Preparing the Guide (8)
Karl still remembered the day he first met the young lady he had resolved to serve for the rest of his life.
Back then, she had still been frail. A week or so had passed since she began her training, so she wasn't the absolute wreck she'd been before — but only just. She was an otherwise unremarkable person, distinguished solely by an exceptional talent for handling a shield.
At the time, Karl had held no great expectations for Lucy's talent.
He knew exactly how extraordinary the divinities of her generation were — names that echoed across the continent. And no matter how brilliant a talent might be, he was certain there was no way she could catch up to them now.
Karl's judgment had been utterly reasonable. How many gifted people had he watched rise, and how many of those gifts wither, on his own path to where he stood?
But there was one thing Karl had failed to consider: common sense only binds those who remain within its bounds. For someone already standing outside of it, nothing in this world is as meaningless as the word "common sense."
The monster called Lucy Aln had proven, in the span of a single year, what it meant to carry the blood of House Aln. She had announced that the heroic saga written by Benedict Aln had a sequel.
And she was proving it again right now.
The figure standing before Lucy was no ordinary being. That skeleton, calling himself Garad, a member of the Hero's party, unquestionably possessed power worthy of the name.
The immense mana clinging to those seemingly fragile bones. A presence that persisted even after centuries of death. The overwhelming martial mastery bleeding from his every movement.
It all proved it.
The moment Karl faced that skeleton, he measured whether he could defeat it. And he soon concluded that it was impossible. If he gave his life, he could buy some time — but only that. Even joining forces with Professor Luka beside him would not change the outcome.
Even now, Karl did not think his judgment was wrong. The sword strikes being fired at his lady were overwhelming.
Perhaps because he was being considerate of her, the power behind them was not great — but from the hand gripping the sword, from the arm swinging it, from his very body emanated a plane of skill far, far above Karl's own.
If the Karl of this moment tried to receive that blade head-on, he would be toyed with and sent sprawling across the floor.
That was the kind of sword it was. A swordsmanship lacking nothing in the name of hero.
And yet Lucy parried that swordsmanship as if it were nothing at all.
The first attack. On the surface it looked light, but it held the extreme of the sword — respond carelessly and you'd be cleaved in two along with your shield. She flicked it away.
The second attack. Even Karl would have expected a horizontal cut, yet it was in truth a blade soaring upward from below like an ascending dragon. She slammed it down into the ground.
The third attack. A stroke meant to blast away her shield outright if she tried to block it. She pushed it aside instead.
The fourth attack. A lightning-fast strike that even Karl's eyes could barely follow. She tracked it with effortless ease.
If the sword the skeleton unleashed was worthy of a hero's name, then Lucy's shieldwork was every bit as overwhelming — enough to summon visions of a heroic saga of its own.
Having received four strikes of a blade that deserved to be called the very model and pinnacle of swordsmanship, Lucy's face overflowed with composure.
"...You kept up with this?"
Letting the skeleton's cry of astonishment wash past her, Lucy gave her shield a casual once-over. Despite passing through four trials, the shield in her hands was immaculate. Anyone looking would have asked if she'd only just entered the trial at all.
"What's wrong?♡ Did I hear you wrong?♡ I could've sworn you said you'd teach little old me the weight of a hero, you pile of dog bones~♡"
Thrusting her shield forward, Lucy let out that signature giggle-laced voice of hers. A vocabulary uniquely designed to make anyone — anyone — lose their grip on their temper. One of Lucy's blessings.
At her words, the skeleton's grip tightened until his bones audibly creaked, but Lucy didn't stop.
"Ohh♡ So this is the weight of a hero?♡ Kahahaha♡ It's soooo heavy♡ I bet it'd make a decent paperweight!♡"
"...That is quite enough."
The Lucy of the past might not have known better, but the Lucy of today understood propriety. She knew perfectly well that provocation like that would obliterate her opponent's remaining consideration.
And yet she did not stop. The reason was plain.
"Kyaa~♡ So sorry~♡ Sir Knight, such a trash-tier, bone-dry loser who can't even break through a shield held by a little girl~♡ You've gotten so weak you forgot you were supposed to be a hero, huh?♡ If only you'd been a little stronger, that would've been so nice!♡ Hck♡ Kheup♡"
Because the attacks from before had not satisfied her.
Because she refused to accept that this pathetic excuse for an assault was a trial.
"Ha."
Having grasped her intent, Karl couldn't help but let out a breath of awe.
It had been only a year. Only a single year since the young lady had begun training in earnest! And already she not only crushed the divinities of her generation with ease — she was striding, step by steady step, toward the seat of the hero.
It wasn't because of the blood of House Aln. It wasn't because she was loved by a god. It was simply that the scale of the talent possessed by one Lucy Aln was too vast for this world to contain.
Ah. Too fast. Her growth is far, far too fast.
The lady who used to collapse face-first mid-sprint — when had she become this strong?
At this rate, before long she would travel somewhere so far away that this bit-part knight could no longer stand beside her.
That must not happen.
He could not allow it.
This knight had resolved to give his life to his lady. Everything else he might accept — but being cast aside for inadequate ability alone, he would never accept!
Training. He had to train.
So that he could grow stronger than he was now.
So that he could remain at her side.
Absolutely.
"Loser senior?"
Just as Karl was hardening his resolve, Luka spoke up beside him.
"You told me not to marvel at trifles, did you not? I simply don't understand."
Karl could not bring himself to answer.
The truth was that he had been jealous — that with his lady's loyal hound being himself alone, another had appeared at her side, and he had jealously, uglily guarded his place.
Perhaps sensing weakness in Karl's stiff expression, Luka smirked and moved to seize on his slip of the tongue —
— when a colossal force erupted from the skeleton.
The instant he saw it, Karl's body moved before his thoughts could.
That — that power was not something the lady of this moment could stop. However superb her shieldwork, it had limits. How could she possibly block an attack on an entirely different plane of mastery!
But Karl's charge was cut off by Luka. The man had seized his wrist.
"Let go! I—"
"Karl. You call yourself a knight, and yet you cannot trust your own mistress?"
"This isn't a matter of trust! This is—"
"I trust her. Are you saying you have less loyalty than I do?"
At Luka's question, Karl's movement froze dead.
"You—"
"Just watch. Watch the young lady work a miracle."
It's quite an enjoyable spectacle, you know.
The moment Karl saw Luka smiling as he said this, he made up his mind.
"...Very well."
When this was over, he was challenging Luka to a sparring match.
<Girl! That one is dangerous!>
'Mm. Looks that way, doesn't it.'
Letting Grandpa's panicked voice wash over her, Lucy gazed ahead.
Aura was layering itself over the skeleton's blade. He apparently wasn't yet intending to actually pulverize her, since it carried none of his distinctive signature — but that changed nothing about the danger.
Setting aside the fact that she knew the skeleton's strategy guide, the power he possessed towered far, far above her own. If this hadn't been a trial, wouldn't she have been smashed to pieces in under a second?
And that very being was now channeling aura into his swing. One hair out of place, and she'd be cleaved in half along with her shield — Lucy becoming Lu / cy.
<You got carried away and provoked him far too hard! You should have left him to loll about in his composure and cleared the trial that way!>
'You're saying that now? Grandpa, you were the one getting all worked up mid-trial and egging me on.'
Who was it, exactly, that got so fired up halfway through, chattering on about exactly what would tick Garad off?
<That— well—>
'I still remember you cackling along, going "eh, whatever happens happens."'
Don't change your tune now, Grandpa. For this trial at the very least, we're accomplices.
<...That is. Well. You see.>
Guilt-stricken, perhaps — Grandpa's words dried up in his throat.
Honestly, this old man was something else. It wasn't as if anything could be undone now, so why dredge up past mistakes? There weren't enough hours in the day just to discuss how to survive the danger crouching right in front of them.
<...Girl.>
'What?'
<Why are you so calm?>
Took you long enough, Grandpa. Slower than usual — guess your conscience really was eating at you.
Giggling to herself, Lucy channeled divinity into her shield.
'Because I'm confident.'
Why so calm? Wasn't it obvious?
Because she was certain she could block it.
Whatever else was true, the attack that skeleton was unleashing right now was part of the trial.
No matter how mighty the opponent's strike, if it was part of the trial, there was no problem.
This was a hero's trial.
Heroes and their kind never inflict a calamity their opponent cannot possibly overcome.
Even if that opponent is the lowest piece of trash alive.
It was the same now.
The attack the skeleton was preparing was undoubtedly powerful — but in equal measure, he was handing her a wealth of tells.
Where he would strike. How he would strike. When he would strike.
Every clue was already resting in her hand — what possible reason was there that she couldn't stop him?
<Girl! That attack is on an entirely different caliber from anything a second prince might put out! An imperfect replication cannot stop it!>
'It's fine, Grandpa.'
<It's not something that can be brushed aside so—>
'I don't need to do your replication trick, Grandpa. I'm more than enough as is.'
<...What?>
Did he have any idea how many times she'd faced that skeleton?
She, Lucy, had thrown herself against that bonehead over and over, all for the sake of clearing a single achievement.
Out of all those countless runs, did he really think there wasn't a single one where she'd eaten an attack like that?
In the end, what mattered in this trial was timing.
If she could catch the precise instant his strike was loosed—
If she could move her shield in perfect time with that instant—
Nothing remotely fancy was required to clear this trial.
She extended the shield forward.
Drew a deep breath.
Sharpened her gaze.
Took in the skeleton's entire body in a single, sweeping observation.
Before long, the skeleton's jaw trembled.
The signal that the blade was coming.
Catching it, Lucy's mind raced as she tightened her grip on the shield—
—and a hollow laugh escaped her.
Ha. What a stupid skeleton.
What was the point of loading aura into the blade?
Telegraphing your intent that blatantly was the same as handing your opponent a personal invitation to parry you.
That lightning-fast strike from earlier, so hard to track, had been far more threatening.
No need to rush. No reason to tense up. No need to go all-out.
All she had to do was extend the shield at the exact right moment.
The aura-drenched blade met the shield, wreathed in only a thin coating of divinity—
—and with a crisp collision that pierced straight through her eardrums, the sword that had struck her shield ricocheted backward.
Beyond the shimmering afterglow of aura, she could see the skeleton's hollow, empty eyes.
<...What in the—>
'I told you, didn't I, Grandpa?'
Confident.