Chapter 17
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 17
Chapter Title: The End of Childhood
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“Aradamanthel…?”
The weight of the sword his mother had used was somehow familiar. It was as light as her own shortsword.
Though it was his first time holding it, he felt as if the sword itself was teaching him how to use it.
- *Cut.*
As if the sword had spoken, a red line that shouldn't have been visible sliced across his vision.
It was the shortest path.
The trajectory of a blade that would slice through Kishun's neck.
A line of a single strike, visible only to masters of the highest caliber, like Raminea and Camilla.
The line flickered, as if telling him there was no time to hesitate.
“Tzaaaa—!”
In that one instant.
The instant Kishun's claw surged right before his eyes.
The instant the Uruks roared for him to finish it.
“—Aaaaaaaah!”
The instant Kaisen swung the sword, the Supreme Holy Sword Aradamanthel unleashed a devastatingly red brilliance.
Sword aura. It was sword aura.
The fiercely projected energy incinerated Kishun's claw, severed his hand, burrowed into the bone and sinew of his arm, shot up diagonally, and finally burst out after severing his cervical vertebrae.
*Chaaaaang…!*
When the long, drawn-out cry of the sword ceased, only one person remained standing.
Kaisen.
Though he was gasping for breath, the tip of Aradamanthel hanging low, the boy was undeniably on his feet.
And what of Kishun?
The Uruk, the eldest son of the Kiral clan and the next chieftain-candidate, was headless.
Only his body remained, staggering for a long moment as it spewed bloody foam from the stump of its neck.
As if the body couldn't accept its sudden death. The head that had flown into the air spun through the wind and rain before slamming into the wet, muddy ground.
Its eyes were twisted in shock. A moment later, the body crashed to the ground with a thud that shook the earth.
Silence fell.
The Uruks, who had been cheering in certainty of victory just moments before, froze in a daze.
Had even the rain held its breath at the moment of the strike? The once-quiet sound of the downpour now resumed, *shwaaaa...* pouring down fiercely.
Kishun's younger brother, Kishe, collapsed to his knees. Just then.
“Ketakose…!”
an Uruk roared.
It meant, *Kill him*.
The word *kill* filled the forest and the sky as half of the Uruks, overcome with rage, raised their weapons.
“Ketakose…!”
“Ketakose…!”
The situation instantly became dire.
As the Uruks closed in, surrounding Kaisen, he had no strength left.
All he could do was barely lift the tip of Aradamanthel.
The same was true for Johan.
The Uruks looked as if they intended to vent their grief over Kishun's death on Camilla and Johan.
As the Uruks approached and raised their axe blades, Johan felt his hand tremble on the hilt of his sword.
In that moment of utter desperation.
Uruks of the Kiral clan shouted to uphold the old laws and blocked the path of the others.
In the pouring rain, a bizarre situation unfolded as Uruks suddenly aimed their weapons at their own kind.
“Sheketase (Enough)!”
Kishe shouted fiercely.
Infighting was about to break out among the Uruks, but all of them focused on the words and actions of the warrior second only to Kishun.
“Do you want to become just like those Balkrush bastards?”
The Uruks protested.
Are we supposed to let the son of a bitch who killed Kishun go free?
“He won the Kaltake. He is in the right.”
For what felt like an eternity, the Uruks glared menacingly at Kaisen and Wolf, but eventually, one by one, they lowered their weapons.
“Jekia, Roke no kirmea.”
At Kishe's quiet command, an Uruk brought over a horse. It had clearly been taken from a human.
“By the laws of Kaltake, we will not pursue you for half a day.”
Kishe approached Kaisen.
Raising both hands to show he had no intention of fighting.
“Furthermore, our Kiral clan will guard this bridge so that no other Uruks can cross.”
That was the human interpretation of Kishe's words. Kaisen furrowed his brow and sneered in the Uruk tongue.
“How uncharacteristically gentlemanly of you.”
“Had I died, Kishun would have done the same. We Kirals are different from those rootless mongrels like the Balkrush.”
Kishe's voice trembled with sorrow and anger, yet there was no killing intent. He turned and said.
“You'd best leave quickly. Kaisen, Son of the Crimson Flame. Before I set out to kill you.”
Kaisen and Wolf exchanged glances, then draped Camilla over the horse's back.
Wolf took the reins, and Kaisen retrieved Aradamanthel's scabbard and sheathed the sword.
As Kaisen crossed the great bridge, the Kiral Uruks who had called to uphold the law stepped aside and struck their chests with their fists, showing respect.
“Such unbecoming bullshit.”
Kaisen muttered as if chewing his words.
In Uruk society, the strong were the only truth. The victors were the only ones worthy of worship, the only ones who could be considered comrades.
The Uruks were acknowledging Kaisen as a strong warrior and showing him their respect.
[At the time, Kishun, as the warrior who would become the chieftain of the Kiral clan, was a warrior of immense renown in Uruk society, though perhaps not to the extent of Valkaro.]
Wolf had recorded this about Uruk society at the time.
[At the end of his childhood, the warrior Kaisen defeated in a Kaltake was precisely such a man... Would it not have been strange for the Uruks to show anything but respect?]
The end of childhood,
Siege of Aristapo (8)
Kaisen had won, but his internal injuries were severe. Wolf spoke to Kaisen, who limped ahead of him.
“Kaisen…?”
“Yeah?”
“Isn't Aradamanthel heavy?”
“It's... manageable, *keuk*...”
Wolf was baffled.
The Supreme Holy Sword could only be barely lifted by anyone other than its chosen proxy, and swinging it was utterly impossible.
Proof that the holy sword had accepted him... He let out a hollow laugh.
*Right, so that's how it is.*
*Aradamanthel has chosen you as its new master. You, the Commander's son and Camilla's disciple.*
It was then that Aradamanthel's former master reached out and touched Wolf's shoulder.
“Let me down…”
Ah…
*So this moment was still to come. The tearful moment when a bond is severed.*
Wolf took Camilla in his arms and gently set her down in front of a withered pine tree trunk.
“What are you doing, Wolf! We have to go! She's bleeding so much... we don't have time to rest!”
“Kaisen. Camilla isn't going to live.”
“How do you know that! Who decided? Who the hell decided something like that?”
Bloody foam frothed endlessly from her abdomen, and Camilla's eyes were cold.
Her hair smelled of blood.
He remembered the stars that filled the night sky on the evening his mother died, and the dawn when he'd dug her grave, weeping. Everything overlapped.
“She's... dying?”
“…”
“Camilla's dying…?”
His words broke into a sob.
*Why...? I haven't cried in four years, so why is a sob boiling up inside me for this woman who only ever hit me, tormented me, and cursed at me?*
Wolf answered his unspoken question.
“Kaisen, this is just my opinion, but I think Camilla was so harsh with you because you're the Commander's son.”
“What…?”
“Because she knew you'd have to part like this soon, and she didn't want you to be sad…”
*Don't say it.*
Camilla coughed up blood.
*If you say that... then what have I been doing all this time...? What about all the curses he's had to listen to until now?*
“Don't fuck with me, cut it out!”
Kaisen gripped Camilla's shoulders and shook her weakly.
“You were just jealous of me! Because you thought I took Mom away from you! I know everything, so stop with this out-of-character bullshit!”
The rain streaming down the boy's face looked just like tears.
“Hey, Kaisen…”
Camilla opened her trembling lips.
“I'm sorry... for everything.”
“Don't apologize, don't apologize! Curse at me like you always do! Yell at me for running my mouth! Why won't it stop, the blood, the blood…!”
Her vision swam weakly.
She could see the boy's face, tears streaming down as he desperately pressed on her wound.
A face that looked so much like the master she had loved to the point of madness.
- *My Kami is so cute.*
Superimposed on his face.
A voice.
Amidst the cold rush of her final moments, a voice from the past whispered warmly in her heart.
- *Th-that can't be true!*
- *You really are. You know, someday, I want to have cute children just like you, Kami.*
*What did I say back then?*
*I think I was jealous. Because I was afraid.*
*Afraid that if my master had children, I would be pushed aside.*
- *Don't FakeWarriors take a vow of celibacy? Something like that isn't possible.*
*That's why I said that.*
In response, her master had smiled brightly and gently stroked Camilla's head.
- *After I have children, and when they're learning to talk, I'll introduce you as my little sister, Kami.*
- *Huh...?*
- *Then my child will follow you around calling you 'Auntie Kami,' right? Waddling around cutely…*
It was a trivial dream for an ordinary person.
But for those who bloomed and withered in the world of the sword, it was a dream too vast and distant.
*Is that why my master spoke as if she were dreaming?*
- *And someday, won't my child come to you on the verge of tears and say, 'Auntie, Mommy won't give me a snack...'?*
- *You won't give them a snack...?*
- *Listen. Then, Kami, you'll secretly press a snack into the child's hand and say, 'You know the drill, right? It's a secret from Mommy.'*
And then.
*We'll both nod and smile brightly at each other.*
Ah.
*Ting,* along with the echo of memory... an unattainable dream sparkled dazzlingly before her eyes.
A sandwich made by Raminea.
A dream of sitting on a green lawn, biting into it, with Kaisen, Camilla, and Raminea chattering away boisterously.
The world blurred into a hazy white.
*If the world, if only the world had been a little more peaceful... I could have seen and touched such a day myself, couldn't I, Master?*
“Wolf, Wolf, what are you just standing there for! Hurry, hurry and use your magic!”
“Kaisen.”
“Just freeze the wound! Stop the bleeding, if we can just stop the bleeding! If we can make it to a place with a priest or a witch, if we can get a Dragon's Blood serum! She can recover her body, right?!”
Wolf said nothing.
The taste of blood from his powerlessly bitten lip was devastating. He wanted to save her, but she was beyond saving.
Camilla's hair, even her eyebrows, had already turned white. This meant she had expended all her life force. Camilla spoke.
“Kaisen… there's no time, so don't ask questions, just listen…”
“What do you mean there's no time? We just have to fix this, just this!”
“You… what do you think of yourself…?”
“What?”
“Just a kid who's decent with a sword? Or… a FakeWarrior's disciple…?”
*Since I can no longer be with you, I'll tell you the story you need to hear.*
*As a master, to her disciple.*
*Just as I inherited it, may this story, this will, be passed on to you.*
“Goddammit, who cares about that shit right now!”
“I'm asking because it's important…”
“It's not important! Not at all! Shut up and get up and walk! Get on the horse!”
“You... when this war... when everything is over... throw away your sword and go far away... It would be even better with someone you love…”
*When the war is over...?*
Was such a thing even possible? The words were frightening. Overwhelming and alien.
As if his mind had been filled with something white and blank, he couldn't think at all.
“In a place where no one knows you... a place without even a hint of the smell of blood... be happy…”
That was Camilla's dream.
*I gave up on that dream and met this end, but you…*
As Camilla spoke of her now unattainable dream, her tone was sorrowful yet sacred.
“So that someday... when we meet in paradise... you can tell me and my master... how happily you lived…”
His breath.
Kaisen's breath caught.
*Happiness, she says... to live happily in a world like this? In this world where there is nothing but sorrow? How?*
“Promise me you will…”
The word "happiness" seemed like a cruel joke.
It sounded like a daydream.
It felt like a story from a distant dream. So he remained silent.
*No, that's not it.*
*He didn't want to answer.*
*Because the moment he answered... it felt as if something precious would be gouged out of him. Just as his mother had left him that day.*
“If you promise me this, then no matter where you go, no matter who you meet... I'll give you permission to say it as if it were a matter of course…”
As Kaisen despaired, something warm stroked his head.
It was a hand. Camilla's hand.
It was the first and last expression of affection Camilla ever showed Kaisen as his master. A dazzling smile that resembled his mother's.
“You... you are the disciple I, Camilla Alter Aradamanthel, personally chose and raised…”
*I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise to you, Aradamanthel. I entrust my disciple to you, who will now be left alone in this cruel world.*
“Live. Live and be happy, Kaisen. I'm counting on you, Aradamanthel.”
After that, the world was seized by silence.
*Thud.* The sound of a hand, its last warmth of life gone, hitting the mud echoed quietly.
Just like her master, Camilla died with a smile on her face for those she left behind.
The monsoon rains began to pour.
From the two eyes of the boy weakly shaking his master's cooling corpse.
From the two eyes of the young man who sank down, stunned, gazing at the corpse of the woman he loved.
The rain fell, and fell, and fell again.
***
“Did Camilla truly choose that child?”
The Dragon Spirit Hall.
The Papal Office, the headquarters of the Light Dragon Orthodox Church.
The status of those gathered here in its upper levels was high. Wolf answered.
“Yes, Your Eminence. I saw it with my own eyes. If you do not believe me, I ask that you test him by having him wield Aradamanthel.”
The church has five cardinals.
These were five True Dragon-class Yellow Dragons, who consulted and decided on important matters in place of the ailing Light Dragon.
They were called the Five Pillars of the Papal Office, and their gathering was known as the Council of Five Pillars.
“But is the child not a boy? And the son of a deserter, no less. Can such a person truly guide the power of the holy sword down the right path?”
Cardinal Hagon voiced his concern.
Wolf looked him straight in the eye and showed his respect.
“That means he has inherited the blood of the greatest FakeWarrior in history. And he received the best possible training from her disciple.”
“….!”
“To abandon such a being based solely on gender would be, in my humble opinion, an immeasurable loss for humanity.”
The cardinals murmured amongst themselves.
This time, Cardinal Parem asked.
“Is there anyone who can vouch for the child's identity? Someone who will take responsibility should any problems arise.”
“I will vouch for the child's identity.”
“Though you are an illegitimate son, you are of the Duren family, the Prince-Elector of the Northern Empire, and a former member of the Crimson Flame Corps. Your qualifications are sufficient. However, to vouch for someone, you need two or more—”
Just as Cardinal Parem was closing his eyes to express his opposition, Cardinal Yosyuhar interjected.
“—I, too, shall vouch for the child's path.”
The one who had cherished Raminea like a daughter.
And it was Yosyuhar who had sent the delegation to Kaisen's hometown, the Village at Land's End.
Had it not been for Yosyuhar, Raminea would have been dragged away immediately, without any grace period. Without ever having known the happiness of a family.
“Yosyuhar?”
“He is the child Raminea protected even at the cost of her life. And the one Camilla chose as her disciple. I wish to trust in him. I will take full responsibility for any problems that arise.”
Yosyuhar quietly closed his eyes.
*Raminea, this is the last favor I will show you. Rest peacefully now.*
“It is decided, then.”
With that, Cardinal Inrahit, who had remained silent until now, opened his eyes.
“Kaisen, son of Raminea and disciple of Camilla—his admission into the [Hall of the Fake Sword] is approved. So that he may become a Warrior, just as his mother and master were.”
***
Because Wolf had frozen the corpse with ice magic, Camilla's body did not decompose.
Camilla was cremated in the Papal Office's First Chapel. So that her soul-departed body would not be consumed by the Abyss, but find eternal rest.
Camilla's body became ash and scattered in the world where the rain had stopped.
Wolf silently gathered the handful of remaining bone fragments and froze them with magic. Into delicate shards resembling snow crystals.
Wolf split them in two and twisted silk thread to make necklaces. He hung one around his own neck, and the other around Kaisen's.
“Kaisen, you said you remember where the Commander's grave is, right?”
At that moment, Wolf's face was serene.
Though his heart must have been torn by the pain of sending off the lover he cherished, he was serene.
Kaisen answered, his voice thick with tears.
“I planted an acorn there.”
“Kaisen, let's make sure we take Camilla there.”
Wolf pulled Kaisen into an embrace.
That was the first time his voice began to tremble. Tears streamed from his desperately sorrowful eyes.
“After you become a FakeWarrior... let's go together... Let's let Camilla rest beside the Commander…”
Wolf wept silently, and at the sight of his tears, Kaisen began to cry again.
“Okay…”
Wolf advocated for Kaisen's strong desire to become a FakeWarrior and registered him at the Papal Office's [Hall of the Fake Sword].
After the funeral, Kaisen saw Wolf off to the main gate of the Papal Office.
“When we meet again, I hope I'll be able to call you Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel.”
“…”
“Stop sniffling. That's not like you, is it? We'll meet again. This reminds me of when I parted with Camilla at this very gate.”
“Wolf…”
“I'm going to my home in the north for a while before returning to the front lines. I need to build up my knowledge again. Knowledge is like a blade; it grows dull if not constantly sharpened.”
Wolf patted Kaisen's shoulder. When Kaisen's gaze lingered on the snow-crystal necklace, Wolf gave a bitter smile.
“I will never love another woman. Kaisen, it is never shameful for a man to love only one woman his entire life.”
“…”
“I'll pray that you meet such a woman, too. Well then, this is farewell. An instructor from the [Hall of the Fake Sword] will be out to get you soon.”
Wolf turned away, hiding his sorrow with a smile.
Kaisen, who had been watching his benefactor's departing back in a daze, knelt and bowed, his head touching the ground.
Long after Wolf had disappeared, his forehead remained pressed to the ground, his body trembling with waves of surging tears.
And so, the last day of his seventeenth year came to a close.
Now, he was eighteen.
At eighteen, the boy was still in a bleeding world. Still in the midst of summer.