Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 101

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 101.
Blood That Won’t Fade (14)
The day began with misfortune.
Daphnen, who had woken late, was eating the breakfast Nauplion had prepared when he carelessly knocked over his bowl of oatmeal with his arm. As he stared down at the oatmeal dripping onto his trousers in dismay, Nauplion, sitting across from him with sleep-heavy eyes, rose to help.
He had meant to fetch a towel, but somehow his sleeve caught on the table edge, and the flimsy table creaked ominously as the remaining bowl tipped over as well. More than half of the oatmeal spilled everywhere.
“Well, this is something.”
Nauplion clicked his tongue at the sight of two bowls of oatmeal streaming across the surface. He had brought a towel, but it seemed he would need to wash it several times over.
Daphnen kept his mouth shut. Something strange stirred within him, trying to claw its way up. It was a premonition. Or perhaps a vision of what was to come.
“Both of us seem distracted today. Be careful—a day like this invites needless conflict.”
Had Nauplion sensed something as well?
After leaving the house, Daphnen went to Scoli and attended classes without incident all morning.
Lunch brought nothing unusual either. He exchanged a few words with Oizis, but he did not see Liriope.
When classes ended, he climbed the mountain where he always met Isolet. Upon reaching the sloping grassland, he realized the person he was meant to meet was not there.
Daphnen waited for a time. A moment later, remembering something, he made his way to the Magic Stairs atop the cliff.
He climbed the stairs for the first time in a while and reached the summit where the spring flowed. But Isolet was not there either.
“Where is your master?”
Seeing a white bird pecking at the water, Daphnen asked without much hope. In truth, Isolet was not the bird’s master.
Flutter.
The bird spread its wings and flew downward, passing over the grassland and disappearing from sight.
Watching it go, Daphnen rose to his feet. He descended to the grassland and, seeing the direction the bird had flown, recalled something and began to follow. Isolet’s House lay in that direction.
As he drew near the foot of the mountain, Daphnen spotted unexpected figures.
They were climbing up from the slope below. If they continued upward, there was nowhere to go but Isolet’s House or the mountain itself. They were young boys—Hector and Ekion among them.
Daphnen met them directly in front of Isolet’s House.
“How convenient that the person in question has arrived.”
Hector spoke. His voice carried the weight of firm resolve. Daphnen recalled the previous day’s events and replied curtly.
“What business do you have?”
“I was just about to ask Isolet about something. If you would confirm the facts as well, that would be ideal.”
“I don’t know what you wish to learn, but I have no answers for you.”
“Is that so? Then perhaps….”
Hector turned his head toward Isolet’s House and called out.
“Isolet! My father was asking whether you will soon be married! Is it true?”
I felt as though I had turned to stone. Simultaneously, heat flooded my face.
“If it is true, that would certainly be cause for celebration! Since you have lost both your parents, my father says he will serve as your guardian in their stead!”
What was the right thing to do?
A swirling, scorching mass filled my chest and throat. It was an emotion I had felt once before.
Ekion and the other boys remained utterly silent. Only Hector continued to shout with a sneering expression.
“Honestly, I never expected you to seek a match in such a manner! I thought you would choose a more dignified way, befitting your station! And that your partner would be such a young boy—I could never have imagined! Don’t you find it rather amusing?”
“You….”
It happened in an instant. As Daphnen lunged to seize Hector by the collar, all the other boys rushed in and pinned him down.
Struggling was useless. Half a dozen boys gripped his body as though handling prey caught in a net. Three sets of hands clamped over his mouth.
Hector glanced back at the sight and offered a subtle smile.
As if deliberately stoking Daphnen’s fury, his words poured out with greater intensity, sharper tone, and more provocative content.
“Well, you’ve certainly been alone for quite some time, but surely you’re not yet at a marriageable age? Even if a man you favor has appeared, you mustn’t treat your body so carelessly! The villagers have eyes, after all. What will you do if you bear marks before you’re even wed?”
It was an outrageous insult that no woman—not just Isolet—could have tolerated.
Between the maddening rage and the hands that bound him, only one phrase echoed through Daphnen’s mind: I will not forgive, never forgive, I will kill you, I will kill you!
“Though such things aren’t unheard of on the Island. But the one who passed away….”
That was the moment he spoke those words.
The young boys holding Daphnen suddenly felt an enormous force push through their arms and wrench them backward. The boy gripping Daphnen’s right wrist felt his wrist bones snap.
With incredible force, Daphnen shattered free from the restraining hands and drove his fist straight toward Hector’s jaw.
“!”
Had Hector not evaded swiftly in that moment, his jaw would have shattered into fragments. Yet Hector had already anticipated it, ducking low as Daphnen’s fist merely grazed his forehead.
But Hector was startled nonetheless. Though it was only a glancing blow, the skin on his forehead was scraped away and blood seeped through.
Just moments before, Daphnen’s sole intention had been to prevent certain words from ever leaving Hector’s mouth.
Isolet might endure any other insult, yet there was one thing she could never bear—he had felt it keenly that night they spent together.
There was one phrase she would overlook in no circumstance, and the moment those words reached her ears, no one could restrain Isolet.
One must never insult the Ilios Priest who had passed away.
Merely preventing those words was not the end. He would repay it all—that insult, that rage. Like ancient grudges he had been too young and weak to avenge suddenly erupting, they thundered through Daphnen’s mind with violent force.
He regretted nothing. Just as Father had spoken while watching the burning manor, if he tolerated this situation, he was no son of House Jineman!
A name he thought forgotten had granted him rights. Daphnen, who had spent months striving to become a Pilgrim of the Island, had in this moment transformed back into a man of Trabaches, the land of struggle.
With the bewildered boys’ hands falling away, Hector startled by the wound on his forehead, and Isolet silent within the house, he screamed with a voice that tore from his throat. Like Yefnen once had, a fellow man of Trabaches, he boldly proclaimed his former name.
“I am Boris Jineman! I formally challenge you to a duel!”
There were only two of them. He permitted no one else.
Hector had even sent Ekion away. As if he had been waiting for this very moment, he had brought swords—one for Daphnen as well.
It was a bare clearing on the mountain where an unusually cold wind blew for summer. The two needed no signal. No witnesses, no spectators were necessary.
With their first clash, a sharp metallic ring echoed across the mountainside.
Clang! Clang!
“Hah….”
Their positions had reversed. Both blades had struck in rapid succession at each other’s inside and outside before they pivoted into identical stances.
This was the posture of early practice, yet it did not continue. In the next instant, both blades were aimed at the other’s vital points.
Tsukang!
A killing intent hung in the air that could not be called a mere contest between youths. They undoubtedly sought to kill one another. The trampled grass released a sharp, acrid scent—the green smell of blood.
Hector’s blade aimed for the heart; Daphnen’s for the throat. Since neither defended, both would inevitably be wounded.
Clothes tore countless times, and blood scattered from thin gashes. The two blades tangled, pushed, and clashed again, escalating into a test of raw strength.
Knowing himself at a disadvantage, Daphnen quickly slid his blade back a step before attempting to pierce Hector’s wrist.
But he missed. Hector’s blade seized momentum and tore Daphnen’s left shoulder. Blood droplets soaked the grass blades.
Such a wound brought no pain. Daphnen’s blade, raised with a twist of his arm, grazed Hector’s jaw and carved a wound that extended to his cheek. Both retreated hastily, then rushed forward again without hesitation.
Blades collided….
“Stop this!”
Both heard the voice, yet neither halted.
Hector leaped forward with a rush, bringing his blade down twice. Having blocked both strikes, Daphnen launched a sweeping attack at Hector’s lower body. It was a critical moment where the outcome could be decided at any instant.
Ken le asa naid!
My arm suddenly went rigid as a wooden log. I tried to resist, but I couldn’t hold on—Daphnen’s sword clattered to the ground. Looking ahead, Hector was in the same condition.
Then my legs gave way, and both of us collapsed to the floor.
“I’ve never seen such pathetic wretches!”
The one who rushed over and chanted the rune was Thesmopolos, Priest of the Medal. Behind him stood Liriope alongside several boys from Ekion’s gang. The girl’s face had gone pale.
I could piece it together easily enough. After Scoli ended, it had taken Liriope this long to discover Hector’s movements and summon Priest Thesmopolos.
“Likos! Go fetch those two swords and bring them here!”
Likos hesitated for a moment before rushing over to pick up the two swords lying on the ground.
Daphnen looked at Hector’s face. Lying there, Hector glared up at Likos with unmistakable fury.
Daphnen felt no anger. His mind was clearing. Halfway back to his usual self, he observed his recent rage with objective detachment.
And at the same time, his resolve to see this day through to its conclusion solidified.
This had not begun as a momentary outburst. The more coldly I examined it, the more undeniable it became—a debt that had to be repaid.
The nature bestowed by bloodline slowly awakened. The people of Trabaches do not reconcile without recompense. A clear enemy will be struck, no matter how long it takes. If circumstances prove unfavorable now, I will aim for the next opportunity, and the one after that.
And I will never forget.
The name of House Jineman, which I had tried to bury, could not be carelessly cast aside on a whim.
In boyhood, one can take any name and grow much the same in any land, but upon maturity, one inevitably becomes a Jineman of Trabaches.
“Hmph, so that’s how it was?”
After finishing his breathless account, Ekion looked up at Jilebo, the staff-magic instructor of Scoli, and nodded vigorously.
Ekion did not know why he was laying bare everything he had seen and heard this night, but Jilebo knew. He had waited at every juncture where Ekion might be caught.
He already knew everything that had happened during the day without a single detail missing, but he listened with deliberate patience. All the while, he noticed every subtle distortion Ekion introduced.
However, even Jilebo did not know what words Hector had used to insult Isolet. On that matter, all the boys had remained silent. Daphnen could not bring himself to speak of it either.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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