The Price of Protecting You

Croffle spotted me and, as if this were a welcome turn of events, curled his lips into a sneering smile.

"After Ricotta I was going to deal with that commoner brat and come looking for you last… yet here you are, saving me the trouble. How considerate, Saya."

Instead of answering, I simply took in the scene before me.

Students groaning, soaked in blood. At their center, Ricotta glaring at Croffle with eyes clouded by terror and rage. And around their bodies, a faint silver powder drifting like mist.

That is…

My brow furrowed of its own accord. Paralysis powder from the Blue Poison Butterflies—creatures found only in the deepest reaches of the Moonlight Forest. Even a light brush was enough to instantly relax the muscles of a grown man.

If Ricotta had been at full strength, Croffle wouldn't even have been worth facing… I knew he was trash, but I never imagined he was this far beyond saving.

I had never expected fairness from him, yet the method he chose was even more vile and cowardly than I had anticipated.

"Kado, Abo. First move the fallen somewhere safe and keep an eye on their condition. If things get worse, fire the rescue flare the academy issued."

"Saya, let's just take that guy down togeth—"

"This is my fight… Leave the wounded to me."

At my words Croffle burst into laughter.

"Kahaha! Your fight? That's right! All of this happened because of you! At the entrance ceremony too! Ricotta ending up like this is all your fault! So now it's time to pay the price!"

The mere act of him adjusting his grip on the sword made the air around us grow heavy and still.

His mana, steeped in fury and madness, was denser and more savage than anything I had felt from him before. At my current level, meeting him head-on would be pure recklessness.

I can't win with a frontal assault. I have to create some kind of variable.

In that instant a dark, deep temptation rose from the depths of my mind.

…Should I put on the mask?

The artifact I had obtained last night from the deepest chamber of the ruins. The Beast's Mask.

If I wear it here and now, crushing someone like Croffle would be nothing.

With overwhelming power I could end this situation in a single stroke.

But nothing in this world came free.

The price of the mask was clear. The savage force dwelling within it would gnaw at my mind, paralyze my reason, and drag destructive impulses to the surface.

Perhaps one day the mask would swallow me whole—that fear was vivid and absolute.

I'm supposed to pull out my insurance already just to deal with a third-rate bug like this?

The risk I would shoulder simply to dispose of an inferiority-complex-riddled academy villain was far too great. The power of this mask was not meant for such a trivial stage.

I crushed the temptation inside me with firm resolve.

No. Not yet. The time hasn't come.

Once the decision was made, the chaos in my head fell silent as if it had never been. I slowly opened my mouth toward Croffle.

"With your skill you couldn't even reach Lady Ricotta's toes."

"…What?"

"That Blue Poison Butterfly powder must have been hard to obtain. With that much effort you should have trained your swordsmanship a little more. Ah—but you didn't have the confidence to face Her Grace head-on, so you had no choice, did you?"

At my words Croffle's face twitched and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hardened.

"Y-You little—what the hell do you know?!"

"What do I know? Croffle, you've always been like this."

I took one step closer. The pressure in my stride made him flinch and retreat without realizing it.

"Even at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠academy. When skill fails you, you tear others down. When you lack the courage to face someone head-on, you scheme from the shadows. On the surface you're a dazzling noble young master, but inside you're nothing but a swamp of inferiority thicker than any gutter."

"Shut up! Shut your mouth, you bastard!!!"

Having his deepest shame laid bare, he lost all reason and roared. He roughly flung Ricotta aside and poured every last drop of remaining mana into his sword.

"Fine! So what if I'm a coward?! No matter the process, I'm the winner right now! And a loser like you dies here!"

He kicked off the ground and charged. The same blade that had wounded Ricotta's neck flashed as it streaked toward my heart.

"Die!"

Clang! Kakang!

An instant before the edge could pierce my heart, I twisted its path with the sword I had drawn from my hip.

Croffle's mana-enhanced assault was far rougher and more threatening than I had expected. I barely managed to parry and dodge again and again, yet cracks began to form in my defense.

"Kahaha! Is that all you've got, Saya?! Where did that earlier spirit go? Now you're just flailing your sword like a fool!"

Croffle sneered and swung horizontally. The blade grazed my forearm before I could fully evade; cloth tore and a searing heat bloomed.

Damn it…!

A straight fight really is impossible. I'm being pushed back by his momentum. At this rate my stamina will give out first.

Mad delight flooded Croffle's face.

Beyond mere certainty of victory, he raised his sword with a roar as if he meant to erase my very existence.

Mana condensed from every scrap of inferiority and rage he had ever harbored gathered at the tip of the blade, warping even the surrounding air.

An arrogant, lethal strike meant only to finish the opponent.

…

In that moment the image of Basil landing a clean hit on Ricotta in the training hall flashed through my mind.

I could have dodged.

But if I dodged, the next chance would never come.

Croffle's sword came for my shoulder.

I did not dodge.

Instead, facing the tip head-on, I stepped inside its reach.

Thuck—!

Tough fabric tore; cold metal sank into flesh.

The sharp edge sliced skin, ripped through muscle, and reached the shoulder bone—

Pain like my entire body being torn apart crashed over me.

Breath locked in my throat; the world flashed white.

Even through the dizzying vertigo I clenched my teeth.

A scream would only be a gift to him.

I had no intention of giving him that.

In that split second, with the sword still buried in me, Croffle's completely unguarded chest lay open.

"…Guh?"

Even with his own blade lodged in me I did not fall; instead I locked eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with him. His body froze solid.

Ignoring the agony in my bleeding left arm, I drove the sword in my right hand beneath his heart, between the empty ribs.

Thuck.

"K-hurk……."

The light slowly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠faded from Croffle's eyes.

I yanked the sword free from my shoulder and flung it aside, then shoved his body away.

Thud.

Croffle collapsed, and silence returned to the forest.

"Hah… haah……."

Blood fountained from my shoulder.

With every beat of my heart it sprayed; my arm had long since gone numb.

My head was foggy, my legs trembled.

Barely holding up a body that felt ready to collapse at any moment, I lifted my gaze.

It was not the fallen Croffle I looked at.

It was Ricotta, staring at me with eyes full of terror, shock, and utter disbelief.

Her trembling lips carefully parted.

"Saya… your shoulder…!"

Kado screamed and rushed over, but I stopped him with a raised hand.

Then, step by unsteady step, I staggered toward her. Crimson droplets dotted the path I walked.

At last standing before her, I carefully wiped the dirt from her cheek with the sleeve of my right hand—unaware that my own blood was smearing across her skin instead.

Seeing the state I was in, Ricotta's eyes shook violently. In a trembling voice she asked,

"Why… why go this far…."

I managed a faint smile. Drawing ragged breaths, I forced the words out.

"If you're not there… everything falls apart."

My voice faded softly into the forest's stillness.

In a space where the only sounds were my harsh breathing and the drip, drip of blood from my shoulder, time itself seemed to stop.

Ricotta said nothing.

Only her ash-gray eyes, which had been shaking so violently, slowly found their focus on me.

I met her gaze. I could read the emotion gathering there like transparent glass.

Shame at the wretched result her own powerlessness had brought.

Pride that could not bear the fact that someone had bled solely for her sake.

She simply pressed her lips tight, straining with all her might to keep those feelings from spilling out.

Then a single tear finally slipped down her cheek.

Yet the young lady of the ducal house never once sobbed aloud. Only her fingertips, packed full of suppressed emotion, trembled carefully as they reached toward me.

At the touch that stretched toward my blood-soaked left shoulder, every muscle in my body tensed on its own.

Unable to bring herself to touch the wound directly, Ricotta's quivering fingertips hesitated in midair. The fear of causing me greater pain was written plain in her eyes.

I gave her a faint, wry smile—a silent signal that I was fine, that she need not worry.

Whether she read it or not, her hand changed course and moved to my unbloodied right arm.

The very instant her cool fingertips carefully brushed my arm—

a window appeared in my vision.