The Youngest Sword Saint
Aura and Aura coiled around each other, devouring one another. The Aura Blades clashed and tore at their counterparts, yet neither could breach the other's domain and both retreated to their own. When a duel could not be settled by Aura alone, the outcome was decided by the body and technique honed through relentless training.
Now I understand. The instant I grasped why Aura Masters were called Sword Saints, I broke through the wall. Intense exhilaration and a sense of elevation flooded my entire body, but I could not afford to drown in such sensations. Whether I had become a master or not, my physical condition was at its worst. It was the kind of state where dying at any moment would not have been surprising, and without reinforcing myself with Aura, even moving would have been impossible.
An Aura Blade is… a bonus ability granted only after one has mastered the sword. I recalled the secret techniques of my family—those ultimate moves that used Aura to finish off enemies—and realized that to Aura Masters, they were nothing more than ordinary strikes. Aura was merely an additional element. While talent with Aura was required to imbue it into one's body or weapon, what was needed to reach even greater heights was technique. Swordsmanship that transcended limits gave birth to the Aura Blade. I did not know the principle behind it. It was incomprehensible. I could only know it through experience.
What matters right now is defeating this bastard. Yet the immediate priority was not understanding how Aura Blades formed—it was bringing down Chantalka and returning alive.
Chaaak—! As the Aura-infused sword swung, a streak of pure white light followed its path. From a distance, their battle looked like the manifestation of two brilliantly shining stars.
“You move quite well for that battered body of yours!”
Chantalka parried my sword with leisurely ease. He knew better than anyone that my condition was far from normal. Indeed, it was not. I could not afford to drag this into a prolonged fight. So I would aim for a single decisive blow. Both he and I knew this.
So then… enough of this—
The moment I swung my sword fiercely, I deliberately created an opening. Chantalka, spotting it, thrust his blade forward without hesitation. His movement suggested he believed it impossible for an injured man to expose a gap only to counterattack. He was right. It was impossible for a body riddled with wounds to trade flesh for bone. Offering flesh would only cost one's life.
That is, if I had been alone.
—Thwack!
“Ugh…!?”
An ice spear flew in from afar. Only then did Chantalka realize someone had been behind him. I looked at him as he exposed his own opening while trying to exploit mine. Regret was plain on his face. To ensure I would not make the same mistake, I immediately swung my sword and severed his neck.
Light that cut through everything it touched enveloped the great warrior. The barbarian champion who had tormented the north for decades collapsed to his knees. After confirming with my own eyes that Chantalka's head had fallen and his body had crashed to the ground, I lost consciousness.
Thud—
Using the cold snowfield as a blanket and the distant shouts as a lullaby, I began to dream a dream from which I might never wake.
* * *
“Kyle!”
The Duke, who had been supporting Kyle with magic from afar, saw him finally behead Chantalka and immediately flew toward him. The man who had plagued the north for decades—the very target of his family's long-standing grudge—had fallen, yet the Duke had no time to spare for him.
“Are you all right… No, you're on the verge of death.”
Upon reaching Kyle's side, the Duke immediately sensed something was terribly wrong. Blood streamed from his entire body. Blood flowed from his mouth, nose, eyes—from every orifice. Even if he somehow recovered, the injuries were severe enough to leave him suffering from aftereffects for the rest of his life.
The Duke used magic to stabilize Kyle's body before lifting him with extreme care. In the north, it was common knowledge that moving a critically injured patient too roughly could kill them.
Crack—!
“What?”
As the Duke lifted Kyle, he heard an unidentified sound of bones shifting from his body. The noise was deeply unsettling, so the Duke gathered every last bit of his remaining mana and rushed back beyond the Great Wall as quickly as possible.
When the soldiers and knights saw the Duke return, they rushed over. The moment he landed atop the wall, he shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Priests! And military surgeons! Prepare the operating room and bring potions!”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
The northern soldiers had never once seen the Duke raise his voice like this. Rumor had it that even when his daughter was born, he had merely said, “Is that so?” with complete indifference. The effect of his thunderous command was tremendous. Before the Duke even arrived at the operating room, priests and surgeons were already waiting in front of it, wiping away beads of sweat.
The Duke carried Kyle inside and laid him on the operating table covered with clean cloth. The military surgeon and medics swiftly cut away Kyle's clothes with knives. Seeing the wounds revealed, the priest immediately began chanting a prayer.
“O God, grant courage to this poor lamb—”
The primary powers of holy power—blessing and healing—settled into Kyle's body. While the holy power worked to mend his injuries, the surgeon inserted a needle into Kyle's forearm and began administering potions. After wiping away the blood clots, checking for infection, and removing fragments of internal organs, the doctor and priest had done all they could. From here on, it was up to fate.
“The prayer is finished.”
“His injuries are severe, but… not fatal. Perhaps because he is a knight, his body is sturdier than expected—”
Crack—!
At that moment, a bizarre sound of bones echoed from Kyle's body. Startled, the two men began praying again and examining his condition.
“Uh, uhh—what is this…?”
“O God—grant Your mercy to this lamb…”
While the two were flustered by the inexplicable phenomenon, only the Duke, who had brought Kyle himself, calmly explained the symptoms.
“He is undergoing bone rebirth.”
“—Pardon? What does that mean?”
“Bone rebirth…?”
The surgeon and priest stared at the Duke in disbelief. Bone rebirth was a special phenomenon experienced only by those who had reached the level of Aura Master. It was understandable that they had not immediately recognized it, given that there were no masters present. After all, the young man lying before them was a fresh-faced youth whose beard had not even begun to grow.
“Your Grace, does that mean this person is…”
“Yes. A master.”
“I was under the impression the youngest record was in the thirties…”
“It will be halved today.”
At the Duke's words, the surgeon tilted his head as if he had misheard. The two men were even more confused because they did not know Kyle's identity. Unable to contain his curiosity, the surgeon cautiously asked the Duke.
“Might I ask his age—?”
“You do not know? He is my son-in-law. He is the same age as my daughter.”
“Pardon? Your daughter is clearly…”
“Yes, she is fifteen this year.”
Those who reached the level of master in their thirties were called geniuses. Then what should one call someone who became a master in their teens? The two men did not know.
“……Then I shall administer nutritional supplements first.”
“Do so.”
Knowing there was no need to force understanding of the incomprehensible, the two men attached additional nutritional supplements and potions to help Kyle through his bone rebirth, then left the room.
Crack, crack—
Inside the now-empty room, the eerie sound of bones continued to echo.
* * *
“I nearly died.”
When I opened my eyes, an unfamiliar ceiling greeted me. Yet I knew at once that this was the Duke of Grace's mansion—because right beside me, my fiancée Yuri was looking down at me with an extremely cold expression.
“Hello.”
“Yeah.”
“……What, got a complaint?”
I rolled my eyes to look at Yuri. Her expression was not much different from when we had last met, yet somehow I could tell she was expressing dissatisfaction. Was this also an ability of a master—being able to sense others' emotions in minute detail?
Yuri looked down at me lying in bed, only my mouth moving, and nodded.
“Yeah.”
“What complaint?”
“—If you come to your in-laws' house, is it not common sense to look for your fiancée first?”
Swish— Yuri sat on the edge of the bed where I lay and looked down at me. Hearing that, I grinned and agreed.
Yuri's eyebrows moved a mere millimeter in displeasure at the sight of my smile. Seeing that only made me burst into even louder laughter.
“Bwahahaha—!”
“……What is so funny?”
“Yuri, smile.”
“No.”
“No, now you can. Father-in-law can never kick me out anymore.”
Even if I were a good-for-nothing who got drunk and beat his wife, the Duke would have no choice but to reconsider breaking off the engagement. He could not afford to lose a knight who had become a Sword Saint in his teens.
Yuri tilted her head at my words and asked back.
“Father?”
“Yeah. Want to go ask him yourself?”
“……Mm. I'll trust you.”
Yuri closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated. Then, shortly after— she bloomed into a smile as bright as the sun.
“Ah.”
The Duchess had once said that whenever her daughter smiled, it was so beautiful that countless people had fallen for her at first sight. It seemed that had not been a lie.
“…Kyle?”
Returning to her usual cold and stiff expression, Yuri tilted her head as if asking what was wrong. I shook my head at her words.
“No, it's nothing.”
I had simply fallen for you all over again. Once more, the fact that she was my fiancée felt deeply satisfying.
* * *
The next day, the Count, who had rushed all the way to the ducal estate, spoke to me as I lay in bed.
“Go to the academy.”
“Pardon?”
……Me? There?