Kays Translations

Chapter 17: After Completing Five Days of Training.

“Ren-sama, please take this.”

Edgar had prepared something specifically for that day.

He reached into his pocket and produced a small vial. It was an ordinary corked container, but a single round crystal sphere rested inside.

When Ren accepted it, the sphere rolled against the glass with a light clink.

“What is this?”

“An ordinary vial and a specially processed crystal that reacts to mana. I would like you to try to break the crystal during your daily training.”

“…Just to be certain, I am not supposed to open the stopper and break it directly, am I?”

“Of course not. You must hold the vial in your palm and destroy the crystal without using magic from outside it. You must not break the vial either.”

Being asked to perform what sounded like a magic trick left Ren completely at a loss.

According to Edgar, however, it was an efficient form of training.

“You must refine your mana, control it freely, send it through your palm and the glass, and destroy the crystal within. That resembles the manner in which mana is handled in the Mighty Sword Style. It relates to the aptitude I mentioned earlier.”

“Can anyone learn to use mana like that?”

“No. Mana by itself does not normally produce such an effect. The crystal has therefore been specially treated so that it can measure a person’s skill in controlling mana. This should prove excellent training for you as well, Ren-sama.”

“So if I cannot destroy it, that means I lack aptitude for the Mighty Sword Style.”

Ren placed the vial in his palm.

Mana… mana…

He concentrated without speaking aloud, but the crystal showed no sign of breaking.

Perhaps uneasy at the complete lack of change, Ren glanced toward Edgar.

“Please do not worry. It is only natural for this to take time. Even I struggled merely to mark the crystal.”

When Edgar had been young, he had barely managed to leave a faint scratch on its surface.

This was not training that produced immediate results. Success came only through steady effort.

(I suppose that is true of everything.)

Ren understood, but another thought occupied him.

What would they do today?

What about tomorrow and the day after that? He had come all the way to the Imperial Capital, and he wanted to learn as much as possible.

He slipped the vial into the pocket of the jacket he had removed for sword practice.

“That concludes today’s classroom instruction. We shall move to another training hall, where I will demonstrate the strength of the Mighty Sword Style.”

“Th-that would be wonderful!”

If he could see the Mighty Sword Style in action, the day certainly would not be wasted.

It was still only the first day, so there was no need to rush. Even so, Ren could hardly help feeling delighted.

“The essence of the Mighty Sword Style is destructive power. Let us move to a hall containing something suitable for use as a target.”

(So he is going to demonstrate it on a target.)

“…Ren-sama?”

“Ah—I’m sorry. I was thinking.”

A rather forceful proposal had occurred to him.

It might inconvenience Edgar, but Ren wanted to gain every possible lesson from his visit.

Unusually for him, he resolved himself and voiced the request firmly.

“I would also like to know what it feels like to receive the Mighty Sword Style directly. Would you be willing to use it against me?”

“…Hmm.”

Edgar hesitated.

Ren was the great benefactor of the family he served. He could not casually risk injuring him.

“Please?”

Edgar had heard about Ren’s personality, and during their brief time together he had begun to understand what kind of person the boy was.

Ren nevertheless continued to press his request, and that persistence stirred a thought within Edgar.

Ren was their benefactor.

What sort of marquis’s butler would he be if he could not answer his benefactor’s earnest wish?

“Very well.”

Edgar finally yielded to the unbending boy and nodded with a wry smile.

“I believe I now understand one reason you have become so strong, Ren-sama. With your permission, I shall demonstrate the Mighty Sword Style.”

“Thank you! I forgot to ask earlier—what rank did you attain in the Mighty Sword Style, Edgar-san?”

“Hmm… It is somewhat embarrassing to say. As you can see, I have grown old, and unlike in my younger days, my principal occupation is now that of a butler. I cannot compare my present self directly with the man I was in active service—”

Edgar drew the swords at his waist, one into each hand.

“—but I attained the rank of Sword Saint.”

Ren’s face immediately brightened.

He had not imagined Edgar was quite that accomplished.

(I can learn a great deal from him.)

Before long, Ren wore a fearless smile.

“May I be the one who receives your attacks this time, as you did mine earlier?”

“Certainly. I shall face you using ordinary swordplay—the foundation of the Mighty Sword Style.”

Edgar would use no Arts, only the distinctive power inherent in the style itself.

Ren was about to experience firsthand what “ordinary swordplay” meant when performed by a Sword Saint.

“Here I come.”

Edgar stepped forward so sharply that Ren nearly lost sight of him.

In the next instant, the elderly gentleman stood directly before him and swept his sword sideways at the training blade Ren had raised.

The moment Ren blocked it, an utterly unfamiliar sensation surged through his arm.

“—!?”

So this was what it felt like to receive the Mighty Sword Style.

The effect did not remain in the arm that had caught the blow. A violent numbness raced from his arm to his chest and then down into his legs.

In an instant it spread throughout his body and robbed him of strength. Exhaustion like that of someone who had exercised for dozens of minutes descended upon him all at once.

(He is unquestionably holding back… and it is still this powerful…!)

A single strike had drained him that much.

This was not fatigue caused by using his muscles to block the blow. Ren desperately endured the sensation of strength being stripped from the depths of his body.

“Please do not push yourself too far!”

“I won’t—but I can still continue!”

“Heh… What remarkable endurance.”

Edgar launched a succession of attacks.

Every time Ren blocked one, strength vanished from throughout his body.

The force felt as though a lion were glaring him down and devouring his very will. The walls and floor of the training hall trembled beneath it.

It seemed as though the space itself were screaming.

Each clash of their swords produced a metallic shriek.

Unlike Edgar earlier, Ren could not receive the opposing blade without being forced backward.

(Gh… This is…!)

Every strike drove him farther back, and he rapidly approached the wall.

Edgar’s sword contained that much force.

Yet it was not merely powerful. It was exquisitely refined.

Eventually, Edgar prepared a blow intended to bring Ren to his knees.

He would put more strength into it than any of the preceding strikes.

Realizing this, Ren clenched his teeth and poured every ounce of strength into his hands.

(Do not give up! At least once, block it properly—Ren!)

Edgar carefully adjusted his power so he would not injure Ren while still answering the boy’s expectations.

Even so, the coming strike carried considerable force. It would have exhausted an ordinary knight merely to receive it.

Edgar unleashed it because he was certain Ren would not be harmed.

“To think that on your first attempt you could withstand so—”

Then Edgar’s eyes widened.

“What—!?”

It was astonishing enough that the exhausted Ren stopped the strike completely.

More astonishing still, numbness suddenly spread through Edgar’s own hand.

Ren had not pushed the sword back.

As before, he had only struggled desperately to receive it.

When Edgar looked into Ren’s face, flushed with effort, a faint shudder passed through him.

It was presence—or perhaps sheer fighting spirit.

Merely meeting Ren’s gaze made Edgar feel as though an unknowable pressure had enveloped his entire body.

“…Magnificent. As expected of the man they call a hero.”

Outwardly, Edgar praised Ren and smiled when the exhausted boy sank onto the floor.

Yet he could not forget Ren’s expression when he blocked that final strike—especially the powerful eyes that had overwhelmed him, nor the numbness that had inexplicably entered his hand.

“I would have been embarrassed if I couldn’t show at least a little determination…”

Ren sat heavily on the floor.

Large beads of sweat covered his face and neck, and his breathing was ragged.

Not a trace remained of the overwhelming presence Edgar had witnessed moments earlier.

“Perhaps you possess an even more frightening power than I imagined, Ren-sama.”

“Hmm? Did you say something?”

“No, please pay it no mind. This is only your first day, so we shall stop here. Once you have bathed, I will take you back to your lodgings.”

“Thank you. Where can I bathe…?”

“There is a bathing room immediately to the left after you leave this training hall. I shall guide you there after you rest a little longer.”

Ren stood the moment he heard that.

His footing remained uncertain, and he still looked unsteady. Nevertheless, after only a brief rest, he began walking without accepting any help.

“R-Ren-sama!”

Edgar had naturally been about to lend him a hand and could not hide his surprise.

“It is still a little difficult, but I can walk. I’ll be fine.”

Ren then opened the enormous stone door by himself.

Edgar should have followed and assisted him, but astonishment rooted him to the spot. He could only stare in silence.

When the stone door closed, a smile naturally spread across Edgar’s face.

“My lord… It appears Ren-sama was not dragged onto the center stage.”

He murmured the words while putting on his jacket.

“He appeared because he was always meant to stand there—and…”

Edgar once again recalled the strength in Ren’s eyes.

He laughed softly.

“The way he looked just now was almost like—”

A bell outside the Lion’s Holy Office rang to announce three o’clock in the afternoon.

The sound swallowed the rest of Edgar’s words.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

The second and third days passed in the blink of an eye.

At last, the morning of the fifth day arrived—the final day of Ren’s stay in the Imperial Capital. Because he also had to prepare for the journey back to Clausel, his Mighty Sword Style instruction was limited to the morning.

After the lesson, the two discussed what would come next.

“From now on, please continue practicing the distinctive method of refining and controlling mana used by the Mighty Sword Style. I do not believe it will be long before the crystal in that vial begins to change.”

“I hope you’re right…”

“Heh. Please believe me, Ren-sama. You unquestionably possess the necessary aptitude.”

Ren smiled, delighted to hear those words on his final day in the training hall that had already begun to feel familiar.

“Should you wish it, I would be pleased to instruct you again. The largest training hall lies in the innermost part of the Lion’s Holy Office, beneath a vast open atrium. With my lord’s permission, you may also join the knights who train there.”

“Would that truly be all right?”

“Of course. You no doubt have many plans to consider, so contact me whenever it suits you.”

“Aren’t you normally in Eupheim, Edgar-san? I would feel guilty summoning you from so far away.”

“These days I divide my time roughly equally between Eupheim and the Imperial Capital. Fiona-sama resides in the Imperial Military Academy’s dormitory, so I frequently travel between the two cities.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Not at all. I merely ride the magic ship and magic train.”

Edgar gave him an elegant smile.

Eupheim was Leomel’s second-largest city after the Imperial Capital and possessed its own magic-ship terminal. Compared with Ren’s journey from Clausel, Edgar’s travel was entirely different.

When that conversation ended, Edgar continued.

“Until today, I have provided both technical instruction and practical lessons through sparring. Since we have little time left, allow me to demonstrate one final Mighty Sword Art.”

“R-really? I would love to see it!”

“I am honored that it pleases you. Now, what shall I show you…?”

After some thought, Edgar appeared to reach a decision.

“Please wait here a moment.”

He left the training hall.

When he returned only a few minutes later, one of the knights of the Lion’s Holy Office accompanied him.

“This gentleman possesses wind magic, so I asked him to assist us.”

“It is a pleasure. You are Ren-sama, correct? We too have great expectations for your future.”

The knight had stood guard at the Lion’s Holy Office throughout the preceding days.

Assuming the words were merely polite praise, Ren thanked him honestly.

At Edgar’s direction, the knight moved to the rear of the training hall and drew his sword. Edgar then turned toward Ren.

“According to legend, the Lion King went undefeated across countless battlefields. Even when confronted by mages, he never retreated and received innumerable spells head-on.”

Against magic, that should obviously have been a terrible choice.

Yet the Lion King made it possible.

He had devised a sword Art that allowed him to do so.

“Please begin.”

At Edgar’s signal, the knight raised his sword high.

He gave a powerful shout and brought the blade down. A violent wind transformed into a cutting edge and rushed toward Ren and Edgar.

Edgar answered with a horizontal sweep of his naked blade.

The oncoming wind was cut apart. What remained was merely a strong breeze that stirred Ren’s hair.

(That was—!)

Ren recognized the sight.

“It is common to cancel magic by striking it with an equal force. The Mighty Sword Style does not merely cancel magic. It possesses an Art capable of cutting magic itself.”

The result depended upon the practitioner’s skill, but a Mighty Sword Style user could inflict slashing damage upon magic, disperse it, or—if sufficiently accomplished—nullify it entirely as Edgar had just done.

The difference in ability between attacker and defender also mattered greatly, yet it remained an extraordinarily destructive Art.

“That was—Mighty Sword Art: Star Slaying.”

The name came from the Lion King’s habit of describing magic as stars.

In his era, people believed even the stars in the night sky were created by some form of magic. Because the Art cut down magic, it came to bear that name.

“I am surprised. You even knew the Art’s name.”

“I studied it carefully.”

In truth, Ren knew it because he had witnessed the Art countless times in the games—and had suffered because of it just as often.

“I am certain you too will soon wield Star Slaying to excellent effect, Ren-sama.”

(If I remember correctly, Star Slaying is proof that someone has reached Swordmaster rank in the Mighty Sword Style.)

In other schools, that degree of ability was treated as equivalent to Sword Saint rank.

Then again, Saint Licia had reached Sword Saint rank in the Sacred Sword Style during Legends of the Seven Heroes, so perhaps the goal was not impossibly distant.

Even without treating this world as identical to the game, Licia was unquestionably a genius. Ren could not draw a simple conclusion from her example.

Still, there was nothing wrong with aiming high.

“I’ll do my best.”

Ren gave a wry smile and completed his fifth day of instruction.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

Two days later, Edgar returned to Marquis Ignat’s estate in Eupheim.

Ulysses, who had been eagerly awaiting him, welcomed Edgar home, led him into his treasured garden, and immediately began asking about Ren.

“How was Ren Ashton?”

Countless words of praise entered Edgar’s mind.

None of them felt appropriate. He wondered what praise could properly describe Ren.

Then he suddenly remembered.

He recalled the shock of that first day, when Ren had received the final strike during their Mighty Sword Style lesson.

“I felt a strength in him almost like that of a lion.”

Taken literally, the comparison might suggest nothing more than bravery or majesty.

Among practitioners of the Mighty Sword Style, however, the word lion carried a far deeper meaning—an unspoken understanding shared between them.

It was not a word to be used casually when evaluating another person.

It signified the strength of the Lion King, founder of the Mighty Sword Style.

“Even you, Edgar, would describe him as a lion?”

“Yes. The strength in Ren-sama’s eyes when he faced me was unquestionably that of a lion. I cannot imagine describing it any other way.”

Edgar’s voice contained complete sincerity.

Ulysses had never intended to doubt him, but even so, admiration made the marquis shudder.

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