Sword Breaker, Do You Know It?
As they walked ahead of the group, Philia leading with Seset, the crowd flowed around them like a living river, carrying everyone along the bustling street. Seset’s claim that she had come to the academy solely to watch this spectacle rang true—the thoroughfare overflowed with sightseers of every kind.
From the loud, exaggerated street performances aimed at the common folk to the rare and exotic animals that drew crowds, the only drawback was the sheer density of people making movement difficult. Yet the sheer entertainment kept everyone entertained.
Not everyone had shops; many simply laid down cloth and did business on the spot. These vendors were almost always merchants who had traveled from afar, so the goods they offered were often items rarely seen around the academy.
One of them caught Rai’s eye. He squatted down in front of the stand, and the merchant answered with a booming voice.
“You’ve got good taste, friend! It’s special ink that’s guaranteed to wash away completely in three hours—no exaggeration.”
“What would you even use it for?”
Aslan tilted his head at the merchant’s long-winded but clearly useless-sounding pitch. Rai answered before the question finished leaving his lips.
“Mostly as a mark for spies.”
Rai had seen it in use by the Iligandia Kingdom’s spy unit and examined the familiar item closely.
“Eh…? Are you an academy student, friend?”
The merchant, clearly surprised the customer even knew what it was for, stared blankly.
Rai nodded. “For the glory of it, I’ll give you a special discount. Buy it.”
“This is military issue. Where did you get it?”
“Uh… honestly, I don’t know either. I bought it from someone else. From the Bel Federation, and it’s been sitting here unsold for a while now…”
The merchant’s face fell as he turned away with a sad expression. Rai let out a quiet chuckle and bought one anyway.
The spy unit that had once been beaten black and blue by a few sharp-witted students for using the mark now never touched the stuff. Curious about the ingredients behind it, Rai turned the ink bottle over in his hands, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“Planning to do some spying?”
Seset asked.
Rai flashed a playful grin, twisted the cap off the ink, and dipped the brush.
“You can even use it as a tattoo.”
“Ooh—sounds great!”
Academy students never got tattoos. It wasn’t about discipline or posture; the real issue was that anyone who wanted to ink themselves permanently would eventually need to carve magic circles onto their skin, so they always kept their bodies as clean as possible.
While Rai himself didn’t care much about tattoos, plenty of others would jump at the chance for a temporary one without any risk. Seset and Aslan were perfect examples.
Seeing the pair’s eyes light up with interest, Rai grinned and capped the bottle shut.
“But there’s an even better use for it.”
“What now?”
“Graffiti.”
Rai explained it again for anyone who still hadn’t grasped the simple word.
“If there’s a festival, aren’t there fun games? Let’s challenge each other. The loser draws whatever they want all over the winner’s face.”
“That’s actually pretty smart—how can someone be this dumb and still come up with something cool? Rai Instructor, you’re the real deal!”
“That’s exactly how you enjoy a festival.”
Seset’s grin widened at Rai’s teasing laughter.
“But won’t that be a problem? You’re going up against Seset, the Festival Master?”
“If that’s the case, I’m in. Sounds fun.”
Aslan jumped at the idea, but the rest of the group—Zeroa, Philia, and Mia—had no intention of letting their faces get ruined and politely declined.
“I’m going to look at the accessories over there. What about you, Rai?”
“I’m heading to the alcohol stall.”
“Ugh—drinking alcohol whenever you want, no romance at all.”
“Don’t dismiss a drinker’s romance. It’s not all just beer and wine. The kind of alcohol you drink in a mood like today is rare.”
“You really do know your stuff.”
Aslan nodded in agreement.
Seset, watching the two “uncles” bicker with a look of exhaustion, linked arms with Philia.
“Philia and I are heading this way. Zeroa, Mia—wait, Mia? What are you going to do, underclassman?”
“Uhh… I…”
Mia hesitated, glancing at Zeroa.
Seset narrowed her eyes and smiled faintly the moment she caught Mia’s glance, but Mia didn’t notice.
“I’ll walk with Seset-senpai too. I’ve gone to festivals every year, but I’ve never actually watched the vendors before I came to the academy.”
“I… I want to go too! Please let me come with you!”
Zeroa’s answer made Mia speak up quickly.
“Alright, then. Leave the alcohol-scented uncles to the rest of us.”
“I’m not an uncle.”
“I’m not either.”
“You are.”
Aslan muttered in exasperation, and Rai shot him a glare.
While the two kept arguing, Seset and the others peeled off toward the next stall. Rai and Aslan finally agreed to go grab some drinks.
“It’s still not even nighttime, and the tavern’s already packed. Finding a seat might be tough.”
“That’s what you get for being a kid. Clueless.”
Aslan scanned the tavern and muttered.
Rai clicked his tongue and laughed.
“Listen carefully. We’re in the middle of the festival. Why would you even come if you’re not going to enjoy it?”
“What? Then I should’ve gone with Seset instead.”
“Idiot. I’ll show you how to enjoy both the alcohol and the festival at once.”
Rai pushed into the tavern and stepped back out carrying two full beer mugs.
“Nothing beats roadside beer—the true happiness of a festival.”
He handed one to Aslan, who took it with a grin, and the two strolled along the street, gulping down their drinks.
Aslan followed suit, the same happy expression on his face as he watched his own hand holding the mug.
“You’re good at this—watching and drinking.”
“That’s what real drinkers do. And having you around means people automatically clear a path for us. I can guess why Seiban always drags you along.”
“Annoying, but you bought me beer, so I’ll let it slide.”
While Rai and Aslan soaked in the festival and the beer, Seset and the others browsed the goods at the stalls.
“Hey! Beautiful ladies! Don’t you need pictures to hang in your homes? All of them are genuine works by famous painters!”
Despite the crowded festival day, the merchant had spread his paintings out across a wide area and called out loudly.
Philia’s steps halted on their own. The rest of the group naturally stopped to look as well.
The merchant pounced the moment he noticed interest, offering quick explanations beside each painting.
Most people believed his “genuine” claim—except Mia, who was still standing there lost in thought.
Zeroa, who had plenty of stall experience, had already half-heard the sales pitch. Seset and Philia had grown up in prominent noble houses and had seen plenty of art from a young age; they could spot fakes.
Still, whether genuine or fake, looking at art was always enjoyable.
Philia wandered through the paintings without paying much attention to the merchant’s words.
Among the vibrant colors and masterful plays of light and shadow, one piece pulled her eye.
Unlike the others that celebrated beauty, this one was grim.
The enormous canvas, meant for a high ceiling, depicted a war.
The entire battlefield was swallowed in flames, soldiers from both sides tangled together in a brutal, hopeless fight.
Every soldier’s face was rendered in agonizing detail, capturing the raw pain they felt. Yet no matter which side they fought for, the determination to never back down was clear.
“Does it move you? This is a masterpiece by Triyanus, acclaimed even beyond Gelotia. You ladies probably know the details are his specialty.”
As promised, Triyanus was a famous painter Zeroa at least knew by name.
Though the painting was a copy, the painter had captured his style almost perfectly.
“It’s a famous painting depicting the Dukan Battle. Actually, he almost didn’t bring it to the Empire—Triyanus remained neutral and portrayed both the imperial army and the Keilen Kingdom forces without bias.”
Most war paintings used vivid color and light to draw the viewer to the commander or hero. This one had no such focus.
War was shown with soldiers fighting desperately without any sense of glory. A knight collapsed in agony, another vomited blood while desperately trying to hold the enemy’s spear.
If the intent was to show the horror of war, the painting succeeded.
Even Philia recognized Edelian’s face in the painting.
A soft chuckle escaped her at the near-identical depiction.
Her gaze drifted to the red-haired man standing in front of Edelian.
Red hair. Red eyes.
“The Devil of All Nations…”
Philia had read countless books about him, but she had never seen his actual face.
The illustrations in those books always portrayed him like a demon—naturally.
Given that Edelian himself had been drawn so faithfully, the Devil of All Nations had probably looked the same.
Philia tilted her head at the familiar yet slightly off features.
Zeroa noticed the man behind the Devil of All Nations and commented.
“That guy’s pretty interesting. He’s carrying twenty swords? That’s insane.”
“Impressive eye, young man!”
The merchant jumped at Zeroa’s interest and launched into an explanation.
“It looks like something symbolic, but it’s based on historical fact. Behind the Devil of All Nations always stood the Weapon Procurement Officer, known as the Delivery Guy.”
“Delivery Guy? Why would the Devil of All Nations need so many weapons? He has his own, right?”
Seset asked, puzzled.
The merchant snapped his fingers in satisfaction, clearly pleased the right question had been asked.
He didn’t expect it to lead to an immediate sale, but the more questions a viewer asked about a painting’s story, the higher the chance of a purchase.
“You didn’t know? The weapons in the Devil of All Nations’ hands always end up destroyed. Even legendary swords melt when he swings them—there are even rumors about crude iron blades dissolving too.”
“Eh— the Devil of All Nations is just a nickname, right? He’s not actually a demon.”
Seset waved it off with a laugh, but Philia and Zeroa’s minds flashed back to the memory of Rai swinging his sword and wiping everything out.
“It’s true. That’s why another name for the Devil of All Nations is Sword Breaker. This painting captures his signature, and the Delivery Guy and his aides behind him perfectly.”
“Sword Breaker…”
Philia glanced at Zeroa, who was muttering the name under his breath. She had missed the merchant’s explanation.
After quickly checking that Seset was still chatting with the merchant and Mia was lost in her own world, Philia leaned close and whispered to Zeroa.
“Do you know anything?”
“Huh? Ah… when the Rai Instructor came to pick it up, the Sixth Princess was muttering to herself.”
“She said Sword Breaker?”
“Yeah. The Sixth Princess must have met the Devil of All Nations herself, right? Since her skills and the Instructor’s match, that’s probably why she called it that.”
Zeroa didn’t suspect anything about Rai; he simply believed what he heard. Philia, however, felt differently.
The Instructor’s record is easy to fake.
The only thing he had publicly listed was the Rennen Battle—a simple border skirmish that was actually entangled with the secrets of royal princes and high nobles. Survivors, let alone records of the battle itself, were nearly impossible to find.
Philia had always wondered why someone with Rai’s obvious skill and strategic genius showed up at the academy like he’d fallen from the sky.
With no records available except the Rennen Battle, his personal combat strength and command ability were both terrifying.
He could easily command troops right now, yet he chose to be an instructor.
Honestly, Philia had started investigating him the moment she entered the academy.
Even that was just asking around in his family, but the Serios family’s information network was formidable.
The answers were nothing special—just the fact that he was a survivor of the Rennen Battle.
Imperial records were full of places where careers were hidden.
The Information Bureau was the most obvious, but even imperial organizations sometimes concealed pasts when necessary.
Philia had given up on her suspicions, thinking they were one of those cases.
But after hearing the merchant’s story, those doubts began to swirl again.
Looking at the painting with fresh skepticism, she realized the Devil of All Nations and Rai really did look alike.
Especially the wild, manic grin on his face amid the brutal battlefield—exactly like Rai’s smile.
“Seset, I’ll be right back. I need to see the Rai Instructor for a moment.”
“Huh? Suddenly?”
“Yeah, won’t be long.”
“Where is he?”
“Probably at one of the nearby taverns.”
Finding Rai with Aslan was simple. Seset nodded in agreement. Philia apologized to the others, turned, and headed toward the tavern.