Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 113

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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 113.
Blood That Won’t Fade (26)

As late March arrived, Scoli reopened for the new term.
The student body had changed considerably. Most notably was Hector’s absence.
The children who had followed Hector around were now adrift, floundering without direction. Ekion alone lacked the capacity to rally them.
Hector had volunteered for the Path of the Sword as expected. In early March, he had departed for Silence Island with the warriors under the Priest of the Sword, and was not scheduled to return until the following month.
Given these circumstances, Ekion found himself increasingly unmoored and restless. He had built his life’s purpose around his elder brother’s existence, yet that brother had now withdrawn from his world. A season of change was descending upon him as well.
But he refused to accept that change.
The new term at Scoli brought with it a fresh and significant topic of conversation. Daphnen recalled hearing about it once from Nauplion—or more precisely, from Walnut Teacher.
It was Silverscull.
“It’s definitely this year, right? This year we can definitely participate?”
“The Priest of the Sword has to grant permission before we can go. We don’t know yet.”
“What are you talking about? Participating once every five years has been the tradition since ancient times!”
“How many people will go this time? Do you think I could go?”
With students clustering together during every break period to chatter about it, even Daphnen, who had shown little interest, came to understand the situation roughly.
Silverscull was held annually across the continent, but The Island had established a rule to participate only once every five years.
Silverscull was a prestigious tournament even on the Continent, and the honor bestowed upon its champion was considerable. This had drawn criticism that it caused children to become obsessively fixated on martial training and combat techniques.
Since The Island was smaller than the Continent, any disruption to the balance of professions would be catastrophic. Consequently, restrictions on participation had been imposed long ago.
Silverscull accepted participants between the ages of fifteen and twenty, and since The Island sent an expedition once every five years, ultimately every child had one opportunity in their lifetime.
Of course, merely reaching the required age did not guarantee participation. Considerable skill was demanded, so The Island conducted preliminary trials.
The first reason was that traveling across the Continent with no acquaintances was more dangerous than Silverscull itself. The second was that there was no point sending someone who would produce a pathetic performance.
Children who had their opportunity to participate at twenty were the luckiest, while those who turned fifteen just as Silverscull’s participation year arrived were the unluckiest. And Daphnen fell into precisely that category.
This year’s Silverscull was scheduled to be held at the end of July in Pontina, a region in central Anomarad. It would be shortly after Daphnen turned fifteen.
The name Pontina seemed familiar, though I couldn’t quite recall where I’d heard it.
“You might actually be fortunate.”
Even Oizis, who could be said to be furthest removed from swordplay on The Island, had recently been caught up in the children’s fervor and spoke of nothing else these days.
The way Oizis looked at Daphnen was filled with expectation. Recently, he had come to believe, quite arbitrarily, that Daphnen’s participation in Silverscull was a foregone conclusion, and that victory was even possible. Daphnen found himself in considerable difficulty navigating such conversations.
“It’s once every five years, right? But the dates shift slightly each time, so five years from now, Silverscull might occur before you turn twenty! That would make you an unprecedented two-time participant. And if you won both times, that would truly be magnificent. You’re already the best, so you’ll be even more remarkable at twenty.”
Twenty years old—a age that felt utterly unreal. Time moved very slowly for me. When on earth would I reach twenty?
“Stop saying victory, victory all the time, Oizis. My skills are nothing when I venture onto the Continent. There are so many far stronger people.”
“No, that’s not true. The average skill level of Island children is supposedly higher than Continent children. Besides, you trained with the Priest of the Sword all winter. You must have become tremendously stronger. Wasn’t that what all the practice was for—preparing for Silverscull?”
Was that the case?
It was a question I had never considered, and Daphnen found myself momentarily confused. Had Nauplion suddenly suggested polishing my sword technique because he wanted me to participate in Silverscull?
True, Nauplion had been the one to first tell me about Silverscull, and he was also the one who would decide whether I participated this time.
Yet throughout the winter, he had never mentioned anything like that. The atmosphere had been nothing like that at all.
Unable to reach a conclusion easily, Daphnen changed the subject.
“Then how many people from The Island have won Silverscull?”
Surprisingly, Oizis shook his head.
“No, only one person. There were two more who came in second place, I think.”
“Who won?”
“There’s only one person. Who else could have won besides them?”
I asked again, just to be sure.
“The Nauplion Priest?”
“Wrong. He didn’t even enter Silverscull, apparently. I’m not sure why, but that’s how it is.”
In that moment, a single person came to mind in Daphnen’s thoughts as well.
“The Ilios Priest?”
“Ilios…? Ah, yes! The old Priest of the Sword. Isolet’s father. He’s our island’s only champion.”
Indeed, based on what I’d heard from Nauplion, who else could have won?
The instant I thought that, an emotion I’d never felt before surged up in my heart. Was winning something to be desired? Was it worth doing?
For whom?
Oizis continued chattering away.
“The adults all say that if anyone from our island could win this Silverscull, it would be you, Hector, and Isolet. But I don’t think Isolet would enter something like that. It would be impressive if she succeeded like her father did, but… oh right, that means you’d have to fight her in the finals.”
My lessons with Isolet had resumed.
When Daphnen saw Isolet again, he felt somewhat awkward, but Isolet didn’t seem to feel the same way. She was even cheerful.
Within days, Daphnen was swept up in the atmosphere and began speaking freely. Yet the darkness that had settled in his heart did not fade easily.
Patches of half-melted snow remained here and there, but now it was spring. The two of them, having paused their lesson, sat on a rocky outcrop and talked.
“I heard you’ve been training swordplay with the Nauplion Priest all winter?”
Daphnen chuckled, thinking Isolet was probably the last person on the island to ask about that.
“Yes.”
“Don’t rely on him too much.”
“Pardon?”
Confused about what she meant, Isolet wound her white hair around her finger and then released it as she continued.
“He’s the self-reliant type, so to speak. It means he learned and mastered almost everything on his own. Of course, he had a teacher at first. But that teacher’s skill was so poor that the Nauplion Priest only learned the basics from him.”
I had no doubt it was true. Having trained directly under Nauplion myself, I was even more convinced.
“Since he trained that way, he expects his disciples to realize things for themselves just as he did. Though honestly, if you were the type of disciple who just passively accepted whatever teachings were given, he wouldn’t have bothered teaching you this far.”
“That does seem right. He’s never systematically taught me anything—he just bickers with me constantly.”
Memories of learning swordplay at Belnor Estate came to mind, and I laughed. Those senseless runs, those tedious arm exercises… and then at night, he’d tell me to come at him with everything I had.
I also remembered how he’d tried to take the dangerous sword Winterer away from the young boy. Perhaps this outcome came about precisely because I didn’t listen to Nauplion’s words.
“What happened to your sword?”
Isolet’s sudden question pulled me from my thoughts.
“This time the Nauplion Priest is keeping it. He’s hidden it somewhere and won’t even show it to me. Truly, it’s a sword that changes owners repeatedly.”
“You didn’t give it to him though.”
“That’s true.”
“Will he return it when you enter Silverscull?”
A question suddenly occurred to me that I wanted to ask.
“You’re not entering Silverscull?”
A brief answer came back.
“I’m not.”
“Why?”
“I just don’t want to stand out.”
Now I could understand immediately. The story I’d heard on that winter night came back to me.
“I see….”
The question came right back at me.
“Are you leaving?”
I hesitated a little. Nothing had been decided yet.
“It might be, or it might not be.”
Isolet quickly caught on and spoke.
“I don’t think you’ll fail the test. I don’t think Nauplion Priest will oppose it either.”
“But Nauplion Priest didn’t leave Silverscull either. He might not like such things. If he tells me not to go, I won’t.”
“Nauplion Priest didn’t leave Silverscull back then for a different reason.”
Isolet rose from the rocky outcrop and pointed toward the cliff.
“Want to climb up after all this time?”
Rustle.
There were watching eyes hidden in the shadows. They followed the two figures disappearing toward the cliff.
Since only short spring grass covered the ground, hiding was precarious, but by approaching gradually and crossing the grassland, the watcher waited briefly before following again.
Ekion stopped in surprise upon discovering the entrance before the cliff. The voices of Daphnen and Isolet were already inaudible. He had no idea there was a deep cave inside.
Hmph, he scoffed to himself. No matter how they ran around like that, if he spread the word intentionally, it would only be a matter of time before they were disgraced.
Ekion crawled into the cliff opening. And realizing he emerged outside far sooner than expected, he was startled again. When he saw the thousand-foot chasm below, he was even more flustered.
Discovering a narrow path that continued around the cliff, he was almost about to give up following it.
“!”
Lifting his head absently, he nearly cried out in shock. The two figures were flying along the cliff’s edge!
Magic? When did they learn such a thing?
Ekion had also received magic lessons at Scoli and knew that magic existed to levitate one’s body in mid-air. But there was no spell safe enough to casually walk across such a thousand-foot precipice.
One slip in concentration and they’d plummet straight down—who would attempt something so reckless?
Consumed by a mixture of jealousy and fear, Ekion looked up at the sky once more.
Daphnen and Isolet were nearly reaching the cliff’s summit. But looking closely, the movement of their feet seemed slightly odd.
Isolet, who went first, stepped at a certain spot, and Daphnen following behind stepped at exactly the same place.
The next step was the same. A consistent stride and consistent height continued.
As if climbing invisible stairs… Ah!
Invisibility magic would be easier, wouldn’t it! Damn!
But then, did such powerful invisibility magic exist that it could erase the entire cliff around them?
Soon the two reached the summit. There was nothing more to observe. Now there was nothing left but to return and think it over.

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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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