Your Country Doesn't Have Anything Like This? - 5

The Sky Slash I use is a downgraded version, weaker than Kagan's original. Even that, after taking a sword wound from Kagan, I hadn't dared to attempt it again—but thanks to the Demon Duke's potions, I'd somehow managed to reach a level where I could reproduce it. Yet even that reproduction was perfect only in the result of cutting the sky; in terms of power, it was still lacking.

But what choice did I have? Recreating the power I'd used during the war could burst more than my arm—it could burst my whole body. Forcibly amplifying the mana inside my body was the starting point of Sky Slash, and the moment I so much as touched that mana, the wound reacted with vicious intensity. Even after taking the Demon Duke's potion, it only suppressed the wound's presence; it couldn't make it vanish.

So I adjusted the power as carefully as I could, circulating the mana centered on my arms rather than my wounded torso. Even so, it was a shame that my arm still ended up severed.

This is doable, though, right?

Still, the arm had overdone it, so the intuitive result was that the arm got cut off. In that case, if I just made the arm tougher, wouldn't I be able to endure it? If the arm stayed intact, wouldn't I be able to use it as many times as I wanted without a problem?

Bullshit.

This was the result of that simple-minded thought. It didn't get cut off—it burst from the inside.

"Haah. It might have been better if it had simply been severed."

Tanian, who had been watching me approach with a puzzled look, checked the state of my arm and let out a sigh of regret.

"If the arm had burst outwardly as well, the force would have dispersed. But because the explosion was confined inside the arm, the intensity could only become that much more extreme."

His matter-of-fact diagnosis left me a little bitter. I hadn't particularly wanted to know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the exact process by which my arm had been wrecked.

"...But you can fix it, right?"

"Yes. Fortunately, there is no problem with the treatment."

True to that confident assurance, the moment Tanian began reciting a prayer, sensation returned to my right arm.

A certain cure, and an uncertain reinforcement. One could even raise the suspicion that Tanian had deliberately weakened the reinforcement—but I couldn't bring myself to voice it.

"Brother. It is embarrassing to say this, but because there is no precedent for splitting the sky, I cannot know whether my reinforcement will have any effect. It is a situation so far beyond common sense that prediction is impossible."

In truth, Tanian had already warned me in advance. He would apply the reinforcement, but he could not guarantee its effect. A perfectly reasonable warning, given the lack of precedent—yet I had pushed ahead anyway. Blaming Tanian after the fact would have been far too ugly.

And decisively, this particular Sky Slash could have been finished without a single wound.

I was out of my mind.

Tanian's reinforcement scripture. Put another way, the grace of the next Saint, who basked fully in Enen's favor.

The moment that scripture settled into my body, I felt the wound Kagan had left—more precisely, the lingering power of the Eternal Blue Sky remaining in the scar—being suppressed. Even I, who was no priest, could instinctively sense it: Ah, this has been held down. The difference was that clear. And thanks to that, a mad competitive urge raised its head: At this level, wouldn't it be fine to drive it a little harder?

So I did. And the result was this mess. I had drawn up more power than before—of course the arm couldn't hold.

It did get stronger, though...

Even so, it was clearly more powerful than the Sky Slash I had used a few days earlier.

The size alone was greater than last time, and the scar, far from shrinking over time, slowly expanded as if devouring the nearby sky. Of course it grew only so far before shrinking again—but the previous scar hadn't grown at all. Anyone looking could tell the difference in power.

"...My boy? It seems stronger than last time."

"I received reinforcement scripture. The power must have gone in deeper because of that."

Thanks to that, I even earned a suspicious look from the Demon Duke. If she had discovered then that my arm had burst from the inside, I might have witnessed her collapse to the ground wailing. After that, she would probably have started hurling Hellfire at the Armein students, screaming that this was all their fault. A horrifying prospect.

"If this is the result even after receiving reinforcement scripture... it would be best if you did not use it again in the future."

Even so, I couldn't readily answer Tanian's serious proposal.

Honestly, I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't use it. Once it had been proclaimed in the name of the Imperial Family, and once there was precedent of demonstrating it before foreign nations, Sky Slash was no longer my private affair—it was an issue directly tied to the Empire's authority and prestige. Even if I found it tiresome, the moment the Imperial Family deposited anything into the account, I would have to move.

"It's fine. After using it twice, I've got the feel for it. If I just control it properly, it'll end without incident."

So I returned a safe answer. Yes—no need to get greedy. If I simply adjusted the power, I could finish within the bounds of the reinforcement scripture.

Fuck.

Thinking about it made me furious. If not for the wound, I could have used it without worrying about reinforcement scripture or exploding limbs. In terms of power, catching up to the original was impossible, but I could at least have used it stronger than the Sky Slash I had unleashed today.

That settles it. I need to increase my daily prayers to the Eternal Blue Sky to five times a day.

It seemed even the exalted ones had been moved by the feat achieved at the cost of a bursting arm.

"You flatter me. How could I slight guests who have submitted to the Empire's majesty?"

Not long after receiving treatment from Tanian, a call came from the Crown Prince. Considering the speed of the report, it was almost as if he had contacted me immediately.

And the way he burst into laughter at what had been little more than a polite formality told me he was in an exceptionally good mood.

Of course he is.

I could understand it well enough. The Ernesto Academy's visit to the Empire and their declaration of surrender was certainly something to celebrate—but it had also been an inevitable conclusion from the moment the Empire possessed the Demon Duke. Moreover, the Uven Alliance Kingdom was distant from the Empire, and due to its peculiar structure as an alliance of kingdoms, it was not a particularly threatening nation.

Armein Kingdom, however, was different. Just as the Empire sought any opportunity to force Armein to its knees, Armein was constantly watching for a chance to diminish the Empire. Unlike the magical sphere, where the Demon Duke provided an overwhelming advantage, the martial sphere offered Armein no particular reason to yield to the Empire. Furthermore, Armein shared a border. Before Kagan's appearance, northern unrest had practically been a synonym for a war of nerves with Armein.

And now that same Armein had acknowledged the Empire's superiority. From the perspective of a Crown Prince on the verge of succession, how joyful must it be to have a rival nation already prostrate before his enthronement?

"I am humbled, Your Highness."

It was ordinary praise, yet it left me oddly uneasy. It sounded an awful lot like: your devotion and loyalty are outstanding, so we will work you forever.

If that was the case, I would rather they simply forgot me. Rolling around in high office had only gotten my face remembered and my name engraved by the Imperial Family... As expected, the position of Audit Department Chief had never been my destiny.

"Yes, Your Highness. I am grateful for your consideration."

With those words, the call ended.

Strange. It had clearly been a call for the sake of praise, yet what lingered at the end was anxiety over lifelong employment.

What a magnificent bastard, as always.

After arriving at the lodgings prepared by the Imperial Academy, the students either entered their respective rooms or headed for the training grounds.

I, too, made my way toward the room I had been assigned, glancing at the students' faces along the way. They fell neatly into two types: those who had lost their souls to the sight of the torn sky and now wallowed in despair, and those who, having witnessed the feat a human had achieved, burned with competitive fire. I only hoped that even the former group would gather themselves and convert that despair into passion.

As vice-principal, I wanted to help that process along at once—but unfortunately, I had no time for it now.

"Yes. I can deny it no longer."

The moment I reached my room, I contacted the principal remaining at the Academy and submitted a report that was bitter beyond measure: that an Imperial martial artist had, in fact, cut the sky.

After a brief silence, the principal raised a thoroughly reasonable question. I, too, believed that what the Audit Department Chief had received from the next Saint was reinforcement scripture.

"If you received reinforcement scripture, Principal, would you be able to cut the sky?"

But even if it was reinforcement scripture—what of it? It wasn't as though other people could cut the sky simply by receiving it, and a martial artist heading into war receiving reinforcement scripture was only natural to begin with.

The principal seemed to share my thoughts, for he offered a wry smile at my reply. Those bureaucratic bastards—utterly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ignorant of the field, yet endlessly finicky about the tiniest things.

"Some are sitting dazed before the wall, but more of them wish to climb over it."

The principal, who had been drafting the report for the administrative ministry, smiled faintly at those words. However much the principalship of Lovens Academy was a post appointed according to political custom, at its root he was an educator. If the students who would lead the future chose diligence over despair, he was the sort of man who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would rejoice.

At any rate, after a long series of questions, the principal—having apparently finished writing the entire report—let out a sigh.

"Yes. I will do so."

I watched the communication orb lose its light as the call ended, then leaned back against the chair.

My feelings were complicated. As a swordsman, I was glad to have witnessed the supreme realm a man with a blade could reach—but as a man of Armein, the appearance of a martial artist who could cut the sky in the Empire filled me with dread. Was this not an Empire still recovering from the wounds of its war with the nomads? For a bordering nation like Armein, the emergence of such a symbolic warrior in that Empire was a grave concern.

It was some comfort that the Audit Department Chief belonged to the administrative ministry rather than the military—but affiliations of that sort could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠be transferred at any time.

A dog that bites does not bark.

Still, there was hope. If the Empire had truly intended war with Armein, it would have attacked by surprise without any such display. That would have been far more effective.

A public declaration. Permission for Lovens Academy to visit. With this much, there was a strong possibility that the Empire would be satisfied with Armein's diplomatic concession rather than a reordering of ranks through war.

...It had to be so. If the Empire truly chose war and the Audit Department Chief stood at the front lines, the nightmare of the Iron Blood Duke would be reenacted.

As expected, it wasn't only the mages who were insane—the swordsmen were definitely insane as well.

"Hyung. You didn't get hurt this time, right?"

"Right."

"Then, Advisor-sensei, does that mean you can use it for us from time to time in the future?"

"I don't know."

Erich and Ryutis looked visibly disappointed by that vague answer, but this reply was for their own good.

There is no eternal lie in this world. Looking at my own thoroughly twisted fate, I could be certain of that.

If they find out, we all go down together.

If—just if—someone discovered that my arm had burst from the inside, or if I cut the sky at someone's request and got injured, there were four people whose eyes would roll back in their heads. And where would their rage be directed then?

There were already several people casting sharp glances at the two men clinging to me and shouting for an encore. Even now, while they still believed my body was safe, they were on full alert. What would happen if even that guarantee of safety collapsed? I would die, and you two would die. Possibly the Crown Prince would die with us.

"If you do it too often, people stop finding it amazing."

"What kind of reason is that."

Don't try to understand it. Just accept it with your heart.

Honestly, after showing it twice, I'd done more than enough.