I Will Prove It (3)
The stands erupted. Waaaaah—!
“It worked…!”
Arty felt a rush of pure delight as his strategy succeeded. The recalled words echoed in his mind: Confuse your opponent. Throw filth from the ground or do something they would never expect.
Lydia, it really worked!
Arty withdrew the Holy Sword. Because he hadn’t channeled any real power into the blow, the blade failed to shatter the helmet and simply bounced off. Had this been a true battlefield, the Holy Knights would have immediately regrouped and toyed with him. Such childish rules did not exist in real war. If this had been actual combat, the current Arty possessed no means to stop these Holy Knights. That was the true unfairness.
…If this had been real combat.
But this was not a battlefield.
The emblems on the two Holy Knights’ left hands glowed. In the next instant—
The second rule of the trial had activated: “The one struck on the helmet is immobilized.”
The Sun God’s solemn vow bound their bodies. They froze solid.
“Huh?!”
“Mmph—!”
Leaving them behind, Arty sprinted forward and shouted.
“Come at me—!”
“!”
“!”
“!”
The remaining Holy Knights shuddered. They regrouped and encircled the hero candidate. The spectators who witnessed the scene burst into cheers.
Waaaaaaaaah—!
It had all happened in mere dozens of seconds. Even though it only worked because of the trial’s special rules, the crowd was left in awe of the hero candidate who had already neutralized two of those fearsome Holy Knights.
The boy’s trial was unfolding far differently than anyone had anticipated.
…Still, it’s a tactic that becomes useless once the surprise is gone. Since they have brains, they won’t fall for the same move twice.
Lydia worried inwardly. She feared that Arty, drunk on the thrill of his surprise tactic, might forget the basic strategies he had learned and go on a reckless rampage. But worry was only worry.
Arty faithfully parried the combined assault of the paired Holy Knights. The knights abandoned their rabbit-driving tactic of all rushing at once and switched to textbook coordinated attacks. Two, three, four… They kept changing their team formations organically.
Since their swords could get tangled and accidentally strike each other’s helmets, they chose to take the slower but safer route. And to prevent anyone else from being eliminated by a single blow from Arty…
They had reorganized using optimized tactics without being swept up in the flow of battle. They were seasoned warriors. Thanks to that, no one else fell after the first two. Arty was now fighting desperately just to hold on. If they had truly tried to kill him, or if the Holy Sword’s accelerated healing hadn’t existed, he would have collapsed long ago.
“Huff…! Haaah!”
Arty’s clothes and armor were shredded miserably. He had taken hits, endured them with accelerated healing, and somehow escaped. Five minutes had already passed. Arty was slowly reaching his limit. And then—
Thud.
Arty dropped to one knee. His clothes were stained with blood. The Holy Sword was planted in the ground as he hung his head in apparent defeat. Beneath the blazing midday sun, his expression was hidden in shadow. Eight Holy Knights approached him.
The spectators stirred.
Mave shouted.
“Damn it all! You country bumpkin—! What the hell are you doing?! Where did all that stubbornness go—the one where you clung to my body even after our spar ended and refused to admit defeat?!”
Morgan shook her head and turned away, as if there was nothing more to see.
“…He lost.”
She wasn’t particularly saddened by the defeat. He was just some random commoner she happened to meet. What does annoy me is that this will probably spread more nonsense about how commoners can’t cut it…
What truly grated on Morgan’s nerves were the murmurs coming from the spectators behind her.
“…!”
Lucian de Montrang…?
Morgan’s eyes trembled slightly. That golden bulk from the Swordsmanship Department could have been Lydia’s fiancé? Really? I never sensed any such feelings from Lydia at all?
Morgan glanced at Lydia beside her. The princess had been watching Arty’s desperate struggle with a chilly expression the entire time. There was no trace of sweet rumors about marriage or engagements on that face. Far away, the golden bulk wasn’t paying any attention to Lydia either. He too wore a cool expression as he analyzed the training ground. It was the face of a warrior assessing a battlefield.
Seeing both their expressions, Morgan felt inwardly relieved. It seemed to be nothing more than idle gossip from the spectators.
…Hmph. How foolish. It was already over anyway.
…
Yet she felt confused. What exactly did I feel threatened by just now?
Even as she thought that, Morgan unconsciously scooted a little closer to Lydia. She didn’t know why.
…
Lydia didn’t even notice Morgan’s movement.
Didn’t I tell you not to kneel…?
She slowly examined Arty’s shadowed face as he knelt. With the eyes of a Sword Master, his expression was perfectly clear even through the shadow.
…
And then.
Lydia smiled.
“Good grief.”
Arty’s face was not one of surrender. He wore a secret, mischievous smile like a boy playing a prank. That smile seemed to say to Lydia:
“…Where on earth did you learn only the worst habits so quickly?”
Still, a sly hero wasn’t so bad.
“Sir Hero!”
Aria shot up from her seat. Tears welled in her eyes. Her silver irises trembled without pause. Her two fists, slick with sweat, shook violently. She let out a pained cry.
“Sir Hero…!”
The hero had failed the trial. He had collapsed miserably. And now the Holy Knights were surrounding him to restrain him.
No…! That can’t happen…!
Aria wanted to run to him. Why? The Saintess’s duty was to remain in her seat. Yet she still wanted to run to him.
“Saintess.”
“!”
But the Heresy Inquisitor waiting beside her gently yet firmly stopped her with his arm. His touch was soft, but resolute. Aria cried out.
“Sir Raoul! Why?!”
“…”
Tears fell from Aria’s resentful eyes. She had completely forgotten her duty as Saintess. She looked like nothing more than a young girl trying to run to an injured boy. Seeing that face, Raoul smiled.
“…Heh.”
Raoul spoke with a gentle smile, yet delivered the cold truth.
“The trial is still underway. The hero candidate must overcome it by himself, without anyone’s help, to be recognized.”
“But…”
“Well, he does appear to have given up. Still, watching his fight until the very end—isn’t that the least respect we can show him?”
“…!”
No. He hasn’t given up. In the fight he chose for himself…!
This is the fight I chose. Therefore, I will not run.
I will never back down!
The moment Aria tried to respond to Raoul, a boy’s voice rang out clearly beneath the high sun.
All the Holy Knights closing in flinched at the voice.
“!”
“!”
“!”
Both Aria and Raoul turned back toward the training ground.
“!”
“!”
The hero candidate’s blue Holy Sword was shining. It was not its usual clear blue, but a brilliant radiance like sunlight reflecting on a lake.
Ah, that light.
The light that had shone when he defeated the skeletal rider and saved the people. That light was sparkling once more. Aria muttered without thinking.
“…is will!”
Having murmured those words, Arty’s eyes blazed within the encirclement of Holy Knights. The Holy Sword Danan, still planted in the ground, emitted a light brighter than the midday sun. He roared, eyes glowing with power.
Holy Sword Manifestation
And then—
A massive explosion erupted in the center of the training ground. The blast was strong enough to shake the earth slightly.
Kwaaaaaang—!
Dense clouds of dust swallowed everything. The Holy Knights were sucked into the dust storm. From within it, the boy drew his sword and rose. Even that sight was obscured by the swirling dust.
“!”
The Holy Knights panicked as the narrow eye slits of their helmets went dark. The dust from the explosion had clung to their visors.
“Ugh?!”
“My vision—!”
“What is this explosion?!”
At that moment, light flashed again. Aria could see it. Within the dust cloud, the blinding flash of the Holy Sword and the shadow of the boy striking a Holy Knight’s helmet while the knight was blinded by dust. She could see the afterimages of constant flashing light.
Thud—!
The sound of a helmet being struck rang out again. It was like thunder rolling through dark clouds.
Thud—!
Arty moved like lightning within the storm cloud he himself had summoned. Each time the light flashed, his shadow loomed dramatically. There was no trace of resignation in that sight.
“…Sir Hero!”
He was still fighting.
“Cough…!”
Arty emerged from the dust cloud in a wretched state. His body staggered continuously, covered in dust and sweat. Yet no one could laugh at him. When the dust settled, five Holy Knights stood frozen in place. Only three remained. They regrouped, letting out groans.
“…Impossible.”
“So this is the hero of the Holy Sword.”
The spectators fell silent. The Academy students trembled. They were simply overwhelmed. In a fight where merely enduring was already a miracle, he had defeated a full seven. Seeing this scene and Arty’s miserable appearance, no one could bring themselves to mock him.
“…”
“…”
“…”
The boy’s condition was pitiful. Yet at this moment, he looked more like a hero than anyone else. He had overcome the cruel trial prepared by the Theocracy with more dignity than anyone.
With blood flowing from his head and breath ragged, Arty shouted in a completely hoarse voice.
“I will prove it…!”
“!”
“!”
“!”
He had already proven that he was the hero.
In truth… what Arty truly wanted to prove was something else.
I want to prove that I am someone worthy of standing beside the Saintess…
That single thought had kept him going. That single heart had driven him to fight. That was why he still stood.
“…I’m still far from done.”
The three remaining Holy Knights approached Arty with caution. They were wary that he might unleash another Holy Sword attack that created a dust cloud. Arty let out a small, bitter laugh at the sight.
I can’t use it on people because it would definitely kill them.
Besides, he was completely out of strength now. In fact, he was barely holding on even now. The tip of the Holy Sword Danan in Arty’s hand trembled. It felt like the strength would leave his grip at any moment, but the mental fortitude he had forged through training with Lydia was keeping him upright.
“…Hoo.”
What now? He felt like he would collapse if anyone so much as tapped him.
I charged blindly in the dust cloud and couldn’t see well, so I used too much power…
If Lydia had seen it, she would have scolded him harshly for such a disgraceful display. The three Holy Knights were now right in front of him. They raised their swords, gauging the right moment to subdue him.
“…”
“…”
“…”
At that moment, light applause rang out.
Clap, clap, clap!
Arty glanced over.
“!”
The Heresy Inquisitor. Raoul was walking over with a relaxed stride.
“Indeed… so this is the tenacity of the hero candidate. I can only offer my admiration. I thought simply enduring for ten minutes would be a miracle, yet I see I underestimated you for even a moment. Please forgive me.”
“…?”
“Unfortunately, it seems there are no more talents among the Holy Knights gathered here who can withstand the attacks of such a powerful hero.”
“What?”
“As one of the representatives of the Holy Theocracy and one of the chief examiners for this trial, I acknowledge your passage. There is only one minute left, after all.”
“…”
The moment the declaration of passage ended, the spectators erupted in genuine cheers. The roar was so loud it defied description.
“—!!”
He had passed the first trial. Only two trials remained. Yet Arty felt strangely unsettled.
What nonsense… That man must have realized I no longer had the strength to face the remaining three.
It felt as if victory had been handed to him out of pity. After all that, was this what he had fought for?
“…”
Arty looked at his gauntlet. He felt no discomfort from the blood and sweat soaking it. Yet he felt hollow. Someone patted his shoulder. It was a very firm, large hand.
Tap!
“!”
Arty looked up. There stood Instructor Zack in battered black armor. He wasn’t wearing his usual shabby training clothes, but the outfit he had worn during the northern invasion war. Arty thought unconsciously, He always yells like a weird old man, but today he really looks like a true knight… Well, he is an incredible master who has reached the Ignition stage, after all.
Instructor Zack spoke in a deep, resonant voice.
“Arty, do not think of this victory as alms from the enemy. There is no such thing as a victory granted out of pity. There is only victory that is seized.”
“!”
He had seen straight through Arty’s unease.
“That pathetic Holy Knight threw you the victory because he was afraid of losing the Theocracy’s initiative. It was the final begging of the weak, not the strong.”
“…I see.”
“You have seized victory as a warrior. So return to your seat with your head held high.”
“…”
Arty nodded.
“Yes!”
Instructor Zack nodded back. Then he strode off after Raoul, who had already disappeared. Just before returning, Arty looked at the ornate chair where Aria had been sitting. But she was no longer there.
“…”
Nevertheless, he returned to the waiting room feeling far more refreshed than before. Lydia, Mave, and Morgan were waiting for him there. Lydia spoke to the returning Arty.
“You did well.”
“Thank you.”
Arty finally felt the lingering unease disappear completely.