Crunch. Crunnch.
Heavy iron boots pressed into the sand, leaving deep imprints with each step. The weight of the full suit of armor bore down, but a few stray gusts of wind quickly erased any trace of passage.
Yet there was no time to dwell on such fleeting marks. The armored knight had already reached the center of the arena. The battle was about to begin.
“The Tournament of 『Courage』 has now reached its second round! On the left, serving as the Deputy Commander of the Eastern Front in the 『Azure Wind Knight Order』—Cicel Yurensto!”
Woooong-!
The knight gripped the handle of the zweihänder resting on her shoulder and let it drop into position. The sheer weight of the blade stirred the air, producing a low, ominous groan.
The tip sank into the sand, releasing a steady ticking sound as grains were pushed aside. The sword carried an undeniable force, effortlessly repelling the earth around it.
The greatsword was built to cleave through anything in its path—be it a towering boulder, a mountain, or even the thick walls of a fortress.
“And on the right, an elder who dares to claim the title of Hero even at his age—Alonso from Windmill Village!”
Facing the knight was a wrinkly old man.His joints creaked, his knobby fingers looked stiff and unsteady, and his eyes were clouded with age. Time, that relentless poison, had long since drained the vitality from his body, reducing a once-strong warrior to little more than a brittle shell.
And yet, had time failed to wither his heart? His voice was bright, clear, and cheerful.
“Haha! To think I’d face the tournament’s champion so soon. I must be the luckiest man on this arena today.”
“The luckiest, you say.”
Could an inevitable loss truly be a cause for celebration?
Though his body bore the signs of rigorous training, it was not nearly enough. The fact that he had even passed the preliminary rounds in his condition was remarkable, but to the onlookers, it was obvious—he had barely scraped through.
Compared to Cicel, who shattered three layers of a Holy Shield with a single swing, the difference was overwhelming.
Even if time were to rewind, restoring Alonso to his prime, the odds of victory remained nonexistent. And yet, how could he speak of fortune?
The old man chuckled as he continued.
“To face the final match so early—how could I not be thrilled? At my age, time is precious. I have plenty to do beyond this tournament as well.”
“⋯⋯You have great confidence. If you’re so busy, why enter the tournament at all?”
“No grand reason. I simply wanted to give it a try. And you, respected knight—what brings you here?”
“That.”
To return to the Eastern Front. That was the response Cicel Yurensto was about to give—but she hesitated.
The gleam in the old man’s eyes stopped her.
Somehow, that answer felt inappropriate. It didn’t seem to fit.
To present such dry words here would be like showing up at a grand ball dressed in a servant’s rags. More than that⋯⋯ she felt like she needed to give an answer more worthy of that gaze.
But what answer would be appropriate? And what wasn’t?
She had never learned such things.
===============================================================
In the depths of her memory, the Count Yurensto estate remained vivid. The meticulously maintained gardens adorned with purple lavender. The servants, moving in perfect synchrony like clockwork.
The Yurensto estate’s elegance was renowned, even among the nobility. Despite being a house of short history, its dignity was unmatched. Visitors often described the mansion as nothing short of perfection.
Not a single stray branch disrupted the garden’s symmetry. The servants’ precise, fluid movements resembled a flawless stage performance.
And the Count and Countess themselves embodied the very essence of nobility. Though Count Yurensto had risen from wandering tenant farmers and Countess Ivelle hailed from a merchant family, no trace of their humble origins remained.
Their mastery of noble etiquette was impeccable, their every action executed with textbook precision. Anyone who saw it couldn’t help but admire their discipline.
Even their children were nearly perfect.
Girls barely six or seven years old sat like porcelain-dolls, flawless in their manners. Their tiny hands wielded silver knives without a single mistake, and they dined in absolute silence. They were not even a single whine.
Even their speech was perfect.
“Did you enjoy your meal, honored guest? We hope the Yurensto family’s hospitality was to your liking. Mother prepared everything with great care.”
Their words flowed effortlessly without a single stutter.
Such composure, unnatural for their age, paired with the striking violet eyes of the Yurensto bloodline, only doubled their charm.
“It’s as if angels have descended,” a visitor once marveled.
And so, the verdict was clear—
The Yurensto bloodline was nobility incarnate! A lineage blessed by the Goddess herself!
A perfect mansion. A perfect family. A perfect bloodline.
A family as exquisite as a finely cut jewel.
But night fell. And all things had another(裏面) side.
When darkness fell on the beautifully purple mansion, the basement echoed with the muffled sobs of children—and the sharp crack of a whip.
“H-Have you, enjoyed yo⋯⋯.”
“Again.”
“Have-have you.”
“Again.”
Until it was flawless.
A beautiful flower, painstakingly cultivated—through an obsession teetering on the edge of madness.
⋯⋯⋯⋯.
The ‘ Wall of Glory ’ stood adorned with accolades, honors, and praise for the Count Yurensto Family. Medals bestowed by the Imperial Family for their unwavering loyalty, records of the Count’s military campaigns, clippings from newspapers praising Countess Ivelle for setting trends in high society.
Even the most trivial acknowledgments of their achievements were meticulously preserved.
Once, this space had been solely for the Count and Countess. But after their children were born, the wall was rearranged. The upper section remained densely packed with the couple’s ‘glories,’ while the lower part had been designated for their children.
『Cicel』. 『Yuna』. 『Jewel』. Below each nameplate hung records of their accomplishments.
‘Award Winner of the Duke Redburn Family’s Children’s Martial Arts Tournament.’
‘Commended by Lady Alorad’s Salon.’
‘Academy Admission Certificate .’
And many more, each meticulously framed—to demonstrate the competence of their ‘praiseworthy deeds.’
A display meant to prove the greatness of the Yurensto bloodline, and the glory of the family name. It was, quite literally, a wall of glory.
Countess Ivelle often stood before it, gazing in admiration. But then her eyes drifted downward to the empty spaces below, and her expression darkened.
It wasn’t enough.
Nowhere near enough.
A child that had been born into the esteemed Yurensto Family should have accomplished twice as much by now. Their talents should be widely.
She and Count Yurensto had built this noble house from nothing. A child raised with such superior lineage, exceptional education, and boundless affection should have naturally surpassed their achievements.
If they failed despite such privileges──then clearly, that could only mean the children hadn’t tried hard enough.
Countess Ivelle picked up a brush and drew a large square on the wall.
Large enough that young Cicel’s face turned pale just by looking at it.
“By the end of this year, you are to fill this square completely. Do you understand, Cicel?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Jewel has already earned twelve ‘glories’ this year alone. You’ve managed only five. That is hardly enough for a knight who must uphold the name of Yurensto. My precious Cicel, you’re capable of so much more!”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
But Jewel had lied to earn those ‘glories’ in high society.
And I have been trying my best. Even when I was sick, I clenched my teeth and kept up with my sword training.
And yet… even more⋯⋯?
“Cicel, I have arranged for a new swordsmanship instructor. He is known for being strict—far better than that feeble weakling we had before. It cost a fortune, but… there is no price too high to educate a precious jewel like you.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
“I am working so hard for your sake. Don’t you pity me? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? If you have even a shred of conscience, stop being idle and put in more effort. Do not be lazy like Yuna.”
“Yes, I will. I’m sorry, Mother.”
Young Cicel bowed her head.
The square had to be filled.
She entered every tournament she could. But how was she supposed to bring back ‘glory’?
Mediocre results would only earn her mother’s scorn.
Countess Ivelle’s eyes fell upon one of the certificates displayed on the wall. An old award Cicel had received from an artist at the estate.
She had loved to sing.
‘White Purity Academy of Arts Recommendation Letter.’
“This pointless thing is still up here? Cicel is going to be a knight.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
Rrip. The letter was torn down and discarded without a second glance. Cicel wasn’t sure what hurt more—the growing emptiness of the square or something else entirely.
All that remained in her hollowed heart was an unrelenting sense of duty. The square had to be filled. She had to mold herself to fit perfectly within its borders.
She must.
Somehow.
Somehow, she had to become a knight.
Somehow, she had to become a great knight—one worthy of the name Yurensto.
===============================================================
“⋯⋯Because I must. Old man.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
Creaak. Cicel Yurensto lifted her zweihänder. If she won the tournament and became a Hero candidate, perhaps the Goddess would grant her a chance—maybe she could fix her broken body. And then… she could fill the square a little more.
Even if it killed her.
Across from her, the old man scowled, as if he had just seen something he wished he hadn’t. He frowned as if he had just swallowed something bitter. Then, shaking off the taste, he spoke.
“I won’t fight you.”
“Are you forfeiting?”
“Yes, I concede. The desire to challenge you has completely vanished. What’s the point in fighting someone who’s already defeated? I surrender. I’ll be on my way now.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
The old man muttered his final words and stepped down from the arena. Cicel watched his retreating figure, then slowly loosened her grip on her sword.
She had won.
The announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium, with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“Ah, ah—a forfeit! Could it be that even a courageous elder could not stand against the might of the 『Azure Wind Knight Order』?! That means today’s winner is—Cicel Yurensto!”
She had won a meaningless victory.
Even clutching onto the fragments of ‘glory’ felt empty.
But there was nothing else to chase, no other path to walk. So, Cicel forced a smile and turned away.
Still, it stung.
The old man’s disappointed expression lingered in her mind like a searing brand.
Facing such looks—looks that silently accused her of failing to live up to expectations—was something she still couldn’t bear.
“The next match is──”
As Cicel made her way back to the waiting room, the announcer’s voice faded behind her. It seemed they were skipping the intermission after her underwhelming match.
Walking down the long corridor, she came across the next contestant.
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
“Hm.”
A small girl.
She wore a butterfly-shaped mask—without eyeholes. Only her pursed lips and light blonde hair were visible. Strands of gold shimmered faintly in her locks—could she be a noble?
She felt… familiar somehow.
The masked girl pouted her lips as if she was annoyed a little. Cicel, unsure of her intent, froze. Then, the girl finally spoke.
“A lot is going to change, Cicel. A lot of things.”
“⋯⋯What do you mean?”
“Heh. If you want to find out, you’ll have to make it to the finals. If we both follow our brackets, you and I will meet in the final match. That means one of us will have to lose.”
And with that, the girl suddenly struck a pose.
It was unnecessary, inefficient… and yet, somehow, a little cool.
“My name is Mysterious Wizard X⋯⋯!! Keep your neck safe and wait for me—until then!”
Step step step step.
With those parting words, the girl hurriedly ran off toward the bright exit. Slightly dazed, Cicel looked at her retreating figure.
Why did she feel so familiar?
⋯⋯Was that a declaration of war?
Beyond the exit, the sounds of the arena grew louder—cheers, heat, the commentator’s excited shouts. Unlike Cicel’s fight that ended boringly, the next one seemed to be a close battle or something.
“Ultimate Dragon Whirlwind Kick──!!”
“No way! Mysterious Wizard X has entered close combat?! It’s a kick with a ferocious whirlwind around it!”
“How do you even expect me to block this?! Come on!!”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
That joyful excitement and energy, somehow hurt Cicel Yurensto.
===============================================================
The session had begun.
Through the first and second rounds, I had pieced together a rough profile of my target. It had taken an absurd amount of mana stones and painstaking preparation just to catch a fleeting glimpse into her inner psyche, but in the end, I’d say it was worth it.
The funding for those mana stones had come from Irid, categorized under operational expenses. Though I did notice his gaze sharpening by about five percent in irritation, it was all fine.
Now, onto the real issue.
The state of the Yurensto family was an utter disaster.
Duke Redburn at least had the twisted competence to be deliberately cruel, but these fuckers just destroyed their family purely through sheer, mind-numbing incompetence. They had done everything wrong when it came to raising children
Comparing children, giving out punishments arbitrarily, shifting their treatment based on mood, imposing their opinions on their kids, and the list went on. Even if someone set out with the explicit goal of being a terrible parent, they wouldn’t end up this awful.
Did that mean even torturing required talent⋯⋯?
Seeing her past made me feel gloomy as well. Yuna.
Somehow, she had managed to escape from that place, only to end up in the Purple Magic Tower⋯⋯ and had to suffer there too.
Right now, I wanted nothing more than to hug her and give her kisses. But Yuna was too busy playing her role as Mysterious Beautiful Young Wizard X.
Just earlier, she had pummeled me with Dragon Whirlwind Kicks conjured through Illusion Magic. She seemed to be having fun, so… I felt happy for her too. Maybe I should find more chances to play around with her like this in the future.
Anyway.
Yuna⋯⋯ I mean, Mysterious Wizard X and Cicel were bound to face each other in the finals. If I didn’t manage to resolve Yuna’s sulking before then, there was no telling where this story would end up.
Yuna didn’t seem to have any real malicious intent. Like, I don’t think her desire was to actively ruin my session. It felt more like she was… playing. But even a playful tiger could still kill with a single swipe.
So if possible⋯⋯ I needed to fix things before the finals.
And at the same time, I needed to take care of Cicel Yurensto.
The latter didn’t seem too difficult, but the former looked like it would be a nightmare. But no matter how difficult, I had to do it. This was a door I had to pass through for my happiness!
Cicel Yurensto.
If her childhood dream was to be a singer, then I would dangle an irresistible bait in front of her.
I had an entire archive of modern songs readied up⋯⋯!
===============================================================
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
Cicel Yurensto hugged a bag full of bread to her chest as she strolled through the streets of Trumpethall, deep in thought.
Was it just her, or was there an⋯⋯ unusual number of people singing in the streets lately?
***
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