Regression 1
Surges of aura crashed in, blades lunged forward. Seven swords hemmed him in from every direction. Orkin's seven swords. Every one a Swordmaster.
Each was a powerhouse who could vie for the top spot in any ordinary nation. Only possible because it was the empire that had swallowed half the continent. Their assault was ferocious, as if perfectly coordinated.
His heart's rings blazed like fire, boiling over. A split-second moment. To superhumans who had transcended humanity, it was an eternity.
In the world stretched to its limits, Licht's blade traced a spiral. A flash of brilliance. The golden aura surging like waves was pushed back. Amid the spurting blood, a head flew.
The knight's face twisted in shock filled his vision. To Licht, it all seemed impossibly slow. The flying head, the onslaught of blades, his ragged breaths, the excruciating pain. Everything.
"...Impressive."
By now, the screams had died away. Licht looked around. Corpses littered the ground in every direction. Nothing remained. Except for himself, drenched in blood, and the knight known as the Holy Sword, half-dead.
"I acknowledge it. You are the continent's greatest swordsman."
The man muttered after casting aside his sword.
"The kingdom's finest... no, the continent's prodigy. All the more pity. Had you been born to the imperial family, you would have etched your name in history."
"......"
"Or perhaps the opposite. Maybe it was because you were scorned as a bastard that you gained such talent. Isn't that why you learned circle magic? Your heart couldn't accept aura from birth, so you abandoned magic for the sword instead. Am I wrong?"
Licht gave no reply. He had struck the nail on the head.
The day he had turned his back on his flailing family in desperation to prove himself, he had woven his first mana ring. To substitute for aura. It was around then that he had awakened to his own talents as well. Without reading so much as a single commonplace book. Innate genius, backed by keen insight.
For ten years, wandering the continent and caught in wars, he had woven eight rings. And now.
Nothing was left.
"What a joke. The bastard cast out for lacking aura talent, now the continent's sole 8th Circle mage. Why? It's the same family that abandoned you. Your kingdom too. Fools who discarded the brightest gem in their grasp."
"......"
"Even after being discarded like that, do you still cling to regrets? Astonishing in another way. Did you want to play the hero?"
"You'll die here. By my hand."
He spat the words at the fallen man like grinding teeth.
Six of the empire's elite Seven Swords lay dead. The last one would follow soon.
"Yes. You're right. We'll all be dead soon enough."
Yet the man curled his lips in a mocking sneer.
"But no mere individual can defy the tide of history. You know that better than anyone. Even with heaven-defying talent, it changes nothing. You, your kingdom—all destined to vanish into the annals of history."
The man drew a deep breath and murmured.
"The continent will unify as one, and Orkin will endure forever."
No emotion colored his words. As if stating the obvious as obvious.
The Orkin Empire, led by Emperor Haide. It wasn't just military might. In culture, economy, industry—every domain, it outpaced the federation by a step, a pinnacle of civilization. The invading force alone numbered a million; the fall of the continent's remaining half was only a matter of time.
No point listening further.
Licht raised his sword. To the end, the man never lost his smile.
"Good. At least I have one companion on the road to death."
"...Shut your mouth."
"......Now I understand why my little sister was so taken with you."
Slash!
The head that hadn't fully turned rolled. Blood stained the shattered rocks. The final sword of Orkin. The end of the man called the Holy Sword was that anticlimactic.
Licht pressed his left hand to his abdomen. Blood poured steadily from the deep gash. A parting gift from the man's final strike.
"Ah...."
The sky was yellow. His legs gave out right after. Licht's vision tilted vertically. Warm blood still flowed onto the cold ground.
Is this... the end?
With the kingdom breached, the federation's remaining nations wouldn't hold much longer. They had never been on good terms to begin with. An alliance forged hastily to counter the empire's dominance. Naturally, cohesion was poor. Even the kingdom boasting the strongest military crumbled in this very moment.
No matter if Orkin's seven stars fell, the horde wouldn't diminish.
Futile.
For the first time, death's shadow loomed. Strength drained from his body. Even as life ebbed away second by second, such thoughts arose.
The days flailing to earn recognition. The days wandering the continent with nothing but a sword on his back after leaving the family bare-handed. All futile.
He could have protected them, yet he had cast out what was most precious with his own hands.
Lena, Sebrik.
The two who had believed in him to the end, to whom he could give nothing in return.
Mother.
And the most cherished name, now fading even from memory.
The lemon-yellow sky spun. His dulled nose caught no scents. A sharp ringing circled his ears. Before long, the pain turned to comfort.
I...
His eyelids slowly closed.
Still...
Infinite vastness overtook him.
***
Agony tore through his entire body. Consciousness awakened. Licht slowly opened his eyes.
Bright sunlight tickled his eyelids. Through the window fluttered petals of amore flowers. March, spring. The season of blooming flowers.
"Young master!"
"Young lord. Are you awake?"
Familiar voices from long ago. A young maid and an elderly butler. Lena, Sebrik. The ones he had longed to see but never could.
"Young lord, don't push yourself. It's only been a short while since your injury. You need more rest."
Sebrik restrained Licht as he tried to rise. His face, after ten years, matched his memory perfectly.
"Young master, are you okay? Oh, just in case, I brought some cool water. Here."
Lena thrust a cup of water into his hands.
Licht peered into the cup at his reflection and muttered to himself.
"Am I... dreaming?"
"Young master?"
"Am I... alive? Me...?"
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief at the impossible sight. Beneath, a golden gem lay—when had it fallen?
This is...
An unfamiliar object. Faint mana pulsed from within. The softly glowing gem soon lost its light, crumbling to dust and scattering on the wind.
No way...?
"Young lord, what is that...."
Sebrik spoke up, puzzled, but only for a moment. Lifting his gaze, Licht saw Lena and Sebrik watching him with worried expressions. Just like before.
Have I returned?
Back from that battlefield, reversing the past.
For real?
Licht clenched and unclenched his bandaged hand. The sensations felt vividly real. Lena and Sebrik's faces were sharper than life. They had always worried for him more than anyone.
Nothing's changed...
It was exactly as ten years ago. The two who had often comforted him with anxious eyes in his tender youth were alive.
Sebrik had been his late mother's butler, and Lena his childhood friend who had grown up alongside him, beyond master and servant. That made them all the more special. From the moment he lost his only family, they had become his true kin.
I was a fool.
Licht bowed his head. He could have met them countless times but didn't. Fearing he'd be trapped in the past again. Afraid he couldn't move forward. Even thinking of them as family, he turned away. Willfully erased them from memory. Rationalizing that he still had things to do, that he could meet them later.
And in the end, regret consumed him. How long had they waited? What thoughts had they harbored waiting for their master who never returned? Had they cursed him in their final moments?
"Young master...?"
"Young lord...."
Tears flowed unbidden.
"I'm... sorry...."
His throat choked; words barely came.
"I'm sorry... It was my fault...."
"Young lord, are you truly alright?"
"Wh-what? Don't cry, young master. There must be a handkerchief around here somewhere...."
Once started, the tears wouldn't stop. Licht wept endlessly. Guilt, remorse, joy. Emotions swirled within him.
How long did he cry like that?
"Young lord."
"......"
"Have you calmed a bit now?"
Licht wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Reddened, bloodshot. Still, Lena and Sebrik gazed at him with concern.
With his heart somewhat settled, he finally took in the surroundings. A room more modest than the lavish one he remembered. The furniture held elegant antiquity rather than gaudy splendor, but an air of age lingered inescapably.
"This is...."
"The annex in the inner courtyard. The family head has allowed you to recuperate here for a time. Once you've recovered somewhat, return to the main house."
"Ah."
Licht sighed shortly. Faint memories stirred.
As a child—back when his mother still lived—he had stayed in the grand main bedroom. But after her death, his rooms changed frequently, the latest being a small, neglected chamber in the most remote corner of the estate.
"...How long was I out?"
"A little over a day, I believe."
"Then...."
"Yes. Do you remember now?"
Sebrik hesitated briefly before speaking.
"Young master, you lost to the eldest young master in your spar yesterday."