Even If I Have to Burn Myself
Yuren narrowed her eyes and studied Edward Radner.
He was exactly the man she had heard about. A sturdy build, and eyes that looked kind. But that kindness, too, was surely an illusion. Humans were a cunning breed who called anyone matching their own standards good, and anyone who did not, evil.
So Edward, who was praised among the nobility as kind and devout, was, in other words, a man who played politics well among his peers and condemned as wicked anyone who failed to meet his measure.
Yuren knew his kind. The fools of the Magic Tower who had never grasped the truth of black magic yet believed they understood all magic, and the ignorant masses of the Magic Society. Edward was surely cut from the same cloth. Hypocrites who were not noble at all, yet pretended to be noble to a sickening degree.
I should have finished them off sooner.
Only yesterday, the two of them had been completely out of sync. As a mage who used the human heart as a medium for her magic, Yuren was an expert at reading emotions; she could not have been wrong. And as expected, even this morning they had barely spoken, as if they were perfect strangers. She had used an invisibility spell to spy on them, so there was no mistake.
And yet, for him to appear like this all of a sudden…
Yuren prided herself on being rather cautious. This time, however, she seemed to have miscalculated. She had overlooked the fact that the human heart was fickle, and could change just like this.
Still, it did not matter. No matter how skilled he was with a sword, he was just some noble brat from a count’s house. He had been famous for his outstanding swordsmanship back in his Academy days, but she had heard that lately his training had grown lax and his skill was no longer what it once was. Before the power of black magic, he would be helpless.
Black magic was the truth. The one and only truth that brought light to the ignorant.
“Kill them.”
Yuren stretched out her arm, and the three knights moved as one.
The knights moved in perfect time with Yuren’s gesture. From their appearance they looked like knights of the Brontë territory, yet they were moving according to Yuren’s will…
Black magic.
Memories that had been shattered across three years of time finally pieced themselves back together, and at last the puzzle fit. Yuren had clearly been a black mage in the original story. A fanatical black mage who harbored a deep grudge against the magical world that had expelled her, and who believed black magic alone was the sole truth.
Then the violet mana I had seen must have been the mana of black magic. A dangerous magic that operated using human life force and the human heart as its medium…
But it doesn’t matter.
Black magic or whatever else, what I had to do was clear.
“My lady, stay close behind me. Do not fall back.”
Protect Ania Brontë. Simply renewing that resolve made an unexplainable strength well up inside me. It was astonishing. With nothing more than a change in mindset, the knights’ swords cutting through the air suddenly moved as if in slow motion. Deflecting the incoming blades was, therefore, no difficult task.
I struck precisely between the hilt and the blade of the foremost knight’s sword. It spun high into the air and clattered to the ground.
“Edward! Don’t get hurt…!”
“Don’t worry, Ania.”
At her anxious voice, I recovered my sword and drove the pommel hard into the knight’s abdomen. With a choked gasp, his body crumpled forward, and only then did the vacant look in his eyes return to normal.
In an instant I closed on the remaining two knights. It was a movement I would never have made under ordinary circumstances. Approaching an enemy was, by definition, an act that exposed one’s own weakness.
— But if you do not move first, you will only be dragged around, young master.
That was what Rictman had said. At the time I had not understood. Why start a fight by showing a weakness?
— That is what it means to protect.
— How is charging in to attack the other person supposed to be protecting anyone?
— Heh. Someday you will understand as well, young master.
Rictman, only now do I understand your words. To protect means the will to protect even if you have to burn yourself to do it. That resolve becomes courage, and drives out needless fear and stray thoughts.
“Stop him!”
Yuren chanted a spell. Violet light began to swirl in the knights’ eyes. Yet I felt I could do it. Baseless courage surged through me — the conviction that I could bring down two trained knights and Yuren as well.
I threw myself forward. I slipped into the knights’ blind spots, tangled their swords together, blocked the blades that came flying, and swiftly drove the hilt of my sword into them. A hard blow to the side dropped one knight. At the same moment another sword came at me; I poured every ounce of strength into raising my own blade to meet it.
Clang!
Sparks flew from the locked edges. I slipped through the gap. The slightest mistake could have left me run through, yet I felt no fear. My mind had gone ice-cold; all I could see was victory. Like a racehorse charging toward the finish line, I fixed my eyes on only one thing.
I trapped the knight’s sword between my arm and body, locked his movement, then hooked his leg. His body tilted heavily.
“Paralyze!”
A spell I would normally have been too afraid of failing to even attempt activated in an instant. The knight’s body froze as if turned to ice.
Only Yuren remained.
“Ugh…!”
Yuren raised her hands. Purple mana began to coil around her fingers.
“Dispel!”
But I was faster. My will to protect Ania was stronger than Yuren’s will to kill us both. A strong will does not lose. Rictman had always said so. And he had been right.
“Hah…!”
The magic circle assembling at Yuren’s fingertips unraveled as if time itself had rewound.
“That’s impossible!”
Yuren screamed, but my body was already right in front of her. She desperately tried to draw another circle and cast again, but—
Shhk!
I swept my sword upward on a diagonal. The mana-laced blade tore the magic circle to shreds.
“Damn it!”
“It’s over!”
I reset my grip and swung once more. The blade that had been cutting through the air stopped dead — exactly beside Yuren’s neck.
A brief silence fell. Victory and defeat were decided.
“Acknowledge your surrender, Yuren Height.”
“……”
Yuren’s legs gave out and she collapsed. My sword remained at her throat.
“I surrender.”
Afterward, Yuren was seized by the knights of the Brontë territory, fitted with magic restraints, and locked in the underground dungeon of the Brontë estate. Once the festival ended she would be transferred to the central prison in the imperial capital of Calcedbar, where she would be punished according to imperial law. Attempted murder of a noble, research into forbidden magic, impersonation, and various other charges — at minimum, life imprisonment.
Yet that was better for Yuren. Had she remained free at Yohan’s side, black magic would have consumed her. It would have devoured both her heart and her life force, leaving her to a existence of endless torment even in death.
Separately from that…
When Valentine Brontë heard the news, he flew into a frenzy. He abandoned everything, raced over barefoot, and pulled Ania into his arms, offering prayers of thanks to the gods.
“I am truly grateful, Edward… If not for you…”
“I only did what needed to be done.”
The duke seized my hands and bowed his head again and again in thanks. He offered to give me anything I wanted; I refused. I had never done it expecting anything in return. Protecting her had simply been a promise.
And in any case, the festival continued. Ania had insisted she would not let her own affairs ruin the celebration. Thanks to that, the villagers, who knew nothing of what had happened, went on enjoying a happy festival.
By then the hour had already drawn toward evening — the time when the sun slowly slipped behind the ridgeline. Ania and I headed for the festival grounds. It was time for the prepared congratulatory address.
The festival night grew deep. As they walked toward the village that was slowly ripening toward its climax, Ania kept stealing glances at the profile of Edward, who strode beside her looking only straight ahead.
— I came to keep my promise.
— I said I would protect you, didn’t I?
Remembering those words made Ania’s heart pound. At the same time she felt ashamed. Edward had thrown himself into danger without a second thought in order to keep his promise to protect her, yet she had snapped at him simply because she had forgotten a childhood vow. And had she not promised him she would never sulk again? She had failed, pitifully, to keep even that promise.
How foolish of me…
She could not bring herself to look him in the face.
“……”
Even so, when she glanced sidelong at Edward’s face, softly lit by the moonlight, her heart swelled. Just thinking of how he had appeared like a hero when she had thought everything was over made her body tingle.
Edward…
Once again, the one who had saved her was this man.
Ah… Edward.
Just as in childhood, the person who always came to her rescue was this man.
“Edward.”
The name slipped out before she could stop it; she hastily covered her mouth, but Edward was already looking at her. He asked in a gentle voice,
“Are you nervous?”
“No.”
“There’s no need to be. Just do as we prepared and come back down.”
“No… that isn’t it.”
Ania rolled the words she wanted to say but had not been able to around inside her mouth. She needed to say she was sorry. That she had been wrong. But it required courage. Still, Rictman had told her that when you apologize for a wrong, you must speak with sincerity. She was not used to putting her true feelings into words, yet if she did not speak now, she felt a restless fear that Edward might leave her forever.
So she decided to be brave.