Ch 15

Chapter 15 - The Returner’s Promotion Battle (1)

Rewriter Note(s): [1] “Omae wa mou shindeiru.”

But nothing happened. The barbarian felt no resistance as the glaive completed

its sweeping downwards arc. The only thing he had struck was air.

“Gruuh...?” The barbarian stared quizzically at Pram. He hadn’t cut so much as

a single hair on his head. A glint of silver was now jutting out from the wooden

wall behind Pram. Something sharp with the silhouette of a crescent curve. The

barbarian snapped his neck down to look at the glaive in his hands. Except, it

wasn’t a glaive anymore—the blade was cut clean off. He was left with a

wooden rod.

Pram raised his rapier. “Shall we go again?”

The barbarian flung the wooden handle aside and closed the distance with a

swing of his fist. In an instant, his knuckles were close enough to obscure

Pram’s entire head from view. Pram wove to the side, letting the punch rocket

past him like a battering ram, and seamlessly vaulted into the air with a

backflip. With all the grace of a seasoned acrobat, he landed behind the

bewildered giant, and followed up with a swing of his rapier.[1]

The giant spun around and raised an arm to block the blow with his gauntlet,

but Pram’s rapier drew a perfect arc around his guard, and thrust into the pit of

his stomach. The now hapless giant tried to retreat, but Pram was faster. The

rapier plunged into the barbarian’s solar plexus. Tough as his body may have

been, it was a decisive blow to a vulnerable weak point. The giant’s body

quavered, his legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed into a crumpled

heap.

Desir nodded silently, as if confirming something he’d already known. “Looks

like it’s over.”

“Nonsense,” screeched Ujukun. “That door is made of Kichlean steel. There’s

only one person here who can open it, and I’m pretty sure he’s in no condition

to do so.” Kichlean steel was famed for its unyielding tensile strength. It was

also proportionately heavy. A door of this size would likely require the strained

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efforts of half a dozen men to even budge. “Which means you’re stuck here

until my guards arrive,” cackled Ujukun.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” The Blanchume rapier streaked through the air,

making short work of the door’s hinges. The door flattened with a thunderous

crash. Apparently, even Kichlean steel was no match for Blanchume. As the

pair made their exit, Desir turned to the dazed Ujukun. “Looks like it’s

definitely over now, doesn’t it?”

They’d only been running for a few minutes but Desir was already out of

breath.

“Alright, I think we’ve lost them. I really need to exercise some more. I can’t

believe I’m this weak...” Desir muttered between stilted breaths. Though, his

lack of breath did little to damper is cheerful voice. “Good thing we got the

sword back, right?”

While nodding, Pram moved his hand to the rapier at his waist without even

realizing it. The pale rapier glittered like starlight, or even moonlight. He pulled

out the sword, and couldn’t feel the slightest weight. A truly incredible feeling.

“So you’ve decided to use the rapier?” Desir said, recalling how Pram had

fought with the rapier a few minutes before.

He’d held the rapier, and subdued the barbarian giant with overwhelming skill.

The fact that Pram had took up the rapier again was especially meaningful to

Desir.

“The situation was too urgent so I had no choice, but...” Pram was still

hesitating. He eventually let out a sigh. “Why would my father hide something

like this in that old, worn-down Kemubin?”

That was the cause of this entire ridiculous incident. If he’d made it obvious

from the start that it was in fact a Kemubin, Pram would never have had any

reason to resent his father.

“Your father made a wise choice, Pram.”

Pram raised his head at Desir’s words.

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“A Blanchume sword is an incredible thing. Imagine if word got out that you

owned it. Over a hundred people just like Ujukun would have come to hound

you,” explained Desir.

“But there was still a chance I would never have found out,” said Pram.

“He left it behind because he thought you’d figure it out eventually,” said Desir

assuredly. Pram’s father always believed that Pram would realize, as long as he

kept carrying the rapier around.

“How can you be so sure?” asked Pram.

Desir grabbed the rapier, and pointed at the grip. Pram looked at it. On the

Kemubin that had the shape of an old, worn sword, there were written some

unreadable words. The reason they were unreadable was because they were

incomplete. When the Blanchume was revealed and the rapier showed its true

form, the words on the grip took shape. It looked like there was a hidden

mechanism on the grip as well as the blade.

Pram read the words slowly.

Do not lose your way, my little bird.

The Alpha Class’s private restaurant was on a high floor, the view overlooking

Hebrion Academy. A cold breeze blew in from the open window. A colorless

night view lay outside. The stars shone solemnly in the deep dark.

Romantica shuddered in the cold.

“Here’s your order, madam,” said the waiter.

The lights glittered yellow and the waiters moved between the tables like birds

flying in and out of their nests. The menu was seafood—a salt-grilled fish and a

crab gratin were laid in front of Romantica, and she thanked the waiter with a

smile.

“The Alpha Class meals are so much better, right?” said Doneta Hadun, seated

across from her.

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She hadn’t known that he’d arrived. She guessed he’d come while she was

looking out the window. There was nothing strange about the fact that he was

there. In fact, what was strange was the fact that she was here. Without the man

sitting across from her, she could never have even set foot in this place.

“At long last. I’ve wanted to see you all this time,” said Doneta warmly.

“I see,” responded Romantica curtly. Romantica waited for Doneta’s food to

come out. A moment later, Doneta’s food was laid in front of him, and they

both raised their forks. The grilled fish tasted good, and the gratin was slightly

greasy, but its flavor was exquisite. The two of them didn’t say anything for a

while, savoring the food.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” asked Doneta.

There was no reason to hesitate. Romantica placed a wooden dagger on the

table. It was decorated with all sorts of ornaments. Romantica explained

herself, “I came to return this.”

Doneta pushed up his glasses and looked at the Kemubin as if it were his first

time seeing it. Romantica pushed the Kemubin toward him. Doneta showed no

reaction for a moment. No rage, no annoyance. He merely collected his breath,

and pondered why he had gotten rejected. Only a third-rate noble would show

his emotions on his face. “I thought there was no reason for you to refuse-”

“You thought.” Romantica looked at Doneta with her wind-touched green eyes.

Doneta’s heart started racing as he looked back at her gaze. “If you’re perhaps

uncomfortable with dating me, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I did hesitate for that reason at the beginning. But it’s not because of that,”

said Romantica.

“You mean there’s another reason?” asked Doneta.

Romantica nodded. “I joined a nameless party in the Beta Class.”

“Beta Class...” Doneta looked at her with disbelief. He mumbled to himself, as

though he couldn’t even understand what he had just heard. “Beta Class, you

say...”

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“Yes. A commoner’s party. The people you regard as trash,” said Romantica.

Doneta slammed his fork on the table. Everything had grown cold. The air

blowing in from the window, the soup on the table, the atmosphere between

them. “I don’t understand. Did you get blackmailed?”

“Maybe...” Romantica shook her head. “No, this was my decision.”

“Then you weren’t thinking rationally,” said Doneta. He opened the Kemubin.

A golden necklace slid out into Doneta’s palm like a snake.

“I don’t have any regrets,” said Romantica. She stared at Doneta with renewed

vigor.

“Don’t be hasty. There’s still time,” smiled Doneta.

Romantica took a deep breath. “I’m not taking back my decision.” Doneta’s lips

were upturned, but he wasn’t smiling. Romantica did the same. “I honestly

think I made the right choice. I didn’t want to join that party at first, but I

changed my mind as time went on. This party is fun. The leader trains us

diligently. My skills are improving quickly thanks to him.” With each word,

Romantica became more sure that she made the correct choice.

“If it’s improving your skills, our party can do that as well,” refuted Doneta.

“Of course, that’s only one of the reasons. Doneta, do you remember how you

told me the Beta Class were all worthless commoners, nothing but trash?”

asked Romantica.

Doneta paused. “I don’t see why you’re bringing that up.”

“The reason,” explained Romantica. She breathed in deeply filled up her lungs.

Glittering red snake eyes stared back at her. She breathed out, and said the

words that sealed her fate. “...is that I’m a commoner.”

Doneta slammed his fork down into the table. A sharp clang slammed into

Doneta’s eardrums. All of the concern and affection washed off of his face. A

slight look of scorn could be seen on his face. Romantica could no longer find

the slightest affection in his eyes.

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“Hm.” He let out a slight cough. In a split second, he regained his poker face

after realizing his mistake, but it was too late. His feelings toward commoners

was close to physical repulsion, and he couldn’t contain it immediately. Just as

somebody wouldn’t need a reason to hate cockroaches, he didn’t need a reason

to hate commoners. A look of panic showed on his face—he looked desperate.

“That’s a lie.”

“Your reason for thinking that?” asked Romantica.

“If you were truly a commoner, you would have kept your mouth shut and

joined my party. That would be the only way a commoner like you could have

entered the Alpha Class,” explained Doneta.

“That’s right,” Romantica admitted it. “But when they found out I was a

commoner, at least they didn’t look at me like you.” Doneta was right—if she

joined the Blue Moon Party, she would have an easy time entering the Alpha

Class. In contrast, Desir instead invited her to his party even though he knew

she was a commoner. There was no discrimination. She didn’t have to lie, or

fear that she would be outed for being a commoner.

“I see.” Doneta opened his mouth. “Of course. You’re all the same trash, after

all.” His bitter tone was reflected in his demeanor.

“Trash... you’ve got that right,” said Romantica. Her voice carried the same

bitterness as Doneta’s, as she answered him, her voice filled with remorse.

“Nobles will always hate commoners. They hate and despise them as if they’re

biological enemies. I know very well why you nobles can’t stand commoners.

“It’s the same reason Hebrion Academy is an aristocracy instead of a

meritocracy—the same reason why Alpha and Beta aren’t divided based on

rank, but status. The reason is that you nobles are afraid of the birth of a new

Republic.”

“...Watch your mouth.” Doneta whispered back immediately. His eyes shifted

side to side and he looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention.

Romantica ignored him and laid the final nail in the coffin. “Times have

changed. The Shadow Worlds have toppled the balance. Anyone strong enough

can acquire magic crystals. You’re all living in a castle of sand and it’s

crumbling.”

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Her voice now reinvigorated, Romantica said, “You live in constant fear, not

knowing when everything will collapse.”