What Remains When the Sword Is Lost
Siella’s direction was stained red. The B-7 forest had always been a place of blue mist and gray skies, yet the path we raced along was different. The mist itself had turned crimson, and the mana lines beneath our feet flowed like thick, dark blood.
A flash of sword light cut through the haze, but it was nothing like Siella’s usual style. Her blade had always been linear—swift, precise, unwavering. The red glow we saw now was erratic. Its trajectory broke mid-swing, power surging too violently before collapsing without warning.
“Her sword is wavering,” Rhea said quietly.
Aria’s hand tightened around my arm. “Lady Siella must have sunk deep into the illusion.”
Edan adjusted his grip on his sword. “We need to hurry.”
I nodded. Siella Bayern. Heiress of the Bayern ducal house, renowned for its swordsmanship. To her, the sword was never merely a weapon. It was her family’s name, her proof of existence, and the way she faced the world. For someone like her, the cruelest illusion was easy to guess.
A world where she could not lift a sword.
Noel’s voice echoed in my mind.
—Be careful. Siella’s illusion is mixed with the lingering curse from the Sword-style Contamination.
“What does that mean?”
—It means the mental attack can also place real strain on the nervous system. If her hands are destroyed inside the illusion, she won’t be able to hold a sword in reality for a while.
“That’s the worst possible outcome.”
—Lately, ‘worst’ has been the default setting, hasn’t it?
I didn’t answer and plunged into the red mist.
The fog parted soon after. We stood in the Knight Department training grounds—or what should have been them. The spectator stands were filled with black shadows, and broken swords lay piled like mountains across the floor. On the wall hung the Bayern ducal crest: a red lion clutching a sword. Beneath that crest stood Siella.
She was not holding a sword. Rather, she could not. Both hands were wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, fingers bound so tightly they could barely move. Her sword lay on the ground before her.
Siella tried to pick it up, but her fingers refused to obey. Just as they brushed the hilt, her hand trembled and fell away.
The shadows in the stands laughed.
“A Bayern who cannot hold a sword.”
“Useless.”
“If she has no sword, what remains of that girl?”
“Nothing but an empty shell wearing her family’s name.”
Siella’s shoulders shook. “Shut up,” she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual force.
I started forward, but another Siella emerged from the opposite side of the training grounds. This one was perfect—flawless crimson hair, radiant golden eyes, a beautiful longsword in her hand. Her posture was immaculate, the tip of her blade perfectly still.
The Siella of the illusion. Or rather, the version Siella had always wished to become: the perfect knight, the perfect Bayern.
The illusory Siella spoke. “You who cannot hold a sword are not Siella Bayern.”
The real Siella ground her teeth. “I told you to shut up.”
“Let go of the sword?” The illusory Siella laughed. “Who said that?” Her gaze turned toward me. “Kyle Diaren.”
My steps faltered.
The illusory Siella continued, eyes fixed on me. “You ruined that girl.”
Siella’s eyes wavered, and the illusion seized the opening.
“It’s fine to let go of the sword? Even without it, Siella Bayern remains Siella Bayern? Such pretty words. But because of them, that girl has grown weak.”
“No,” Siella whispered.
“No?” The illusory Siella raised her sword. “Then prove it. Pick up the sword.”
The blade on the ground glowed red. Siella reached for it again, but her fingers would not move. The shadows laughed louder.
“She can’t lift it.”
“The sword rejects her.”
“She disgraces the name of Bayern.”
“How can someone like that protect anyone?”
Siella bit her lip until blood welled. She stretched her hand toward the sword once more—only to fail again.
“Stop!” Aria cried, her divine arts flying toward Siella, but the light bounced off the center of the training grounds. The illusory Siella had struck it down with her sword.
“Stay out of this, Saintess candidate,” the illusion said coldly. “Healing has no place in a swordsman’s trial.”
Rhea summoned frost. “Then I’ll simply freeze it.”
“Your Highness, wait,” I stopped her. “Forcibly waking her could damage Lady Siella’s hands.”
Rhea’s eyes turned icy. “So you want us to just watch?”
“No.” I looked at Siella. “She has to break free herself.”
Edan stepped beside me. “You probably have something to say to her, my lord.”
“Again?”
“Weren’t you the one who first said those words to Lady Siella?”
He was right; I couldn’t argue. I walked toward the center of the training grounds.
“Lady Siella.”
She lifted her head. Her golden eyes were trembling.
“Don’t come any closer.”
“I’ve heard that a lot.”
“This time I mean it.”
“You meant it last time too.”
“It’s different now!” Siella raised her voice for the first time. She stared at the fallen sword. “I can’t hold it.”
Those words were not a simple explanation—they were a confession. The very thing she had never wanted to say aloud.
“If I can’t hold a sword, then I am nothing.”
“That’s not true.”
“You don’t understand.” Siella glared at me. “You have no idea what it means for a Bayern to let go of the sword.”
“I don’t,” I admitted honestly. “Because I’m not a Bayern.”
Her expression hardened, but I continued.
“Still, there’s one thing I do know.”
“What?”
“Even before Lady Siella picked up a sword, she was already Siella.”
The illusory Siella sneered. “Word games.”
“No.” I ignored the illusion and looked only at the real Siella. “A sword is a tool. An important one, especially to you. But it did not make you who you are.”
“Then what did?”
“The fact that you keep trying to stand up.”
Siella held her breath.
“Reaching for the sword even after letting it go. Blaming yourself for being too late, yet promising to strike first next time. Feeling frustrated by the weak, yet still choosing to protect them anyway.” I took another step closer. “Isn’t that Siella Bayern?”
She couldn’t answer. The shadows murmured again.
“Pretty words.”
“But without a sword, she can do nothing.”
“A knight proves herself with her blade.”
The illusory Siella raised her sword. “Exactly. A knight proves herself with her blade.” She approached the real Siella. “Therefore, you who cannot prove it are a fake.”
Her sword descended toward Siella.
I moved to intervene, but this time Siella raised her hand.
“Don’t come.”
“Lady Siella.”
“This time, I’ll do it myself.”
She didn’t look at the sword on the ground. Instead, she stared at her own bandaged hands for a long moment. Then, slowly, she clenched them into fists. Her fingers still wouldn’t move properly, but they weren’t completely still either. Blood seeped through the bandages.
Aria gasped. “Lady Siella……”
Siella looked at her illusory self. “I thought that if I couldn’t hold a sword, I would be nothing.”
“That is the truth,” the illusion replied.
“No.” Siella lifted her head. “That was just something I believed because I was afraid.”
The entire training grounds trembled. A faint red mana flickered at her fingertips. There was no sword, yet the mana began to trace the shape of one—imperfect, unstable, a trembling red line that looked ready to scatter at any moment. But it was unmistakably the form of a blade.
The illusory Siella’s eyes widened. “That is not a sword.”
“I know,” Siella said. “Not yet.”
She took a step forward. “But it will be the sword I hold again.”
The illusory blade came crashing down. Siella met it with her red mana sword.
BOOM!
The impact shook the air. Cracks raced across her mana blade, but it did not break. Siella’s knees buckled. I instinctively moved forward, but Rhea grabbed my arm.
“Wait.”
“Your Highness.”
“She is choosing.”
I clenched my teeth. She was right. This was Siella’s illusion. We could not win it for her.
Siella raised her sword once more. “Kyle Diaren.”
“Yes.”
“You said it, didn’t you? That the sword doesn’t prove me—I prove the sword.”
“I did.”
“Does that still hold true?”
“Of course.”
Siella’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “Then watch.”
She kicked off the ground. The illusory Siella countered with flawless swordsmanship—fast, beautiful, flawless. In contrast, the real Siella was unstable. Her hands trembled, her mana sword wavered, her stance imperfect. But there was one difference.
She did not retreat.
Not because she was perfect, but because she pressed forward even without perfection.
Blade met blade.
“You are weak,” the illusion said.
“I am,” Siella growled. “Right now.”
Her sword pushed the illusion’s blade back. “But even the weak can cut.”
Second clash. Her mana sword was half-broken.
“Even if I can’t hold a sword—”
Third clash. Her bandages unraveled, blood flowing freely.
“I can pick it up again.”
Fourth clash. The illusory sword shook.
“And who I protect—”
With a final swing, Siella raised her blade high.
“—is my choice.”
Her red mana sword cleaved through the illusion’s chest. The illusory Siella froze, staring at her real self in disbelief.
“You can’t even hold a sword properly……”
Siella panted, but her voice was steady. “Even so, I am Siella Bayern.”
The illusion shattered into red light, taking the shadows with it. The Bayern crest on the wall glowed quietly, and the real sword on the ground slid toward Siella. This time she didn’t reach for it immediately. She looked at it for a moment, then slowly extended her hand and grasped the hilt.
Her hand trembled, but the sword did not reject her.
Siella lifted the blade. The training grounds dissolved, and we stood once more in the B-7 forest. Siella’s breathing was ragged.
Aria rushed to her side. “Let me see your hands.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Saintess candidate.”
“Listen to me this time.”
Siella studied Aria for a moment, then quietly held out her hands. It was almost miraculous. Aria wrapped them in divine light. Pure white radiance seeped between her torn, bloodied fingers. The bleeding stopped, wounds slowly closing, yet Siella’s hands still trembled faintly—not only from pain, but from having faced the version of herself that believed she was nothing without a sword.
“You pushed yourself too hard,” Aria said gently.
“It was necessary.”
“Still, it must hurt.”
“A knight can endure this much—”
“It’s okay to say it hurts.”
Siella fell silent. She looked at Aria, who smiled but did not back down. Having overcome her own trial in the cathedral, Aria would no longer allow anyone’s pain to be brushed aside.
After a long pause, Siella spoke, barely above a whisper. “……It hurts.”
Aria’s eyes widened slightly. “Then I’ll treat you properly.”
“Weren’t you already doing that?”
“Now that you’ve told me, I can do it even better.”
Siella said nothing, but the tips of her ears flushed red.
“You overdid it,” Rhea remarked.
Siella gave a short laugh. “I didn’t want to hear that from you, Your Highness.”
“It was a compliment.”
“Then I’ll accept it gratefully.”
Edan spoke quietly. “That was impressive.”
Siella looked at him. “I never expected praise from a commoner special admission student.”
“I meant it.”
Siella was silent for a moment before turning away. “Understood.”
The tips of her ears grew even redder.
Watching her, I let out a small breath. We had overcome everyone’s illusions—mine, Edan’s, Aria’s, Rhea’s, and now Siella’s. Each of us had faced our greatest fears. Yet Siella still hadn’t looked my way. She stared at her treated hands, then softly called my name.
“Kyle.”
“Yes.”
“When I couldn’t hold my sword earlier……” She kept her gaze averted. “Did I look pathetic?”
I answered immediately. “Not at all.”
Siella turned to me. “You answer too quickly sometimes.”
“There was no need to think about it this time.”
Her eyes wavered, just for an instant. Beneath the proud knight’s facade, a single moment of vulnerability flickered—the desire to be reassured by someone.
“Even without a sword, you are still Lady Siella,” I added. “But the Lady Siella who picks it up again…… suits you even more.”
Siella said nothing. Yet the hand gripping her sword tightened ever so slightly. Avoiding my gaze, she murmured, “Then that’s enough.”
The words were brief, but for her, they were answer enough.
Siella Bayern was accustomed to praise—praise for her flawless swordsmanship, her perfect form, how well she embodied her family’s name. But hearing that even the version of herself who couldn’t hold a sword was still acceptable…… that was likely the first time.
Noel’s voice returned, amused.
—That was a nice scene. Should I record it?
“Please don’t.”
—Too late. Already did.
“Senior.”
—Joking. Mostly.
Same old Noel. Even her teasing felt oddly welcome now—a reminder that we were still alive.
Then the entire B-7 forest began to shake. The blue mist swirled violently, and the mana lines beneath our feet converged toward a single point.
Noel’s voice turned urgent.
—The true center is opening. By breaking the illusions, you’ve fully activated the sealing gate.
“The center?”
—The core of B-7. The place Edan and Rhea were originally meant to enter.
All eyes turned to me, Edan, and Rhea. In the middle of the blue forest, a massive gate had appeared. This time, there was no closed-eye face carved upon it. Instead, five crests were faintly etched into its surface: a black lion, a blue crown, a pure white cross, a red sword—and an unnamed sword.
Faster than expected. What should have been Edan and Rhea’s event had now summoned all of us.
Edan spoke quietly. “That gate seems to be calling us.”
I nodded. “Probably.”
Rhea raised her staff. “This time, we all go in together.”
Aria took my hand—not for healing this time. Siella rested her sword on her shoulder. Her hands were still not fully recovered, but her eyes were clearer than before.
“Kyle.”
“Yes.”
“Stay within reach of my sword.”
“Again?”
“From now on, even more so.” She met my gaze. “This is the sword I chose to pick up again. I have no intention of losing the first person I decided to protect.”
Aria’s grip on my hand tightened almost imperceptibly. Rhea’s eyes cooled. Edan quietly looked away.
I swallowed a sigh inwardly. The center of B-7 might be dangerous, but this…… felt far more perilous.
Noel chuckled.
—Nice. Everyone’s emotional lines are alive, and so is the possibility of death. Perfect.
Not perfect at all.
I looked at the gate. The original novel’s events had already shattered. Whatever waited inside, even I didn’t know.
“Let’s go.”
The gate opened. From within flowed the same black mana we had seen in the Central Sealed Area.