The next morning, Yujin stood in the training ground with hollow eyes.
Not knowing what had happened last night, Sona clicked her tongue seeing his zombie-like state.
"Why does the person called Teacher have eyes like a dead fish?"
"Quiet. I just had a tiring night..."
Teacher of Sona, and also Kiril and Kisharsinagh. Whenever he had time, he taught them swordsmanship and combat. Yujin planned to make Sona the vanguard of the Infected Knights.
She had the skill.
She was an uncut gem, only unpolished because of the restriction of being Infected.
Before leaving, Yujin had to finish everything. He couldn't leave irresponsibly. He planned to pass on everything he had learned to Kiril, make Sona a decent knight, and then leave Kazimierz.
He looked at Sona, sprawled on the ground in a tracksuit. The events with Raquelamalin last night came to mind. Dismissing it as a passing thought, Yujin focused on teaching her.
"Seriously, I couldn't even touch your clothes despite your injuries. Did you get too strong?"
"If you keep trying, you'll get there eventually. You feel your own growth too, don't you?"
Sona grumbled, but she had to acknowledge Yujin's teaching. He corrected her posture and rapidly increased her Arts proficiency and control. He was indeed a good teacher.
Infected are naturally more proficient in Arts than ordinary people. As always said, Infected live with an Originium catalyst attached to their bodies. Of course, there is no power without a price.
Excessive use eats away at life. But even with these restrictions, using Arts is daily life for Infected.
Yujin's teachings were a great help in proficiency and control related to Oripathy erosion. Instead of recklessly scraping up Arts, using them more efficiently allowed them to operate Arts without touching the erosion level.
Teaching that became flesh and bone. Considering such Arts techniques were passed down through families or secret traditions, it was quite an expensive lesson.
"Instead of thinking about beating me, you should think about surpassing Kiril first."
"…Damn geniuses."
Kiril, perhaps inspired by Yujin‘s battle with Tola, was using a sharp swordspear. A weapon with a blade-like edge instead of a standard spearhead. It was a unique weapon, but it didn't matter. It could perform the same role as a spear.
"Master..."
He looked at Kiril, who was sprawled out similarly to Sona. Kiril wondered how Yujin possessed his grandfather's spearmanship but didn't question it. He thought Yujin was qualified and wouldn't use that power for evil.
Of course, the sad reality was that even if Sona and Kiril attacked together, they couldn't beat Yujin.
But one thing had changed.
Training with Yujin was fun. Unlike the past.
Sona took care of children in the dark sewers. A harsh environment, but she didn't back down. Now those children were running around in the sunlight.
Kiril used to swing a sword alone in the empty lot without reason. Meaningless, devoid of technique. Swinging a sword to vent emotions. Now he swings a spear with a clear goal.
Having a goal is good. It becomes the driving force of life. In Terra, life cannot be lived without a purpose.
And.
Kisharsinagh too...
Yujin looked at the young girl who had grown up so quickly. Unlike Kiril and Sona, Kisha had a clearer goal than anyone. He didn't know what that goal was, but Yujin could tell it was alive with sharp emotion.
Even when Yujin told her in the morning that he, not Raquelamalin, would be taking care of her from now on, the child remained calm. Not showing a child-like appearance made Yujin a little anxious.
"Mister."
"Huh?"
A sword that looked like a staff at a glance. A weapon Yujin gifted her after the Sector Zero incident ended. Kisha was walking around leaning on that sword.
"You said the next destination is Yan. From there, you shouldn't call me Kisha."
Kisharsinagh‘s explanation was this: Kisha was a nickname her father and brother used, and others might recognize it. If the Confessarii tracked them and heard the name Kisha, a difficult situation could arise.
"Hmm... then what should I call you?"
Yujin felt troubled since the name Kisha rolled off the tongue so easily.
Kisharsinagh was also thinking, and suddenly, Yujin had an idea.
"…Then, how about I call you Shining from now on?"
Shining. A code name meaning bright or sparkling. If Yujin‘s Arts shone with flawless platinum light, Kisharsinagh‘s Arts resembled the light of twilight and starlight in the dark night. It was a name that suddenly came to mind.
"Shining, Shining. Yes, I think that's good."
"That's a relief. Then, when we leave Kazimierz, I'll call you by that name."
A child who would be a companion on Yujin‘s journey. It might be a hard journey, but hoping she would learn a lot from it, Yujin gently patted the child's head.
Praying that she learns much from the journey.
Kiril and Shining had great talent. Even Yujin felt like he was seeing his younger self. Kiril grew day by day learning his grandfather's spear and sword.
Shining was the same as Kiril. Seeing her swing the sword emitting Arts, it felt like day and night split to create twilight. If Kiril and Shining were the same age as him, it would feel like seeing Buldrokk.
"…The future of the Nearl family is bright."
Even if Yujin left, there would be no problem. If Daniel's plan went well.
Kiril, who inherited the essence of both the Infected Knights and the Silver Lances. And Daniel Nearl, who had excellent business acumen and was absorbing the fragments of the dismantled Merchant Association.
Once the situation stabilized a bit, there would be no problems.
The remnants of the Armorless Union were a bit annoying, but his friends from Kazdel were uprooting and smashing them thanks to the hole in Yujin‘s thigh.
Theresa was the scariest. When asked the root cause of Yujin‘s injury, that chilling smile. Theresis shivered as he said she disappeared at some point and was smashing the culprits to pieces.
That day, Theresis saw clearly how Theresa could use Arts. And realized how dangerous mental Arts were.
Yujin didn't know since he hadn't seen her fight, but since Theresis rarely spoke wrong, he let it pass.
Come to think of it, he was curious.
How did Theresa use Arts?
"Heh, stupid bitch. Showing an opening in a place like this?"
An assassin from the Armorless Union, having barely killed an attacker, walked through the backalley groaning. Blood poured from his side, indicating the severity of his injury.
Just now, he had slit the throat of an opponent who knew only how to use a bow and let her guard down. Swaying pale pink hair. She had a pretty face, but since it wasn't more precious than his life, he killed the girl without hesitation.
"Dammit, if only the Armorless Union hadn't ended like that. We wouldn't be doing this..."
"Hmm, is that so."
Flinch. A voice that shouldn't be heard. Words flowed from the mouth of the woman he thought dead. He got goosebumps instantly and looked back. There was the woman, speaking with a smiling face while bleeding from her neck.
Slash!
Hesitation breeds death. The nameless assassin rushed to finish it surely and severed the woman's neck, separating it from her body.
"Even hearing hallucinations. Making me anxious. She must be dead for sure this time."
"Unfortunately, I don't die that easily."
The assassin's eyes trembled. He just cut her neck and separated it from the body. But words were flowing from the face of the woman rolling on the floor.
"Fu, fuck. What is that...!"
"There's a lot to find out. Don't make that face already."
It's a struggle. The assassin threw a dagger to silence the woman and shot arrows to mutilate the already dead body. Fear-induced terror ran down his spine, and he was terrified seeing the body stand up fine after being pierced by arrows multiple times.
"Don't resist."
Immortal Arts? He had never heard of such a thing, but the assassin turned to flee. He had to escape this backalley first. If it were immortal or regenerative Arts, he thought it best to run without fighting.
"Haha..."
But, just when he thought he had escaped the backalley.
Taking a step, he saw that he had returned to the place where he killed the woman.
"You, you. What kind of Arts do you have...?"
"Well, since it's the lament of a dying man, I can tell you."
The innocent woman with autumn eyes smiled and opened her mouth.
"People conveniently call it hypnosis, right? It's not exactly that, but you can think of it as similar."
"Impossible. Such Arts can't exist..."
"There is nothing impossible in this world. Well, everything you just did never happened."
Stabbing the neck with a dagger, cutting the throat to make blood spray. Piercing the headless body multiple times with arrows. None of that happened?
"…Since when?"
Since when was he caught in such ridiculous Arts?
"Who knows."
The world flips. The sea, a beach basking in summer light. The assassin stands there. Even seeing the bloodied assassin, the surrounding people pass by indifferently.
"Maybe it's an Iberian beach full of tourists."
And, another flip. In a desert with hot sandstorms, the assassin stands among nomads wrapped in white cloth.
"Or maybe the desert of Sargon where sandstorms blow."
The girl no longer used polite speech. Or rather, she never did, but the assassin was mistaken.
"Want to guess which one is the truth?"
"I, I am, yes. An assassin of the organization! You are a demon killing assassins of such an organization! Haha, you can change people's perception, but not their memories!?"
He shouted, pointing proudly. Not knowing who stood above him, the pitiful nameless Kuranta shouted at the Sarkaz.
"Yeah, I guess so. Then, one more question. What is the name of the organization you belong to?"
"Is that even a question. The name of the organization I belong to is... name? Name?"
He couldn't remember.
Realizing the impossible had happened, he sweated profusely.
"You, you..."
"Enough jokes. I'm very angry right now. The person I love got hurt badly. Because of you, so I'm angry."
There is no innocent girl.
There is only a Sarkaz.
"Where are the others?"
"Do, do you think I'll tell you...!"
"…Thanks for thinking of it without saying it. Now that I know where they are, I should make you comfortable, right?"
Eyes meet.
Immediately after, without any warning, the assassin stabbed his own neck with the dagger he was holding.
"…Hehe, if I kill them all. Yujin will be happy, right?"
Blood flows from the neck. Another corpse is made.
A common occurrence in backalleys with Infected, and a common death the girl had always experienced.
Theresa quietly left the backalley with her hands still behind her back. As if what just happened had nothing to do with her.
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