Chapter 68
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 68
When an end draws near, one can’t help but look back and reflect on the path they have walked. It is a time to trace the footprints left behind.
In hindsight, things once unnoticed feel new again. Shortcomings bring a sudden flush of embarrassment, while proud moments evoke a gentle smile.
Arno, Sandy, Boribori and the others, the enemies met in Griffinswald, the senior adventurers, members of other clans, the Nameless, the Ehrenberg Quintet, and the war.
Countless days and nights had passed. They had seen spring, summer, autumn, and a harsh winter come and go. Snow and rain, sorrow and joy—all had swept past like the wind.
Yet, they had not merely blown away. Though those fleeting moments would never return, they had undoubtedly left something behind in his heart.
If there had been a hollow space somewhere in his heart, it now felt as if it had been filled, piece by piece, by those memories. To Rickert, the Academy was a precious place, a treasury of memories.
Before long, the wind ushered in autumn. The weather was neither hot nor cold. Leaves fell one by one, and the grass in the fields ripened to a golden yellow.
Rickert finished writing Basics of Swordsmanship. He felt there was nothing left to subtract and nothing more to add.
However, when he looked at Boribori's book beside his own, the difference was staggering. First and foremost was the sheer volume.
Boribori’s book was incredibly thick, and its translated commentary spanned three volumes, each one thicker than the original.
In contrast, Rickert's book was extremely thin, only about forty pages. Although his commentary was reasonably thick, it still paled in comparison to Boribori's work.
Rickert stared quietly at the heavy stack of books.
"Does writing that much actually help?" he asked. "The more you write, the further you stray from the essence."
"Are you starting that again? We agreed to respect each other's methods. I just want the reader to find it easy to understand. Besides, I know I'm still lacking, so I plan to revise it little by little whenever I get the chance."
The title of Boribori's book had been changed from Bori-style Swordsmanship to The Standard of Swordsmanship.
He had excluded his own unique techniques, focusing instead on explaining the absolute basics in meticulous detail. The book was structured to guide the reader step-by-step, gradually progressing to more advanced levels.
Watching Boribori work made Rickert secretly uncomfortable. It wasn't for any particular reason, other than the nagging feeling that his friend's approach might actually be the right one.
Still, writing that much seemed like too much of a chore, and since he didn't believe his own philosophy was wrong, he was left feeling simply uneasy.
Just because his book was short didn't mean he hadn't pondered it deeply, nor had he spent any less time on it.
"By the way, is Marie not coming today either?" Boribori asked, writing in his book without paying mind to Rickert's occasional grumbling.
"I heard she went to the city this morning," Rickert replied, resting his chin on his hand as he gazed out the window. The autumn fields, turning a golden yellow, looked inexplicably lonely.
"Do you think she's hurting because we're leaving?"
Boribori had noticed that Marie had been consciously avoiding Rickert lately. While he and Rickert were graduating soon, Marie still had another year left. Though it was hard to guess her exact feelings, he figured her mind must be in a whirl.
"I don't think that's all it is."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't want to pry into something she wants to keep hidden. Besides, I don't know what it is either."
"Hmm... Are you sure about your decision, Ricky? Marie is incredibly pretty."
"Being pretty has nothing to do with it."
"Then what does?"
"I don't know."
Rickert fell silent. It seemed that even the person all the students idolized and looked up to had things he wished to keep to himself.
Perhaps it was Rickert who carried the deepest wounds of all, simply living on and bearing them in silence.
"Are we not even going to see her before we graduate? I want to say goodbye. It'd be a shame otherwise."
Boribori only wished for everyone in the clan to get along. Just as before, when things had been awkward between Rickert and Marie, he had stepped in to mediate.
But as he grew older and more mature, Boribori realized that the human heart was a deeply complex and difficult thing.
Listening closely, one could tell that even the conversations between Rickert and Boribori were no longer as childish as they once were.
Then, perhaps to change the subject, Rickert spoke abruptly.
"I think I'll hide the original manuscript."
"Huh? Why? After all that work?"
"I wrote it in ancient script, so no one can read it anyway. Think of it as a treasure hunt."
"You're just embarrassed, aren't you?"
"Why, you—!"
Rickert laughed, raising a fist as if to playfully cuff Boribori on the head. Boribori chuckled and ducked. Having spent so much time together, he could easily read Rickert's hidden feelings.
In the end, Rickert hid the completed original manuscript of Basics of Swordsmanship somewhere inside the defense tower. Scraping the mortar from between the bricks with a dagger, he pried one loose, placed the manuscript behind it, and sealed it back in place.
He wondered what on earth he was doing after going to all the trouble of writing it, but he rationalized it by telling himself he had only started it to kill time anyway.
He laid the translated commentary flat on a shelf at the back of the second-floor writing classroom. Back when the building was a fortress, the shelf had been used for stacking scrolls, not books.
In an era without printing technology, where books had to be painstakingly copied by hand, Rickert's book was the very first to occupy the shelf.
As he stared at the book he had placed there, the realization that his time at the Academy was finally over truly sank in. A bittersweet feeling washed over him—a mixture of anticipation for the future and a lingering sense of regret.
And so, Rickert packed his bags alongside Boribori and waited at the Academy for the day of their departure. He passed the time playing with the other students or giving them pointers on their swordsmanship.
Then, one day.
"Rock, paper, scissors! Next!" Rickert shouted.
"Whoa!"
Scissors beat paper. Rickert had won again. With a grin, he called for the next challenger as if victory were a given.
But this was clearly no ordinary game, judging by the crowd of students clamoring around him. He was on a fifty-six-game winning streak.
"He won again!"
"How is that even possible?"
The students were amazed and thoroughly entertained.
But Boribori, watching from atop a bunk bed, chimed in. "Isn't that cheating?"
"What is?"
"You're watching their hands. You should try it with your eyes closed."
Boribori knew that Rickert was reading the minute movements of his opponents' hands to throw whatever would win.
"It's not technically cheating, is it?"
"Wouldn't it be fairer if you closed your eyes?"
"What? Ricky, you were watching us the whole time?"
"Aw, that's no fun. That's cheap."
At Boribori's intervention, many of the students dispersed, their excitement deflated.
Even if he was watching, the sheer reaction speed required to pull it off was incredible, but the students found no interest in that. Since they already knew how extraordinary Rickert's abilities were, the winning streak lost its magic.
Rickert, suddenly branded a cheat, felt a bit wronged but just laughed it off.
Still, he must have been incredibly bored to resort to such games. Rickert climbed onto the bed and lay down next to Boribori, who was reading an ancient book he had acquired from somewhere.
"What are you reading?"
"The Epic of Ilya the Dragonslayer."
"Don't we already know that story inside and out?"
Ilya the Dragonslayer was a legendary hero whose tales had spread across the world since long before the Empire. It was the kind of legend where no one knew for sure if he had even existed.
"Reading it in a book is different. There are details I didn't know."
"Like what?"
"Ilya was born into a poor peasant family and was crippled from birth until he turned thirty. But one day, his family hosted a pilgrim who left behind some oil. When Ilya drank it, he stood right up and gained immense strength. After that, he vowed to become a warrior of God and set off on his adventure. You know the rest, Ricky. Defeating giants, slaying witches, and killing dragons."
"Sounds like a classic proselytizing tale. I didn't know the beginning was like that."
"Maybe. But who knows? It even lists where Ilya was born and where he died. We might be able to visit someday if we get the chance. To soak in the energy, you know?"
Rickert chuckled. He thought Boribori still had a naive side to him. Still a kid, through and through.
In any case, Rickert kept teasing Boribori, interrupting his reading as they traded pointless jokes.
After a while, a student called out from outside.
"Ricky."
"Yeah?"
"An adventurer is here looking for you and Bori. They said to pack your bags and come out."
Rickert and Boribori both thought the same thing: It's finally time.
They folded their uniforms neatly on the bed, leaving them for the next generation of students, then gathered their gear and bags and headed outside. To their surprise, the adventurer waiting for them was none other than Delphi.
"Huh?"
"Surprised?"
"What about the branch?"
"I hired some staff. Managing the building is pretty easy now."
That was a relief to hear, and Rickert and Boribori couldn't help but smile. Just having a friend travel all this way to see them was a joy in itself. The bitter part of their bittersweet departure seemed to fade away.
As they walked through the courtyard with light steps, Karlich came running up behind them, calling out in a hurry.
"Ricky! Ricky!"
Wondering what was going on, they turned to see a document in his hand.
"Ricky, take this with you."
"What is it?"
"A diploma. I made it myself. From now on, I'm going to give one to everyone who graduates. It has meaning, you know? To show they should be proud of being from Beringen."
Rickert looked at the document, but there wasn't much to it. It simply stated that he had graduated from Beringen Academy. Though Karlich had tried to decorate it with gold foil, it looked rather crude.
"Is there one for me?" Boribori asked.
"Unfortunately, Ricky is the very first."
"If I'm the second, shouldn't I get one too?"
"Let's just say you graduated first."
"......?"
It was absurd, but it didn't really matter. It wasn't a document with any official authority, anyway. At least, not yet.
Rickert smiled faintly and rolled up the document. Tying it with a string, he packed it into his bag.
"Take care," he said.
"Don't forget us, Ricky."
"I couldn't even if I tried. I'm off."
Rickert bid them farewell with a smile. Karlich didn't follow, simply standing still as he watched them go. Other students also watched Rickert's departure from the windows or from a distance.
Meanwhile, Delphi walked over to the girls' dormitory and asked a passing student a question, probably wanting to say goodbye to Marie before they left.
"Is Marie inside?"
"Pardon? Oh, no, she isn't. She went to the city this morning and hasn't returned yet."
"I see. Alright, thank you."
Watching from behind, Rickert's heart felt heavy with complex emotions. Since we're in the same clan, we'll see each other again someday, right? Or maybe not? I don't know. Depending on how she sorted out her feelings, they might never see each other again. Such was the nature of romantic affection.
The regret of leaving the Academy, which had briefly faded, seemed to grow thick and heavy once more.
They passed through the castle gates and descended the cliffside stairs. Now that there were railings, there was no danger of falling even if one took a misstep.
Once they reached the bottom of the cliff, the golden-yellow autumn fields stretched out before them. Purple gentian flowers bloomed in abundance along the roadside.
The wind was cool, occasionally carrying a sharp chill. The three of them walked along the path.
Then, they spotted a girl standing on the road with her back to them. She held a sword in one hand. It was Marie. Her bright blonde hair fluttered in the lonely autumn wind.
"Marie," Delphi called out.
Marie turned around slowly, showing no sign of surprise. "Could you give me and Ricky a moment alone?" she asked.
Delphi and Boribori didn't ask why, knowing the nature of their relationship. They walked past Marie, continuing down the road to watch the two from a distance.
Rickert stood facing her, keeping his distance, with his sword slung over one shoulder.
"We'll see each other again, Marie. Don't take it so hard."
"No. It's not that. I have something to tell you."
"......"
"My name is Martelia. I am the thirty-second daughter of His Majesty Emperor Claudius."
"...I see. I am Rickert. The third son of House Caldebern of Stormherz. I didn't mean to deceive you."
"Me neither."
"Was that what was weighing on you? The difference in our social status?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"I can only gain true freedom if I defeat you, or if I convince you to marry me. Otherwise, I am doomed to live as a puppet of the Imperial Family until the day I die. But I... I like you. What am I supposed to do?"
Marie had never wanted to reveal her secret to anyone in the world. Most of all, she had never wanted Rickert to know. Yet, she had told only him.
To her, this was a declaration of surrender, a sign that she was making herself completely defenseless and vulnerable. Her heart trembled. Rickert's next words would literally decide her fate.
But his answer was despair itself.
"...I'm sorry."
Marie's heart sank. But she had not failed to anticipate this outcome. And so, she did what she had to do next.
Marie drew the Famed Sword Ricky.
"I'm sorry too. For being selfish. Draw your sword, Ricky."
Rickert stared quietly into Marie's blue eyes. "You'll regret this," he said.
"Even if I do, I have no choice."
"Alright..."
Rickert set down his bag and drew the sword slung over his shoulder. He fell into a stance, facing her.
Delphi and Boribori did not intervene, merely watching quietly from afar.
Yet, somehow, it felt as though one of them might die. What were they to do? Boribori closed his eyes, unable to watch, while Delphi looked on calmly.
The autumn wind blew. The grass in the fields rustled with a soft, sweeping sound.
Then, in an instant, Rickert's eyes filled with murderous intent. Marie lunged forward reflexively, as if throwing herself into the jaws of death.
But Rickert did not swing his sword. He simply stood still, his eyes wide. Marie's blade stopped at his arm. In the end, she could not bring herself to strike. The tip of her sword trembled violently.
But Rickert wasn't finished. He suddenly grabbed the blade of her sword with his bare hand, guiding its tip toward his own heart.
"Not there," he said. "Here."
He applied pressure, attempting to plunge the blade into his own chest. Startled, Marie tried to pull the sword back, but Rickert gripped the blade tightly and refused to let go. Blood dripped from his hand as the tip of the sword pierced his coat, drawing closer and closer to his heart.
Marie's composure shattered. She was utterly at a loss for what to do. If she channeled her mana to wrench the sword free, she would sever his fingers. But if she let him pull her forward, the blade would pierce his heart.
Even in that moment, Rickert's hazel eyes remained completely unwavering, chillingly calm.
With a face on the verge of tears, Marie looked back and forth between her sword and Rickert. The boy who once told her he would die for her... He hadn't been lying.
Finally, Marie pleaded, "S-stop. Please, stop. I beg you."
Only then did Rickert release his grip. Blood dripped steadily from his hand. All the strength drained from Marie's body, and she collapsed to the ground, her gaze falling blankly to the dirt.
As if gently placing a flower upon her head, Rickert spoke softly.
"I told you that you would regret this..."
He sheathed his sword, picked up his bag, and walked past her. It was a cold gesture, but it was for the best.
Boribori quickly rushed over, taking Rickert's hand to administer first aid. The wound was not deep.
If anything, Boribori was more worried about Marie than Rickert's injury. But he could not approach her.
Marie sat there, frozen like a stone statue. Rickert's heart was breaking too, but now was the time to leave. And so, he walked on without looking back.
The lonely autumn wind sweeping across the fields sounded like crashing waves.
Arc 13 – Graduation. End.