CHAPTER 5
WILHELM VAN ASTREA
1
—Let us speak of the man named Wilhelm Trias.
Wilhelm was born the third son of the Trias family, a family of local nobles in the Kingdom of Lugunica.
The Trias family was an old, storied family granted land along the kingdom's northernmost border with the Holy Kingdom of Gusteko. This said, its fame as a family of warriors was a thing of the past; by the time of Wilhelm's birth, it had become a small, weak baronial family, with only a meager fief and a tiny populace to its name.
In real terms, it was no more than an example of nobility fallen from grace.
Wilhelm's brothers were well removed from him in age, and his upbringing had no connection to inheritance of family leadership. Furthermore, he, lacking the aptitude for civil government of his brothers, encountered wielding the sword as his one path leading to a future.
The sword decorating the great hall of their mansion had once been used by a string of men in the Trias family to gain fame as warriors for the kingdom, but to the present Trias family, it was simply a treasured sword to be admired on a wall.
Even Wilhelm did not remember what triggered it.
But when he drew the treasured sword, which he had never before even set hands upon, out of its scabbard, the way he was instantly captivated by the beauty of the steel—that, he remembered distinctly.
Before he knew it, he'd been taking the family sword on his own to the mountains out back, swinging it from morning till night.
The first time he touched the sword, he was eight; he became accustomed to the length and weight of the blade, and when his limbs grew so that they were no longer mismatched, Wilhelm was fourteen, and the finest sword wielder of the domain.
"I'll go to the capital and enter the royal army. Then I'll become a knight."
And it was at fourteen years old that Wilhelm spoke those words and ran off from home, carrying the brainless dream any boy had thought of at least once.
The trigger was on the night of a storm when he had an argument with his oldest brother. His brother had begun a "What will you do for your future?" lecture to Wilhelm, immersed in only the sword and minded to associate with brats and scoundrels in the territory.
Through swinging a sword, he'd felt himself growing stronger and stronger, and that by itself had made him happy. And so, the older brother's words toward his younger, lacking any ambition for the future, were very strict. He had piled sound argument upon sound argument, and Wilhelm, deficient in words, spoke those words as the prelude to his flying out the door.
He followed them with his trademark phrase, "You can't understand how I feel!" and left, and in truth, the result was that Wilhelm left his family with nothing but a sword and a small amount of money.
It was an unplanned departure, but Wilhelm was able to safely reach the royal capital.
Wilhelm, triumphant as he arrived, made his way to the Royal Palace with all haste, and records note that he entered the royal army as a common soldier.
If it were the current era, a stray ruffian arriving in an attempt to pass through the castle gate under such circumstances would have been rightfully and properly turned away. However, at that time, there was a civil war with an alliance of demi-human tribes centered upon the eastern lands of the kingdom—the Demi-human War had long continued, and the urgency was so great that no number of volunteers seemed enough.
It was then that a boy appeared, selling himself as having fair skill in the sword. He was welcomed with both hands, and Wilhelm entered the royal army without the slightest hindrance.
Thus, unconnected to setbacks or travails, Wilhelm stepped onto the field of his first battle.
There, for the first time, the boy came to know the wall called reality. His skill with the blade, unmatched on his home soil, served nothing against veterans of the field of battle, and he was confronted by his own recklessness and conceit.
Such was the hardship of youth, the baptism of one's first battle.
—Yes. By rights, it should have been like that for anyone.
But in truth, without ever having faced live combat, Wilhelm's skill with the sword easily surpassed fifteen normal youths put together.
"What? They really weren't as tough as I thought."
In his first battle, the boy soldier had built a mountain of demi-human corpses, and from atop that mound, he thrust his sword into his attackers.
No one could behold him and not feel afraid of the bloodstained future that awaited him.
Wilhelm's abnormal strength in the sword was multiplied over the days he swung a sword in his homeland. From morning to evening, until his energy gave out, Wilhelm had lived by continuing to swing the sword—every day, from age eight to fourteen, six years without pause.
Even once he had entered the royal army, his lifestyle of devoting every free moment to the sword did not change.
Within the same unit, there were perhaps one or two people who reached out to Wilhelm, but he rebuffed their overtures, immersing himself only in the sword for days and months until the boy became a man.
Unbroken by reality, yet unsatisfied with himself, Wilhelm continued to swing a sword on the field of battle, unable to quench the feeling of gloom within him.
With his blade, by rending the flesh of others, bathing in their blood, and taking the lives of his opponents, he proved that he was stronger—and he knew that only in those moments did a dark joy sprout within him.
As knowledge of his skill with the sword spread, the name of the ruralborn swordsman who refused all promotion, to knight or anything else, became known in both the royal army and the Demi-human Alliance by the alternative name of Sword Devil—a devil of the sword, rushing across the battlefield, and smiling only when cutting a person down.
It was a name that became synonymous with fright and hatred, and both friend and foe steered wide of him.
His exploits were beyond counting, and yet, there was no question of promoting Wilhelm to knight.
He did not associate with others, stoically devoting himself to the sword, rampaging on the battlefield without regard for his allies, leaping into the enemy formation, dancing as he made flowers of blood bloom.
Such a man could not be worthy of a flowery title such as "knight."
In a kingdom with a long tradition of chivalry, Wilhelm's existence was loathed as an interloper regardless of his many services to the nation.
And Wilhelm himself never once thought of changing that circumstance.
He did not think like a knight, with their high pride, regard for the lives of others, and their tendency to polish the nobility of their own souls. When he fought, he killed people; he made their blood flow and smashed their lives to pieces. He, who took more joy in that than anything, was not suited for knighthood, and if it stopped him from being able to enjoy that, he wanted nothing to do with being a knight.
His longing for battle was warped, but over a great deal of time, the heart of the young man named Wilhelm rotted.
And it was when he was eighteen—when he had been in the royal army for three years, and when none in the army knew not the name "Sword Devil"—that a gap in that heart was born.
2
She had beautiful, long red hair, and from the side, her face was so pretty it made him shiver.
With the enlargement of the battle lines, Wilhelm was temporarily sent back to the royal capital from the front lines, forced to take leave that he suggested was unnecessary.
Separated from the battlefield, and the rampant smell of blood, gunpowder, and death, Wilhelm, with too much time on his hands, slipped out of the castle gates with his beloved sword in hand, heading for the lower parts of the capital.
Since running out on his own family, the treasured sword he had taken with him in lieu of a parting gift of coin had become greatly worn, but over the course of ten years, he was used to that beloved blade like none other. It was not that he could not use other swords, but when he was bent on taking the lives of others, that sword was indeed best.
Walking all alone, Wilhelm headed down a street in the lower quarter with no sign of life. His destination was the very edge of the royal capital, a run-down district that had been abandoned midway through its construction.
The capital went from the Nobles' District through Market Street, continuing through the Commons, and the abandoned district had apparently been conceived a ways back, but construction had been aborted quite some time prior with no sign of resuming anytime soon. The word was it would likely stay that way until the civil war was resolved.
"..."
In the morning, the unfinished district had no signs of human life, and if any did exist, it would be scum gathering there for no good purpose. They were cowards that would scatter like baby spiders if a little antagonism hit them.
Of late, not even those outlaws had come close to the Sword Devil, wholly devoted to the blade, unafraid and unawares when he entered the unfinished district on his days off.
"Just as well, I suppose."
The reason Wilhelm swung his sword in the lower city rather than at the parade grounds of the Royal Palace was so that his ears would be undisturbed by annoying voices, immersing himself into a silent world where he was alone.
Wilhelm no longer sought to measure his skill by crossing swords with others.
He turned toward the swordsman he imagined in the back of his mind, counterattacking his unleashed steel. The training he had continued since his youth always had Wilhelm crossing swords with the person he considered his greatest foe.
"Aren't you a bad looker?"
His eyes oozed with bloodlust; his lips were contorted in madness.
The empty-eyed swordsman with whom he crossed swords every day was his reflection in the mirror.
—To Wilhelm, his greatest enemy was always himself.
This was not in a philosophical sense but rather, a realistic view of his might.
On the battlefield, he confronted his opponents—in other words, he took their lives. Having survived the battlefield, on the edge of life-and-death, there had been none on the field of battle to date that was mightier than he.
Then what worthy rival was there to cross swords with than he, a man he could not kill no matter how hard he tried?
Therefore, during his leave, he went to a place devoid of others to immerse in a sword dance against himself.
For it was only there, in a sword drama none should ever yearn for in reality, that he truly felt what it meant to be alive—
"Ah, I'm quite sorry."
That day, the sight of a beautiful girl was the foreign element wedging itself into the Sword Devil's world.
To swing his sword and meet himself in deadly combat—Wilhelm, on his way to the unfinished district with that aim, stopped when he noticed a different guest ahead of him.
Normally, the heart of the unfinished district Wilhelm used was a completely empty space. The footing was comparatively level, and the breadth made it an ideal place for him—and yet, a foreign element rested in Wilhelm's place of relaxation, tilting its head slightly toward him.
"To think someone would come to a place like this, and so early in the morning—"
" "
The girl addressed Wilhelm with a little smile.
But Wilhelm responded to the greeting with a simple slap of his antagonistic aura to drive her away.
He felt as if he was shooing away an annoying insect. An amateur amid such antagonism would beat a hasty retreat; even a man of skill would likely perceive Wilhelm's level of skill and do likewise.
But the girl did nothing of the sort.
"…What is the matter? Such a scary face."
She parried Wilhelm's antagonism, continuing her words as if it were nothing.
Wilhelm felt annoyed, clicking his tongue.
This was an opponent upon whom such hostility was ineffective—in other words, someone completely unrelated to the martial arts. At the very least, someone upon whom violence was effective would have shown some reaction to Wilhelm's antagonism.
But to someone unconnected to such things, it was simple coercion. Depending on the opponent, someone might even receive it with a simple narrowing of the eyes.
In the case of the individual before him, she was a shining example of the latter.
"Woman, what are you doing here on a morning like this?"
He hurled abuse at her, but she had yet to release Wilhelm from her gaze.
The girl made a little "hmm…" at Wilhelm's words, then said, "I would like to ask you the very same thing, but that would be a bit too mean, yes?
Your face says you have no sense of humor."
"There are many dangerous men in this area. I cannot approve of a woman for walking around it alone."
"Ah, are you worried about me?"
"It is possible that I am one of those dangerous men…"
Wilhelm replied sarcastically to the girl's lighthearted comment, making a sound with the hilt of his sword to announce the presence of his weapon. But the girl did not turn an eye to Wilhelm's action, pointing behind her as she said, "Over here."
The girl, sitting on a stairway, shifted her finger to a building opposite that against which she leaned. As it was a place Wilhelm could not see from his position, his brows furled at being invited to come closer.
"It is not that I do not wish to see, but…"
"Never mind that, come on, come on."
Wilhelm's cheek twitched at the tone, like that used when coddling a child, but he calmed himself and went over to her. He walked alongside the woman higher up on the stairway, leaning forward to peer at what lay on the other side.
"..."
On the other side, the hot rays of the morning sun were shining on a broad, yellow flower garden.
With Wilhelm at a loss for words, the girl lowered her voice and confessed her secret to him in a whisper.
"They stopped maintaining this district quite some time ago, yes? I thought no one would come, so I planted some flowers. I came over to see the results for myself."
Wilhelm had walked that way many times, but not once had he noticed the presence of the flower garden, even though all it would have taken to see them was for him to stretch his back a little higher and broaden his vision.
With Wilhelm's mouth remaining closed, the girl looked at the side of his face and asked, "Do you like flowers?"
He turned to her, seeing the small, gentle smile her face made as he stared.
"No, I hate them," he replied in a low voice, curling his lips.
3
From then on, Wilhelm and the girl continued to encounter each other from time to time.
On his days off, Wilhelm would walk to the unfinished district in the morning, only to find her having arrived ahead of him, bathed in a quiet wind as she gazed at the flowers.
Then, when she noticed that Wilhelm had arrived, she would ask him,
"Do you like flowers now?"
He would deny it with a shake of his head, immersing himself in swinging the sword, acting like he had forgotten her very existence.
When his sweat flowed and he raised his head, finishing his deadly struggle with himself, he would see the girl still there.
"You really have a lot of time on your hands," he'd always say in a sarcastic voice.
He thought that, bit by bit, the amount of time they spent speaking gradually increased.
They always spoke after he'd swung his sword, but he began to exchange a few words before swinging his sword as well, and the conversations after he swung his sword also became a little longer.
Gradually, he went to that place at an even earlier hour, sometimes arriving to the flower garden before the girl. "Ah, you are so early today," the girl would say, a regretful smile coming over her.
—It must have been three months since meeting her like that before they'd exchanged names.
The girl called herself Theresia, adding, "For now," sticking out her tongue a little.
When Wilhelm replied with his introduction, she pouted when he said, "I've been calling you Flower Girl until now."
He thought that exchanging names meant intruding onto each other's circumstances to some small degree. To date, their exchanges had been harmless and inoffensive, but their quality steadily began to change.
One day, Theresia asked him, "Why do you swing the sword?"
Without a moment's concern, Wilhelm replied, "Because it is all I have."
As was typical, Wilhelm's return to military duty was greeted with days filled with the scent of fresh blood.
In due course, the civil war with the demi-humans had intensified; over and over, he casually carried out his missions, slipping past an enemy's magic into his flank, slicing him from toe to chin.
He rushed overland, broke through the wind, flew into the enemy camp, and sent the general's head flying. He returned to his own camp with the head impaled on the tip of his sword, and bathed in gazes of acclamation and fright, he exhaled.
Suddenly, he realized that on the battlefield below his feet, even as blood flowed, there were flowers blooming, swaying in the wind.
And now, without being conscious of it, he took care not to tread upon them.
"Do you like flowers now?"
"No, I hate them."
"Why do you swing the sword?"
"Because that is all I have."
It was his ritualistic exchange with Theresia—when they spoke about flowers, Wilhelm was able to reply with a small smile. But when they spoke of the sword, somehow, it felt painful to give his stock reply.
Why did he swing a sword?
I have nothing else, he thought day after day, and there, his thought process had ended.
When he seriously pondered the question in search of an answer, Wilhelm turned back all the way to the day he had first held a sword in his hand.
At the time, Wilhelm was yet to know that the sword in his hand would be bathed in blood.
When Wilhelm saw himself reflected in the light gleaming off the pristine steel blade, what had he thought?
One day, still in a vortex of thought, unable to come up with an answer, his feet took him to the usual place.
His steps grew heavy, for he was filled with gloom at how he would face the girl waiting for him.
Perhaps it was the first time in his life that he had worried his head about such a thing.
Had he not continued swinging a sword without needing to think?
Just when he had resolved to give such a nasty reply…
"—Wilhelm."
…the girl, there in place ahead of him, looked back with a small smile as she called his name.
—Suddenly, his soul shuddered.
His feet halted, and he could not help feeling nauseous.
Suddenly, Wilhelm was assailed by a realization that seemed to crush his body.
When he sought to cast everything aside with such a conclusion, that he had swung the sword without a thought, a variety of things he'd stopped thinking about and set aside suddenly spewed forth.
He didn't understand the reason. The trigger wasn't set in stone. That moment, the bulwark he had raised so long ago had abruptly reached its limit.
Why did he swing the sword?
Why had he started to swing the sword?
He yearned for the glimmer of the sword, the strength, the purity of living by the blade.
There was that, too. There was that also, but surely, it had begun somewhere else.
"I have to do what my older brothers can't."
It was because swinging a sword was a field largely neglected by his older brothers.
Yet even so, it was because his brothers sought to protect their family in their own way that he, so useless to them, sought his own, different way to defend them.
Was that not why he was captivated by the strength and glimmer of a blade?
"Do you like flowers now?"
"…I do not hate them."
"Why do you swing the sword?"
"It is all I… I could think of no other way to protect others."
Ever since, the previous ritualistic exchange of words ceased to be.
In place, he thought that their topics shifted around quite a bit. Before he realized it, he was heading there not with the aim of swinging a sword, but to meet Theresia.
In a place where he should have been swinging his sword without a thought, his head somehow came to find that insufficient, and topics shifted to places away from the sword.
Until then, his fighting style had been to charge single-handedly into the enemy formation and take as many heads as he could, but somewhere along the line, that changed to him running around with a focus on diminishing harm to his allies any way he could.
The sight of him prioritizing his companions' safety over slaying the enemy naturally resulted in a change in how others saw him.
Old war comrades that had stuck with Wilhelm since his bad-behavior days were both delighted at the change in him and conflicted by it…
…for the number of people who spoke to him and that he spoke to both increased.
Previously unheard-of calls for his promotion to knight arose, and he spent only a small amount of time weighing the matter before accepting.
Deep down, he, too, found having such prestige better than not.
"There were calls for my promotion, so I became a knight."
"I see. Congratulations. That makes you one step closer to your dream, doesn't it?"
"Dream?"
"You took up the sword to protect people, didn't you? And a knight is someone who protects others."
He felt that, among the things he wanted to protect, her smiling face stood out.
4
More time passed.
Having become a knight, and coming into contact with more people within the army, the information reaching his ears naturally increased.
The deeply bogged-down civil war continued, with an advance on one front matched by retreat from the next. Wilhelm, too, experienced not only victorious battles but defeats as well.
Along the way, he spent his days continuing to struggle to protect those within reach of his sword, while bitterly regretting those things that were beyond his reach.
It was by happenstance he heard that the fires of war had shifted to the land of the House of Trias.
That fact casually reached Wilhelm's ears from a newfound companion inside the army. Namely, that the civil war that had begun in the kingdom's east had broadened, reaching all the way to the Trias domain in the north.
There was no order given.
So long as a knight did not forget the position allotted to him, it was impermissible for him to act on his own. But to Wilhelm, embracing once more his feelings from the time he first grasped a sword, such things meant nothing.
By the time he rushed to his beloved homeland, the advancing enemy army had already turned it into a sea of flame.
When the scenery that he had abandoned over five years before faded before the reality of more familiar sights, Wilhelm drew his blade, raised his voice, and dashed into the bloody mists.
He cut down his foes, trod over their corpses, and shouted until his throat grew parched as he bathed in blood spatter.
The enemy's numbers were overwhelming. There were no reinforcements, and it was a land weak in fighting strength to begin with.
Until that point, he had meant to fight in battle on his strength alone, but he learned the price, taking one wound and then another—becoming unable to move.
Collapsing atop a pile of corpses, crushed before the numbers of the enemy force that still showed no signs of running dry, Wilhelm understood that death was coming before his eyes.
The beloved sword that had long been with him fell by the wayside, for his fingertips were too numb and lifeless to hold it aloft.
With his eyes closed, he looked back at half his life, during which he had done nothing but swing a sword.
It was a lonely life—a life with nothing.
Along with that conclusion came a momentary sight—and along the way, one face after another flashed before him. He remembered them one by one: his parents, his two older brothers, the bad friends he had hung out with in the domain, his comrades and superiors from the royal army—and finally, that of Theresia, with flowers behind her.
"I don't want to die…"
It should have been his true hope to live by the sword and die by the sword. But faced with the actual result of his way of life, devoting everything to steel, Wilhelm, with the end he should have desired before his eyes, was stricken with an unbearable feeling of loneliness.
The enemy soldier that had cut down so many of his comrades would not honor the final words he had let slip. Inhumanly large in body, they mercilessly swung their great sword down at Wilhelm—
" "
—He would eternally remember the beauty of the slash that lashed out.
A storm of swords blew, and in course, the demi-human's limbs, head, and torso were cleanly severed.
A great uproar spread among the enemy force, but the racing silver flash was faster, easily inflicting death in large quantities.
Splattered blood rose up, the death cries did not cease, and the demihumans' lives were shaved away.
The all-too-vivid slashes did not register even with those struck by them, managing no expression as their lives were snuffed out.
Whether such acts were cruelty or mercy, no one knew.
As to what was known, there was but a single thing—
—Surely he could not reach that realm of the blade in a lifetime, or even eternity.
He had lived by swinging a blade, devoting the majority of his notoverly-long life to that purpose. And because of that, it was Wilhelm who could keenly comprehend the heights of the swordsmanship repeated over and over before his very eyes.
So, too, the fact that it was a realm he, a man of no talent, could never reach.
If Wilhelm had created a valley of bloody mist in his homeland, it was truly a sea of blood that spread before his eyes. The literal mountain of corpses piled atop one another had no comparison.
The silver flash did not cease its dance until every demi-human invading the Trias lands had ceased breathing.
Having witnessed the overwhelming slaughter to the end, he was carried out by late-arriving comrades from the royal army. They shouted various things and tended to his wounds, but Wilhelm never took his eyes off the sight.
Finally, the slender long sword wavered, and the sword fighter finally walked off.
Wilhelm shuddered when he realized that the sword fighter had not been bathed in a single drop of spattered blood.
He reached out with his hand but could not reach the back moving away. Most likely, the distance between them was not a physical one alone.
It was when he returned to the royal capital that he heard the true name of the one bearing the alias of Sword Saint.
It was around the same time that the name of the Sword Saint began to reverberate in every land in the stead of Wilhelm the Sword Devil.
Sword Saint—once upon a time, that was the legendary being who had cut down the Witch bringing calamity to the world.
To that day, the men beloved by the sword god were of the blood of that single family, and it was through that direct bloodline that one generation's superman was born after another.
The name of the Sword Saint of that generation had never been public even once—so, too, until that time.
5
It was several days later that his battle wounds had healed and he made his way to the usual place.
Gripping the hilt of his beloved sword, Wilhelm quietly trod the soil as he headed for the flower garden.
He was certain she would be there.
And in accordance with his firm belief, Theresia was sitting in that place, no different from before.
"..."
Before she could look back, Wilhelm drew his sword and leaped at her.
Just before the semicircular cut would have split the girl's head—she caught the tip of his sword with two fingertips, bringing it to a halt.
A sound of wonder caught in Wilhelm's throat as a malevolent smile came over his lips. "Humiliating."
"…Is that so?"
"Were you laughing at me?"
"..."
"Go ahead and laugh, Theresia…no, Sword Saint—Theresia van
Astrea!!"
With all his might, he raised his sword high and sliced at her again, but she evaded by a single hair in an undisturbed motion.
A moment after the dance of her red hair stole his eyes, his feet were swept from under him, unable to break the fall as he was cruelly sent crashing down.
Even without a sword in her hand, the Sword Devil's blade could not reach the Sword Saint.
An impregnable wall, a preposterous difference was now evident between them.
"I will not be coming here anymore."
Several times more, Wilhelm went slicing after her, and each time, he was struck by a counterattack and beaten to the ground.
At some point, his beloved blade was snatched from him, and as it rested in her hand, he was beaten by the hilt until he was unable to move.
So far. So very weak. He could not reach. It was not enough.
"Don't hold a sword with…that face…"
"I do, for I am the Sword Saint. I did not understand the reason why I was, but I understand now."
"Reason, you say…!"
"You swing the sword to protect others. I think I can do that, too."
It was Wilhelm who had given Theresia, the girl who loved flowers, who could find no meaning in gripping a sword, that reason—all the more because she was stronger than anyone, the furthest beyond the reach of anyone's sword.
"W-wait, Theresia…"
"..."
"I'll take your sword from you. As if I care about your blessing or your role. Don't underestimate swinging the sword…or the beauty of the blade,
Sword Saint…!"
The woman did not stop. Her back grew distant.
All that was left behind was a lone, foolish devil, speaking of the sword to her, who was loved by the sword.
Afterward, the two would never meet there again.
6
The Sword Devil vanished from the royal army; in his place, the name of the Sword Saint spread within it.
A knight worth a thousand men—with hard fighting by Theresia, the embodiment of those words, the civil war tilted in their favor. Though a single person, her martial feats were beyond the realm of any individual, and the alias of Sword Saint resounded—even the demi-humans versed in the old legends despaired.
It took two years after the Sword Saint emerged on the battlefield for the civil war to end.
The Demi-human Alliance lost those who carried it upon their shoulders, and when peace talks were carried out somewhere between the current leaders on both sides, it announced that at minimum, the fight between those bearing swords had come to an end.
Blessed by the end of the long-running civil war, the royal capital gently opened up and began to flower.
A ceremony had been planned where a powerful, beautiful Sword Saint would be granted several medals. People throughout the kingdom traveled to the capital to glimpse the sight of Theresia, the red-haired Sword Saint—the hero whose passion had single-handedly brought the long suffering from wild war to an end.
—It was then that the Sword Devil unexpectedly descended, as if to slice that passion asunder.
The soldiers on guard became agitated from the incredible antagonism rising from a man with a naked blade in his hand. But it was none other than the Sword Saint, the flower of the ceremony, who checked them and advanced to the fore.
Each turned their sword toward the other, almost as if walking onto a prearranged stage.
When her long, red hair fluttered in the wind, none failed to hold their breath at the sight of her facing the intruder. It was difficult to find words for an appearance with such refined beauty, yet so at one with the blade.
The malevolent antagonism of the individual facing the Sword Saint was the polar opposite. Both the brown mantle over him and the skin underneath were filthy all over from rainwater and caked mud. Even the sword in his hand was meager compared to the ceremonial holy blade the Sword Saint held in hers. The blade of the well-made sword was crooked, with reddishbrown rust all over it.
Though the king was seated on the same stage they were on, he halted the knights attempting to go to the Sword Saint's aid. When the Sword Saint stepped forward and her swordplay glimmered, all pulled their chins back, and none raised a voice, watching in silence.
At the beginning, no doubt many found the two figures having vanished from their sight.
Blade recoiled from blade again and again; high-pitched sounds shot past the spectators.
There was a chain of glimmers and sounds of steel as the two figures danced upon the stage at a dizzying speed.
Soon, those witnessing the spectacle had lost their voices, their hearts going to and fro, overwhelmed with a vast sense of admiration.
They battled with incredible force, switching where they stood, from the ground to the walls to the very air as the swordplay of the two sword fighters blurred. Some even realized that the sight had brought them to tears.
But as they listened to the orchestra of echoing steel, they instinctively shuddered, intoxicated by the sublime sight.
They thought, is this really a realm that people can reach?
Can the beauty of the sword truly instill such deep feelings in others?
Their swordplay intermingled, with locked swords, flashing tips, and repeated recoils.
And finally…
" "
…the discolored blade snapped in half, its tip sent flying, spinning round and round in the air.
Then, the hand in which rested the Sword Saint's ceremonial sword— "Victory…"
"..."
"Victory…is mine."
The holy sword audibly dropped to the ground, and the broken sword's warped tip came to rest just short of the Sword Saint's throat.
The spectacle made time stop, and all knew.
The Sword Saint had lost.
"You're weaker than me, so you have no reason to wield a sword."
"If not me…then who?"
"I'll carry on your reason for swinging a sword. You just need to become…my reason to swing one."
He lifted up the hood of his outer garment. The sullen face of Wilhelm glared at Theresia from under the dark, filthy cloth.
Theresia shook her head a little at Wilhelm's behavior.
"You are a terrible person. You've made a person's determination, resolve, everything all go to waste."
"I'll carry on everything that's gone to waste. You can forget about gripping a sword and just take it… Yes, that's it. You can raise flowers and live in peace and quiet behind me."
"Protected by your sword?"
"That's right."
"You'll protect me?"
"That's right."
Theresia placed her hand against the flat of the sword thrust toward her, taking a step forward.
The two faced each other, close enough to feel each other's breath.
Tears welled in Theresia's damp eyes, but they only conveyed her little smile as they fell.
"Do you like flowers?"
"I stopped hating them."
"Why do you swing the sword?"
"To protect you."
The distance closed as their faces drew close; finally, it vanished.
When she drew back from the touch of their lips, Theresia's cheeks were red. She gently stared at Wilhelm as she asked, "Do you love me?"
He averted his face and bluntly stated, "—You know I do."
Just then, the people enthralled by the dancing of swords regained their senses, and a great throng of guards pressed close. Wilhelm's shoulders sank when he saw familiar faces among the soldiers rushing over.
Theresia's cheeks puffed up at his dismissive demeanor.
Their smiles were like those they had exchanged during the days they spent gazing at the flowers.
"Sometimes a woman wants to hear the words."
"Er."
Scratching his head with a guilty expression on his face, Wilhelm reluctantly looked back at Theresia, drawing his face close to her ear as he whispered, "Someday, when I feel like it."
And thus, he glossed over the embarrassing words.
7
—He raced like the wind, and the gleaming, treasured sword rent the stonelike hide with ease.
"Ooooooooooo—!!"
The shout the aged swordsman raised seemed to trail behind him. Whale blood spewed from the fresh blade wound, dying the sky scarlet.
He appeared wounded all over his body.
Then as before, blood seemed to be dripping from his left shoulder, but the blood spatter drenching his entire body had mixed with his own blood, turning its color to black.
Over such a brief period of time, no more could be expected from healing magic than stopping the bleeding and restoring a small amount of endurance.
He was still in a gravely injured state, told he must have complete rest.
But seeing Wilhelm as he was that moment, none could laugh him off as an old man on death's door.
Seeing the gleam in both his eyes, seeing the strength in his steps as he raced, seeing the vividness of the slashes of the sword he wielded, hearing the earsplitting cry echoing forth, and captivated by the glimmer of his soul, none could laugh off the old man's accumulated life as that of a fool.
His blade ran, a scream rose, and the White Whale's enormous, suffering body was wracked with intense pain.
With the demon beast crushed under the Great Tree, unable to move, the Sword Devil racing along its back did not hesitate to use his blade. The slash begun at the tip of its head ran down its back and reached its tail, and when the Sword Devil stood upon the ground, he turned right around, rending its belly on his way back to the head.
In one swing—sharp, deep, and very, very long—the single flash of silver cut the White Whale in two.
With a leap, the Sword Devil came down onto the tip of the unmoving White Whale's nose once more.
He shook the blood off his drenched sword as he and the White Whale looked each other eye to eye—their two fates merging together.
"…I have no intention of speaking ill to you. There is no use explaining good and evil to a beast. Between you and me, there is only the law of life and death: The weak are cut down by the strong."
" "
"Sleep—eternally."
Leaving behind one last little murmur, light faded from the White Whale's eyes.
Its enormous body went limp, and when it collapsed, the earth shuddered; the droplets of its fresh blood formed a muddy river.
No one could put the feeling of blood running underfoot into words.
A silence befell the Liphas Highway. And then— "It's over, Theresia. It's finally…"
Atop the head of the immobile White Whale, Wilhelm turned his face skyward.
When the treasured sword fell from his hand, he brought that hand up to cover his face, and with a quivering voice, the weaponless Sword Devil said, "Theresia, I…"
The voice was raspy, but there was boundless, undiminished love within it.
"I love you—!!"
They were words of love only Wilhelm knew. Things he had never told her.
They contained feelings accumulated over many years, words he had not spoken even once to the one he loved most, right up to the day he lost her.
Finally, after the passage of decades, Wilhelm had voiced the words with which he should have answered her question so long ago.
Atop the corpse of the White Whale, his sword fallen from his grasp, the Sword Devil cried out his love for his departed wife, and he wept.
8
"—Here, the White Whale has fallen."
Haltingly, the sound of a stirring voice echoed across the silence of the nighttime plain.
At that voice, the men, lost for words, lifted their faces.
Their gazes poured over a young woman calmly advancing to the fore on the back of a white land dragon.
Her long, green hair was frayed, and she was cruelly adorned by wounds suffered at the height of the battle, her face sullied by her own blood, a most sorry state for her to be seen in.
And yet, in their eyes, the girl had never shone brighter.
That was natural for those who judged the worth of others by the glimmer of their souls.
"..."
With the knights gazing upon her, the gallant young woman lifted her face and took a deep breath.
Having lent her treasured sword, Crusch's scabbard was currently empty.
Accordingly, she thrust her fist toward the heavens, as if to show her closed hand to all present as she announced:
"The Demon Beast of Mist that menaced the world across four centuries of life—has been slain by Wilhelm van Astrea!!"
"—Aye!!"
"In this battle, we are victorious—!!"
With their lord loudly proclaiming victory, the surviving knights raised shouts of joy.
With mist clearing over the plains, signs of night returned once more—a proper night, with moonlight illuminating the people on the ground far and wide.
And there, after four hundred years, the Battle of the White Whale came to an end.
CHAPTER 6
THE ROAD TO THE MATHERS DOMAIN
1
An elated clamor spread across the moonlight-filled plains.
The light of the moon reflected off the swords the knights raised high, with the glow of that light making the scene beautiful indeed.
The White Whale's enormous body rested on its side beneath the Great Flugel Tree as a zealous throng rushed to surround it. Everyone exulted in victory, with tears of gratitude flowing that their long-cherished wish had been fulfilled.
As if to pour water over their joy…
" !!"
…two powerful roars made the air over the Liphas Highway shake, as if to paint over everyone's pleasure.
Separate from the White Whale that had been slain, there were two White Whale offshoots that had lost the main body.
Acknowledging the death of the main body, the offshoots above the ground writhed around, and their vastness and solidity began to diminish.
With their supply of mana from the main body severed, they were increasingly unable to maintain their flesh. They looked pathetic; left to their own devices, they would surely dissipate within minutes.
"Crude."
With that one disparaging word cutting them off, an arm swung, unleashing an invisible blade.
Accompanied by a gale, the slicing wind entered one whale through its head, slicing the agonized White Whale's outer hide in half with ease—and with its giant body neatly divided into left and right, the being literally dissipated.
With a single blow of an expeditionary force magic crystal cannon, the remaining whale broke into the mist from whence it came, its mana blown away, melting into the wind, whereupon its enormous body vanished completely.
That told them, in a true sense, the battle to subjugate the White Whale was at an end.
However—
"We cannot simply exult in this."
Touching a hand to her breast, Crusch was aware of the jubilation inside herself, but she shook her head, refusing to let the deep emotions show on her face.
With everyone's cooperation, they defeated the evil demon beast, and everyone lived happily ever after, the end.
In reality, the tale would not end so neatly.
Such an ending was only permitted in fairy tales. Reality continued after the end of the tale, with a never-ending supply of things that had to be done.
They had to provide relief for the wounded survivors and courteous burials for the dead, leaving no corpses behind.
And when Crusch thought of such follow-up, she realized…
At a place a little removed from the White Whale, a man who had served with distinction was desperately raising his voice.
2
"Rem! Rem, open your eyes…!"
Subaru lifted the girl in his arms, his face pale as he desperately called out to her.
The land dragon came right up to them, nuzzling them with its black nose in an act of concern. But at that moment, Subaru harbored a sense of nervousness so great that he did not respond to even that land dragon's consideration.
—Subaru's plan to make the White Whale chase his scent and crush it under the Great Tree was a splendid success.
Some had raised their voices in objection, reluctant to cut down a historical tree. But the beast-man mercenaries were rationalists with no such compunctions, and when even Crusch deemed it necessary, opinion easily shifted to his favor.
Accordingly, Subaru, drafter of the plan, saw the operation through, shouldering no small risk in the process, resulting in achievement in battle that one might call second to none.
But if this was the price he had to pay, it was the smallest of small comforts.
"This…is no good… Please, Rem…if…you're not here…!"
Before his eyes, Rem calmly rested with her eyes closed, completely unresponsive to Subaru's voice.
There was no sign that conscious will was conveyed to her limp limbs, and the tearful voice calling her name seemed to pass right through her ears, a cry into empty space.
—Under ferocious pursuit by the White Whale, they'd raced as the falling trunk of the Great Tree loomed near.
The heavy weight of the Great Tree struck the demon beast squarely, with a loud crash to earth and a shock wave that flew indiscriminately throughout the area—and amid it was the sight of Subaru and Rem, running right alongside.
They were engulfed by the shock wave, losing track of which way was up, and Subaru recalled that he was protected by a warm sensation during that. The instant he grasped that feeling, there was a roaring sound from an incredible impact as he, and the sensation, were slammed onto the ground.
Slipping through the gaps of Subaru's vague consciousness was the realization that he was lying on the ground. And lifting his head, he realized who had embraced him—and that it was her body that had embraced his to the very end.
"…Suba…ru…"
"Rem—?!"
With a twitch, her eyelids shuddered, and Subaru was reflected in the dim gleam beneath them.
Reflected in her eyes, he looked so very weak, almost as if he was subconsciously recognizing the reality of what was unfolding before his eyes, when he said, "I'm so g… Yeah, it's me. You know, Subaru. Rem, your body…"
"Subaru…I'm so glad…you are safe…"
His throat choked up. For Rem, seeing Subaru unable to even get out the tearful words of concern for her the way he wanted, was smiling at him in visible relief—as if taking no heed of her own injuries, happy so long as Subaru was safe.
"What happened to…the demon beast…?"
"…It went down. We nailed it. It worked out. Everything worked out! I'm…not hurt, either… It's all…thanks to you…"
"Is that…so? Then, Master Roswaal and…Lady Emilia…shall…surely be all right…"
"It'll work out. Leave it to me. So, Rem, you don't have to say anything right now, just rest… No, don't…close your eyes… Aw, crap, what should I do…?"
She didn't need to force herself to speak. But if Rem spoke no words, he couldn't wipe away his own unease. Subaru was nervous, almost as if the relentless coercive power of Fate might yet snatch her life from his hand.
He didn't know what he ought to do. He didn't know what was best to do.
Not knowing what to do, Subaru couldn't help holding her hand and embracing her with his other arm as strongly as he could.
"That…hurts, Subaru…"
"Sorry, my bad. But if I don't do this, you'll go off somewh…"
"I shall not go…anywhere… I shall be at…your side, Subaru…"
Rem gave Subaru a little smile, like that of a mother consoling an unreasonable child in tears, when strength suddenly left her body.
Subaru's throat froze in fear as he felt her body go soft in his arms.
Inside his ears, he heard the sound of blood draining, of anything and everything leaving him behind.
"Rem…? Rem! Please, Rem…open…your eyes…"
"Somehow, I'm very…sleepy… I'm sorry. Let me sleep just a little, and when I wake…soon, for your sake, I shall be…"
"Never mind all that! You don't need to do anything. It's fine if you're just together with me…so please, Rem…!"
Even though she was right within his arms, Subaru wrung out his voice, desperately trying to hold fast to her as she began gradually slipping away.
And yet, though Rem was right before his eyes, his voice did not reach. "May I say something…selfish?"
"…! Say it, say anything! I'll listen to anything, I'll do anything, so…!"
In a broken voice, in a frail tone, Rem looked up at Subaru and made a little murmur.
"I want you to say…that you…love me."
Tears welling up forced Subaru's eyes open as he shook his head side to side. Then, he drew his face close to hers and told her:
"I love you."
"..."
"I really love you. Of course I do… I can't…manage without you." They were words from his heart of hearts.
Subaru poured all his unembellished true feelings into the words he spoke that instant.
He couldn't have made it that far without her. He couldn't live without her.
"Ah…I'm so happy…"
Receiving Subaru's confession, tears came out through her closed eyes.
Rem's cheeks suddenly reddened as she happily accepted the words tossed toward her. With that, Subaru felt that the last of her strength had truly left her.
"Wait…"
"I love you, Subaru."
"Don't kid around—stay with me! Am I gonna have…nothing but regrets again?!"
He could not bear a future that did not have her in it.
He understood that well before, and now, her existence loomed far, far larger. That was why…
"I don't wanna…laugh and talk about the future without you…!"
"In that future, can I be by your side?"
"…Of course. I won't let you be anywhere else."
Closing his eyes, Subaru wiped away the rising tears before staring straight at Rem.
And then, he stated firmly, "You're mine. I won't…hand you to anyone."
"—I shall take that…as a commitment."
"Huh?"
Abruptly, Subaru let out his voice like an idiot at the highly intellectual reply.
As he did so, Rem slowly opened the eyes she had kept closed all that time, proceeding to sit up inside his arms. Then, with Subaru dumbfounded, unable to grasp the situation, she tilted her head and smiled at him.
"You have promised I shall be at your side, Subaru… You cannot take it back now."
Where had the sight of her dying gone…?
In a teasing, toying way, Rem closed one eye and gently touched Subaru's lips.
Crestfallen, Subaru's strength gave out from his shoulders down as he sank to the ground.
"Why you…you, you…youuuu!"
"Yes, I am Subaru's Rem. In name and fact."
Hearing her trademark reply, now even more brazen, Subaru could not follow up his words.
Even so, even if by rights it was a scene where he ought to be shaking with anger, the fact that the girl before his eyes was safe took precedence, leaving him too happy to do so.
"We've both aired our true feelings, so that's really overkill…"
"Girls are strong when they become honest about love, Subaru."
Subaru was flustered by how Rem no longer had any intention of hiding her love for him. More embarrassed than anything else, Subaru's face reddened as he let out a small breath and confessed, "…If you'd died, I was about to die, too."
"I am a lucky woman that you think so much of me."
"I'm not kidding, either."
Rem replied with a little smile, but Subaru had answered with his true and sincere feelings.
If Subaru had lost Rem, he would have most certainly attempted to do it all over again. Even if the chance to do things over was not granted to him, there was no doubt he'd have tried anyway.
That was how large a place Rem's existence now occupied in Subaru's heart.
"I absolutely must not die, then."
"Darn right. I won't let you die, even if it kills me."
Subaru drew his face to hers, and their foreheads touched as they looked at each other from so very close.
Rem gazed adoringly at Subaru's gesture, and it was hard for Subaru to just stay there with her close enough that their breaths touched. Naturally, his gaze was drawn in by her pink lips, and he felt his heart beat just a little faster—
"—Could you two wrap it up already, meow?"
Ferris, looking exasperated from having watched from a distance as the two flirted, butted in to break things up at the most important juncture.
Apparently, he'd been watching the whole time.
Subaru was sure he'd done it on purpose.
3
"You're so cute, Subawu, calling out to her so desperately, meow…I can't live…without you…!"
"Shut up, you're annoying! You should reflect on your bad taste of staring so much!"
"In the first place, if you thought about it calmly you'd have understood, meow. Ferri has to go around treating the wounded immediately, so that
meant Rem's injuries weren't life-threatening, meow!"
"Like I can think about it calmly! An important girl…who told me she loved me…was hurt and unconscious. Of course I couldn't think straight!"
"Boys are so pure of heart, unable to say certain things except in a few places, meow."
As Subaru vented with angry shouts, Ferris smiled flippantly as he turned his palm toward Rem, a blue glow coming over it. Even while the look on Ferris's face struck Subaru with unquenchable annoyance, he couldn't conceal his relief at how Rem's expression gradually grew softer.
There were many things in what Ferris said that he couldn't just come out and agree with, but the part about triage, prioritizing healing the most heavily wounded, was no doubt the honest truth. Giving shabby treatment to Rem, part of another camp's fighting strength, and to Subaru, both key players in bringing down the White Whale, was not something his master would ever permit.
As Subaru's thoughts reached that conclusion, that very same master— Crusch—appeared, calmly stepping over grass.
"You are all right, Subaru Natsuki?"
Even sullied by blood and mud, the sight of Crusch walking straight with her back tall was beautiful.
Naturally, the elegance she had in no way lost wafted around her, and so, too, the vestiges of the battle; the beautiful woman seemed like the living embodiment of the word Valkyrie.
"Somehow or other, yeah. Glad you look all right yourself."
"I am. But the expeditionary force is depleted to no small extent. Nor will those slain by the White Whale return."
When Subaru responded, waving up to her, Crusch drew her chin in, shifting her head pensively. Her gaze shifted toward the corpse of the White Whale, still crushed under the Great Tree.
Over there, the survivors of the expeditionary force with comparatively light injuries had gathered together. Apparently, their first order of business was to get the Great Tree off the White Whale.
"What are they doing over there?"
"We must transport the White Whale's corpse. With even the Great Flugel Tree sacrificed for the operation, some sort of evidence is required. It is what comes after the battle that concerns me."
"Transport…that huge corpse?"
Subaru wanted to make sure he hadn't misheard, but Crusch's demeanor was unchanged. Subaru hurriedly returned his gaze to the White Whale, observing the giant body over maybe one hundred and fifty feet in length as he remarked, "Doesn't seem doable, does it?"
"Failure is not an option. The creature was a menace that swam through the skies for four hundred years. At worst, we may have to return with the head alone."
Crusch's words seemed like an exaggeration, but Subaru thought it over and realized her judgment was correct. To begin with, from Crusch's point of view, the subjugation of the White Whale was a success she wanted all to see to advance herself in the royal selection.
Naturally, Crusch was not someone of such low character as to prioritize achievements over all else, which the battle had amply demonstrated. But the achievement was simply that grand.
She was already the most influential of the royal candidates, with high support among the populace, and if this earned her favor with the merchant faction, which had been the final holdout, Crusch's position would be even more rock solid—
"Wait, did I wind up pushing us into a bad spot…?"
The degree of aid he had provided an opponent finally dawned on Subaru. There was no going back, either. He'd done everything so that he could return to Emilia's camp, but he wondered if he'd overdone it even so.
Fearing as much, Subaru held far-too-late regrets.
"Your face has become rather dark—it does not look like the face of the hero who brought down the White Whale."
"I'll get raked over the coals as Emilia-tan's biggest traitor… Er, what… did you say just now?"
"The hero who brought down the White Whale—I do not wish to be so shameless as to claim your exploits as my own house's feats."
Returning her gaze from the corpse of the White Whale, Crusch's expression seemed to impale Subaru like a sword.
Subaru blinked at the sincere glint in her eyes, turning to face her squarely. As he did so, Crusch gently put a hand to her own breast and stated, "I cannot thank you enough for your cooperation. Were it not for you, we would have failed to subjugate the White Whale, and I would have surely fallen halfway along my path."
Speaking those words, she adopted a stance of deep thanks toward Subaru.
" "
Subaru unwittingly froze at the heat of the noble Crusch's sincere gesture of thanks. He had no memory of any human being in her kind of position speaking such words to him ever.
"Er, ah…no, cut that out. I…didn't do anything big like that…"
"You discerned the time and place the White Whale would appear; by your efforts, the expeditionary force, insufficient in strength, was bolstered; when the knights' morale was broken, you roused them; you proposed a plan to rescue the hopeless situation at great danger to yourself, and on top of that, you executed it splendidly, guiding us to victory."
When Subaru replied with halting words, Crusch enumerated Subaru's actions during the battle and their results.
Told of his own actions in such an orderly manner, and examining the result, Subaru could only conclude, "Sounds like nothing but the work of a crazy man, if I do say so myself…"
"Perhaps it would not be accurate to compare your actions to that of a ferocious, raging lion. However, there is no mistaking that you were the driving force behind this battle. If others should belittle your actions, I swear upon my honor that I shall correct them."
Crusch extolled Subaru honestly and with a serious look, without any calculation or hesitation. Surely she, the living embodiment of sincerity, truly had not a single smidgeon of falseness in the words of gratitude she had spoken.
Thinking back to the relationship he had with Crusch until the night before their departure, Subaru could only make a strained smile.
"I'm surprised. Seems like your assessment of me has improved quite a bit."
"This is nothing to be modest about. And I am compelled to recognize that my view of you until a short time ago was very mistaken. Properly speaking, a suitable repayment for such achievements would be to welcome you into my own house, but…"
"I'll have to pass on that."
Crusch had narrowed her eyes and, in a low voice, invited Subaru to her own side. But Subaru raised a hand and interrupted her cordial invitation.
"It's not the same thing as loyalty, but my trust's already been put where it ought to be. I genuinely feel like you're a good person, and you'd probably do a great job if you became king, but…"
Crusch would no doubt be a king to nobly lead the people more than any other. Such was the extent of her character, and he knew just a tiny bit about the powerful reason that compelled her to act in such a manner. A proper reason, and the resolve to endure, was probably something she'd inherited, entrusted by another.
This included, everything had served to shape the lone woman known as Crusch Karsten. A small human being like Subaru who'd continued lying to everyone could only look at her dazzling form in admiration and envy.
"—I will make Emilia king."
" "
"Not for anyone's sake. It's what I want to do."
"…Though I understood as much, to think your reply would be to that extent."
Subaru's reply made Crusch's lips break into a broad grin as she drew her chin back. Then, she uncrossed her arms, hardened her white fingers into a fist, and pointed it toward Subaru.
"Very well. Your exploits shall be repaid in a different form. I swear upon the name of Crusch Karsten that this promise shall be fulfilled."
So solemnly declaring, Crusch opened her hardened fist and looked at her own palm.
From then, the tone of her voice dropped slightly as she said, "Now that I think of it, this is the first time I have felt so good about having an invitation of mine rejected. It is a most refreshing sense of defeat, and I can make no show of being troubled by it."
"…Crusch, I think you're an incredible person. If I were out here on my own, I think it's a sure thing that I'd let that hand prop me up."
If he had nowhere to go back to, with nothing certain in his life, and someone on Crusch's level offered him her hand, he'd likely leap at the chance without hesitation and cling to her, relying on her for everything.
But the current Subaru had someone else whose hand he wanted to reach out and hold, someone with a wavering back he would support with his own palm.
Thus, he could not take her hand, but…
"I'm counting on you for the alliance thing. Even if we've gotta become rivals in the end, we can probably get along nicely till then, so let's do that."
"—Subaru Natsuki, I shall correct one thought of yours."
Subaru's reply made Crusch's smile vanish. She put on a solemn face and pursed her lips.
Surprised at feeling the atmosphere grow tense once more, Subaru's eyes widened as he looked at Crusch. To him, Crusch raised a finger, then pointed it at herself.
"I shall regard you favorably, even when the time comes to determine my mate," she remarked.
" "
"Even if the day we must part ways shall inevitably come, I shall never forget my debt of gratitude toward you this day. Furthermore, even should a time of rivalry come, I shall regard you with the greatest favorability and respect."
Crusch lowered her arm with the raised finger downward, firmly declaring it in a crystal-clear tone of voice.
This time, her conduct sent a chill running up Subaru's spine.
It was not a negative feeling. It was simply his feeling overpowered by something so grand.
—This was the woman named Crusch Karsten, Duchess of the House of Karsten.
"This would be a pretty dangerous spot if the number one and number two places in my heart weren't already taken…"
"—Hmph. I am not thinking as far as accompanying you as a woman.
Though my heartstrings have been tugged upon in certain places, my heart is set on fulfilling a dream—and so it shall remain, until someday, I achieve the dream he yearned for."
Subaru tried to gloss over his agitation with flippant words, and Crusch smiled thinly as she replied. But the latter half of her words became extremely soft, and those did not reach Subaru's ears.
With a blink, Crusch forgot that sentiment, going, "Now, then," as she continued her words with a sober glance.
"If possible, at this juncture I would like to return to the royal capital with the wounded and the White Whale's corpse. But it seems some mission yet remains for you."
"…Can tell that 'cause of the blessing, huh?"
"The power of the blessing is not necessary. I know that look in a man's eyes."
Crusch closed one eye, peering into Subaru's eyes as she replied thusly. Then, she checked Subaru's appearance from head to toe and said, "Surely you are not without injury. So you have something you must do in spite of that."
"I've gotta do it whether I'm hurt badly or not. In one sense, the whale hunt was so that I could do it. I feel bad saying it like that, though."
"Oh, really, after subjugating the White Whale?"
He said it in a way that surely came off poorly, but Crusch showed no sign of annoyance. She seemed curious about the objective Subaru spoke of so seriously.
"Most interesting—you surely took the alliance with our house in account for that. If so, it is hardly unthinkable for you to request something of us…
You require aid?"
"I do. But…to be honest, I didn't think it'd be this tough, so…"
Subaru's shoulders sank when he looked over the expeditionary force members wounded far beyond his plans.
With the subjugation of the White Whale finished, it meant returning to the Mathers domain, where Emilia awaited, and confronting the abominable group there. Fighting such a powerful foe required Crusch's power, but—
"With all these people hurt, I won't ask anything reckless of you. Besides, you have to see this with not just your personal feelings but your place as a ruler. Asking you to lend a hand beyond this is just…"
"—Then how about using these old bones until they fail?"
Abruptly, a tall figure walked over with quiet footsteps and interrupted the conversation—Wilhelm, the aged swordsman still appearing as ghastly as before, his entire body bathed in demon beast blood.
The Sword Devil approached, walking with a gait that showed nothing of the wounds to his flesh, and offered the treasured sword in his right hand to Crusch.
"Lady Crusch, I return that which you lent to me. In addition, let me offer my thanks concerning this matter from the bottom of my heart. It is because of your cooperation that my long-cherished wish has been granted, Lady Crusch
—thank you very much."
"Your long-cherished wish and my objectives aligned, that is all—you may hold on to that sword for a little while longer. You can serve no role unarmed."
"—As you wish. My thanks."
Crusch responded briefly to Wilhelm's words of thanks and looked at Subaru. Accepting her reply, Wilhelm turned his head back to Subaru as well.
" "
Now that they were in close quarters again, the stench of blood wafting around him was incredible, and Subaru felt nervous from that surging, aimless antagonism, which felt like a slender blade poking into his liver.
But the tense atmosphere from before the battle—that had been lifted, and it was a fact that Wilhelm seemed like his spirits had been lifted with it.
The aged swordsman looked straight at Subaru and, after that, fell to one knee on the spot. It was a gesture demonstrating the greatest of all respect to another, one he had seen the night before they'd set out.
And then—
"Sir Subaru Natsuki. It is because of your cooperation that this subjugation of the White Whale was successful. It is you who has granted meaning to all the long years of my life until this day. I thank you. I thank you —I offer my thanks, with the whole of my being on the line."
"..."
This was Wilhelm, he who had offered half his life to the sword and then spent over a decade of life devoted to vengeance. Subaru, engulfed by the vast passion of the gratitude such a man directed to him, was so afraid of blurting out the wrong thing that he was at a complete loss for words.
It took a while to settle his mind, waiting for the proper words to direct to the old man before him to coalesce—for it would not do to have Wilhelm, a man of such resolve, put on such a shameful display.
"It's your own sword that did it, Wilhelm. You thought about how to fight the White Whale, you studied it, you trained, you didn't give up, you fought it…"
Having tasted setback after setback over and over, he must have been on the verge of giving up his grudge. Subaru didn't think he'd thrown everything away, never once attempted to abandon those deep-rooted convictions.
It was Subaru, who knew more than anyone about the weakness of the heart, about being defeated, about being obstructed by the irrationalities of fate, who could understand the suffering Wilhelm had undergone until his strong feelings went fulfilled.
"You stuck with it until the White Whale went down because you reaaaally loved your wife. If I helped with that even a little bit, I'm glad. I'm not sure this is the best thing to say, but…congratulations. And—well done."
" "