Chapter 35: The War, A Game (2)
“Wait, Monika.”
Fleur blocked Monika's path.
The sunlight, dyed in the color of dusk, was pouring down vermilion. And so, Fleur, with her back to the sky, was steeped in shadow. Not only the outline of her body, but also her expression. Even the leaves of the flower crown on her head. Fleur, entirely dyed in black, looked as if she were shrouded in a dark curtain.
“You've already helped as much as you can. Why do you keep overdoing it? He said he could work at the magic stone quarry. Mr. Marchisio has a place to return to.”
……Mr. Marchisio?
Monika's gaze narrowed. Was the honorific ‘sunbae’ unnecessary now that he had been expelled? Monika bit her lower lip. Drawing the line is so easy for you. Thinking so, she moved her crutches. She passed Fleur and crossed the corridor that led to the faculty-exclusive dormitory.
“Monika, you need to rest.”
Fleur reached out her hand towards Monika.
“Otherwise, your leg……”
Just as the tip of Fleur's finger was about to touch Monika's prosthetic arm,
──Chwarak!
The prosthetic arm, swinging roughly. Fleur, pushed by it, fell to the stone floor. The petals that made up the flower crown scattered in the air, and one of them landed on the bridge of Monika's nose.
“……Well, whatever.”
Monika extended her prosthetic arm and picked up the petal.
“I'm sorry.”
She opened her mouth, blowing it away.
“It wasn't intentional. This prosthetic arm moves based on my emotions. That's why it sometimes reacts sensitively. When I try to hide my true feelings, or when……”
“So you're hiding your true feelings now too?”
“I have no obligation to answer you.”
“That's right. That may be so, but……”
A delicate sigh that followed.
Fleur shrugged her shoulders.
“I don't think I can get up by myself. Won't you help me?”
“Don't be ridiculous. You just fell on your butt.”
“My tailbone is broken. I'm frail, you see.”
“Liar.”
“How would you know? Can you read minds or something? Unlike you, I can hide my true feelings as much as I want.”
It hurts. Ah, it hurts so much.
I feel like crying. Someone, please help me.
Fleur let out a pained sound, with the side of her hand to her lips.
“What are you doing, really.”
Monika frowned.
She held out her left hand to Fleur.
“Is that enough now? Hurry up and get up. You're annoying me.”
“Okay, I will.”
Fleur wiped her palm on the hem of her cloak. Then she stood up, holding onto Monika. Fleur, who had dusted off her flower crown and placed it on her head. She wore a painted-on smile.
It's like a mirror, Monika thought. Fleur's round, light blue eyes, slickly so. It seemed they were reflecting everything like a mirror, concealing the inside.
To the point where she felt like throwing up.
“Do you, know what a magic stone quarry is?”
At Monika's question, Fleur tilted her head.
“Since it's a magic stone quarry, it must be a place where they mine magic stones, right? Mr. Marchisio must have a talent for handling a pickaxe too.”
“Don't be ridiculous. A magic stone quarry is a place where people die.”
Magic stone, a mineral where magic is condensed, is mined at a point where it meets a ley line. That's why the mine shafts are bound to extend endlessly deep. It was common for the ground to collapse and for the miners to be buried alive.
And that wasn't all. Accidents where they suffered from diseases due to being exposed to magic for a long time, or where the magic stone, stimulated by external force, exploded, were also frequent. He's going to work at a place like that? What a joke. Monika didn't believe Dante's words. A miner at a magic stone quarry wouldn't live past fifty even if he lived for a long time.
“Do you know what I mean? Going to a magic stone quarry means you're going to die while just swinging a pickaxe. Of course you wouldn't know. You could be at ease because you didn't know. Because you've lived your whole life just enjoying the benefits that magic stones give.”
You nobles and commoners like me are separate.
We can't mix. Even if we're in the same space.
I know what you don't, and you don't know what I know.
There's no reason to know, and you probably don't want to know either.
Monika said so to Fleur.
“In the first place, you didn't even know that I, a native of Sarrifis, was alive. That is because I had been living in a corner of the slums, hiding in an abandoned funeral home, and prolonging my life surrounded by coffins. So you couldn't have known. Your father probably doesn't expect it at all either, right?”
How about this?
Why don't you send a letter right now.
Monika shot back in a harsh tone.
“Try telling that damn Marquis Saint-Pierre. Tell him that a worthless girl named Monika Lohengrin is alive, and ask him if it's okay to kill her. Though I have no intention of dying obediently.”
“I won't do that, Monika.”
Fleur answered readily.
Without a shred of hesitation. With an unchangingly clear expression. With a voice like the chirping of a bird.
“I told you. I want to help you. I'm serious.”
“Ah, really?”
Monika's lips twisted.
“I'm grateful for your help in saving Dante-sunbae. But that's as far as it goes. I don't want to get involved with you. Even if it benefits me.”
I'm scared of you, and I hate you.
You saw clearly how my prosthetic arm moved.
Monika whispered in a tone as if squeezing out the words.
“I'm holding it in, everything. Because you must have been a child when Sarrifis disappeared. Because I don't have the capacity to get revenge on your family. I have that much sense of reality. And above all, I just want to live a safe and good life. My mother, and my father, must have drawn their last breath wishing for me to do so.”
But I hate you.
I hate you so much I feel like I'm going crazy.
Do you understand, Fleur de Saint-Pierre?
“Everything about you feels terrible to me. Your touch is disgusting, and looking into your eyes makes me feel like throwing up. You want to help me? Even those words feel creepy.”
There's no law that says we won't get involved again.
Since we're in the same class. But my thoughts won't change.
It's okay to have this much hatred, isn't it?
“Isn't that right, young lady of the Saint-Pierre family?”
Fleur quietly looked at Monika.
She was just listening to her story. Staring at Monika's face. Watching the process of her amber eyes, set in her sharp eyes, and her pale lips, rippling.
Nodding her head, and sometimes swallowing, Fleur listened to Monika's words without moving. By the time Monika directed her question at her, Fleur had decided not to affirm or deny it. Because it was meaningless. Rather than that, there was something she wanted to ask back.
Because for Fleur, only that had meaning.
“Is that your true feeling, Monika?”
“That's right.”
Monika turned around roughly.
“So don't follow me.”
The sound of her crutches hitting the ground echoed in the long corridor.
Fleur blinked, standing still. She looked at Monika's retreating back, which was moving slowly, and then,
‘She told me.’
She brushed back her sky-blue hair, and,
‘Monika, her true feelings.’
She smiled with her head bowed.
The more you reveal what you're hiding, the more intimate the relationship becomes. So Monika and I have become closer. Fleur believed so without a doubt. The boundary between liking and hating is meaningless. Because in a friendship, liking and disliking coexist. Yes, it must be so.
“──Gorgias of the Tree declares.”
At that moment, a voice from beside Fleur.
“The plan has been carried out smoothly. The souls of those who lost their lives today have become ours. Though the number was smaller than foreseen, it is an achievement within the margin of error. A truly delicious fruit will be borne.”
Haa, and.
Fleur let out a sigh and looked back.
“──Paracelsus of the Water declares.”
A boy dressed in a CIAR uniform stood there. A 3rd-year, Emilio Mackenzie. The crest engraved on his cloak was a lizard symbolizing the Mystriel family. The outline of a two-tailed lizard wrapped around Emilio's small body.
“Comrade, do not forget that we are watching you. Monika Lohengrin, a girl born with Aura. It would be good for you to join our current.”
But it was strange. Emilio was staring at Fleur with his eyes wide open, without a single blink. And above all, Emilio's small mouth. The voice that flowed from it was that of a decrepit person.
“──Kierkegaard of the Iron declares.”
Following that, the voice of an old woman echoed through Emilio's mouth.
“How about it, maiden of Saint-Pierre. Hand her over to us. We will melt her budding belief in a furnace. We will give you the skin. We will take the soul. If we tan it with care, it will become the new skin of a god.”
“Um, excuse me, but……”
Kkwaak, and.
Fleur grabbed Emilio by the scruff of his neck.
“Would you please shut up? The smell of rotting corpses is everywhere.”
Fleur's sharply narrowed light blue eyes. Emilio's expressionless face was captured on their surface.
“Don't get me wrong, specter. I am not your subordinate. Nor am I your comrade. We are just together because our interests align, I have no intention of playing along with the delusions of you lumps of meat.”
If you so much as lay a hand on Monika, just you watch.
I'll chop up your bodies and throw them to the dogs as food.
At the moment Fleur whispered so and smiled coldly,
“Keuk……, I, I can't breathe.”
A focus returned to Emilio's lifeless eyes.
Fleur clicked her tongue. Gloomy things. To just say what they have to say and then disappear. Thinking so, she let go of Emilio. She turned her back and walked on without hesitation.
“W, what? Why am I in a place like this……”
While Emilio was asking himself with a dazed expression,
Fleur looked down at her empty hand. The hand that had touched Monika. Below it, her slender wrist was mangled with knife marks.
‘That's right, Monika.’
It was a Stigmata, drawn to complete the Resuscitation Ceremony.
A single knife mark becomes the lifeline of a single soul. And so, it does not heal. It just faintly shimmers red. The stigmata engraved on Fleur was the same as the number of dead people she had resurrected so far.
‘To you, I must just be a scary and hateful child.’
It's not that I don't know. I know very well.
Death is ugly and life is beautiful. That is why you are brilliant.
Even if people consider you lowly, and despise your disability, and even if you yourself conclude that your life so far has been unfortunate, only I must know. As one who has been given the surname of Saint-Pierre, as a member of the family that has destroyed everything of yours, only I must praise your preciousness.
‘And rightly so…….’
Because you survived in the face of death,
and all the jewels of this world are discovered in a mire.
They shine because they survived in the gap between dirt, bones, and dust. The ancient jewels of this world.
‘So Monika, you are my precious jewel.’
Fleur clasped her hands together.
She recalled Monika's body temperature, which she couldn't possibly feel.
‘I will protect you.’
By any means necessary.
I cannot tolerate even a single scratch.
Because a jewel must be kept in a container that befits it.
Even if, you don't want it.
* * *
“Ah, Abel……, Professor Argento.”
Dante opened his mouth, mumbling.
Abel was staring straight ahead with a sharp expression. The members of the Capital Defense Force, who were searching CIAR. Men in uniform were coming and going around.
It will be busy for a while. Thinking so, Abel let out a sigh. Besides the Capital Defense Force, countless organizations and families would rush to clarify the details of the incident that had occurred today. There was something he had to take care of before that.
“Did you come……, because Monika asked you to help me?”
“No.”
Abel shifted his gaze to Dante.
“Is Monika looking for me.”
Dante nodded his head.
“Because of my expulsion……, sh, she was asking for help……”
“I see.”
As the day was getting dark, Abel and Dante were sitting on a bench set up in a deserted place. The smell of fallen leaves, stirring in the autumn wind, was pungent. Soon, a leaf fell on Dante's head. Abel brushed off Dante's hair.
“Are you feeling a little better.”
“Ah, yes……. Th, thank you. For using the healing magic……”
Dante wiped his lower jaw with the back of his hand. Dried blood was on various parts of his face. It was because of the punches thrown by the child of an unknown noble family. Abel had treated his wounds, but he couldn't very well wash off the bloodstains too. That was something Dante had to wash off himself.
“P, Professor Argento……”
Th, th, that……, and.
Dante, who had been stuttering, bit his lower lip. Why was he always trembling like this? To the point where it was difficult to even pronounce a single word.
It wasn't like this from the beginning. If so, when did it become like this. Dante tried to recall, straining his eyes. Was it after he had witnessed the death of his family? Was it after he had been left behind alone in the mine shaft of the magic stone quarry? Was it from the time he was begging on the streets and clinging to unknown adults? He still didn't know for sure.
“……Professor Argento.”
There is one thing that is certain.
Just for now, I mustn't be clumsy.
Thinking so, Dante opened his mouth.
“I have something I want to ask.”
“I'm sure you do. You may ask.”
“Is my teacher dead.”
“He will die soon, but he is still alive for now.”
You won't be able to meet him.
Because he's in a state where it would be better to be dead.
Abel answered so.
“Then my teacher is……”
Was Felix Christian an evil person?
At Dante's question, Abel shook his head.
“Young ones like you, Dante Marchisio……”
Abel opened his mouth, holding in a sigh.
“Often contemplate on the good and evil of adults. But in this world, there are few good adults and evil adults. Because only the young can be purely good, and purely evil.”
In the first place, good and evil is an endlessly pure measure.
Because it's just a dichotomy. An adult is not such a being.
Abel whispered so.
“Neither good nor evil……. Adults comfort themselves, believing their position to be so. Because they believe themselves to be neutral, they can become even more cruel. Therefore, it is meaningless to discuss the good and evil of your teacher.”
So, a mindset.
Let's talk about a mindset.
“What kind of heart did your teacher have to cause such an incident. That must be the question you truly wish to ask.”
First, Felix Christian must have harbored a vanity.
Abel said so.
His name was a fake. His appearance was also a fake. Even his resume was a fake. Dante's teacher had fabricated everything, and this was to recreate a battlefield. Abel told Dante such a fact.
“Are you saying that everything about my teacher was a fake? His name, face, and even the fact that he was a former officer……”
“That's right. Your teacher was a Holy Knight, and I also do not know his real name. So my story is nothing more than a mere prediction.”
Second, Felix Christian must have harbored regret.
Abel said, following up.
He recalled the Aura that Felix had used. He killed his daughter, and killed his wife……. Such words from Felix must be nothing more than feigned villainy. Abel predicted that Felix was not one who had killed his family, but one who had lost his family.
“My teacher told me. That when he returned to his hometown after the Mirror War ended, his daughter had died of illness, and his wife had also chosen suicide……”
“We cannot know what the truth is. We can only repeat our predictions. We cannot be sure of anything.”
Third, Felix Christian must have harbored madness.
Abel said firmly.
Felix's objective was none other than war. To cause a war again. Without any thought of winning, without any thought of returning alive, rather, to lose one's life in the midst of a battlefield was Felix's intention. Because he had been reduced to a madman bound by war…….
“That is……”
Dante covered his face with both hands.
In the gap of his palms, his lips were trembling.
“Why is that. For what reason did he want to cause a war again? I can't understand. If my teacher also lost everything due to the war……”
“I do not know.”
Abel replied, staring at a distant place.
“It might be because of revenge. Even though he had lost his family due to the war, the world was leisurely steeping in peace. Or it might be because of regret. While his family was dying in his hometown, he had ended up surviving alone on the battlefield.”
“Neither of those…….”
Dante clenched his teeth.
“Are you saying that neither of those is certain? His name, appearance, and history. Even his past of having lost his family. And even the reason why he wanted to cause a war……, are you saying it's all just Professor Argento's prediction?”
“That is correct.”
Abel nodded his head without hesitation.
A war was like that. Good and evil people became colorless, and only allies and enemies were distinguished. There was no time to recite one's name, age, place of origin, or the life one had lived until then. They would just grab their respective weapons, and try to kill before being killed.
“The one whose identity was unclear was not just your teacher. I cut down countless enemies today, and I did not know the name of a single one of them. A war is like that.”
“But……”
But, but, but……!
Dante's head bowed roughly. A cry welled up from his throat. While all around was blurring, Dante shouted towards the other side.
Felix Christian.
No, as if confessing to a nameless man.
“But like this……, I can't hate him!”
I can't hate my teacher.
I know. I know. It's not because I don't know.
I know that my teacher was not a righteous person. I also know that he was a man who deserved to die. I know, but still, I can't hate him.
“The professors were talking……”
The professors said, staring at me.
That I was used by my teacher. That is why I am innocent.
That I must have sympathized with my teacher. That is why I am irreverent.
It was fine either way. I thought it was fine whether they understood me, or whether they suspected me. I didn't even mind being expelled from CIAR. I just wanted to know. I wanted to know if my teacher was alive. I wanted to know why he had caused such an incident.
“He was……, that person was my teacher.”
He taught me everything.
He taught me how to handle a sword. He taught me how to study here. He taught me the effort needed to prove my worth, and the steadfastness to want to help someone.
He taught me how to hold an adult's hand.
He taught me how to hold the hand of an adult, which was full of scars and so very large.
“I learned how to live from him. That is why I can't hate him at all. Even if he used me, even if he was not righteous, I can't bring myself to feel any hatred. I alone cannot hate him!”
“I know.”
Abel stood up from the bench.
As he was, he stood facing Dante. He bent down and placed his hand on Dante's knee, then met Dante's red-stained gaze.
“Dante Marchisio.”
Abel's voice was low.
“I will soon forget your teacher. Since he was not an adversary worthy of being engraved in my mind. The professors of CIAR are also the same. They will forget soon. A person's memory is not that good. Don't the scars of war also get forgotten at some point?”
Only you will remember.
Because he was your teacher. Like a parent.
Abel whispered so.
“……So fourth, Felix Christian must have harbored pity.”
He had been questioning continuously.
For what purpose did he give Dante a cursed artifact.
At first, he had suspected it was to use him as a hostage. But Dante had been staying at CIAR, not by Felix's side. If he had intended for him to run wild, it would have been better to feed him a monster's core. Felix had said it was just to use him, but there was no reason to tell the truth to an adversary he had met on the battlefield. And above all, Dante could be defended because he had been deluded by a cursed artifact.
So, if by any chance, though it can never be certain, if Felix had believed in the safety of CIAR, his own death, and furthermore, Dante's survival and the subsequent interrogation without a doubt…….
“Then it would be understandable.”
The reason why he passed down his sword to you.
Abel whispered so.
“Professor Argento, but……”
Dante held his breath.
He opened his mouth, hiding his wet eyes.
“That is also ultimately……, just your prediction, right?”
“That's right. It's all just my thought.”
“And you must have told me in the most positive way possible. Wishing that I wouldn't get hurt……”
“I won't deny it.”
“Why is that……”
Dante's gaze shifted to Abel.
Without hiding his messed-up expression, he met Abel's gaze, putting strength into his trembling eyes.
“Why……, are you speaking so kindly to me. To you, Professor, my teacher must have been an enemy, and yet why……”
“It's nothing more than a mindset.”
A faint smile spread across Abel's lips.
“I just talked about your teacher's mindset. To me, it's something of no importance. Even if my prediction was all true, even if I had known that beforehand, I would have cut down your teacher without hesitation.”
But it won't be like that for you.
Because it will be a crucial story for you.
So I tried saying it. There's no other reason.
Abel muttered so.
“So, Dante Marchisio.”
Abel fumbled in the inner pocket of his formal coat.
“From now on, you will think constantly. About your teacher's mindset. You will contemplate for a long time on what is true and what is false. I have just helped your prediction. It is not my place to put a period on your teacher's life. It must be a problem that you, his disciple, will face.”
There are adults who want to help you with that.
They are different from your teacher. Just mere adults. The kind of adults you can commonly meet on the streets…….
Because we won't be able to give you the answer to the problem you will face.
“Please take this.”
Three letter envelopes.
They were held out to Dante.
Dante hesitated for a moment, then stared blankly at Abel. Abel nodded his head with a faint smile. Dante's hand took one of the letters. It was none other than a letter envelope with the seal of CIAR stamped on it.
“Vice President Theresia was worried about you.”
Inside the envelope was a letter of recommendation.
The writer was Konstanze von Theresia. Konstanze had explained that Dante had a natural talent for swordsmanship. That was why she had requested his admission to the head of Krisaor Academy, a prestigious military academy located in the southern part of the empire.
“Because you might be in danger as long as you stay at CIAR. She issued the expulsion order knowing that. Not only the professors, but the members of the noble families, and even the Capital Defense Force……. Those who would bind you have become rampant everywhere.”
“Krisaor Academy……”
No way. Dante's gaze widened. Krisaor Academy. That was a prestigious military academy, on par with CIAR. At least for those who wished to walk the path of a knight…….
“Try opening the other letters too.”
Inside another envelope was a certificate of sponsorship.
The writer was Iris René von Orléans. Iris had written that she had taken pity on Dante's situation. And so, she promised to sponsor him until he could achieve financial independence, and concluded the sentence by distributing a certificate of sponsorship to prove this.
“Duke Orléans took pity on you. That is why she promised financial support. From now on, if you are insulted, Duke Orléans will not stand by and watch. So you no longer need to cower.”
Dante stared down at the certificate of sponsorship with a dazed expression.
Only the tear stains were clear on his scattered expression. As he was, he reached out his hand and opened the third letter. It was so very different from the previous two letters. The quality of the paper was poor, and only the two people's addresses were written on it.
“I don't wish for anything from you.”
One was Abel Argento.
“But Monika will be different. She will probably want to stay in touch with you in the future. Though she's prickly on the outside, she's a child with a lot of affection.”
The other was Monika Lohengrin.
“So please, write to us.”
Of course, it's fine if you send me a letter too.
If you have a problem, feel free to ask for help.
It doesn't matter if the content is just that you're alive. Let me know you're safe sometimes.
Whispering so, Abel straightened his bent body.
“P, Professor Argento……”
Dante barely opened his mouth.
“I……, how can I ever repay this grace……”
“I have not bestowed grace upon you. I have just shown you courtesy. As if serving tea to a guest.”
Abel brushed back his hair.
His ashen silver hair stirred in the autumn wind.
“Dante Marchisio. You survived once in the midst of the Mirror War, and again in the turmoil that occurred today. We adults must show due courtesy to the young who have survived. Because the war is not over if we have not fulfilled our responsibilities.”
That is why I……, and.
Just as Abel was speaking in a quiet voice,
[──Professor Argento!]
Fabien's voice, heard from afar.
[I have brought the weapon you requested. The Hero doll you purchased in the capital has also been wrapped. It must be a gift for Lady Monika, right? A very good choice…….]
“……Please be quiet, Fabien.”
[Commencing silent mode.]
Fabien, who had been speaking breathlessly, closed his mouth.
Fabien was holding out a single sword. A sword covered in a cloth with numerous magic circles engraved on it. Dante, who had been looking at it, stood up from the bench. Surprise spread across his wet expression.
“I thought you might need this sword.”
Abel tore off the cloth that had been covering the sword.
A starkly worn blade. A distorted pommel. A guard that was broken on one side. It was none other than Felix Christian's sword.
“Take it with ease, Dante.”
Abel held out the hilt to Dante.
“It took a little effort to go through the purification process. An incident like today will no longer occur. Now, this sword has no power dwelling in it. No curse, and no blessing either. It is nothing more than an old sword. But you will make this sword a special armament.”
Dante held out his trembling hand. As he was, he gripped the hilt and supported its weight. Thud, and. Dante's arm, tilting downwards powerlessly. The blade was thrust into the gap of the grass. It was impossible, after all. It was a weight that Dante's build could not handle. Felix Christian. No, the sword of a nameless teacher…….
That's right. It was always like this.
Dante wore a hollow smile.
He had thought it would be the same as the weight of his younger self. The weight of such a huge sword.
But it was different. He finally realized.
It was the weight of his teacher. It had become heavy because the life of a nameless teacher was contained in it. That was why it had always been burdensome.
He doesn't know his teacher's name. He also doesn't know his age. He also doesn't know his place of birth. Whether he was a person to be respected or a person who deserved to die, he doesn't even know that. Since what he had learned from his teacher was all knowledge about Dante's own life, when discussing his teacher's life, only an unbearable weight could be confirmed.
That was enough.
It's enough now, Dante thought.
He doesn't know what his teacher's life was like. He will never know. But Dante's life remained. A sword that had been steeped in vanity, regret, and madness. This weapon would move according to Dante's life. Abel believed so without a doubt. Because that child knew how to pity even a madman.
“I'll be on my way now.”
And so, he turned around.
He continued speaking as he walked.
“If you need a hand to carry your luggage, come find me. I'll make time to help you. And Fabien, you can open your mouth now.”
[Thank you, Professor Argento. You've chosen a surprisingly good gift. One of my former masters was also an avid reader of <BRAVE QUEST>…….]
“……Yes. Thank you for the compliment.”
Dante held his teacher's sword in his arms.
The sword, which had become worn out, was nothing more than an iron club. The blade was so worn that it couldn't injure Dante anywhere. The hilt, stained with handprints, smelled of skin, and since various parts were distorted, it was just endlessly rough and blunt.
“Professor Argento!”
And so, Dante shouted at Abel.
What would be a good thing to say? Dante thought for a very brief moment. It seems no matter what feelings I convey, they won't reach. He felt such a certainty.
If I express my gratitude, he'll reply that there's no need to be grateful. If I offer my respect, he'll reply that he's not in a position to be respected. So, Abel Argento, you are a good adult. Even if I were to assert so, he would steadfastly deny it.
Then let's ask a question.
As if asking for a teaching from a teacher.
“──Is your sword, Professor, an artifact?”
Abel's steps stopped.
That's right. Abel thought, gripping the hilt of his beloved sword. When I first met that child, I must have interrogated him like that.
Abel drew his beloved sword. Then he looked back at Dante and wore a smile.
“It once was, but not now. Now, it's just……”
It's a hazy smile.
Dante thought, observing Abel's expression.
No, it's different. It's a dry smile. It's a steadfast smile. It's a gentle smile. No, no, no. It's all different.
“……Just a beloved sword.”
What is a beloved sword made of?
Dante quietly guessed. Iron and jewels. No, that alone is not enough. Does it need affection? No, it's not something that is made with just mere affection either. You have to put in a lot of sorrow, and sometimes mix in a love-hate relationship. And so, it can finally be called a beloved sword.
That is why it's a sad smile.
Abel's smile looks sad, Dante thought.
Will I also be able to become like that? When I am asked what this sword is to me……,
It's a beloved sword.
A weapon that has always been with me, and will be with me in the future.
With a sliver of sadness, and yet, will I be able to answer with a smile?
I hope so.
I want to become an adult like that.
Dante thought, supporting his teacher's sword.
And so, he engraved it in the darkness.
A still clumsy smile.