Enlightenment
The Sanctuary of Honor.
True to its name, it was a place where the honorable performed their rites — a destination one was required to visit in order to receive formal qualification.
Whether a man who ruled vast territories sought to become a king, or a hero or noble wished to be properly recognized, the ceremony at the Sanctuary of Honor was indispensable. In the Empire, where the Emperor slept, confirmation of one's qualification at the Sanctuary was mandatory above all else.
How honorable one was. How righteous.
"There is nothing quite so hollow as 'honor.'"
Clop, clop.
Raiga spoke from horseback. At present, he and I were leaving the Empire together — though for a Palga expedition, our procession was pitifully bare. Just the two of us, and two horses. That was all.
Raiga, who had maintained a long silence, suddenly said it: that honor was hollow.
"Why do you think so?"
"Because the 'honor' a person is given from birth depends entirely on the circumstances into which they are born. The children of kings, the children of nobles — they hold far more 'honor' from the start than any commoner."
It was a surprisingly unexpected remark, coming from Raiga. Despite holding one of the Empire's highest seats as master of the Palga, he was voicing the unfairness of the system itself.
But in Pangenia, unfairness was perfectly ordinary. Being born into different ranks, different degrees of honor — none of that was considered strange. Above all, the numerical value of honor differed.
An ordinary human in Pangenia was born with zero honor. The children of criminals, I'd heard, sometimes started in the negatives. But the children of nobles and royalty were born holding at least a hundred points of honor or more.
"Is it so strange that the 'honor' a parent has built up is passed on to their child?"
"…So you think the same way, then."
Raiga looked at me with a faintly disappointed gaze. But I hadn't been wrong. This was precisely how Pangenia maintained its order — a parent's honor, a parent's sins, flowing down to their children. That was why so many people strove to live righteously, honorably. One could not simply deny the foundation upon which the world of Pangenia turned.
Raiga continued.
"Honor is a qualification one builds for oneself. And yet, for the mere fact of being born, some are burdened with a heavy fate and sent into the mines, while others soar through the sky without lifting a finger. Does that not strike you as strange?"
It was a kind of spoon theory — the boundary between the dirt-born and the golden-born. But honor was not merely a matter of money. In Pangenia, the difference between having honor and lacking it was far more extreme than that.
"It does not."
Even so, I shook my head. A society in which everyone was equal simply did not exist. No such utopia could be found anywhere.
At my firm answer, Raiga's brow furrowed slightly.
"Do you truly think so?"
"Yes. The reason we must live honorably, the reason we must live as decent human beings — is it not so that we may become fathers our children need not be ashamed of? However…"
"…"
"Separate from that, I believe equal opportunity must be granted to all."
"Equal opportunity?"
"If someone of low birth is denied even the chance to prove themselves despite having the skill — there could be no greater dishonor than that."
"…!"
A faint tremor passed through Raiga's eyes. The definition of honor. Hearing me say that true honor meant giving opportunity to those with skill, even if they came from the bottom, had stirred something in him.
"…Yes. That is the most dishonorable thing of all."
Raiga nodded. At the same time, the look he directed at me softened a little. A satisfied smile even touched the corner of his mouth.
Unexpected.
Raiga's ideological trajectory was, after all, different from that of ordinary nobles. He was nothing like those high-handed types who took birthright as a given. What Raiga measured was skill alone — skill and effort.
So it wasn't that he despised the weak. He despised those who refuse to try.
He simply loathed the sort who made no attempt to overcome their circumstances and simply gave up. This, too, set him apart from Pangenia's privileged class, who tended to regard the very word "effort" as something laughable.
Then Raiga spoke again.
"Furthermore, honor is like a sword."
"…?"
"The more you hone and polish it, the brighter and sharper it becomes. Even a rusted blade can shine and cut keenly, depending on how diligently you work it."
"Isn't that true of any weapon, not just swords?"
"A sword is a weapon with two edges. If you only polish one side, the blade loses its balance. How well you hone both sides is what can turn even a rusted sword into a legendary blade."
Another discourse on honor — the method of honing a sword. But he had not brought this up merely to discuss technique.
Raiga's expression hardened as he continued.
"I will teach you how to hone both edges of the sword. Even if the Sanctuary of Honor — even if they — refuse to acknowledge you."
"…"
"I will make certain of it. If one has skill and talent, giving them the opportunity is only natural."
You have talent. That was what Raiga was saying to me.
And perhaps because of that—
I feel guilty.
This was nothing like the man I had met as an officer of the Death God Religion. Raiga's passion toward me was genuine. I felt as though I were confronting a truth about him I had never known — never could have known. And so I felt sorry. Because I had never been sincere with Raiga. Because I had never imagined he was this kind of person.
Moreover—
Raiga has seen through me.
Hyun of Adrium. I had claimed to be from Adrium, but he had clearly discerned that it was a lie. And yet he was saying it didn't matter. If anything, he seemed to believe I must have had good reason.
…I should treat him with at least a little sincerity.
Ours had been a false relationship from the start, and I could not tell him the truth now. His flame was nearly out. The light in his eyes was fading, bit by bit. But precisely because of that, I could treat him more sincerely. At the very least, I could fulfill his wish in the form he desired.
We needed each other, after all.
"…I will learn diligently."
For now, I resolved to show him the image of the "hardworking genius" he so desperately longed for. That would be the best I could offer him.
— If someone of low birth is denied even the chance to prove themselves despite having the skill — there could be no greater dishonor than that.
When Raiga heard those words, a small tremor ran through him. It was not merely talent. Hyun shared the same convictions as he did. In the entire Empire, there had been no one who held the same values — and yet.
A gift the heavens sent me before I die…?
Hyun felt like a gift. Like something the heavens, taking pity on him in his final days, had lowered into his hands. Knowing the answer had not been calculated to please him made it all the more welcome.
Birth means nothing.
Holy City Adrium of the Goddess Sect. The claim of being from there was a lie. Hyun had not been born and raised there. But he had clearly gone there seeking opportunity. Likely because of his origins. A commoner, or something even lower — he would have needed a chance. He had simply gone to Adrium, found that chance, and seized it.
Was that not admirable, in its way? Most people in this world failed to grasp opportunity even when it stood right before them. Hyun, by contrast, had gone to Adrium and taken it for himself.
There is nothing about Hyun anywhere in this world.
Why would that be? No information about Hyun remained. No family, no friends, no one who knew him. Even Raiga's own intelligence network had turned up nothing.
Which meant—
He was probably born a slave.
The likelihood that he shared the same origins as Raiga himself was high. There was no slave brand, but just as Raiga had done, there were many ways to regenerate the flesh and erase a brand.
Perhaps that was why Hyun felt all the closer.
Of course, going to the Sanctuary of Honor would only earn them scorn for possessing pitiful honor. The Sanctuary itself might even refuse them. It was, after all, a place that quantified honor and issued qualifications accordingly.
Naturally the Palga would oppose it — but Raiga considered this his final opportunity. The first step toward reforming the Palga, and through it, changing the world. He himself had failed, but Hyun might be different.
No — Hyun had to be different.
"From now on, face me."
As they made their way toward the Sanctuary of Honor, Raiga taught Hyun at every opportunity — through sparring.
They had already dueled any number of times. And Hyun absorbed Raiga's teachings like a sponge. The sword no one else had ever been able to follow. His sword forms. The subtle principles contained in the blade, the will Raiga sought to express through it — Hyun kept pace with remarkable ease.
This had never happened before. Never had teaching someone been this enjoyable.
Clang—!
Blade met blade, and a clear, ringing note sang out.
Was this how my master felt when he taught me?
Raiga realized he was smiling without meaning to. Come to think of it — the previous master of the Palga, his teacher, had always smiled while teaching him. Had been genuinely happy. At the time, Raiga had thought the man simply found amusement in watching him get knocked around. Looking back now, he understood that wasn't it at all.
He had simply been happy. Happy teaching Raiga.
But until now, Raiga had never tasted that feeling himself. Teaching someone had always been a nuisance, a waste of time. No one had ever been able to keep up, after all. No one had ever resonated with his sword. No one had ever seen what he saw.
…He can see the grain.
Everything in existence had a grain — a seam. Raiga could see it. He knew where to thrust for a fatal wound, where to cut to shatter the balance of that grain. And Hyun, too, could clearly see it.
But there was a slight difference in how they perceived it. Raiga sought only to sever the grain. Hyun, however, knew how to use the grain's circulation. Because of that, he was weak at the method of cutting it clean through. Conversely, Raiga was weak at the method of using the grain's flow.
The circulation of the grain. Accepting the wavelength of existence itself…
Through teaching Hyun, Raiga came to understand the very area in which he himself had been deficient. He realized such a method existed — not simply using an opponent's power, but accepting the wavelength of the opponent themselves.
Had anyone else employed such a technique, Raiga would have rejected it on instinct. But because it was the subtle principle used by the one who had taught him the joy of teaching — by Hyun — it struck him with powerful force. It was the first time Raiga had ever truly tried to understand another person.
Ah…!
And then it happened.
The more their blades met. The more he strove to understand Hyun. Something that had been rising, little by little, finally reached its critical point.
Raiga's entire body trembled. Then he stopped, blades still locked.
"…"
The world seemed to freeze. Eyes closed, breath so faint it was nearly inaudible. Still.
Raiga attained enlightenment.