episode_0173

A gentle breeze blew. The flourishing spring soon rustled the flower petals, scattering their fresh scent. Beyond the softly fluttering fragrance, a vivid season reflected. Yet, even in such a season, there was an unerasable sense of incongruity. It was the blood pooling on the ground, and the frost clinging everywhere. Someone sat slumped in the center of a singular winter. The lofty ice crumbled.

“Hah, hah…” A tattered appearance. The boy, covered in blood, gasped for breath. The name of that blue-haired boy was Ruska Vanity. He had become a mere rag.

“Ah… that brat, he was stubborn, gave us a hard time.” “Our young master has grown a lot, hasn’t he?” “Indeed. I never thought two of us would fall.” A few shadows stood before the boy’s eyes. Scoffs hung on all their lips. They looked down at Ruska, sprawled on the ground, as if enjoying themselves. He was in a state that could only be described as a complete mess. As if to prove his fierce struggle, snowflakes swirled around him. Even that struggle hadn’t lasted five minutes.

“……” The flowing blood dyed his vision. His eyes closed from the viscous pain. However, even though the boy was completely broken, he did not let go of the sword in his hand. Perhaps finding that tenacity laughable, their sneers grew deeper. All sorts of taunts reached his ears.

“Why don’t you open your eyes nicely?” “Why did you hasten your fate? We were going to deal with you soon anyway.” “There was no need to annoyingly let the target escape.” “Tsk… cleaning this up will be a hassle again.” Thud! An arrow, shot playfully, lodged into his thigh. Red spread beyond his twitching trousers. Ruska gritted his teeth. Perhaps they were playing with him deliberately. They aimed only for the most painful parts, avoiding instant death. Maybe they intended to enjoy themselves as much as possible, since they had time.

“I never thought the young master would betray us.” “He was so obedient until now, it was good.” “In three minutes, the faculty will notice something.” “Let’s finish up quickly and get out of here~.” It wasn’t even funny. Even though they were the ones who had truly betrayed the family. The boy could not avoid having his honor sullied. The vitality in his blue eyes dimmed. ‘Was I wrong…?’ His consciousness slowly blurred. It was impossible from the start. A future where he, who couldn’t even defeat his Noona, would triumph over the family’s assassins. However, since he had stood here resolved to die, there was no regret. With this, Emilia would be free. The only lingering regret was…

‘…I haven’t become a hero yet.’ It was a small, childish wish he had buried in his heart since childhood. His father, whom he had always admired. The back he had always wanted to emulate now felt as empty as a mirage. Ruska gnawed at his fading self-portrait. His faint heartbeat settled in his eardrums.

-Ruska. -A hero isn’t necessarily someone accompanied by miracles. -If you can stand up, even with stumbling legs, the stars will give them a name. -You be that kind of person. His heart pounded. As if to announce to the world that he was still alive. Only a faint pulse defined the boy and his breath. His fading life was like grains of sand. The more he tried to gather it, the more he despaired as it slipped away. The boy simply stood before his own winter.

He gripped his broken sword. *Crackling.* ‘Perhaps.’ His final strength, squeezed out. The meager cold quickly froze, sharpening into a venomous blade. The carved frost once again took the form of a sword blade. With stumbling legs, he stood on the ground. ‘Can I… still become a hero?’ He asked himself. He questioned, becoming a child covered in evil. Though he had succumbed to reality, soiled his admired heart, and conformed to it. Though he had forgotten his inherent youth and sunk into adulthood. Could he still walk towards the night sky? Would the stars give a name to someone like him? As he raised his sword, a voice was heard.

[My child.] It was, as if a miracle. Against the backdrop of an unrevealed dawn. A faint whisper sought Ruska. [Why do you seek me in your tale of heroism?] [For life has no night and no sky.] [If you wish to shine, you shine; if you wish to stay awake, you stay awake, for that is life.] [No one dictates the name of your story.] [Therefore, live your own dawn.] That was not the voice of a star. For he lacked the talent to receive a response from transcendence. However, his unextinguished heart was burning. It was a kind of auditory hallucination, born from his thirst and will for heroism. In short, it was merely a delusion with no meaning whatsoever.

But. [Grip your sword.] [For the world is still your night.] Even if it was just a lie. It was enough for the boy. [Shine.] Ruska stood up. He took a stance. Behind his back, icicles fluttered like a cape. In his fingertips, a complete dawn was contained. He opened his unfocused eyes wide. He eliminated all hesitation. Fluttering a pure white banner, he unleashed the remaining power in both hands. Like the stories of heroes he had admired since childhood. Like any name he had childishly wished for.

“Hah…” His breath escaped in a puff. The alley’s temperature rapidly plummeted. *Stomp.* The boy took a single step. The sword of ice he had woven straight. His hand, which had briefly held its balance, soon pierced through the stillness and moved forward. A blue line dashed forth, as if to shatter the axis. A flash, akin to an instant, illuminated the surroundings.

““……!?”” The assassins were flustered by the sudden, piercing movement. Had they believed him completely neutralized? Some couldn’t react, yielding distance to the boy. His fluttering blue hair unleashed a technique without hesitation. A shimmering glow enveloped the blade. Swish! His ultimate technique, infused with his meager life. The keen sword blade was strangely still. There wasn’t a trace of wavering in his blue eyes. ‘Star.’ That was the name the boy gave it. Even if it was treated as fake, like a shard of glass stuck in sand. Even if the world called him something else. It didn’t matter. -You shall be a guiding star. -So that the weak may hide in your shadow, and the strong find their direction in your light. Just believing himself to be a star. That was enough. The boy was a star to himself.

“Hmph…!” Slice! A straight sword strike swept over the assassins. Snowflakes swirled with dazzling radiance. The heads severed by the surprise attack were then swept away by the wind. The price for those who had been careless was death. Only those who were quick-witted remained standing. “……” Six were cut down. Still, four enemies remained before him. It was a more hopeful number than before, but Ruska was at his limit to continue. His strength, scraped from the very bottom, was exhausted. Thud. His stumbling legs gave out. The end had finally arrived. However, the boy was satisfied with his own conclusion. Since the power difference was severe from the beginning, clearing even half was a remarkable feat. Moreover, Ruska wasn’t even a talent chosen by the stars. This was the best he was allowed. The boy was sufficiently a hero.

“This much… was a good hit, wasn’t it?” He wasn’t worried about the remaining enemies. After all, if he had bought this much time, the faculty would have sensed something amiss. However, even if it was just a few, he wanted to personally punish the traitors. And, he wanted to live as a hero, even for a moment. Not as some scrap living a cursed life, but he yearned for a moment of iron and blood. Ruska felt his eyelids growing heavier.

“Damn it…!” “W-what the hell hit us? What was that just now?!” “That young master tricked us! He had a trick up his sleeve until the very end!” “I told you we should have just killed him quickly and left!” “Deal with him fast, now!” He was a dead man anyway. From the moment he failed to fulfill the Mana Oath and defied its will. In 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 not soon awaken. And to bid an eternal farewell.

‘It’s quiet.’ A gentle silence descended. A cool spring breeze brushed past. In the season that had finally bloomed, the cold slowly faded. Ruska became still, along with the worn-out winter. At the end of that dawn, what he heard was… “Ruska!” It was none other than a familiar voice. His vision reflexively opened. With blurry eyes, the boy gazed in the direction from which the sound originated. There, familiar blue hair fluttered. It was Emilia. “Noo-na…?” Why here? Before he could even finish his question, a black curtain fluttered in his vision. A shadow fell against the backdrop of a starry night. Beyond the coat, a red wine shirt was visible. The figure, as if appearing from the darkness, held Emilia protectively. Their characteristic narrowed eyes were still ominous.

“Hehehe.” Laughter flowing in the dawn. When their eyes met Ruska’s, the snake half-opened its eyelids. The faintly revealed white pupils swept over the surroundings. It was a gaze that felt as if it could swallow you whole at any moment. The alley reflected above the enchanting full moon. “You’ve worked hard, Young Master.” The snake offered a brief encouragement. Then, aiming at the bewildered assassins, they flicked a finger covered in pitch black. Sparks flew from the boy’s fingertips, like a flash igniting gunpowder. Along with it, a clear resounding burst. Snap! “Shatter.” Immediately after. The heads of the remaining assassins in the alley simultaneously flew into the air. Their lifeless bodies sequentially sprawled. Without any premonition, simply their collapsing end. Ruska could only stare up blankly.

“Are you surprised?” Behind the enchanting moonlight. A smiling Memento Mori.