“If, if I w-win, wh-what will you g-grant me?”
The knights made a strange “pfft” sound before bending over in raucous laughter.
“You think you can beat me, Your Imperial Highness?”
“I t-told you. I h-have ab-abilities.”
Anya argued, his face flushed bright red.
“Then I formally request an honor duel, Anya Evernight.”
The knight narrowed his brow momentarily as he used Anya’s new surname.
Anya’s eyes blinked slowly. No thoughts came to mind. The boy had simply done what he wanted to do.
“Hey, the prince has accepted an honor duel. Everyone here is a witness.”
“With witnesses present, even Duke Evernight cannot cancel this match. This is a sacred, inviolable honor duel.”
“Y-yes, of c-course.”
He hid his trembling hands behind his back. When the knights left, snickering, Anya collapsed to the ground. He immediately grabbed the wall and vomited. Stomach acid poured out. Now he had essentially set his own death date.
Regret washed over him like a tide, but somehow he felt relieved.
* * *
“How could you have accepted such a proposal.”
Sabelli Nox sat on a tree stump with his now-familiar hunched posture, holding his forehead.
“But there’s nothing to be done now. Fate always flows in unexpected directions.”
He stood up and gazed toward the forest filled with thick mist. Sabelli turned back to Anya. The old man’s face was newly serious. Anya lowered his head and needlessly tapped the snow-covered ground. He didn’t even feel regret anymore.
Rather, Anya felt liberated.
“You might have to risk your life. They consider honor duels sacred. In honor duels, they always take each other’s lives. That is their code.”
Anya couldn’t understand their code, but he couldn’t argue against it. The idea of risking one’s life over a mere duel seemed like something from another world.
“…Did you perhaps want to die?”
Sabelli’s question was sharp. The boy knew what the old man was worried about. But to be precise, it was clearly different. In the moment when he accepted death, all the natural flows surrounding the boy—the wind, the sunlight, even the men’s piercing gazes—seemed to stop in time and could not invade Anya. It was the first time he had ever felt like that. That moment was even ecstatic. Anya let out a small laugh.
“You’re laughing now? Has your mind snapped from too much distress?”
At first, this eccentric old man had been uncomfortable and frightening, but the boy was no longer afraid of Sabelli. Somehow, the reason for his anger felt like concern for Anya. He liked this old man who spoke his mind to the mistress of Tildyen without reservation.
“Y-you s-said I was a ‘ch-chosen one.'”
Saying those words himself made him feel endlessly embarrassed, but Anya discreetly covered his reddened ears and brazenly raised his head.
“Of course, that is so. But it requires tremendous training and effort.”
“Y-you can b-become my m-master, S-Sabelli.”
Without hesitation, Anya knelt on the snow. The boy looked up at the old man with desperate eyes. Beneath his knees, he could feel the characteristic slushiness of Tildyen soil mixed with snow.
“Don’t fear, accept it.”
A dry, cold wind whirled between them. Anya calmly whispered the words the old man had told him by the lake. The boy seemed like the nameless forest of Tildyen, forcing its way through the bitter cold snow with difficult vitality.
“Like flowing water.”
The boy and the old man spoke at the same time. The corner of the boy’s mouth turned up. His face, usually gloomy, clearly shone for a moment.
“Do you truly believe that?”
Whether it was because Sabelli himself was eccentric, or because he was drawn to eccentrics and became one, the old man couldn’t ignore the boy. From the moment he encountered the collapsed boy in the forest, surrounded by the small forest deities, the old man had been captivated by this boy.
The old man could not see the spirits due to his inherent human limitation. His persistent obsession had faded with time, but Sabelli still had a strong attachment to ‘them’ and ancient magic.
“Yes.”
Still kneeling, Anya gave a docile answer.
Oh God. Could that insignificant, small boy truly be…
Sabelli’s deep green eyes momentarily gazed at the sky before returning to the small body filled with determination.
Accept it, do not resist. How can a mere human know the will of God?
“When cut by a sword, it hurts much more than you think.”
Anya recalled the terrible image of his brothers who made him lie down like a dog and whipped his back. His flesh was cut and bruised so badly he couldn’t lie down properly for a week.
“Is it s-similar to wh-whipping?”
Then he could endure it. Sabelli thoroughly assessed the small body that looked incapable of even holding a sword, with a slight sigh. What the boy could do well. What he must do.
“You might lose fingers or arms.”
Anya’s complexion immediately turned pale.
“There’s no forfeiting in an honor duel. If you commit such a dishonorable act, you’ll be driven out of this place, even as the mistress.”
Anya nodded with a tense expression. The boy’s eyes sparkled like stars in the Tildyen night sky.
“From now on, we’ll meet here every day before dawn.”
At last, a sprout emerged at the bottom of the cliff.
* * *
Near the entrance of the Nameless Forest was a wide, desolate clearing. It was an eerie, empty space where no one came. Perfect for secret training. In the dark Tildyen dawn, before daybreak had arrived, a small figure was moving quickly. The hem of a white robe swished across the gray stone slabs. Soon, that robe hem swept across the damp ground of the inner courtyard.
“Huff, huff.”
The weak body, unaccustomed to running, quickly gasped for breath. Nevertheless, he couldn’t delay his steps. A strange excitement compelled the boy to run. As he ran, the boy removed the fur-lined hood as if it were suffocating. His young, flushed face was revealed. A peculiar joy and excitement overflowed. The boy’s eyes shone more brightly than ever, and the corners of his mouth turned up with excitement.
〈I will take my meal at noon. I’m going to the library for a while. -Anya-〉
In the room the boy had left at dawn, only a parchment note scribbled with meticulous handwriting remained, nothing else had changed.
“Take it.”
Sabelli Nox immediately threw a heavy wooden sword at Anya as he came running, panting. Anya was struck directly on the forehead by the flying blade. Ouch, a groan escaped involuntarily.
“Pick it up.”
With his neck flushed red, Anya picked up the sword that had fallen to the ground.
“Th-the sword isn’t v-very big.”
The longsword Evernight wielded was long and slender, just like a living snake. But what Sabelli handed over was a yellowish wooden sword that looked unremarkable. Anya felt slightly disappointed but didn’t show it.
“That is perfect for you. Try holding it.”
The sword was heavier than expected. It was embarrassing to have complained earlier, as he couldn’t even handle a beginner’s wooden sword. Anya grasped the sword’s handle with all his might.
“One hand, not two.”
Sabelli pointed out in a rather cold tone. How could he hold with one hand a sword that was burdensome even with two? Confusion washed over him. Sabelli’s face was as indifferent as the massive Beriela Mountain Range. Anya readjusted his grip on the sword with his right hand. It wasn’t impossible to hold.
“Wh-why one hand? Tw-two hands would be m-more stable, w-wouldn’t it?”
Sabelli was also holding his wooden sword with one hand. He made a wide slash in the air with the wooden sword. It was a fluid, fast movement.
“Because you cannot wield a large sword.”
It was a cold assessment. The excitement he had felt while running subsided instantly.
“Instead, you are thin and can dodge nimbly, and you have a special ability.”
Sabelli lifted Anya’s chin with the tip of his wooden sword.
“Magic.”
A thrill ran through his body at those words. Sabelli raised his other hand while holding the wooden sword. Soon, a small, bright light rose from his palm.
“There is no clause prohibiting magic in an honor duel.”
At that moment, Sabelli threw the light cluster toward Anya. Oh no—before he could cover his eyes, his vision was blocked by the bright light. In that instant, he felt the dull sensation of the wooden sword against his neck.
“The boy just died.”
When the light disappeared, Sabelli’s wooden sword was precisely piercing Anya’s neck. If it had been a real sword instead of a wooden one, he would have died miserably, spurting blood onto the snow. Anya’s Adam’s apple moved with tension.
“To win the duel, you must never reveal that you can use magic.”
Sabelli withdrew his wooden sword. Instead, he slowly circled around Anya, measuring the boy’s physique.
“You will aim for just one moment.”
Sabelli’s wooden sword tapped Anya’s shoulder as he passed by. Next, he struck near the waist, and finally the shin.
“The moment when your opponent lets their guard down.”
That is the only moment you can win. Now, shall we begin?
