and hauled himself up.
Exhausting as it was, he had no time to lie around.
Two days.
Time until the Black Whale reached them.
‘Just two days⋯⋯’
No time for more prep. Getting used to this sensation per the dean’s demands was likely his limit.
Vespa and Panhima would have to handle the rest in the field.
The objective.
“Quick and decisive. End it fast.”
The main reason.
“No way I’m letting those bastards get even a whiff of credit.”
Make the 1st Prince and 2nd Princess chase chickens like dogs. So they couldn’t complain later.
Thus, no matter how grueling, he had to throw himself into training.
Carlyle stood again, drawing up mana.
Focus once more.
“What’re you doing?”
—He wanted to.
His focus shattered the instant he spotted Gray staring right in his face.
“⋯⋯.”
He’d nearly died from mana backlash.
How had she approached this close without a sound?
“You kept mumbling to yourself. Thought maybe something fun.”
Hmm.
To an outsider, he’d look like he was talking to the Holy Sword.
“⋯⋯.”
Embarrassing.
Like some weirdo muttering alone.
Carlyle’s lips twitched as he forced a smile.
“-It’s nothing, Lady.”
“⋯⋯Really?”
Gray tapped the floor with her foot as she spoke.
She seemed to have words piled up to the top of her head but couldn’t voice them.
Watching her, Carlyle tilted his head.
Come to think of it, why had she come to him?
“Lady.”
And from experience.
Gray acting like this usually meant.
“Anything troubling you?”
Gray’s tapping stopped abruptly.
“⋯⋯What trouble? Think the Hero has troubles?”
“You look it. That’s how it seems to me.”
“⋯⋯.”
“Tell me anything. I’ll help.”
“⋯⋯.”
She glared at him, clearly displeased.
“Lady?”
“⋯⋯.”
Gray silently nudged his shin with her foot.
Unlike her usual forceful manner, it was more like a gentle push.
“⋯⋯⋯⋯Don’t do that.”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t⋯⋯invade my head on your own.”
“⋯⋯.”
Anyone would think he was reading minds.
As Carlyle tilted his head, Gray fidgeted with her slightly flushed earlobe.
Her other hand waved him away, as if to say go far.
“⋯⋯I’m using this place. Practice elsewhere if you need to.”
“Yes, understood.”
No reason to do this in front of others anyway.
As Carlyle rose to move, Gray’s voice followed suddenly.
“Hey.”
“Yes, Lady?”
“You, what’re you gathering in your body?”
“⋯⋯.”
Carlyle’s body stiffened instantly.
⋯⋯Hmm.
Gray showing interest in someone else’s actions was rare enough, and of all things, it was Holy Sword-related.
“⋯⋯Just mana control practice. Nothing special.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯Okay.”
Gray replied flatly and turned away.
Seeming disinterested now, Carlyle hurriedly left the training ground.
“⋯⋯.”
But even after he’d gone.
Gray still stared at the spot he’d occupied, her gaze unsettled.
He didn’t seem to realize.
When practicing containing something in his body, that mana took a definite ‘form.’
Others might miss it, but Gray saw it clearly.
A human shape. Another figure overlaid on Carlyle’s body.
That form was unmistakably.
Something.
‘It looked like me.’
How to put it.
An adult version of herself. That kind of feeling.
⋯⋯Staring right at her, piercingly.