Chapter 35
Chapter 35
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Five Swords of Ban (4)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
White Flame had faded away. Watching Anya collapse onto the ground with a thud, Ban furrowed his brow. In an opera, this would be the moment to scoop her up and support her, but his life wasn't some opera.
"...That junior of yours said she was going to train..."
"She's no different from before. So I just left her."
"Cold guy..."
"I'm the one who kept it cold so no one got hurt. Anyway, what's this? I've seen her lose control of White Flame before, but never this bad."
Ban sheathed his two swords. Even after slicing through flames that devoured everything, the blades remained ice-cold. Anya replied with an embarrassed look.
"Just... a mistake..."
"...Whatever it was, two mistakes like that and there won't be a building left."
"Stop teasing me. It wasn't on purpose."
Anya lay flat on the floor. What a reward for her efforts—an accident like this. Maybe slacking off was better after all.
'...I want to lie down in a field. With sausages... cheese... and wine.'
'White wine would be good. Red wine feels kinda heavy.'
'And after drinking that... just take a nap. Screw training.'
"Sob..."
A wave of sorrow hit her suddenly. Anya shed silent tears. Ban looked at her in disbelief.
"...Are you crying?"
"I wanna slack off..."
"What?"
"I wanna skip class and take a nap... Eat cake while everyone else trains... I hate this hard-working life... Sniff..."
"That's just fart talk..."
Whining needed at least a plausible reason before he'd comfort her or not.
Well, for someone from the Nahar Clan, living this diligently was impressive enough. In the academy, their symbol wasn't White Flame or their pristine white appearance—it was laziness, practically accepted as fact.
"...Get up. Stop crying. What kind of senior looks like this?"
"Ah, whatever. No. It's annoying. I'm pissed. Tell everyone to buzz off."
Ban sighed and glanced around. Everyone was staring at them. The owner cleans up after the dog, but Anya's mess... well, not their problem.
Ban made a reluctant face.
"I have to clean this up?"
Who else would?
§
Ban hoisted Anya over his shoulder like a sack of rice as he walked. His trained body could handle one girl's weight without strain, but the occasional flicker of White Flame from her body stung quite a bit.
Anya, draped limply over his shoulder, spoke.
"Reminds me of Senior Serifa."
"...Then shouldn't you avoid letting her see you like this?"
"Not all good thoughts. Why did she have to go like that, because of me... I resent it sometimes... Am I too selfish?"
"Is being selfish bad?"
"...Isn't it?"
Ban didn't answer. Philosophy was one of the subjects he sucked at. He hated complicated thoughts. He preferred things divided neatly like the two edges of a blade.
"Pick one or the other, Anya. Forget Senior Serifa, or remember her."
During the training camp, when Serifa died, Anya had blamed herself more than anyone. The Wraith Legion had appeared right then to kidnap her, after all.
"Can I forget someone who died because of me?"
"If you want to forget, then forget. Do it or don't—nothing's off-limits."
"...Must be nice. So simple."
"Being simple isn't easy. Takes a lot of effort."
"Huh, still hate effort."
Anya giggled. Then she continued slowly.
"I can't forget Senior Serifa. We weren't that close, but she died because of me, so I don't want to."
"Then don't."
"I'm gonna get strong. Training's still a pain... but anyway. Oh, put me down first. Please."
Anya flopped like a fish. Ban scowled and set her down. He spoke in an irritated tone.
"One more tantrum like this, and we're throwing down."
"...Ban. Team up with me for the graduation mission."
"What outta nowhere?"
"Team up. Please."
"...If it means carrying you around again, pass."
"I'll make sure it doesn't happen."
Ban eyed her suspiciously. Then he nodded, still looking dubious.
"Fine, whatever."
§
If you asked people who Ban's closest friend was, you'd get various answers. Most would say Yeoryeong or Anya, sometimes Hazelrek, Ikyeong, or Jeo. And very rarely... Macdead. Probably only Macdead himself would say that.
But if you asked Ban directly, his answer would differ.
Yuri.
Yuri made a great conversation partner. When he talked about swords, she grasped his intent just from his words. Honestly, among his classmates, only Shade matched her intuition for swords.
And Shade wasn't someone he wanted to chat with often.
Ban gripped Yuri's Broad Dao and fell asleep. It was a daily ritual. The secret to his growth over the past two years, earning him the title of strongest third-year.
"You visit me every day. Fallen hard for this senior, huh?"
When he opened his eyes, he was in the same pristine white space. He sat up, still clutching the sword. A tall, handsome woman stared at him. Ban smirked.
"If anyone's fallen, it's you, Senior. Only guy around, and you can't get enough."
"Nice. Nice. Still a brat as ever. Makes me wanna beat you."
"...Think I'll just take it forever, and you're wrong."
Ban growled, sword in hand.
And got beaten.
Yuri summoned a chair, sat, and crossed her legs. The winner's leisure showed in her slightly upturned lips.
"Not bad. Decent sword."
"...When can I beat you, Senior?"
"Keep dreaming. You can't infuse 'intent' into your sword yet. Lightning, fire, whatever—I'm not weak enough to lose to a bladeless edge."
"By graduation?"
"...Dunno. I couldn't even at graduation. But you're different. Top of your class, right?"
Ignoring her teasing tone, Ban pondered. Intent. According to the Voice of the Sword, infusing intent into the blade separated 5-Star from 4-Star.
And 4-Star was materializing Qi.
Ban had been stuck at 4-Star for over a year.
'Getting from 1-Star to 4-Star was easier than 4 to 5.'
It was true. Others didn't know the "Star" system, but they grasped intent. Many Citadel Academy grads died still at 4-Star, so maybe he had no right to whine after just over a year.
Yuri clicked her tongue.
"Don't rush. Your Qi control isn't perfect yet. 4-Star, right? Master that stage first. Fundamentals matter more than you think."
"...Long road."
"Oh? Rush it and you'll end up dead. Seen plenty like that. ...Well, with your talent, you'll be faster than most. Reading sword memories... Cheater ability. If I had that, I wouldn't be stuck as a goblin spirit."
"...Northern memories still not back?"
"Nope. I entered this sword when you went north... No plans for a northern trip? For those memories?"
"No plans now. Too unpleasant a place."
Even without Serifa's memories, the air there was different. Not somewhere to visit often. Yuri rested her chin, watching him.
"I get it, but don't rush. You'll learn what you need eventually, get strong too. You know what I mean?"
"Sermon time again?"
"...If I were alive, I'd wreck you good."
Ban chuckled at her biting her lip. Fourth-years' graduation was near. Meaning... his mission departure loomed too.
What mission would he get?
What would he face?
What was the kingdom like, stirring all those rebels?
Many thoughts, but first things first.
Graduation day. Fourth-years gathered after missions. Ban faced Urong, last time in academy cloak.
"...Let's spar, Senior."
A line he'd held back.
For a very.
Very long time.
Urong grinned like a male beast at him.
§
Strongest third-year: Ban.
Then strongest fourth-year?
Hay wasn't even a candidate. Top contender among fourth-years, sure, but not the strongest.
Some picked Tris, Eustaine Clan blood, Jeo's cousin. Few had seen her fight properly, but she ripped bee wings from her back, bound foes with vines in an instant. Nature obeyed her commands.
Gerik from another of the Nine Great Clans, blessed with "space," was another. He warped his body and whip tips through space for attacks—unique and powerful. Most avoided duels with him.
Last, Urong. Simple. Strong, tough, powerful.
But that sufficed for "strongest."
'If not him, who?'
Just facing him stung the skin. Fists clenched, yet more massive and overwhelming than any weapon Ban had seen.
That's why it excited him more.
Urong first showed him battles beyond human limits. Chased by rebels that day, on the brink of death, Ban's blood boiled watching Urong fight. He'd wanted that strength. Reason he begged the Cho Clan to teach him the sword.
'How close is my sword to yours now?'
"That Ban kid held his own against Hay, right?"
"So they say."
Fourth-years watched with interest. Nice entertainment for the academy's final day. Fourth-year strongest vs. third-year strongest.
"Ban. I don't do half-measures. You know?"
Urong grinned. Ban said nothing, took stance. Power? Outmatched. Dumbest against Cho Clan. Speed too—they were as fast as strong.
Deceive, then.
"...I know. And Senior."
Ban smiled. He drew a longsword, not the Broad Dao, aimed at Urong.
"I don't like half-measures either."
Time to show it.
His third sword.