Chapter 23
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Origin (6)
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“Instructor… something feels like it's rampaging inside my body.”
“Is that so?”
“Strangely… I can't control it. The chain won't settle down.”
Chiiiing… The chain, now active, vibrated silently throughout Kaisen's body, radiant with a golden light. Had there ever been a cadet who emitted such a dazzling light?
“Jump. Now.”
Kaisen focused the wave of power that felt like it would tear his body apart into the tips of his toes and leaped forward from the edge of the pit.
In that one moment.
Like a hawk diving for its prey, the boy's form shot long and fast through the air, landing with a somersault far in the distance.
“What…?”
“How…”
The eyes of the 997th class cadets widened in bewilderment. It was no wonder. Kaisen had landed much farther than any of them.
Roughly the radius of the pit farther?
Watching Kaisen, who had become a distant dot in an instant, Ollier couldn't suppress a burst of incredulous laughter.
‘Is this the Dragon Spirit of Lord Yoshuhar…?’
And so, that day, Kaisen began to shatter the records set by generations of top cadets, one by one. He might have overturned every single record.
‘Huh…?’
That is, if he hadn't suddenly lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground just as he was about to start the steel plate breaking test.
He was sure he'd been participating in the noon training, but when he opened his eyes, dusk was falling.
The instructors were talking by his bedside.
“Head Instructor, Kaisen is awake.”
“How long?”
“A little over four hours.”
Kaisen said.
“Head Instructor, I'm sorry. Something suddenly…”
“Nothing to apologize for. The Dragon-kin priest has already examined you.”
“…?”
“Listen carefully. You used your power for about ten minutes before you collapsed. We'll have to measure it again, but that was roughly it.”
“Yes.”
“And you woke up four hours later. Can you guess why?”
Kaisen tilted his head, puzzled. He couldn't grasp the meaning behind the instructor's question.
“You know the Ain use steam engines, right?”
“Yes.”
“It's like that. When excessive power is applied, it runs wild for a moment and then breaks down. In short, your body can't handle the power of the Dragon Spirit Stone.”
Kaisen felt as if the world was going dark before his eyes. Despair washed over his mind like a flood of darkness.
“Am I… a failure?”
The Head Instructor fell silent.
She always enjoyed creating dramatic effect like this. But this time was different.
“Well, I can't say for sure. Not in this situation.”
“…?”
“Unlike other FakeWarriors who use their power constantly, you can use yours under a time limit. And the power you wield is absurdly strong.”
A time limit…?
Ollier Dune Jeraye held up three fingers.
“Two to three times the normal output. You alone can exert the power of two, or even three, FakeWarriors.”
“…?!”
“The power of a FakeWarrior isn't something that can be calculated by simple addition… It's now an undeniable fact that you will become the strongest FakeWarrior in history.”
Ollier's expression, which had been excited as she explained Kaisen's power, suddenly darkened. Ollier glanced out the window.
“The problem is, it only lasted ten minutes. The priests said it could be even shorter if you use your full power. This is what's so perplexing. A FakeWarrior who needs a four-hour cooldown period is unheard of.”
The one who countered this opinion was the military theory instructor, Rahel Dune Jeraye.
“Then he just needs to annihilate the enemy within those ten minutes.”
“The battlefield isn't a game of chess.”
“I'm not talking about all enemies. Kaisen already showed unbelievable results on the battlefield as a boy soldier. He'll fight well even without constantly using the Dragon Spirit's power.”
Rahel Dune Jeraye's eyes met Kaisen's. Rahel nodded confidently, her voice tinged with excitement.
“The point is, he only needs to release the Dragon Spirit in critical situations or when facing a powerful enemy.”
“Rahel…”
“Head Instructor, this cadet's existence will cause a storm on the battlefield. Could anyone—friend or foe—have ever imagined it? A FakeWarrior who can wield the power of two, no, three people!”
At Rahel Dune Jeraye's cry, the other instructors began to murmur. Was that hope in her voice? Kaisen's mind was blank.
“That's true, but the battlefield is full of variables. A four-hour weakness… We have to find a way to cover for that.”
“…”
“Kaisen, can you get up?”
“Yes.”
“Let's continue the tests. Your power is unconventional and exceptional. We need to gather more data to find a solution.”
A backlash from the power…
He was certainly awake, but his mind was hazy and his whole body ached.
Nevertheless, Kaisen stood up.
He had to.
“I can start right away.”
“Your face says otherwise. Don't push yourself.”
Since his mother's death, had his life ever been easy?
Not once. Not a single time.
Life had always been an uphill battle, and Kaisen had to keep climbing. If he gave up, he would simply fall to his death.
-Kaisen, let's go see her. Let's bring Camilla to the Commander's side so she can rest…
A promise to someone.
And a promise to his mother.
Drove the boy forward. Forward, forward, and ever forward…
Because his words, ‘I'll be back,’ were a promise to himself and a shackle of fate.
“No, sir. I can really start right away.”
That day, surrounded by instructors, Kaisen underwent numerous physical examinations. He released his Dragon Spirit and rested for four hours, over and over.
“He's not just breaking the steel plate, he's shattering it.”
“His leaping power is so great he barely needs to push off.”
“And his flexibility is off the charts.”
When all the evaluation sheets were compiled, the instructors couldn't help but exclaim in admiration, one by one. They stared at each other blankly, having to doubt their own eyes.
“He's already surpassed the level of a typical FakeWarrior.”
“His lack of experience is a problem, but in terms of physical ability alone, he's definitely beyond them.”
“If you ignore the four-hour risk, that is.”
Only Ollier Dune Jeraye stubbornly clung to that problem. The other instructors tried to ignore it, but it was undeniably a major issue.
“So, what should we do?”
Rahel Dune Jeraye, the sharpest mind among them, raised her hand. Ollier nodded, giving her permission to speak.
“It's a simple problem that requires no deep thought.”
“…?”
“If the four hours are the problem, why not just give him a partner who can protect him during that time when he's deployed to a fierce battlefield?”
Ollier narrowed her eyes, and Rahel pressed on.
“When deploying him to a major battle, we can assign other FakeWarriors as his support staff. Or have Kaisen join as support staff himself.”
“A single FakeWarrior is a brigade-level asset. We're already short on numbers, and you want to deploy two to a single battlefield? That's not a decision we can make.”
“Wouldn't it work if the Head Instructor made a good case to the College of Cardinals?”
Ollier took a step back, drawing a line, but Rahel's will was firm.
“Kaisen will become humanity's strongest soldier. He might even surpass Raminea Alter Aradamanthel, perhaps even the hero of the tumultuous era, Rista Alter Scherpang. He just needs a little help from us.”
Kelly, who had been stroking his chin in thought, let out a low sigh.
“If he can become an Alter, that is. And not a Dune, like us.”
At that, Rahel let out a short sigh, “Ah.”
“Come to think of it, he hasn't taken the Holy Sword compatibility test yet.”
***
“We will now re-evaluate your basic aptitude. If you can't do this, you won't even be chosen by a Holy Sword, even if you enter the [Cradle of Holy Swords].”
FakeWarrior training classes were sometimes held in the Holy Workshop.
The lesson was clear.
To awaken and draw the mass-produced holy sword embedded in the pedestal.
“What kind of training is that?”
A young apprentice asked, his eyes shining. The blacksmith, sweating from working the bellows, answered.
“That's a mass-produced holy sword, a Diale.”
Unlike the Supreme Holy Swords, the Diale had no particularly distinct features. It was a weapon supplied in the form of a spear to the paladins of the Elven race, called the Elsiare.
“It's to prove whether they can awaken the holy sword with the power of their Dragon Spirit.”
Wiping sweat with a towel, the blacksmith grinned and gestured with his chin.
“Look over there. Blindingly bright, isn't she? That's what you call talent that effort can't reach.”
At the end of the blacksmith's gaze stood a girl with white hair fluttering in the wind, holding a sword. It was the second-ranked cadet of the 997th class, Ophelia.
Scree, screeeech…
Answering the call of a compatible user, a cool radiance bloomed from the Diale's blade, and an explosive current of air began to swirl around it.
“Yeah, it really is dazzling.”
“And now look at that one. That's as good as having no aptitude at all.”
The blacksmith's gaze, now turned elsewhere, was tinged with pity.
The white-haired young man, Kaisen.
But unlike with Ophelia, the light emanating from his Diale was faint, and it made no sound.
“Kaisen! Imbue it with your will and resonate your Dragon Spirit with the Diale! How many times do I have to tell you not to use brute force!”
He was already trying to resonate.
The Dragon Spirit was already active, the dragon's power rampaging through his veins so fiercely it made his bones ache.
But… but… how could this be?
‘What on earth do I have to do to make it shine that brightly?’
The Diale merely flickered faintly, not glowing like it did for the other cadets. Only after pouring in all his strength to the point of exhaustion did Kaisen step back, dumbfounded.
“At this rate, he's guaranteed to become a Dune Jeraye.”
Whispers from all around stabbed at his ears.
“I mean, how could a man become a FakeWarrior anyway…”
And from a distance, contempt filled Ophelia's eyes as she watched Kaisen.
“Hmph…”
***
The day before entering the [Cradle of Holy Swords], they were granted a short leave.
Tomorrow was the day it would be decided whether they would become FakeWarriors or instructors.
But somehow, Tarsiyo found out he'd been granted leave and insisted that he had to take her with him.
Her logic was that since Kaisen had grown so much, she could just hide behind his back. There was no way that would work.
It definitely shouldn't have worked, but neither the instructors nor the dragons noticed Tarsiyo's presence.
Whether they didn't notice, or pretended not to, he couldn't tell.
What in the world was going on…?
And that was why Tarsiyo was now walking along the edge of a fountain in the plaza, laughing brightly.
Kaisen took a slow look around the city.
This city, <Haraldoniki>, home to the Papal Office, was more magnificent than any he had ever seen.
The faces of the citizens were full of smiles, and the sailors navigating the port along the waterways never stopped singing.
Churches stood on every corner, their heptagonal Holy Flames—the symbol of the Light Dragon Orthodox Church—illuminating the sky.
Gilded bell towers rose from each church, spreading the grace of the light across the land with every hour.
“It's so peaceful…”
Kaisen's tone was hollow.
Viewed from the Hill of the Blue Star, the city of the Divine Dragon was dazzlingly majestic.
The world.
To think the world could be this peaceful.
To the citizens here, the flames of war seemed like a non-existent rumor from across a distant sea. And yet, the southern front was filled with nothing but wails of sorrow.
“They say the whole world was happy during the Golden Age, the Silver Age, and the Bronze Age. We're living in the Iron Age now. An age where blood must be shed.”
“How do you know that?”
“I read it in a book. Kaisen, why the long face?”
“Because of the Holy Sword compatibility evaluation.”
The Holy Sword compatibility evaluation.
The final test for cadets who had successfully received the Dragon Spirit Stone infusion. He remembered what Ollier had said when she told him about the test.
-You'll obviously want to use Aradamanthel, right?
-Goes without saying.
The Sipmunjado is a tachi swordsmanship style.
A technique whose full power can only be unleashed with a tachi. Using it with a longsword, shortsword, or greatsword had clear limitations.
-But Kaisen, you don't choose the Holy Sword. The Holy Sword must choose you.
-…?
-No matter how much you want it, if Aradamanthel doesn't want you, there's nothing you can do. Just like us instructors, who bear the name Dune Jeraye.
A chill ran down his spine at Ollier's warning. It was something he'd never considered.
Aradamanthel doesn't want me?
If that happens, what am I supposed to do? What about the Sipmunjado I've learned all this time?
If what I unleashed in the fight with Kishun was Aradamanthel's will to save Camilla… could it turn its back on me now?
Then, Tarsiyo gave him an incomprehensible smile.
“You don't have to worry. Aradamanthel is waiting for you.”
He had no idea what she was talking about.
Tarsiyo always spoke of the Holy Sword as if it were a person.
“Tarsiyo.”
“Hm?”
“Which Holy Sword do you want?”
“Sharrilion.”
“Sharrilion? Right, you mentioned that name before. What is it?”
Whenever Kaisen asked her something, Tarsiyo seemed more amused than annoyed. Today was no different; a smile played on her lips.
“The True Holy Sword wielded by the true Yongsa.”
“True Holy Sword?”
“Sharrilion is the True Holy Sword kept in the Papal Office. It's my soulmate. Just like you and Aradamanthel.”
Tarsiyo smiled brightly and added something he couldn't quite understand at that moment.
“You two go on ahead. I'll follow soon. We'll meet again when you need me most.”
That's what Tarsiyo said.
With a body so frail it looked like it might shatter in the wind, her entire form below her face wrapped in bandages from some unknown incident.
And from the day he left the Papal Office until ‘that moment’ arrived, he never saw Tarsiyo again.
“So long for now. Goodbye, until then.”