Unlike Tino, Lucia didn’t seem to care at all that I was using her to my benefit. She gathered her wits, loudly cleared her throat, and began yelling at me. “Never mind that! What do you plan to do? This happened because you carelessly gave that thing to Luke! Magic can’t fix this, and even if it could, this is a dojo with a deep history—”
“Yeah, uh-huh.”
“Listen to me!”
Now, now, calm down, Lucia.
Nothing in this world can be taken back. There’s no returning to the past. It’s one of the few things I learned from my time as a hunter. All we could do was live proudly while holding on to our memories of the dojo. Feeling like I had attained enlightenment, I stood and let Lucia talk my ear off.
Then, the older apprentice suddenly yelled, his loud voice harsh on my ears. “It’s no problem. Sir. Our ineptitude is to blame. Miss Lucia, there’s no need for you to worry. Ma’am.”
He was looking intently at Lucia, not me. Just as I had hoped. Though I was thrown for a loop by how he talked like Kris.
“You don’t have to feel bad about the ruined dojo! Ma’am!” he continued. “Through our intense training, we’re always doing things like making holes in the walls. I’ll talk to our mentor! Ma’am!”
“You heard him, Lucia,” I said. “He says there’s no need to worry. What a nice bunch of people.”
“Oh goodness!”
I was fairly confident everything would be fine. You see, even the guys missing arms were fixated on Lucia. Did all Swordsmen have some specific taste in common or something?
With everything solved, there was no reason for us to stick around any longer. We needed to get out before anyone unsavory approached my dear sister. She looked both exasperated and uncomfortable. I grabbed her arm, then heard a scathing voice from beyond the rubble-filled training ground.
“You half-wit apprentices! Call yourselves Swordsmen, yet you let a girl throw you off-balance?!”
It wasn’t at all a loud voice, but it was sharp, like a drawn blade. It forced me to stand up straight. The apprentices all spun around at once. Walking over the debris was an old man in a kimono. He wasn’t a large man, but he had a sleek build trimmed of any unnecessary fat. His old hands and legs were bony, but still boasted immense strength on par with an active hunter, and retained much of the skill he had at his peak.
With a plethora of accolades, he still came up first when discussing who the empire’s greatest Swordsman might be. He was Soln Rowell, the Sword Saint. He was the mentor Luke had gotten when he came to Zebrudia. He was also the man who made our already talented friend even more dangerous.
“B-B-But sir!” the older apprentice said in a trembling voice. “It really was our own incompetence that let the Devil Sword—”
“If that was how you saw it from the start, then I’ll accept that explanation. How about it?”
The Sword Saint glared at the apprentice. He was supposed to be in his eighties, but the glint in his eyes showed no signs of frailty. Between people like him and the Abyssal Inferno, this nation was filled with vigorous geezers. Eh, I guess that was a good thing.
The apprentices weren’t sure how to respond to their mentor’s question that wasn’t really a question, but eventually, the older one spoke up.
“I’m ashamed to admit that I lost my presence of mind, even if the sight of something I admire, a black-haired Magus, is to blame,” he said in a strained voice. “Between both that and giving in to the temptation posed by a Devil Sword, I’m deeply ashamed by the lack of willpower I’ve demonstrated.”
Yeah, that’s pretty shameful. Honestly.
There were plenty of black-haired Magi going around. Like Krahi Andrihee!
Wait a moment. I realized that the apprentice had said something interesting. I was certain Luke had been taken by the Devil Sword, thus resulting in all the wounded people. But maybe that wasn’t it? When I actually thought about it, if someone like Luke started swinging a Devil Sword, most of these apprentices would be dead.
So I had worried for nothing.
All right. Let’s go home.
“Well then,” I said, “if that’s all, I’ll leave the rest to you...”
I turned on my heel and passed by the Sword Saint. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was light, but I was still firmly being held in place. I turned around and made eye contact. In a reversal from earlier, Soln was giving me a meaningful smile. Then he walked off, still holding on to me.
“Do you Grievers think my apprentices are disposable or somethin’?”
Soln Rowell, the Sword Saint, was famous for being a levelheaded Swordsman. Not only was he talented, but he had also made considerable contributions to the art of swordsmanship. He had taken the techniques taught to him and evolved them into his own style, the Soln school of swordsmanship. It was known throughout the empire and abroad.
Students of the Soln school were much more powerful than those of other schools, and were even said to be a match for mana material-enhanced hunters. Soln and his apprentices were trusted by the nobility and regarded as one of the forces that kept Zebrudia safe. In other words, they were given a level of respect similar to that of knights.
Not too long ago, they had sent Luke to help with security at the Gathering of the White Blade. Or to rephrase that, he had the authority to send a cutting fiend to an important gathering and didn’t panic when that fiend went wild. Isn’t that incredible?!
Basically, what I’m getting at here is that having learned from the Soln school of swordsmanship and rapidly absorbing mana material, Luke was the most hazardous of our entire party. I couldn’t keep taking responsibility for him.
Soln continued to chew me out while dragging me along. Lucia sighed and followed behind us, but didn’t help me out.
“Y’know, I was just thinking I needed to have a chat with you. Do you have any idea how many complaints come my way because of Luke? Do you? I’m eighty years old and I still can’t comfortably let my successors take over!”
“I’m very sorry for everything he’s done.”