Chapter 19

Beaten, bruised, and on his knees, Abel spat blood onto the floor. It was an odd spectacle for some, but nothing uncommon for him. This was Abel’s daily life.

“Stop. No more.”

“Just a little longer. A few more minutes…”

“You won’t stop?”

“Ugh!”

Elka’s chop sent the light fading from Abel’s blood-red eyes in an instant. She knocked him out so easily, like it was child’s play. Abel was drained of mana and far past his physical limits. He had nothing left to resist her with.

“Seriously. Is this really what you want? I wonder about this more every day… Gela, would you mind?”

“Yes, Lady Elka.”

“Healing.”

As the woman named Gela chanted the word, Abel’s body was enveloped in green light, bringing him back from the verge of death as if he’d only scraped a knee.

“How many times is that today?” asked Elka.

“At least fifty, I believe,” the woman responded.

“You’re insane, really. Sorry for all the trouble we’re causing you.”

“Whatever do you mean? I find no greater joy than in using my power to repay just a small fraction of the many favors I have received from you, Lady Elka.”

“Stubborn as always. You really should’ve been a priest like I told you, but you just won’t compromise on your beliefs, will you?”

“The temples only offer healing to those with the money to pay them, and I could never accept that.”

“Heh, and that makes you weird. Not like I’m one to talk, though, I suppose.”

Elka looked down at Abel, lying on the ground before her.

He has no talent for the sword. He can use magic, but he’s not much good with that either. The boy chases strength like he’s possessed.

It was precisely because Elka knew the reason why he wanted to become stronger that she felt she couldn’t stop him.

“It would be easier to tell him to give up if there were no path available to him.”

Abel was unable to use elemental magic, of course, and could only use one non-elemental spell.

That single spell was the key. It unlocked the path that Abel could take to reach new heights, for better or worse. Unfortunately, that path was so narrow and rough that most ordinary people wouldn’t consider it a road at all.

“I’m so happy! Really, truly, I was so worried about what I’d do if I didn’t have anything. But now, with this, I…I just have to move forward.”

There was a path to the top, and the moment Abel learned of it, he began to smile. Elka would never forget the way he grinned—like he was possessed by something. Just knowing that a path was available was enough for Abel, no matter what might await him on the journey.

That was the day that Elka renewed her resolve.

Abel is going to break apart. He’ll smash himself into pieces if I’m not there to guide him…

Elka worried herself sick about him. She would sometimes sit up at night fretting until the morning light came shining in through the curtains.

I want Abel to be happy.

Elka was single-minded in that thought. She wanted to take him by the shoulders and say,

“Stop. Give up. Strength isn’t everything. There are so many more choices available to you in life.”

She imagined herself telling him that so many times, but…

“…I could never say the words.”

Whenever she saw Abel’s eyes brimming with that crazed determination, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Elka knew those eyes, and she understood that nothing she could say to him would make a difference. Abel was never going to stop, because he couldn’t. That was why Elka had to make up her own mind, and she did.

She resolved to walk that path of carnage right alongside him.

***

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Here I come, then.”

In an instant, Alfred vanished into thin air. He moved with such speed that no normal person could track him with the naked eye. Then came a flash of light and metal as Alfred delivered a horizontal slash. The difference in build between the two of them could not be overcome, and Luke had no hope of winning on strength alone. He could not handle receiving such blows head-on, and that was why Luke instead sought to perfect his technique.

With perfect timing, he angled his sword precisely to knock Alfred’s blade against the flat, thick ridge of his sword. Most would have had to spend years of mind-numbing training to achieve such feats, but to Luke, it was as easy as breathing. It was a beautiful parry, but completely within the bounds of what Alfred expected of his student. He expected Luke to be so good as a matter of course and planned his moves anticipating the block. He kicked at his opponent—a nonstandard move to be sure, and a far cry from the honorable, legitimate sword-fighting arts of the kingdom. It was meant to catch Luke off guard and nothing else. He managed to twist his torso to avoid it, but that wasn’t the end. Without a second’s delay, he thrust at Alfred.

Brilliant! His natural responses to a surprise attack… He turned the dodge into an ambush of his own!

Thoughts of admiration filled Alfred’s head, but he dismissed them at once.

I must put everything I have into this fight, move with the intent to kill him, or this will be no contest.

Alfred bent himself backwards, twisting through the air to both dodge Luke’s attack and place some distance between the two of them. In doing so, he fired off an uppercut kick, which Luke also dodged effortlessly.

“Ah ha ha! Swordplay can be such fun!”

Now on the offense, Luke charged in and swung his sword upwards in a diagonal slash. Alfred blocked and countered, which earned him a brutal chain of attacks in response. Luke struck quick as lightning, moved swift as a whirlwind as he delivered blow after blow. Alfred had no time for even a misplaced breath. The sparring, however, filled the two of them with the same emotion—excitement.

Diagonal slashes, descending strikes, blocks, counters, kicks, upward slashes, parries, feints, shoves, leg sweeps…

Nothing’s off the table in a sword fight; not if you’re aiming for victory. There could be no compromise. Alfred felt the familiar chill of the battlefield, the excitement of dancing with death, but couldn’t escape the faint nagging of his own inadequacies.

Tch. I hate growing old.

The match, which had seemed like it might continue forever, was suddenly brought to a swift end.

“I win, Alfred.”

“Indeed. I expected nothing less, Master Luke.”

Luke pressed his blade to his butler’s throat.

“I regret that I’ll never be able to fight you in your prime,” said the boy.

Alfred chuckled. “I was thinking the exact same thing. I would only be a mere challenger to your strength, of course.”

“Hey now. You’re supposed to be my mentor.”

There’s been nothing for me to teach you for so long now, Alfred thought to himself. To be honest, I don’t think we should be sparring together any longer. Fighting too many battles against the same opponent just encourages bad habits.

The fact that Alfred was still crossing swords with Luke was partly because he had yet to find him a more suitable partner, but it was also a result of Alfred’s own selfish, overpowering desire to keep crossing swords with Luke. He wanted to feel the power of Luke’s sword against his own.

But I have to put a stop to this sooner or later. In any case, I’m not strong enough for him anymore. He really is incredible.

When Luke’s elemental magic awakened, Alfred expected that he would discard his sword practice, but he never did. The realization that he would be able to see Luke fight with a sword again brought Alfred such indescribable joy. It was, however, an unavoidable fact that he needed to find Luke a suitable sparring partner. It was just as he was mulling the issue over that Alfred heard the sound.

Clap, clap, clap.

A sarcastic round of applause. Luke and Alfred both turned to see Alice looking at them.

“You really do have a taste for swordplay. That was wonderful.”

Alfred bowed to their guest, and Luke made no attempt to hide his displeasure at the gesture.

“Alfred. Prepare my bath.”

“Yes, Master Luke.”

As Luke turned to leave, he became aware of an unpleasant panting coming from somewhere behind him. He stopped in his tracks.

“I told you to stop doing that. Have you forgotten already?”

“Perhaps I have. What are you g-going to do if I don’t st-stop? Beat me?” she questioned breathlessly. “You’ll use your f-finely h-honed sword techniques to rip my clothes to shreds and h-humiliate me, I suppose?”

“Enough. Go home.”

Luke couldn’t bear it anymore. Only a few days had passed since his short fight against Alice, but he already hated her. Perhaps “hate” was too strong a word, but he certainly would prefer to stay far away from her. He found her off-putting and hard to understand.

“I do think you should listen to what I have to say,” said Alice.

“I don’t imagine anything you could say to me would be worth listening to. Hurry up and go—”

“You and I are to be bound by marriage,” she interjected.

“—home… Huh?”

Luke dropped the towel that he’d been using to wipe the sweat from his brow. I understand the words individually, but this doesn’t make sense. My brain is completely refusing to process this situation.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m not lying. I heard it from my own father this morning, and I accepted. It made me happy.”

“…Wait a minute. My head hurts.”

Luke set the gears in his mind turning at a rapid speed.

I met Alice at the party just recently. Why is this happening? It’s so fast… Way too fast. The only person who could do something like this is…

Father! This was your doing!

Luke immediately struck upon the answer.

My father’s so capable it’s coming back to bite me! How the heck does he already have this completely arranged after only a few days?! The offers of engagements were just talk, right? I could have handled them! Of all the girls in the world, why did he pick this one?! Argh!

It would be one thing if the betrothal was still under discussion, but since it’s settled, I’m stuck. Breaking off an engagement means losing face. The house of Gilbert is not likely to care much about that, but the will of Luke within me cares a lot. It would be unacceptable to take actions that bring shame to the family name.

“Why…?” I lamented. “Why is this happening…?”

“Ah, it c-can’t be… I…I’m so sad to see that this upsets you.”

Alice was flushed and breathless.

“You changed everything about me, Luke. I feel we may have a fated connection, and yet…” She paused. “You don’t feel the same, do you?”

“No.”

“I see. However, there would be three advantages to this arrangement for you.”

“Go on then. What would those advantages be?”

Alice’s breathing only got rougher as they continued, her face growing redder by the minute. Luke looked at her with disdain, unable to understand what was happening to her. Quite frankly, he found her behavior unsettling. His sharp looks only made Alice unravel further, and so the vicious cycle went on.

“First, there is the fact that the house of Lonsdale has a high aptitude for magic. If the two of us marry, our descendants are practically guaranteed to be gifted and powerful.”

“…”

“Next, there’s the fact that I am of unparalleled beauty.”

“…”

“Having me at your side will increase your status as a man,” she continued. “There are some doors a man cannot open without a beautiful woman as his partner, are there not? The same goes for women, I suppose.”

…How is she managing to say all this with a straight face?

“Lastly, you will never be stressed if you marry me.”

“And why is that?”

“I am confident that I can accommodate a-any and all of your, ah, desires, no matter h-how intense they might be… Aha…ha…”

“…”

With that, the remaining strength drained from Luke’s legs, and he fell to the ground as Alice writhed and fidgeted.

Why is this happening?

Where did I go wrong?

He racked his brain for answers and found nothing. He was tired and resorted to turning his eyes away from the reality before him.

Amelia-san recommended Aslan Magic Academy, didn’t she? It sounds like it’s hard to get into. I’m going to need to try my best… Ha ha…ha… Ah, man.

“Are you okay, Luke?”

Luke answered Alice’s question with stony silence.

***

Meanwhile, Claude leaned back in his chair in his personal study. A slight smile troubled his dignified expression as he waited impatiently for his son to come running through the door in a fit of ecstasy.