A Crane Among Chickens
The monsters pouring out were so numerous that even magic could not account for them. Not even in her past life had she ever seen a force of this size. But sheer numbers alone did not make them difficult to handle.
...Even if Shiron had fled like a mangy dog.
Lucia drew short, rapid breaths. She felt the mana surge from her dantian and flood through her entire body. She did not even need mana to deal with these things one by one, yet she deliberately wrapped her black iron sword in aura.
The ground trembled as the monsters closed in. She did not retreat. Instead, Lucia stepped forward to meet the oncoming mass of flesh.
As if that were exactly what they had been waiting for, a gaping maw split open, its red mucous membrane flashing as it lunged to swallow her red hair whole.
"Fuck!"
Lucia spat the curse. Her face burned red. At the same time she swung her sword. The monster's own momentum made it almost effortless to cut the creature down.
"You son of a bitch!"
She split it from head to tail in a single stroke. Even a strong, skilled swordsman could not cleave a monster two or three times the size of a water buffalo in one blow. But the sword path Lucia carved, and the aura that rode it, made the impossible ordinary.
It was not even a challenge. Anything her blade could reach and cut was no match for her. Just beasts crawling on the ground. Lucia's eyes blazed as she swung at the next enemy.
"You fucking bastard!"
Her unrestrained aura tore through the air. Blood fountains erupted late from the successive mounds of flesh as they toppled.
"You idiot! You moron! I hate you so much!"
Lucia screamed at the top of her lungs.
"What the hell is this? What did you say? I'm the one who got fooled? Huh?!"
Even as she swung her sword, Lucia could not focus on the enemies right in front of her. No matter how easily she cut the monsters down, the situation was still urgent.
If she twisted an ankle,
if she dropped her sword...
Her protective aura would shield her body, but it was only a secondary measure. Lucia was still a ten-year-old girl, and compared to her past life she could barely wring out a handful of her former strength.
"You're absolute trash!"
In the middle of that tightrope walk, her mind filled with the grinning face of a certain boy.
Before she knew it, Shiron's face flickered in front of her. Lucia swung her sword in a great arc at the image of the smirking boy.
"You're so damn annoying!"
A monkey-like monster clamped its jaws onto the flat of her blade. Thousands of teeth chewed the steel.
"You got my hopes up so much!"
Lucia cranked her mana output even higher. The sword energy coating the blade concentrated into a single point and punched straight through the creature's skull.
I was really looking forward to it!
It was the first festival she had ever attended since reincarnating. When Shiron had smiled and suggested it first, she had been so happy she could hardly stand it.
She had been too excited to sleep properly. She had gone out to buy a sword she truly liked, claiming she needed it. Looking back it was a little childish, but she had even shown off her skills in front of the blacksmith for once.
Her first time riding a train... honestly she had not known what to make of it, but it had been good all the same.
......Hah.
By the time the number of corpses she had cut down passed three digits, Lucia exhaled a hot breath into the air.
"..."
The cold winter wind made the blood-soaked plain look even more desolate. On the grass dyed crimson, Lucia hung her head.
I was really... looking forward to it.
She rubbed her eyes a few times with her sleeve. Her slightly reddened eyes stung with heat.
"...What. What's wrong with me."
Lucia shook her head as if to fling the feeling away. When she looked up, monsters were still pouring out of the mist.
She tightened her grip on the hilt and kicked off the ground once more.
While the participants busily slaughtered monsters, the people of their houses and organizations were not simply standing around idle.
Beyond the wall of large men encircling the mist, the continent's heavy hitters were deep in the middle of a social gathering.
Dexter Dras, commander of the Western Red Lion Knights, looked down on the participants locked in combat with the monsters.
His eyes were round, as if taking in the entire landscape at once, yet he could not focus on the battlefield itself.
He pricked up his ears at the murmuring around him.
"The one standing out the most in this purge festival is clearly the second son of House Dras."
"Of course. Word is that youth is the greatest talent House Dras has produced... His movements are refined and polished. To display that kind of subtlety in this chaos—he truly deserves to be called a genius."
At the praise for his nephew, Dexter's shoulders gave a little bounce.
Normally it was rare for anyone to praise the representative of another house or order at a purge festival.
Even a hedgehog thinks its own young are the prettiest. In a competitive setting it was only natural to praise one's own people rather than someone else's.
Besides, a purge festival where one simply swept monsters away had no clear criteria for evaluation.
Who killed more monsters.
Who cut them down with fewer exchanges.
Who never took a single step from their spot.
But attaching praise to one's own people by any means available was an ugly look, so compliments at a purge festival were even harder to come by.
"Hmm... I'm not so sure."
Even so, Dexter made a point of not showing his delight.
In truth his heart was soaring as if he were riding an airship. He wanted to laugh out loud, but he knew perfectly well that accepting praise at face value would brand him a doting fool or a lightweight.
Dexter pressed down on his restless shoulders and forced a grave expression onto his face.
"The boy still has a long way to go. Look at that. His swordsmanship looks decent enough, but the sword energy he releases is a bit messy. Didn't we all release purer, cleaner sword energy back in our day?"
Dexter's slightly mischievous joke drew hearty laughter from the men.
"Haha. This fellow is a bit hard on his own nephew, isn't he?"
"Indeed."
They were right. The blue sword energy pouring from the youth in red armor as he butchered monsters was just beginning to take solid form and already showed respectable power.
Moreover, nearly two hours had passed since the monsters began pouring out. The longer time dragged on, the harder it became to draw mana from the dantian and maintain the shape of one's sword energy.
Yet Erman Dras, the rising star of the Red Lion Knights, was instead swelling his sword energy even larger.
Oh—
Admiration burst out around them.
Dexter could barely suppress the corners of his mouth from rising; in the end he had to cover them with his hand.
Just then—
"What are you all talking about? Obviously the best one is Lucia Prien, isn't she?"
"...Hm?"
At the sudden intrusion of a child's voice, the men turned their heads toward the sound. There stood a boy of about ten, chewing on a strip of jerky.
"Prien?"
"That's right."
Shiron looked up at men two or three times his size.
The commander of the Western Border Guard.
A local magnate of the Bemir region.
The head of a renowned martial house.
They all turned their eyes on Shiron at once.
The black-haired, cheeky boy was clearly one of the children that Yohan Urheim of Changcheon had been bringing around.
They could not simply bark at the rude brat and drive him off—Hugo's and Changcheon's prestige was far too great for that. Not a single man present was unaware of Hugo's reputation.
The bald man with the thick golden beard—Igor Kairon, commander of the Western Border Guard—approached the somewhat bold boy.
"You've caught my interest a little."
"Lucia Prien. She's Hugo Prien's niece."
When one of the men showed interest, Shiron beamed and nodded vigorously.
"Look over there."
Shiron pointed with a fingertip. But no person was visible where he indicated. Only a storm of blood and monsters collapsing one after another.
"...Something is certainly happening there. It wasn't particularly noticeable, so I hadn't paid it any mind."
Igor narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked where Shiron pointed.
"She's small, so it's only natural she doesn't stand out."
"Small?"
Igor tilted his head at Shiron's reply.
If she carries Sir Hugo's blood, she shouldn't be small...
"She's only ten."
Shiron spoke as if he already knew exactly what question was forming in the man's mind.
"Is there anyone here who was releasing sword energy at the age of ten? Anyone who entered a purge festival at that age?"
"..."
There was no answer.
Shiron rubbed his face with both hands, trying to settle the corners of his mouth that kept twitching upward.
"There isn't, right? And among them, the youngest is our Lucia, right? Her personality's a bit of a pain, but she's also the prettiest, right? Our Lucia is the best, right?"
Adults could not imagine an elephant swallowed by a boa constrictor. The most efficient way to demonstrate excellence was still to shove numbers in their faces.
Fortunately, proving Lucia was the finest was not difficult. She was the youngest, and compared to the dark, burly men around her, her appearance was so outstanding she might as well have been a fairy.
Heh—hehaha—haha—
Things were going so well that Shiron finally burst out laughing. Even he thought he was being a little too shameless.
A few faces looked mildly displeased at that... but what of it? Their moods were of no importance to Shiron right now.
That should be enough bragging about my little sister.
Shiron met the flood of stares with a sly smile and slipped a hand into his coat. In an instant several brown glass bottles appeared in his grip.
The fine wine of Dawn Castle he had prepared in advance.
With practiced ease, Shiron uncorked the bottles.
"Have a drink, gentlemen."