Now It's Your Turn

"That arrogant one. Make hers stronger than the other trainees'."

Rimer pointed at Marta, who had stepped forward with her chin held high.

"Understood."

Jake nodded and summoned an orc — larger and far more savage-looking than the one Burren had fought.

"Loop Strength, Loop Agility…"

Jake poured in more mana than he had for Burren, boosting the monster's strength and agility before releasing his hold.

"KRAAAAAH!"

The orc roared and charged like a bull.

"A monster like you?!"

Marta clenched her teeth and kicked off the ground, bringing her sword down on the oncoming beast. The orc swung its greatsword with matching speed.

Steel met steel in a burst like an explosion — but neither the orc nor Marta was driven back. They planted their legs as if they'd driven stakes into the earth and hacked at each other's throats from point-blank range.

Boom. Then a thunderous crash. Blades collided again and again, the sound like boulders splitting apart.

Marta wrenched her Titan Aura to its limit and twisted her waist. She caught the orc's descending greatsword on the steel of her shoulder, deflected it, and carved her own blade through.

A single, uncompromising stroke. Marta's sword slipped into the opening in an instant and took the orc's head clean off.

She stared down at the corpse settling on the ground, then straightened and let out a breath.

"Took you a whole day to kill one of those. Don't go around telling people you're from the same place as me. You'll drag my name down."

Burren clamped his mouth shut at the remark she tossed over her shoulder on the way out. He had just watched her punch through an orc on raw power and snuff its life in a single breath. There was nothing to say.

"Marta."

Raon called after her as she walked toward the rear.

"When training's over, go get that shoulder treated. There could be lingering damage."

Marta pursed her lips and turned her head away. He had given his advice as the top trainee. What she did with it was her own business. He turned away as well.

At a snap of Jake's fingers, the orc's corpse vanished — but a stain of dark blood remained seared into the ground, and the raw stench of it spread through the training ground.

Runaan's trembling grew worse. Her pink lips were turning blue.

If you mean to break her curse, why are you just sitting there?

Because it isn't time.

To heal a deep wound cleanly, you had to let it fester until it was fully rotten. Only then could you cut it out without leaving a scar.

Raon watched Jake summon a third orc and tapped his fingers lightly. It was not yet time to burst the swollen blister.

The life-and-death blood matches between the trainees and the monsters went on.

Thanks to Burren and Marta opening the way so well, the trainees trembled with tension — but none of them broke and ran. It took time, but in the end every last trainee cut an orc's life short, whether by taking the head, piercing the heart, or simply slugging it out until something gave.

Raon looked across the training ground as the sun began to fall. Dorian was screaming, footwork flashing as he ran.

The orc bellowed and gave chase, but Dorian's feet were far too fast to catch.

"Hahp!"

Dorian shrieked that he was terrified and thrust his sword. He missed the neck entirely and sheared a chunk out of the orc's waist instead.

"Eek!"

Dorian leapt back in greater shock than the wounded orc and fled. Enraged, the orc roared and charged after him.

"What even is that?"

"H-how long is this going to take?"

"It's been thirty minutes. Thirty minutes."

"At least his stamina and footwork are solid."

"Only Raon and Runaan left after this. Those two'll finish faster, right?"

The trainees sighed and watched the chase unfold.

Raon looked at Dorian's feet and clicked his tongue.

If he just had a little more guts…

Dorian was quick, and his sword was sharp — but he was far too afraid. If he could just curb that cowardice, he would be able to put his name right behind Marta, Runaan, and Burren.

The sound of sand crumbling made him turn his head. Runaan was clutching the ground so hard her nails had drawn blood.

Her face was deathly pale. Her lips were a wreck of bites. Her hands and feet shook as if an earthquake were running through them. This was not mere fear. It was the classic picture of a human seized by terror.

Up on the platform, Rimer narrowed his eyes at her. He was weighing whether to send her back.

That can't happen.

This was the best possible moment to burst a blister that had been filling for far too long.

Raon stood and walked to Runaan's side. Her trembling eased, if only a little.

"You're scared, aren't you?"

Runaan neither turned her head nor answered.

"A trainee holding a sword for the first time. A veteran who's stood on a hundred battlefields. Blood is frightening to all of them."

Her chin turned, just slightly, in his direction.

"I'm the same. So is Dorian, fighting out there right now. Everyone who fought today was afraid."

"R…eally?"

A withered voice scraped out of her.

"Yes. But do you know what's more frightening than that?"

She shook her head, slowly, as if she did not.

"Being so terrified you do nothing at all."

Raon's eyes glinted with a cold, unsettling light. What surfaced then was not Raon Zieghart. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It was the temperament of Raon the assassin, seeping up from underneath.

"If you freeze in place because you're scared — because you're afraid — nothing changes. Nothing gets solved."

The truth is, I am afraid.

He was afraid that this comfortable life would satisfy him, and that his hatred for Derus Robert would go cold.

And I am afraid of this, too.

He was afraid that his revenge — his actions — would come back as something terrible upon Sylvia and the maids of the Annex.

He was scared. He was afraid. He had no intention of giving up either one.

By any means necessary, he would have his revenge on Derus, and he would find a way for Sylvia and the maids to live happily.

Raon renewed that vow in his chest and turned back to Runaan.

"You have something like that too, don't you?"

He bit down on his left thumb until the skin broke.

A red bead of blood welled and dropped to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ground. Runaan recoiled, her teeth chattering.

"Ah…"

"Don't run. If you don't face it now, you will never overcome it."

"R-Raon. Raon!"

"Blood is frightening. But."

He stepped in toward Runaan, who had all but fallen backward, and took her hand. The blood running from his finger painted the back of her white hand red.

"It's also nothing. Blood cannot harm you."

"Huh?"

Runaan's eyes went wide as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she watched the droplet slide down the back of her hand. The blood did not hurt. It was not sad. It was not heavy. The realization left her stunned.

"I don't know exactly what your brother did to you. But the more you fear him, the deeper that man's shadow will fall over you."

The tremor in Runaan's hand began, unmistakably, to fade.

"If all you do is run because you're scared, you'll be dragged around for the rest of your life. Runaan Sullion. The only one who can protect you — and your family — is you."

He meant every word. Runaan, as she was now, looked too much like his past self — the self that had been dragged along on Derus Robert's leash.

"Aaaaagh! I'm gonna die!"

Dorian, who had finally managed to split the orc's heart, came back and collapsed in a heap.

"I barely won. I almost died. Hic."

He mumbled, wiping his tears on his sleeve.

"You got a squirrel?"

Raon stood and looked at him.

"A squirrel? I don't have everything, you know. Wait? I do have one."

Dorian muttered why do I even have this as he pulled a wooden squirrel carving from his Belly Pouch. It was a charming little thing, with striking red eyes.

"Here."

Raon took the carving from Dorian and held it out to Runaan. She accepted the squirrel in trembling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hands.

"That's all the advice I have. I'll say the rest with a sword."

With that, Raon walked out onto the training ground.

Stepping in like that? How unlike you.

Wrath snorted, muttering that Raon didn't know his place.

You could see it that way.

Raon nodded. Wrath was not wrong. He had stepped in, and it was unlike him.

Of course, she had been the first person to show him consideration — but that was not the whole of it.

She reminded me of my past life.

The image of his previous self, brainwashed by Derus Robert, had overlapped with Runaan as she was now. Before he knew it, his hand had moved and the words had come out.

But this is the last of it.

The explanations in words were over. From here, it was the sword. If even that could not pull her free of the blood-conditioning, then that would be as far as it went.

Fool. Worry about yourself. You'll freeze up just like those other maggots — I can already see you failing to even swing properly.

At Wrath's words, a rather good idea occurred to him.

Then how about a wager?

A wager?

Yes. One that's very much in your favor.

What is it?

If I fail to cut the orc down in a single stroke, I'll take your Wrath. One blade. That's all.

A single stroke? Are you serious?

Of course.

A little advice you read in a book, and now you think killing is a joke.

Wrath snickered, making the bracelet vibrate.

Very well. A single stroke. Two swings, and you lose.

His laughter cut off, and a wager message rose into view.

I accept.

He had expected Wrath to take the bet. Wrath did not know that his previous life had been that of an assassin.

Another easy mark.

Raon smiled in a way Wrath could not see, and stepped up onto the training ground.

"Oh? So you're not last."

Rimer whistled. His eyes danced with amusement. He had clearly heard every word spoken to Runaan.

"That one is the strongest here. Please bring out the strongest orc you have."

"Understood."

Jake pressed his lips together. His face was the face of a man who had decided something. He gave a firm nod and began to chant.

A tide of blue magic circles rose from the floor, and a new orc emerged. Its build was similar to the ones before — but the muscle stood out more sharply, and its entire body was a map of old scars.

Even pinned in place by the magic circle, it bared a raw, instinctive savagery.

Green, crimson, and blue circles washed over the orc's upper body. Its presence climbed at an exponential rate.

Jake flicked his wrist, and the orc's form shifted into that of a rough-featured man.

"Prepare for the spar."

Raon nodded. He rolled his left wrist lightly and was about to loosen the right when it happened.

Jake's magic circle shattered like a pane of glass, and the orc burst free.

"KRAAAAAH!"

It screamed and lunged, bringing down an axe caked in clotted blood. The speed and power were on an entirely different level from the other orcs.

"Wh-what!"

"Stop it!"

"Damn—!"

Everyone else panicked. Raon's eyes only sank deeper.

I knew.

The moment he had seen the excitement in Jake's eyes, he had expected a situation exactly like this.

Raon drew the sword at his hip. A single flower bloomed along the blade. Bathed in the light of dusk, the golden blossom shimmered like a heat haze.

The orc never even swung the axe it had raised. Its head simply fell.

Scarlet blood fountained beneath the overlapping golden dusk, and the orc's massive body sank to the earth.

A beauty so cruel it bordered on violence. A spectacle that would have made the continent's finest painter snap his brush in two.

The instructors who had been running to intercept the orc, the trainees who had lurched to their feet in alarm, even Jake, who had been controlling the beast — all of them lost their words.

Raon drew up the presence of his past life and crushed Jake beneath it. Under the aura of an assassin who had piled karma upon karma through murder, Jake clutched his throat and collapsed.

His eyes rolled back. Raon would have liked to do more — but Runaan was still waiting behind him. He frightened the man just enough, then let the pressure die.

He flicked the blood from his blade and turned.

Burren ground his teeth hard enough to hear. Marta narrowed her eyes and twisted her lips. Both of them looked thoroughly, bitterly frustrated.

The trainees' mouths hung open wide enough to catch flies. Their pupils shook as if a wave had slammed through them.

"H-he's insane."

"What kind of swordsmanship was that?"

"A s-single stroke…"

The instructors stood equally stunned, as if they could not quite believe what they had seen.

Raon took all of them in, then looked to Runaan at the very back.

The darkness had left her eyes. He gave her a small nod.

Runaan clutched the squirrel carving tight as she watched Raon walk out onto the training ground.

Did he know everything?

She had held her words back on purpose, because the truth could have hurt him too. She had loosened her gaze and pretended it was nothing. That had always been enough. She had thought it would simply pass.

But he had spoken to her as if he already knew it all.

Raon's calm voice had felt like fingers slowly prying open a fist that had been clenched around her heart.

When he held out a hand running with blood, she had been terrified. She had wanted to run that instant.

And yet…

When she took that hand — when that blood wet the back of her own — it was not frightening. It was not dreadful. There was only a warmth like dying embers.

That was when she understood. Blood itself was not the thing to fear. The black shadow binding her heart felt, just a little, as if it had thinned.

Runaan steadied her breathing and looked at Raon, standing on the training ground. His back was small. For some reason, it looked broader than anyone's.

She was watching that back, taut with nerves, when the orc's magic circle vanished without warning.

The orc screamed a savage cry and charged at Raon.

"N-no!"

She surged to her feet, her jaw trembling — and Raon drew his sword.

A golden flower bloomed along the silver blade. A blossom of dazzling beauty was drawn in a single line, following the sunset down.

The instant the two sunsets overlapped, a fountain of blood burst from the orc's neck.

It's beautiful.

The blood she had feared since childhood — the droplets that should never have been able to look that way — embroidered the air with beauty.

Raon flicked his blade clean and turned his head. His eyes spoke.

Now it's your turn.

"Mm."

Runaan stood. Her hands no longer trembled.