"What the hell are you talking about?!"
"Ian, I distinctly told you not to teach that kid to swear..."
"N-No... She just picked it up on her own. It’s not like I taught her or anything."
Ignoring Ian as he flusteredly tried to brush it off, Ella began shouting at the top of her lungs.
Ian was taken aback by this attitude, so completely unlike the Ella he knew.
Did she care about me this much?
"Ella, that’s enough. Any more than that would be unbecoming."
"But..."
"What matters is Ian’s own will."
As Kshar soothed Ella, he looked at Ian.
Ian recalled that Kshar had looked at him that way whenever he had faced important choices before.
The time had come to choose once again.
It was not unfamiliar; he had faced such moments several times in his life. But there was far too much he would have to leave behind with this choice.
"Commander, Kshar. What exactly did you hear to make you say that?"
"That Pallum said he would make you several times stronger than you are now. And... that once you were strong, we could borrow you as many times as we wanted later."
"I’m already strong."
"But your limits are obvious."
Kshar remembered Ian’s desperate battle against a Level 3 opponent.
Ian had entered that fight filled with rage and a clear thirst for revenge, in peak condition—yet without Kshar’s help, he would have lost.
Rion, the Empire’s knight, had been a Level 2 close to reaching Level 3.
Ian had undoubtedly been stronger than Rion.
But from the moment he severed Rion’s head, Ian’s growth had slowed as though it had stagnated.
There was no longer any noticeable improvement.
But if he received Falna...
Kshar still could not get Finn’s words out of his head.
If that guy receives Falna, he’ll become one of the greatest adventurers there has ever been.
Finn had been utterly certain, and Kshar could not deny it either.
Ian was a monster.
A demon of the sword who had transcended the bounds of humanity, someone too extraordinary to be described by such a word alone.
The finest uncut gem, capable of stepping into the ultimate realm that every swordsman longed for.
Kshar had realized that this mercenary company could not properly polish the gem called Ian.
So there was no other way but to entrust him to a god.
Given Kshar’s experience, that was the only conclusion he could reach.
And Ian felt much the same way.
"Growth..."
"...I don’t know!"
Perhaps disappointed by Ian’s apparent hesitation, or perhaps hurt by it, Ella ran out of the tent with tears in her eyes.
Aina tried to stop her, but Ella was surprisingly nimble.
"Oh dear..."
"Hey, Pallum. Wouldn’t it be best to give up? To that child, this Human is..."
"Well, I have no intention of giving up that easily. Your name is Ian, right? What do you think?"
Looking down at Finn, who was gazing up at him with a bold expression, Ian crossed his arms and spoke.
"I’m considering it favorably."
"I knew it."
"But wait for now. That child is..."
She is the last wish of my benefactor, after all.
With a sigh that was nearly a groan, Ian moved to follow Ella out of the tent.
He would have done so, if Kshar had not stopped him.
"Ian."
"What?"
"Porit Ropos’s last wish was not that you raise that child. It was simply that you provide her with a home."
"How can you think that?"
"Well, I was his friend for nineteen years."
"Ah, right."
This is difficult.
Groaning as he held his head, Ian turned his gaze outside the tent again.
Ella was sitting on the vast grassland beyond the camp, fuming.
"Now I should go comfort her—"
"Ian, goodbye."
"...Yeah. Kshar, please take good care of Ella."
That was enough of a farewell between friends of ten years.
Above them, the moon was half-hidden behind the clouds.
It reminded him of Porit’s grave, so damnably bleak.
*
"If you’re going to leave on your own, then you really did hate me..."
"Who in the world would say something like that?"
Chuckling as he approached, Ian plopped down beside Ella.
The night air was especially cool, the moon shone brighter than usual, and a vast plain stretched out nearby. There was nothing before them.
It was quite a romantic scene.
Suddenly, Ian remembered a song he had heard from Ella’s mother.
It was hardly a real song, more like a lullaby parents sang to their children, without melody or rhythm. Yet Ian abruptly began to sing it.
"Ella, Ella, mischievous Ella. My little light, little Ropos."
"...I remember this."
"When you were about two, I think your mother used to sing it to you whenever you were crying and carrying on."
Ella could not remember her mother’s face, yet strangely, that song had remained with her. Whenever she felt down or irritated, she would sing it.
Though she had never known Ian knew those words.
"Mischievous Ella, feeling a little better now?"
"...Yeah."
Ian let out a soft snort of laughter and roughly ruffled Ella’s hair.
Her already disheveled hair became even messier under his hand, but Ella did not complain.
Ian took hold of Ella’s shoulders and drew her close against himself, then looked up at the sky. Tonight, the stars were especially visible between the clouds.
"When I was about twice your age, that was when I first met your father."
"What kind of person was he?"
"He spoke too freely and was childish for his age. He was cunning, well-traveled, and good at thinking on his feet. If I had to put it simply... he was a wise man."
"What else?"
"He always said that his daughter and I looked alike. I got angry every time he said it."
"Was he talking about me?"
"Not you. Your older sister, who died."
After a brief silence, Ella lightly punched Ian and grumbled.
"I wanted to become stronger than you, Ian."
"There’s no reason you can’t. Not you."
Ian smiled bitterly and stroked Ella’s hair.
Her fluffy hair filled the spaces between his fingers.
"You’ve watched me fight plenty of times, right?"
"Every day. I never missed it once."
"Then you’ll do well. You’re Porit’s child, after all."
After hesitating for a moment, Ian wrapped his robe around Ella.
The pitch-black robe trimmed in black fur was Porit’s legacy, and now it belonged to his daughter.
Ella clutched the robe’s fluffy trim as tightly as she clutched her own hair.
"Ella, let’s make a promise."
"What kind?"
"When enough time has passed... we’ll meet again. Until then, don’t die. Grow strong."
Ian drew his longtime companion and handed it to Ella.
"Show me your strength."
"...Ian, this is..."
"Take it. It’s proof of our promise. When we meet again, return it to me."
Ella’s eyes filled with tears as she took the small shortsword.
Ian knew.
Ella was a kind child.
For all her words, she had been secretly afraid of him leaving. In the end, for his sake, she had bent her own wishes.
"Always live cherishing yourself."
"Y-Yeah... I will. I will."
Throughout that romantic night, Ella and Ian stayed together.
The night in which he received little Ropos’s tears was more meaningful than any other.
And when Ian, having received Falna, finally departed, little Ropos stood among the sturdy mercenaries, waving her arms with all her might.
Comments (0)
Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register