8. Clashing Blades p2
And so, Tehrich followed in his father’s footsteps. In a country where knights had disappeared, he tried to be more of a knight than anyone else. Even if ridiculed as outdated, he would remain noble. He would remain sincere to his fellow warriors. The steel armor he inherited from his father would be like the city walls of the royal capital. The straight sword he held would be like his country’s flag. Even under a star where wishes couldn’t be granted, even in this frustrating reality, he would protect the people of his homeland. To become the very embodiment of the people’s hopes.
Yes, the reason he dreamed of becoming a knight was because of his father.
And he had superimposed that image onto the little girl before him. The man he respected and the eerily unsettling little girl—.
Even though they had nothing in common.
“This is absurd…!”
“One.”
Tehrich slammed his steel-clad foot on the ground.
He tried to dispel his delusion with a single, swift sword flash.
His decisive blow drew a clean arc towards the little girl.
She stood still, her sword held high. This time, she showed no sign of dodging, maintaining a stillness like a remote forest lake, but her eyes continued to follow Tehrich’s approach. She didn’t seem afraid of the approaching blade.
His doubts grew, but he couldn’t stop now. Because her atmosphere had clouded his admiration.
She had touched a sacred nerve that shouldn’t be touched.
(I’ve… lost my composure…!)
He regained his normal judgment a few moments later, but it was too late.
By a hair’s breadth. The ideal and reality finally diverged. The distance between assumption and reality had widened fatally.
“Two.”
The little girl’s hand gleamed. A flash ran through the corridor.
At that moment, Tehrich felt a shiver down his spine. No, his honed experience sensed the presence of death. He kicked off the ground and rolled to the side.
“Three.”
“Wha… !?”
—Was that lightning? Was that light?
—No, it was a sword blade. A blade like lightning had grazed his nose.
“Too bad.”
It was a miracle that he had dodged in time. In that instant, if he hadn’t swung his arms in mid-air to shift his center of gravity and leaned back, his neck would have been severed. However, his helmet was blown off instead of his head.
His vision flipped upside down, and wind pressure hit his face. At that moment, an explosive sound echoed. His helmet crashed into the wall. It shattered into pieces upon impact. Cracks spread across the wall, forming a large crater. It was a sight that made him doubt they were inside a fort protected by barrier magic.
After witnessing that end, his posture crumbled. He landed hard on his back and groaned from the impact, even through his armor. Meanwhile, the little girl was standing at the end of the corridor, her back to him.
There, she shrugged, tilted her head, and muttered to herself,
“This body is still hard to control.”
Sweat poured from Tehrich’s forehead. She had moved with lightning speed in an instant. The proof was clearly visible as tracks on the stone floor. A dark, straight line extended from the starting point to his feet.
“I can’t believe she couldn’t even take my head with that.”
Even the forty-six-year-old warrior’s thoughts stopped. His exposed face froze in pure terror.
She had dented the stone wall protected by barrier magic. And she had shattered the helmet passed down through the Galdi family. Although the gate had been broken during the fort’s assault, that had been thanks to the combined power of multiple strengthening spells and the hero Bogart Ramholt.
He was stunned by the feat that an ordinary person couldn’t achieve. Meanwhile, the little girl slowly approached him. But her steps were unsteady. As if her agile movements from before had been a lie, she was dragging her small body for some reason.
It was a good opportunity to either escape or counterattack. However, Tehrich didn’t move. He couldn’t move.
The outcome of the duel had already been decided.
(…This is the end. I’m sorry, Bogart.)
He swallowed his frustration and apology to his comrades in the assault force. He relaxed his shoulders and elbows and released his sword. As per the custom of a duel, the loser initiated the end. He had to acknowledge his lack of strength and withdraw gracefully.
“The last duel of my life. I am defeated!”
But Tehrich’s voice unexpectedly rang out cheerfully. —He had been prepared to die from the beginning of this battle.
Not from the time of the fort assault. From the time he was given the original special mission. He knew that the “grand task to decorate Tehrich’s retirement” was just a pretense by the Kingdom army. How foolish it was to oppose that monster, that golden… The more battles one experienced, the more one understood it in their bones.
When the plan was changed, he was relieved, without any shame.
Considering that, this was more than he deserved. Because he could end his life as the last knight of the Kingdom.
(Oh, right. I never thought I’d remember this at the end.)
Finally, the little girl reached Tehrich. Sol pointed the blade in her hand at him.
Her figure overlapped with the man who resembled his father more than his father himself—.
“I remember you… Sol.”
Tehrich recalled a faint fragment of memory. It was before the outbreak of the great war with the Empire. Was it shortly after Tehrich was appointed captain? At that time, the Laptenon Kingdom and the Viennese Kingdom—the two countries that were now allied—were skirmishing.
Seeing signs of escalation, the Laptenon army headquarters dispatched Tehrich to a fort near the border. He remembered being enthusiastic, thinking it was a knight’s duty to protect his country.
Not only the national army but also mercenary groups were stationed there. They seemed to have been hired on the spot, considering the difference in strength between the two sides.
Among them, there was a strange old man.
(I’ve… forgotten his name…)
When Tehrich saw him, he was always either sharpening his sword or swinging it. Carefully sharpening and carefully swinging. According to a passing colleague, he was the “oldest member of the mercenary group.” That made him even more mysterious.
The survival rate of veteran soldiers on the battlefield wasn’t good. Especially for mercenaries, who were treated more like tools. Furthermore, he wasn’t as skilled as a hero.
That’s why Tehrich, out of curiosity, spoke to him.
—How have you survived?
—If you have any secrets, I’d like to hear them.
The old man stopped sharpening his sword and looked back at him.
Tehrich was intimidated by that alone. As he flinched, the old man muttered,
—People die when it’s their time to die.
—I have something I must accomplish.
—That’s why I’m still alive.
The old man’s answer wasn’t an answer. It wasn’t the interesting answer he had expected. It wasn’t the reason why he could survive countless near-death experiences and still remain on the battlefield, nor was it the secret to how a man less than a hero could prolong his life. If he had desperately struggled to live, it was a fatalistic statement that would have even aroused his rebellious spirit.
Nevertheless, it was his demeanor that made him feel convinced. His withered hair and skin. His worn bandages. His armor stained with vomit.
(These aren’t words to be taken at face value.)
The old man, without saying a word, made Tehrich realize that. It was midnight on the day of that conversation. At the old man’s earnest request, they had a duel in the deserted training grounds. The tide of the battle never changed, and Tehrich won without any difficulty. However, he didn’t remember the details.
What was burned into his memory was what happened immediately afterward.
After they crossed swords, he suddenly asked,
—What is the thing you must accomplish?
Then, he muttered, “I have a dream.”
—My dream is to become a hero.
—I can’t die so easily until I fulfill this dream.
Under the pale moonlight, he saw an innocent smile. Tehrich thought it was dazzling.
Looking back now, it was also a feeling akin to admiration.
“Anything to say?”
The little girl, who overlapped with that veteran soldier, spoke in his upside-down vision.
She seemed to be kind enough to listen to his last words.
Tehrich instinctively swallowed the words “regret.” What came out of his mouth was a single question.
“What… is your dream?”
“To become a hero. Like the ‘Strongest of Mankind.’”
“…To surpass her and become the strongest?”
“If that’s the quickest way to achieve my dream.”
Tehrich’s lips twisted, and he closed his eyes. At the end, he said, “Splendid,” and “Give my regards to that mercenary.” He left those words of praise to the little girl who seemed to be the granddaughter of that old man. She frowned for a moment, then nodded.
And, swinging the tip of her sword towards his neck—,
“Knight Tehrich Galdi. Eliminated.”
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