"Klye, you actually came here... It's been way too long!"
Luke, drenched in blood, murmured with deep emotion. I had no idea why, but he seemed to be in an incredibly good mood.
It looked bad from the sky, but Thorne's training grounds were in a devastating state. I had absolutely no idea what had happened, but seeing the spire snapped in half, the gate reduced to rubble, and deep cracks running through everything made my stomach turn.
I had absolutely no idea, but countless stares were piercing into me. The honorable Sword Saint's disciples, who had been sprawled across the ground, were rising to their feet with zombie-like movements.
I had absolutely no idea, but for some reason, blood-soaked Luke was doing just fine. Really had no clue at all, not a clue!!
Lucia let out a deep sigh, pressing her hand to her forehead. She was probably thinking about how she'd have to clean up again. And she would — if we left the cleanup to Luke, it'd turn into an even bigger mess.
Well, we help each other out, right? That's what partners are for! When I patted Lucia on the back, our hotheaded swordsman looked up with gleaming eyes and shouted with wild enthusiasm.
"Lately, there've been fewer and fewer people willing to spar with me, and my sword was just dying to drink some blood. Klye, thanks! Forever!"
"No-thank-you, forever, yay!"
He threw up a high-five pose, so I went along with it.
Glad to see him having fun... And sure enough, the blood drenching Luke belonged to other people. We gave him wooden swords so he wouldn't go around slashing people indiscriminately, but what's the point if he slashes them anyway!
But calling him out on that now would be pointless. Causing massive damage and burdening the Sword Saint was also nothing new. An ordinary person would die from bleeding out after being slashed, but a swordsman who had absorbed Mana Material had durability that reached inhuman levels. There would have been even more outrage if there had been fatalities, so I supposed once again, they had narrowly avoided any deaths.
At first I'd been in a complete panic, but I'd gotten completely used to it. Swordsmen really are ridiculously tough.
Still, as a friend, I had to check.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"Nah, no problem. Dodged most of it, and if I had to pick the worst one, it'd be about this big."
Luke lifted the hem of his shirt. Across his trained abs ran a single deep gash. It was obviously a serious wound — I'd be dead for sure.
But Luke's expression showed not a hint of pain. What the heck is going on with your body...
While I was grappling with indescribable emotions, Luke pulled his shirt back down as if nothing had happened and looked at Lucia.
"Oh right, Lucia. Call Anthem for me — there are a few people who've had their arms torn off."
The guy with torn-off arms is giving orders again...
Well, I'd leave the injured to Lucia, but the pressure from all those stares I'd been trying to ignore was getting intense.
In this Sword Saint's dojo, I'd always been in the role of Luke's guardian. Well, more like — since Luke never listened to anyone, all the complaints landed on me.
Still, even by those standards, this was bad. Luke, who loved slicing people up, had destroyed this much of the dojo... Had he tried out some new technique or something?
I pretended not to notice the countless stares and tried to lighten the mood.
"I-It's been a while, but... has the atmosphere changed or something?"
"..."
"Like, it feels more open, you know... I-I think this has its own charm, in a way?"
"..."
"...I-I'm sorry. I never thought something like this would happen. Thorne's disciples are all first-rate swordsmen, so even the most cunning schemes couldn't have predicted this. If you want, you can put the bill on the Beginning Footprint's tab—"
I surrendered quickly and apologized. It was a bit of an excuse, but honestly, it was all Luke's fault. All Luke.
I looked around the grounds again. The rubble could be cleared with magic, but even Lucia couldn't fix the structural damage. Especially that spire that had snapped clean in half.
It was going to take money and time. This was going to require Citry or Eva's help, not Lucia's.
"..."
And then, I noticed that the complaints that would normally come flying from the disciples weren't coming at all.
Hesitantly, I directed my gaze — which I'd been deliberately avoiding — toward the disciples. But their stares were passing right through me, aimed instead at Lucia, who wore a cold, unfriendly expression behind me.
Come to think of it, was this Lucia's first time at the dojo? The Imperial Mage Academy where she studied was in the opposite direction, too.
For some reason, the disciples had gone rigid, as if hit by ice magic. Some were even breaking into cold sweat. What on earth was going on?
"Freezing up at the sight of someone's little sister — how rude."
"!! I-I-I'm terribly sorry. It's just... she's so beautiful..."
The senior disciple who had been standing right in front of me said with a face completely stiff with tension.
...Huh? I couldn't help but look at Lucia, but she was blinking in confusion too.
This was a first — I had no idea how to handle it, but... I cautiously tried speaking up.
"...Even if it's the truth, that doesn't exactly count as a compliment, you know?"
"?! B-Brother!?"
The disciples murmured in surprise. Huh? Could it be that these guys were weak to Lucia, just like how Marchis was weak to Tino?
What was with these guys? They looked so tough but had their adorable side. I slapped them friendly on the back and said: "Your mental discipline is lacking, friend."
"Ugh... S-Sorry..."
"...That's exactly why Luke keeps slashing you."
"?! Th-That has nothing to do with—"
Next time complaints came up, I'd just bring Lucia along. Still, going completely helpless over a single girl — their resistance was way too low.
I was pretty sure the fundamentals of being a swordsman were mind, technique, and body, and they were seriously lacking. Well, I couldn't really talk since there was Luke around — a guy who was absurdly strong despite being critically deficient in one of those areas...
Unlike Tino, Lucia didn't seem to care at all about being used as a decoy. She cleared her throat loudly, as if pulling herself together, and went on the offensive.
"More importantly, this whole situation happened because you kept being irresponsible with Luke! What are you planning to do? When things are this badly broken, even magic can't fix them, and this dojo has so much history that it can't be undone—"
"...Yeah, yeah, you're right."
"?! Stay focused! Pay attention!"
Easy, easy, calm down. Nothing in this world can be undone, Lucia. You can't go back to the past. That was one of the few things I'd learned as a Hunter.
So all we could do was live proudly alongside our memories of the dojo.
Feeling rather enlightened, I was letting Lucia have her way as she pressed me further, when the senior disciple suddenly spoke up in a loud voice.
"There is no problem! ...That is to say. Everything is the result of our own inadequacy! There is no need for you to worry, Lucia!"
He'd completely flipped sides. His eyes were locked not on me, but on Lucia.
His tone was starting to sound like Crus, though...
Before my dumbfounded gaze, the senior disciple continued in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
"There is also no need to worry about the destroyed dojo! That is to say! Holes in the walls from intense training are a common occurrence — I will speak to the Master about it myself! That is to say!"
"See, Lucia? They're saying there's nothing to worry about. What kind people."
"...Honestly!"
I was pretty sure it really was going to be okay. Because, look... even the guys with torn-off arms were all staring at Lucia. Maybe swordsmen shared some common taste in women?
Well, now that it was settled, there was no reason to stay. Before any unwanted attention attached itself to my precious sister, I'd better get going.
Lucia wore an expression caught between exasperation and resignation. The moment I grabbed her arm — from outside the collapsed entrance of the rubble-strewn training ground, a sharp rebuke came flying in.
"You, foolish disciples! Led astray by a woman — and you call yourselves swordsmen?!"
It was by no means a loud voice. But it was sharp — like the edge of an unsheathed blade.
That alone was enough to straighten one's spine. The senior disciple, along with all the other disciples, spun around in unison as if struck.
Stepping over the rubble was an elderly man in a simple robe.
He was by no means large, but his body had been stripped down to nothing unnecessary. His bony limbs still boasted the raw power of an active Hunter, and it was said his refined technique still retained the sharpness of his prime.
A man who had possessed all the honors a swordsman could want, and who to this day still came up first whenever the topic of the strongest swordsman among the Empire's citizens arose.
The Sword Saint, Thorne Lowell. He was the master Luke had found after coming to Zebuldia. And he was the man who had taken an already talented Luke and made him even more dangerous.
The senior disciple spoke with a trembling voice to the master who had appeared so suddenly.
"?! B-But, Master! What happened with the cursed sword — it was truly because of my own inadequacy—"
"If you had all thought and accepted that from the very beginning, then I will acknowledge it. How about it?"
The Sword Saint glared piercingly at his disciples. Thorne was supposed to be well over eighty, but there was no sign of age in his gaze.
Between him and Abyssal Fire Annihilation, old people in this country really were something else... Please stay healthy forever.
The disciples were struck speechless by what could hardly even be called a reprimand, but eventually the senior disciple looked down and spoke in a suppressed voice.
"...Heh. To think that upon seeing the black-haired Mage I admired, I would lose myself — between being bewitched and controlled by the cursed sword, and the weakness of my own heart, I can only feel deep shame."
Well, I hope he really does feel ashamed. Seriously. There are plenty of black-haired Mages out there... Like Klahi Andrich!
And that was when I noticed the senior disciple had just said something I couldn't ignore.
Wait...? I had assumed Luke had been affected by the cursed sword and caused a bunch of injuries, but maybe that wasn't what happened?
When I thought about it calmly, if Luke — already powerful to begin with — had used a cursed sword, most of the disciples probably wouldn't have survived.
Great. I'd worried for nothing. Time to go home and sleep.
I turned on my heel, casually trying to slip past the Sword Saint, when suddenly a vice-like grip clamped down on my shoulder.
I looked back and our eyes met. Thorne wore a meaningful smile — completely different from before — and started walking. Still gripping me.