Chapter 37
The Holy Sword’s white blade cleaved through space.
There wasn’t a single wasted motion in the way Ashtein wielded his sword with such fluid ease.
His restrained movements had reached a level that could make even the Holy Sword, which had existed for countless years, marvel.
His ever-changing swordplay finally came to a halt in one place.
The sword dance that seemed as though it would go on forever had stopped.
A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.
“Phew.”
When Ashtein exhaled, a white cloud of breath spread through the air.
He relaxed the muscles he’d tensed and slowly sheathed the Holy Sword.
-Your mastery of the sword is exceptional. Did you have a teacher?
A teacher.
Ashtein pictured an old man with a head full of white hair smiling, then shook his head.
“I did.”
He’d spoken in the past tense.
The Holy Sword, Karellin Paniman, tactfully kept her mouth shut.
There was little point in poking at a sore spot if she wanted a meaningful response.
So she brought up another topic.
-I see. And yet, you’re in excellent shape, too. How did you manage to get up so early after leaving Aria utterly exhausted? Your stamina is truly frightening.
It wasn’t worth answering.
Ashtein kept his mouth shut and raised his head.
The sky was a dark navy blue.
Winter mornings were especially dark.
The sun rose late.
“Aria should be waking up soon.”
-Perhaps not. After you thoroughly toyed with her, body and soul, won’t she sleep in a little longer?
Karellin spoke as if she were reproaching Ashtein.
Ashtein narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue.
“You only ever say things that get on my nerves.”
-Am I wrong?
He couldn’t deny it.
They’d certainly gotten carried away last night.
His reason had crumbled, leaving him to give himself over entirely to instinctive desire.
But why should he be blamed for that?
If he had to blame anyone, it would be Aria, whose charms seemed to grow more irresistible by the day.
Just this morning, when he’d tried to sneak out, Aria had unconsciously burrowed into his arms. What a predicament that had put him in.
Hmm.
Now that he thought about it, what kind of adorable creature was she?
Ashtein had gone blank for a moment, prompting a sharp response from Karellin.
-You’ve got the face of a lovesick fool.
“My apologies. Am I making a spectacle of myself in front of a sword that can’t even fall in love?”
Ashtein spoke with a sneer, and Karellin reacted as if his words were laughable.
Her voice might have taken on the form of a young girl’s, but, as her manner of speaking made clear, she was an ancient crone who had lived for more than five hundred years.
-Hmph, even a maiden like me has had her share of romance.
Ashtein rubbed his eyelids.
“The Holy Sword’s love life? Now that’s interesting.”
-Are you curious?
At Karellin’s question, Ashtein nodded.
“In a way, you’re a living historical record.”
-That seems a bit harsh, treating me like a historical record.
Wasn’t five hundred years more than enough to make her a dusty antique?
Thinking that, Ashtein retorted.
“Your test was harsh, too.”
-Wouldn’t anyone who couldn’t pass something that easy be a fool?
Ashtein recalled the conversation he’d had with the Holy Sword the other day.
When she’d asked, ‘How did it feel to pass the test?’ he’d been dumbfounded.
He’d thought she was talking nonsense out of nowhere.
‘How did I pass the test? Didn’t you say I failed?’
‘It was a bluff.’
‘A bluff?’
‘The real question behind the test was this: could you abandon the majority to save someone precious to you?’
After urging him to kill someone so precious to him, she’d just turned around and said what?
It was a vicious test, almost to an outrageous degree.
Naturally, Ashtein couldn’t help responding with sarcasm.
“What kind of Holy Sword are you? You’re just a Cursed Sword.”
-Hah! Ashtein, the essence of a sword is to cut others. There is neither good nor evil in that. Aren’t ‘Holy Sword’ and ‘Cursed Sword’ just labels imposed by your uncertain standards?
Was that really something the Holy Sword enshrined by the Church should say?
From Karellin’s voice, Ashtein imagined a girl with blue hair and red eyes rolling on the floor, clutching her stomach with laughter.
It was an infuriating image.
For someone so old, she had no dignity at all.
“Don’t spout nothing but sophistry, Karellin.”
-It’s a tried-and-true method, you know. Since when did a righteous Hero stop to think things through? Save them if you can; if you can’t, try anyway. Aren’t those fools what you call ‘Heroes’? I’ll pass on idiots who judge everything this way and that. They’re not qualified.
“You’re so impressive. So when are you going to tell me about your romance?”
-Huh? You really want to hear about it?
Karellin emphasized the end of her sentence as if she were surprised.
Ashtein frowned.
“What, are you trying to dodge the question now?”
-Hmm. It’s more that I don’t want to spoil the pleasant mood we’ve finally gotten into.
“Spoil it?”
-It isn’t a cheerful story.
Ashtein looked at the Holy Sword in its scabbard with displeasure.
Her tone reminded him of someone.
“You act like you’re going to tell me, then draw the line. You’re just like some senile old geezer.”
-Don’t be like that. I’ll tell you when the time is right.
“Do all old people’s excuses turn into clichés?”
-You’re awfully touchy, like someone who’s been burned before.
Ashtein fell silent.
His silence was as good as an unspoken confirmation.
Sensing the mood had soured, Karellin deftly changed the subject.
-That girl is rather pitiful, though.
“Who?”
-You’re remarkably good at pretending not to know. I mean the little witch.
The little witch—did she mean Azazel?
She was a grown woman, even if she didn’t look it.
Well, compared to the Holy Sword’s age, everyone must seem like a child.
Ashtein started walking back to the inn as he spoke.
“What’s so pitiful about her? She brought it on herself.”
-That’s exactly why it’s all the more pitiful. In the end, she was only hurting herself, wasn’t she?
“Are you taking Azazel’s side?”
-Hmm, not exactly.
“I won’t forgive her.”
-That’s a rather firm stance.
Ashtein let out a quiet sigh.
Azazel probably didn’t know what kind of past Aria had.
But it was a fact—a reality—that she’d said things that reopened Aria’s wounds.
Aria was someone precious to Ashtein.
He wouldn’t forgive anyone who harmed her.
Even a former companion was no exception.
Even if Aria did something wicked and faced condemnation from the majority, it wouldn’t matter.
Even if everyone turned their backs on Aria, he alone would stand by her and draw his sword.
That wasn’t how a righteous Hero should think.
So what?
Before he was a Hero, he was an individual named Ashtein—and a man.
He wouldn’t helplessly lose someone again, the way he had Sister Amelia.
No matter what happened, no matter what she did, he would protect her.
With that resolve in his heart, Ashtein grumbled to Karellin.
“How am I supposed to forgive someone who insults the person precious to me? I’m no saint.”
-That’s right. You’re a Hero.
“You’re not saying a Hero isn’t allowed to have personal feelings, are you, Karellin?”
-I never said anything of the sort. If anything, I’d welcome it with open arms. I’ve always thought Heroes were all far too rigid. I think a little flexibility would do them good.
“………You’re actually a Cursed Sword, aren’t you?”
-And you’re actually not a Hero, are you?
The two of them chuckled.
Surprisingly, they got along quite well.
Then again, it was no wonder he was a Hero and she was the Holy Sword.
Karellin spoke with a peculiar smile in her voice.
-Well, Aria doesn’t seem to bear the witch any ill will.
“She’s too soft. She probably doesn’t know how to get angry.”
-……Hmm. If that’s what you say, then I suppose that’s how it is.
Ashtein stopped as he climbed the stairs.
He’d run into someone.
Speak of the devil.
The red-haired girl they’d just been talking about, Azazel, was standing there.
Her eyes were dull, and her complexion was poor. She looked every bit like someone who hadn’t slept all night.
Had she heard what they’d just said?
Even if she had, Ashtein had no reason to take back his words.
He passed by Azazel, who stood there silently, without a care.
“…….”
The girl, who would normally have snapped at him, kept quiet.
That was unusual.
* * *
Azazel hadn’t slept a wink last night.
Even after blocking her ears with a pillow and casting a soundproofing spell,
the words remained in her mind.
Ashtein’s declaration of love.
Ashtein’s affectionate words.
Her heart had been branded with a dreadful, wretched feeling.
Unable to bear the suffocating feeling, she left her room.
Click.
When she opened the door, she saw a narrow hallway.
The cold morning air eased the stifling feeling in her chest, if only a little.
Looking toward the window in the hallway, she spotted a man swinging a sword.
The man was familiar.
It was Ashtein.
When had he woken up?
Had he even slept?
Azazel watched him as if entranced.
“……Ashtein.”
She knew she’d said some pretty awful things.
She knew she’d been rude and acted horribly.
She even thought about trying to apologize.
But how?
She’d grown up being worshipped, so she was used to relationships with a clear hierarchy, but had no experience with equals.
And a sincere apology was an impossibly difficult thing for her.
And if she apologized, would Ashtein accept it?
She’d seen his expression last time.
There’d been neither disappointment nor resignation.
Only contempt and scorn in his eyes.
Eyes that held no expectations of her at all.
It was devastating.
Her heart ached as if a heavy boulder had settled in her chest.
“Sigh.”
Azazel watched him train endlessly, losing all sense of time.
She’d often watched him like this before, too.
If only she could go back to those days.
Then she could see Ashtein all to herself.
Azazel pressed her forehead against the window.
The cold glass cooled her warm forehead.
“I’m such an idiot.”
Over one man, what was Azazel doing moping around like this?
She scolded herself and left the window.
She thought about going back to her room, but she was hungry.
She went downstairs, planning to order a bite to eat from the first floor and fill her stomach.
“Are you taking Azazel’s side?”
Ashtein’s voice came from farther away.
Azazel stopped partway down the stairs and perked up her ears.
Had he already finished training?
And who was he talking to?
“I won’t forgive her.”
Won’t forgive her.
From the context, he must have meant Azazel.
Those words squeezed her heart.
Who were you to forgive me—or not forgive me?
“How am I supposed to forgive someone who insults the person precious to me? I’m no saint.”
Someone precious.
He must mean that woman.
I see.
I don’t mean anything to you anymore.
She heard more words after that, but they didn’t reach Azazel’s ears.
It felt as if her body were floating.
Nothing felt real.
Was this a dream?
If it was, it must be a nightmare.
A terrible nightmare.
“……”
He stopped walking and noticed Azazel.
Azazel knew she had to get out of there.
But her body wouldn’t move.
She froze like a rabbit in front of a crocodile.
She stood there, motionless, until their eyes met.
His gaze was no longer warm like it used to be.
There was winter in his eyes.
A cold, frigid winter.
Ashtein passed by Azazel without a care.
Her head was spinning.
Not just her head.
Her whole body was burning, and her joints and bones throbbed.
What was this sensation, this buzzing that seemed to resonate from deep within her body?
The world seemed to spin around her.
Her legs gave out, and she sank to the ground where she stood.
“Ah.”
A strange voice escaped her.
It was damp and muffled, as if she’d shoved a dry lump of bread down her throat.
“Hic.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth.
She didn’t want to cry so pathetically.
Azazel sat on the stairs for a long time.