Ch.173Hero (5)

Swish-.

A gentle breeze blows.

The abundant spring sways the flower petals, each dropping their fresh scent.

Beyond the softly drifting fragrance, a vivid season reflects.

Yet, even in such a season, there was an undeniable sense of dissonance.

Blood pooled on the ground, and frost clung to various spots.

At the center of this lone winter, someone sat slumped.

The once proud ice shatters.

“Haa, haa…”

A ragged appearance.

A boy, covered in blood, gasping for breath.

The name of this blue-haired youth was Ruska Veniti.

He had become nothing more than a rag doll.

“Ah… this bastard was tough to deal with.”

“Our young master has grown a lot, hasn’t he?”

“Indeed. I didn’t expect him to take down two of us.”

Several shadows stood before the boy.

Each wore a sneer on their face.

They were looking down at Ruska, who was sprawled on the ground, as if enjoying the sight.

He was in a state that could only be described as a complete mess.

As if to prove his fierce struggle, snowflakes swirled around.

Even that had been a struggle that lasted less than five minutes.

“……”

Blood flowing down stains his vision.

His eyes close from the dull pain.

Yet despite being thoroughly broken, the boy refused to let go of the sword in his hand.

Finding his tenacity amusing, their mockery intensified.

Various taunts reached his ears.

“Why don’t you open your eyes nicely?”

“Why did they rush the order? We were going to take care of it soon anyway.”

“There was no need to let the target escape and annoy us.”

“Tsk… cleaning this up is going to be a hassle.”

Thwack-!

An arrow shot playfully lodges into his thigh.

Red spreads through his twitching pants.

Ruska gritted his teeth.

Whether they were deliberately toying with him or not.

They were aiming only at the most painful parts, just enough to avoid instant death.

Perhaps they meant to enjoy this as much as possible since they had time to spare.

“I never thought the young master would betray us.”

“You were so obedient until now.”

“In about three minutes, someone from the faculty will notice something.”

“Let’s finish this quickly and get out of here~.”

It wasn’t even funny.

When in fact, it was they who had betrayed the family.

The boy could not avoid his honor being tarnished.

Life fades from his once bright blue eyes.

‘Was I wrong…’

Consciousness gradually scatters.

It was impossible from the start.

For someone who couldn’t even defeat his sister to imagine a future where he could triumph over the family’s assassins.

But since he had stood here prepared to die, there were no regrets.

With this, Ameila would be free.

If there was only one lingering attachment…

‘…I still haven’t become a hero.’

A small, childish wish he had buried in a corner of his heart since childhood.

His father, whom he had always admired.

That back he had always wanted to resemble now seemed as futile as a mirage.

Ruska chews on his fading self-image.

His faint heartbeat settles in his eardrums.

-Ruska.

-A hero isn’t just someone who accompanies miracles.

-If you can stand up even with trembling legs, the stars will give you a name.

-Become such a person.

His heart beat.

As if to announce to the whole world that he was still alive.

That faint pulse was all that remained of the boy’s breath.

Life flickering is like sand.

The more you try to gather it, the more it flows away, leading to despair.

The boy simply stood before his own winter.

He grips his broken sword.

Sling-.

‘Perhaps.’

Squeezing out his final strength.

The pitiful cold soon freezes, forged into a vicious blade.

The carved frost once again takes the form of a blade.

With trembling legs, he plants his feet on the ground.

‘Can I… still become a hero?’

He asks himself.

A child burdened with evil questions.

Even though I submitted to reality, tainted the heart I admired, and conformed to it.

Even though I forgot my inherent innocence and sank into adulthood.

Can I still walk toward the night sky?

Will the stars give me a name too?

As he raised his sword, a voice reached him.

[My child.]

It was, like a miracle.

Against the backdrop of a dawn he dared not reveal.

A faint whisper found Ruska.

[Why do you seek me in your heroic tale?]

[Life has neither night nor sky.]

[If you wish to shine, then shine; if you wish to endure, then endure—that is life.]

[The name of your story is not determined by someone else.]

[Therefore, live your own dawn.]

It wasn’t the voice of a star.

He lacked the talent to receive a response from the transcendent.

But his heart, which had never extinguished, was burning.

His thirst for heroism, and his will… it was a kind of auditory hallucination stemming from that.

In short, it was nothing more than a fantasy without any meaning.

But.

[Grasp your sword.]

[The world is still your night.]

Even if it was merely a lie.

It was enough for the boy.

[Shine.]

Ruska stands up.

He takes his stance.

Behind him, frost flutters like a cape.

In his fingertips, a complete dawn is held.

He opens his previously drooping eyes wide.

He eliminates all hesitation.

Fluttering a white banner, he explodes the remaining strength in both hands.

Like the stories of heroes he had admired since childhood.

Like any name he had childishly wished for.

“Haa…”

Breath escapes.

The temperature of the alley rapidly drops.

Step-.

The boy takes one step.

A sword of ice, woven straight and true.

His hand, momentarily steadying itself, soon pierces through the silence and advances.

The blue straight line rushes to break the axis.

A flash, almost instantaneous, illuminates the surroundings.

“”……!?””

The assassins are startled by the sudden movement.

Did they believe they had completely neutralized him?

Some fail to react, giving the boy an opening.

The fluttering blue hair unfolds its technique without hesitation.

A shining radiance envelops the blade.

Swish-!

The extreme point containing his insignificant life.

The blue blade is eerily quiet.

There wasn’t even a trace of hesitation in his blue eyes.

‘Star.’

That was the name the boy had given.

Even if it would be treated as fake, like a piece of glass stuck in sand.

Even if the world called him differently.

It didn’t matter.

-Become a star that guides.

-Let the weak hide in your shadow, and the strong find direction in your light.

Simply believing himself to be a star.

That was enough.

The boy was a star to himself.

“Hup…!”

Crack-.

The straight sword strike covers the assassins.

Snowflakes surge with brilliant light.

The heads cut by the surprise attack are subsequently blown away by the wind.

The price for those who had let their guard down was death.

Only those who had been quick-witted remained standing.

“……”

Six had been cut down.

There were still four enemies before him.

Though it was a hopeful number compared to before, Ruska was at his limit to discuss what came next.

His strength, scraped to the bottom, was exhausted.

Thud-.

His staggering legs collapse.

The end had finally come.

However, the boy was satisfied with his own conclusion.

Given the extreme difference in strength from the start, eliminating half was already a remarkable feat.

Moreover, Ruska wasn’t even chosen material by the stars.

This was the best allowed to him.

The boy was sufficiently a hero.

“I guess… I landed… one good hit.”

He doesn’t worry about the remaining enemies.

Having stalled for this long, the faculty would have detected something unusual by now.

He just wanted to personally punish the traitors, even if only a few.

And, he wanted to live as a hero, even if just for a moment.

Not as a piece of trash begging for life, but a moment of iron and blood.

Ruska felt his eyelids growing heavier.

“Damn it…!”

“W-what just hit us? What was that just now?!”

“That young master bastard tricked us! He was holding back a move until the end!”

“I told you we should have killed him and left!”

“Finish him off quickly, even now!”

He was already a dead man anyway.

From the moment he failed to fulfill his mana oath and opposed the will.

In about 20 minutes, his heart would surely be crushed.

Perhaps he would be killed before that.

He didn’t know.

The boy simply closed his eyes.

To fall into a sleep from which he would never wake.

And to bid an eternal farewell.

‘It’s quiet.’

Silence settles gently.

A cool spring breeze passes.

In the season that has finally bloomed, the cold gradually fades.

Ruska was quiet along with his worn-out winter.

What he heard at the end of that dawn was…

“Ruska!”

None other than a familiar voice.

His eyes open reflexively.

The boy gazes in the direction of the noise with blurry eyes.

There was familiar fluttering blue hair.

It was none other than Ameila.

“Sis…ter…?”

Why in a place like this?

Before he could even form the question, a black curtain flutters in his vision.

A shadow falls against the backdrop of a starlit night.

Beyond the coat shines a red wine-colored shirt.

The figure that appeared as if from the darkness was holding Ameila protectively.

Those characteristic narrowed eyes were still ominous.

“Huhu.”

Laughter flows into the dawn.

When their eyes meet with Ruska’s, that snake half-opens his eyelids.

White pupils revealed slightly scan the surroundings.

They were eyes that seemed as if they could suck you in at any moment.

The alley is reflected on the enchanting full moon.

“Well done, young master.”

The snake offers a brief encouragement.

Then, targeting the surprised assassins, he flicks a finger covered in pitch black.

Like a flash ignited by gunpowder, sparks fly from the boy’s fingertips.

Along with it, a clear bursting sound.

Crack-!

“Shatter.”

Immediately after.

The necks of the remaining assassins in the alley all flew into the air at once.

The bodies that lost their lives collapse one after another.

Without any particular sign, simply their collapsing end.

Ruska could only look up blankly.

“Are you surprised?”

Behind the enchanting moonlight.

A smiling memento mori.