Most Sarkaz wield sorcery rather than standard Arts, and their sorcery is notorious for being difficult to counter.
The Banshee‘s Words of Power, the Vampire‘s Sanguinarch Arts, the Gargoyle‘s Stonework.
The Diabolics, the "Devils of Flame" who burned their own lives to fuel their power, had already vanished into history. The Nachzehrers, who craved war and consumed the dead, still lingered. And the Liches, the Guardians of Knowledge, had hidden themselves away from the world.
Yujin had faced more than just Buldrokkas'tee, the Last Wendigo. Over the past three years, he had seen and fought many things.
If experience was lacking, he simply crammed it in.
"…Master, I cursed you back then."
Yujin walked through the garden, recalling the past. After adapting to the Decay, he had to face an endless legion. Monsters that were neither alive nor dead, rushing at him like hungry ghosts.
On the desolate land where seeds of rot had taken root, the undead sought to kill him.
At first, it was easy. He thought they were nothing and cut them down with a single blade. But as time passed, exhaustion set in. Dozens became hundreds, then thousands. The enemies he killed rose again, craving his flesh and blood.
He challenged them, failed, bled, and suffered.
When he defeated an enemy, Netsalem summoned a stronger one. In that endless cycle of battle, Yujin had no choice but to grow stronger.
In one-on-one combat, he faced Buldrokk, a monster whose skin repelled steel. When he finally felt he had grown, he was thrown into the ocean to face an incomprehensible entity in the pitch-black depths.
"I didn't exactly have an easy life."
[…Indeed.]
How many roads had he traveled? He should be exhausted by now, but the path Yujin had to walk was far from over. Moreover, it wasn't forced upon him; it was a result of his own choices and deliberations. He had no regrets.
Seeing PRTS flicker on his display as if empathizing, Yujin quietly observed the AI.
To Yujin, PRTS was an intruder that had suddenly appeared. The only reason he left it alone was a combination of instinct and hazy memories. He knew, fragmentarily, that this AI knew something but couldn't tell him.
He didn't know what it was hiding. But for now, PRTS was helpful, and he couldn't just cast it aside. Besides, Yujin knew little about electronics; he couldn't fight a strong AI, nor could he just smash it. That seemed like the stupidest possible option. So, even if he wanted to tamper with PRTS, he had no way to do so.
"Raquelamalin?"
Wandering through the garden, Yujin spotted Larin dozing quietly in a sunlit corner. The scene looked like something out of a fairy tale, making Yujin chuckle.
Does the Sarkaz race only produce beautiful people?
Considering everyone he had met so far, it was a fair assumption.
Yujin sat down beside the dozing Larin. The early summer sun was pleasantly warm. He closed his eyes and began to doze off as well. Being busy was good, but enjoying a moment of rest wasn't bad either.
As Yujin drifted into sleep, Kiril spotted them from across the garden. He started to run over, shouting Yujin‘s name, but Kisha intercepted him, clapping a hand over his mouth and dragging him away.
"Mmph...!"
"Quiet! The mood is perfect, don't ruin it."
Kisha dragged Kiril into a corner and put a finger to her lips. She looked back at Larin and Yujin. This was the least she could do for them.
When Kisha had innocently asked if her "sister" had a boyfriend, Larin had panicked, making excuses with a face red enough to bleed. There are barely any men among the Banshees. I haven't met anyone I liked. Watching Larin wave her hands and stammer excuses had been pitiful.
But now it was different.
Having spent a long time with Larin, Kisha knew.
"Ugh, Sister... what is this all of a sudden..."
Since meeting Kisha, Kiril had started treating her like an older sister. Even if the age gap wasn't huge, she had met Yujin first and was technically older.
Kisha gave Kiril a light rap on the head to silence him and looked back at the pair. Leaning against each other in the sunlit garden, they looked like a painting.
Kiril stared at them, jaw dropped.
"Is Master... in that kind of relationship with Raquelamalin?"
"Not yet. But it's scheduled."
What Kisha could do was bridge the gap between them. She didn't know Yujin‘s inner thoughts, but Larin‘s were transparent. It was so blatant that even Kisha, who knew little of romance, could see it.
At first, she wasn't sure. The second time she saw them talking in the garden, she was half-convinced. Now? She figured even Daniel and the butler probably knew.
Larin smiled most beautifully when she was with Yujin. It was the classic look of a woman helplessly in love. Even watching the duel during the opening ceremony, Kisha had felt it. Larin tried to hide it in front of Yujin, but it wasn't easy.
The dense, muscle-brained Kiril might not have noticed, but Kisha saw everything.
"Let's go finish the homework Master gave us," Kisha said, dragging Kiril away.
In the quiet garden, Larin opened her eyes. Startled, she calmed her racing heart and looked to her side. Yujin‘s black hair had fallen across her shoulder, tickling her skin.
Her heart pounded. Thump, thump. Having never felt this before, Larin blushed as she looked at him.
It was spreading. Like ink on white paper, affection was uncontrollably dyeing her heart.
First, it was gratitude. Then, interest. Now, affection.
When did it start? When Yujin told her she was pretty when she smiled? Or when he fought the Confessarii to save her life? When she saw him acting foolishly while making a vow to the rising sun?
The more she thought about it, the more moments came to mind. It had been a short time, yet so much had happened.
She envied Yujin, who lived more freely than anyone else. She liked that about him. He seemed so different from her, who was bound by rules and responsibilities.
His hands were calloused, his arms scarred from blades, his legs marked by old wounds. Perhaps fortunately, his face was unmarred.
Larin gently lifted Yujin‘s head and placed it on her lap. Seeing him sleeping so peacefully, she realized how tired he must have been.
"…Sleeping like a baby."
It was no wonder. Looking back at Yujin‘s path over the last six months, it had been a whirlwind of events.
As she tidied his hair, Larin looked down at him quietly. He was a man of upright will, a knight who could be an example to others.
That was why she worried. She feared he would collapse under the trials.
First, they had assigned Murchal, a vicious knight, to break him. A confrontation with the Armorless Union—the greatest assassins in Kazimierz—was inevitable. It was common knowledge that the Merchant Association viewed him as a thorn in their side. To them, a Sarkaz was someone to be excluded, not a Sport Knight to be admired by all.
Larin wanted to help him. Yujin had saved Kisha, and he was the benefactor who had saved her life.
"Can I... protect you?"
What would her mother say if she saw this? Would she scold her for fearing something that hadn't even begun?
As long as one is human, one lives with fear. Everyone has their own struggles and terrors. Larin was no different.
But for a moment, she felt greedy. While Yujin slept, unaware of the world, Larin lowered her head.
A brief moment of selfishness. Her lips brushed against Yujin‘s forehead.
"May the blessing of the Banshee be with you."
And may the bone-whistle of death never sound for you.