Chapter 113
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Aftermath
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Colosseum match had just ended.
But the heat from those six minutes still lingered in the air. No, it clung even more thickly.
The shield had been Gerkken.
A swordsman evaluated as one of Edshilla's top talents in history. A teenager whose ID was still fresh with ink. Yet he displayed a level of completion beyond that of active professionals—a promising star.
Numerous scouts, reporters, and VIPs had shown up to watch him.
The scouts hoping to catch some new facet of him, the reporters knowing an analysis piece on him was guaranteed clicks, and the VIPs simply out of curiosity.
Gioli, the Endex Swordsmanship Studies instructor and Edshilla University professor, hadn't held much expectation, though.
Because Gerkken was that perfect a swordsman. No matter who he faced, Gioli was certain they couldn't break his textbook fundamentals.
However...
Now that Gerkken had lost, Gioli struggled to hide the goosebumps still prickling his skin. His wrinkled fingers twitched uncontrollably.
Entering his mid-forties, this brutal fight had reawakened a competitive spirit he'd thought long forgotten. Not a single second wasted—a fierce battle.
And it was just a seniors' match.
"Did you know? Who he was."
A voice asked Gioli. He turned to see his old student from the entrance exam viewing, 'Bellingham Kanta.'
"Can't tell? He's my student."
"...I had no idea he was like that. Gerkken really lost, right?"
Gioli nodded.
As far as he knew, Gerkken had no flaws. Every aspect was outstanding. Not a single stat was lacking or deficient.
A solid, grand, beautiful hexagon.
Gerkken had met his opponent's sword with near-luxury textbook perfection.
But that 'sword' was too alien.
Beyond slightly twisted—completely different.
Extraordinary.
Sion Askal truly was.
Unprecedented.
Unparalleled.
He twisted the elements he'd learned to their limits, not fitting the system but forcing the system to fit him—a swordplay.
At a glance, it seemed capricious. Movements that made you wonder if they were even allowed.
Sion Askal made them work with his physical prowess. Stretching, contracting, bending, snapping, grinding his joints, cartilage, and muscles like a soft-bodied creature, freely.
The process was so natural that his swordplay felt like a new style altogether. Like something from outside the system.
If it really were, it would've been penalized.
But pause and examine closely—miraculously, all his swordplay stayed within the Five Forms and Three Cuts framework.
With just his body and sword, he'd wrung out the maximum—
Acrobatics.
Gioli glanced at Bellingham.
"Libra's direct lineage was watching too. Must've been fun."
"Yeah. They probably enjoyed it."
If Gerkken Kal Dun was too perfect, lacking spectacle,
Sion Askal was explosive spectacle.
"Wonder if his body's okay, though."
But as an educator, it was a style to discourage. Too high injury risk.
"It's his style."
Still, Gioli wouldn't meddle.
Swordsmen like that ignored words 99 out of 100 times. Even if Sion Askal's body shattered someday, even if he burned out quick, as long as he flared bright...
It'd ripple through the stagnant swordsmanship world.
"Soliet's gonna eat cold rice now."
Bellingham pointed to the stage. Soliet's match had just started. She faced Betel, a 4-5 star prospect.
"Yeah."
No urge to watch.
Defeat.
It'd been a while since he'd felt that.
But it was rational.
In the roles of defense and offense, he'd failed defense, and the opponent succeeded in offense.
No complacency. No errors. Just the variable mass called 'Sion Askal.'
If someone watching the match asked if he'd anticipated the opponent grabbing the blade, he'd say next time he would.
But the defeat stood.
That made it fun.
Quite novel.
His task now: replay today endlessly, temper and refine himself.
Internalize defeat, emerge stronger.
Humility.
Modesty.
Solidity.
"Hand, please."
The nurse said.
This was the Colosseum's prepped infirmary. As Gerkken extended his nearly torn hand to her—
The door burst open.
"Uh. Excuse me. My palm..."
Gerkken looked.
A man who'd apparently come for the same reason.
"Hah."
Sion Askal chuckled dryly at him.
......
"......"
"......"
Colosseum infirmary.
In the awkward silence, I got bandaged by the nurse.
"......"
"......"
The guy across from me got the same.
On a different hand.
"......"
"......"
Honestly, I didn't wanna see him for a week.
Tried savoring victory's afterglow or whatever.
Ended up in the infirmary right after.
I glanced over. His left hand had torn muscle exposing white tendon.
"Hand okay?"
Gerkken eyed my hand instead.
Mine was similar.
"Hey."
I called him again.
Gerkken turned silently.
"No rematch."
Teasing, a tiny cross vein popped on his forehead.
Same trick wouldn't work twice on Gerkken.
"All done. Need mana treatment or you'll scar."
The nurse chimed in.
"Got it."
I stood first. Gerkken had ages left—nurse dragging her feet.
What could fiddling do?
"I'm out."
Awkward leaving alone, so I said bye.
"Go."
Gerkken replied.
I fiddled my hand exiting the infirmary. Walked the hall to the Colosseum exit.
Footsteps trailed a step behind.
"Body alright?"
Soliet.
"How many times I gotta say I'm fine."
Honestly, felt a bit creaky. Even croc body overdid it.
Aftereffects'd come slow. Might not sleep well tonight.
"Chaining Five Forms... Way more strain than you showed me. Spine snaps, you're crippled."
Soliet shrugged.
"Won't stop you."
"......Why?"
Said she wouldn't, now sulky.
"Moves like that without breaking—born for it. Today's was a sure-kill win against anyone."
Soliet kept chattering after. Gesturing hand-chops like sword swings.
Opponent too easy, blood boiling late.
"Shouldn't have watched your match."
Was Soliet this chatty? I smirked amused.
"Why laugh."
We reached the exit.
We widened our distance. Not look acquaintances. Spacious gap as we walked.
......And from behind them leaving the Colosseum,
one person emerged.
"Why... together."
A woman watching departing Soliet and Sion alternately, eyes complex.
Elise.
Next morning.
Elise lay upside-down on bed, staring blankly at sunlight slipping through blackout curtains, replaying the day for the twenty-third time.
From the mental ward facing Yael, to Sion and Gerkken's dazzling match.
—Thanks to you, I won.
His smiling face saying that.
He'd seemed boyish then. Pure joy.
Too new, too sudden—the unadulterated thanks alien.
Elise had fled unwittingly.
"Know so little?"
The thought struck.
Did she know him that little?
Or had Yael's confession upended everything she knew in a flash?
"......Why."
But one more thing nagged Elise.
Sion and Soliet.
She'd seen them walking side by side.
First time seeing Sion talk long, or Soliet talk long.
Incomprehensible.
Sion had touched Soliet's reverse scale—Nightmare—in the mines, and Soliet hated him...
"......"
Elise rose. Up all night, but her body could skip a day or two.
Main event Friday anyway.
She wriggled to the living room. Thwack—something trashy snagged her foot. Rae. She'd stay in Elise's preshium till exams.
Click.
Elise flipped the light.
"Ack! Who turned on the light......"
Rae flailed, rolled over, slept. Elise sat at the living room table, grabbed her smartphone.
Scrolled contacts blankly.
Anyone to talk to?
Share this stifling feeling?
No.
Thousands of messenger friends, no one to talk to.
One fat worm slumped here. Rae.
Elise glared.
"Excluded."
Mouth too loose. Would float just her yap if drowned.
Mention 'Si' of Sion, she'd go 'Why you talking Sion? No way!!!!'
This wasn't shareable anyway.
Sion, Yael, her story—to no one...
[I'll Handle It]
Caught her eye.
Corner contact [I'll Handle It].
Anything at all.
'Counseling' too.
Elise sat up straight.
Mutual anonymity—no gender, age, nothing. Scholar (presumed) guarding lost knowledge.
His erudition trustworthy, above all, no leak risk.
Just in case, Elise swapped phones. Burner prepped for business.
Messaged [I'll Handle It].
[Relationship Advice]
Ding.
Instant reply.
[I'll Handle It: No broad questions. Be specific.]
Elise propped chin, pondered. Stared hollow-eyed, typed.
[Someone I hated.]
[Hated a ton.]
[Turns out I did him huge wrong... How handle?]
Ding.
[I'll Handle It: Not a counselor. 'Anything' means jobs.]
"Who doesn't know."
Elise pouted. No old phone history, so dismissed?
[Counseling a job? Needs pro skills. Pay whatever you want.]
Three-minute pause, then reply.
[I'll Handle It: If reconciliation wanted, approach first. Drop pride.]
Pride.
"......Pride."
Thinking, hardest for Elise to drop.
Things not seen as pride, taken for granted, were her pride.
Life born noble honor. Always first. Top beauty.
Everyone approached her first, wanted her friendship.
'Approaching first' didn't exist in her pride dictionary.
"......"
Elise sent gift certificate with message.
[5,000 ren. Okay?]
[I'll Handle It: Too much for one line.]
[Save me instead.]
Just one line, sure.
But for Elise, breathing hurt now.
No shut-eye since Yael's words. Nails gone—biting nonstop.
That story too shocking for 'not my fault' shamelessness.
[Name 'A' fine.]
She needed this.
Outlet for tangled heart.
[Occasional relationship advice when needed.]
Mutual strangers counseling.
Honest talk possible.
She needed that.
[I'll Handle It: Yes, A. New counseling sessions. 3k ren per.]
"Haa......"
Elise sighed. Opened messenger per instructions.
Long-pressed [Sion Askal] in friends.
Empty chat.
Elise typed 「What doing?」 deleted. 「What doing??」 extra ? deleted.
Too chummy sudden.
More businesslike 「Whatcha up to?」 deleted. 「Morning, what you doing?」 deleted.
"Eli... what doing?"
Rae woke. Elise yanked phone close lest seen.
"What else."
Shh.
Ominous sound sudden.
Shh.
Messenger send noise.
Elise whipped screen around.
「Wha」
In chat.
To Sion Askal. Sent.
"Wha......"
Typo.
Elise's hair stood on end.
"No!!!"
"Why, why?!"
「Wha」
Not even proper. No question mark. Worst ugly typo.
Elise clutched temple like cramp. Throbbed.
"Eli why? What happened!!! Who died?!!!"
Oblivious Rae rushed. Elise glared, yelled.
"Your fault─!"