The Dawning Light
His hands twitched, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Whether shaken by the shock of his first kill or gripped by the terror of death itself, he could only shudder under the violent collision of those emotions.
The Hero had taken a human life.
The man was not innocent. He was someone who had murdered him at least once before. Yet that truth did nothing to dull the visceral sensation of taking a life. The resistance of human flesh against the blade was fundamentally different from cutting down monsters. Far too effortlessly, the Holy Sword had impaled the priest, drinking his blood.
What was he feeling right now? Was it terror? Guilt? Relief? Pity?
Sleep would not come. He fought desperately to scrub the vivid memories branded into his hands. One thing was certain: he could never return to who he had been before taking a life. It was dizzying how profoundly a simple question—have you ever killed a person?—could upend his soul.
...Why did he try to kill me in the first place?
Ah, it was no use. The murky remnants he had tried so hard to lock away in his subconscious surged past the threshold of his awareness. Just as washing his hands could never wash away the human blood that had stained them, once the thought surfaced, there was no turning back.
Why had that priest tried to murder him?
Was it fear? Greed? Hatred? Some cosmic inspiration whispered from distant stars? Or perhaps his own twisted brand of justice?
One thought spawned another in an endless spiral. Staring up at the ceiling for hours, he finally managed to surrender to a fitful sleep.
The next morning brought his second meeting with Beatrice.
"Lord Hero, how are your magic lessons progressing?"
"Ah, yes. I can only cast a single spell so far, but I am learning."
"Pardon? You've already learned a spell? What remarkable progress!"
The Saintess's sky-blue eyes shone with genuine admiration.
"Usually, people hit a wall just trying to draw out mana, long before casting any actual magic." She paused, letting out a soft gasp. "Ah, come to think of it, records say every Hero learned to wield Holy Power and mana at astonishing speeds. Perhaps the Holy Sword is aiding you to some degree."
Einzel nodded. Truly, while mastering complex spells was another matter, drawing out raw mana had taken him less than ten minutes.
Beatrice let out a soft chuckle. "Whenever a Hero is chosen, time is never on our side, and this era is no exception. That is why you must grow as swiftly as possible, Lord Hero. Seeing you make such progress fills my heart with joy."
"Ah... thank you."
"Then you must also learn how to invoke miracles. Since I have some free time, I will instruct you personally."
A small cluster of light blossomed in Beatrice's palm.
"The world is brimming with energy."
The light swelled until it was the size of her head, drifting effortlessly as she guided it with casual grace.
"We broadly refer to extraordinary forces separate from physical power as mana. Strictly speaking, however, that is merely a generalized term."
Einzel swallowed dryly.
"Spells draw upon mana, while dark magic relies on dark mana."
The sphere of radiance surged and roiled, suddenly blazing with brilliant luminance.
"And this is Holy Power—the power that manifests miracles, embodying protection, recovery, and purification."
Einzel looked into Beatrice's eyes once more. There seemed to be a burning desire flickering deep within them.
"Beyond swordsmanship and magic, you must learn to wield miracles, archery, and many other arts, Lord Hero."
Einzel kept his silence.
"Now, let us begin."
Night deepened. Einzel lay in bed, clutching the Holy Sword tight against his chest.
Was it born of the terror that he might die at any moment? He had already experienced having his body run through by a priest. He could trust no one. Not even the Saintess.
As the distrustful nights dragged on, he found himself picturing how to stab a human being. As quietly as possible. In one sudden, lethal thrust.
His mind was gradually wearing thin, but it was also honing itself into a razor-sharp edge.
He summoned a small cluster of light into his palm. The powers of protection and recovery, he realized, meant next to nothing for him. Even if fresh flesh sprouted over a wound, it could never heal the bruises gouged into his soul. Even when his skin smoothed out and color returned to his cheeks, he could still remember the past version of himself dying from that very same wound.
At times, his facial expression slipped from his control entirely. More accurately, sensations above his neck frequently cut out altogether.
Phantom Pain? No. After experiencing what it felt like to have everything above his neck obliterated, it wasn't the pain that lingered—it was the profound, suffocating silence that followed after his head was severed from his shoulders or crushed into nothingness.
Still, he forced himself to sleep. Tomorrow, his swordsmanship instructor was scheduled to arrive. Swordsmanship depended heavily on physical condition—or so he believed—so he needed to purge the fatigue from his body while he could.
And the following day.
"...I can't believe this is supposed to be the Hero."
Sein Luderan. At that time, she was the young lady of the Luderan ducal house, appointed to serve as Einzel's swordsmanship master. The moment she arrived at the Holy Land, she had pressed straight into swordsmanship training. And the instant she saw the result of Einzel swinging a blade, those were the first words out of her mouth.
Einzel's eyes wavered violently.
"I-I'm sorr—"
It was a spinal reflex to apologize. But Sein cut him off before the words could leave his mouth.
"I'm not angry because you're bad at it."
"Pardon...?"
Einzel froze in confusion. What on earth was this woman talking about? If she wasn't angry about his lack of skill, what had set her off?
Her next words dispelled the question in an instant.
"Your thrust." Sein scratched her chin. "It was practically drenched in bloodlust. That blade wasn't meant for combat; it was meant for murder. Waiting in dead silence for the opponent to drop their guard, then driving the steel straight through their heart."
A violent shudder ran through Einzel's frame.
"That's not the sword of a warrior. It's the blade of an assassin. Where did you even learn such a thing? It's the kind of strike used by someone who has murdered before—someone who has never held a sword for anything other than an ambush. At the very least, it hardly suits a Hero. You can't realistically assassinate a Demon King, after all."
The color drained from Einzel's face. She deduced all that just from watching a single thrust?
"I... w-well, that's..."
"Forget it. To be blunt, I'm disappointed. I don't know what you did in your past, but it would have been far better if you had never picked up a sword at all than for the Hero to wield the blade of a murderer."
Einzel dropped his head. He didn't know what to say; his mind went completely blank.
"Whew... I heard you killed an ogre. Is that true?" Sein asked, her brow furrowing.
"Y-yes."
"According to the report, it was quite small and sickly, but there was indeed a dead ogre. Still, none of it makes sense." Sein grabbed Einzel's shoulder, pinning him with a piercing glare. "The carcass was hacked to pieces with dozens of shallow wounds. That means you dragged the fight out and wore it down until it collapsed. Do you honestly think that makes any sense?"
Sein leaned in until her forehead was practically touching his.
"I'll ask you again. Do you think that makes sense?"
Her tone shifted, dropping into sharp familiarity.
"Dragging out a fight like that means you dodged almost every single one of its attacks. It means you predicted practically every move it made. How on earth did someone like you know the attack patterns of an ogre in such intricate detail?"
Einzel's eyes trembled pitifully.
How does she know? How can she deduce all of that from such minuscule clues?
Einzel hardened his resolve. Staying silent would only make him look more suspicious.
"I've encountered an ogre before."
"What?" Sein asked incredulously.
"By chance, I ran into one in the past. I watched soldiers get torn apart by it. Back then, I watched how it moved, and remembering that was how I managed to bring it down."
He hadn't lied. Technically, he hadn't lied at all.
"And the way I swing a sword... Circumstances forced me to learn only that. Without an ambush, I had no chance of surviving."
When he suddenly faced her with blunt candor, a flicker of bewilderment crossed Sein's sharp eyes.
"Please. Teach me the sword. I want to become a Hero who can face an enemy head-on and win."
Gazing into his dead-serious eyes, Sein missed her chance to rebuke him. What could anyone possibly say to eyes like that?
Sein's breath caught in her throat before she exhaled a sigh.
"...Fine, whatever. That's why I came here in the first place. How old are you?"
Einzel hesitated before answering.
"...Sixteen."
"Sixteen? Perfect. We're the same age. Drop the honorifics from now on."
Einzel blinked at Sein. What did she just say?
"Since you asked me to teach you, I'm going to run you into the ground. When someone's pushing you to the brink of death, having to mind your manners and speak formally will only make your blood boil. I have no intention of letting the Hero die of an ulcer before he even gets a chance to take the Demon King's head."
A creeping sense of dread began to crawl up Einzel's spine.
"Y-yeah."
"Good. Then..."
Sein gripped her sword and channeled her mana into it. Radiant blue Sword Qi flickered along the blade.
"See this? This is Sword Qi."
Einzel stared at the blade with wide, fascinated eyes.
"From this day on, I'm going to make sure you can wield this within a single year."
"What?" The exclamation slipped out before he could catch himself.
"The Hero receives assistance from the Holy Sword when manipulating mana and Holy Power, right? Naturally, you should learn far faster than ordinary people."
"Does that mean..."
"It means if you get beaten black and blue enough, it's entirely possible."
Sein cracked her neck with a loud pop.
"I didn't like you at first, but that look in your eyes changed my mind. I'm going to put my heart and soul into breaking you in, so brace yourself."