Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 126

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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 126.
Two Swords, Four Names (10)
Despoina relayed to the child what Nauplion had asked her to say, then gazed at his face for a long while. Though she had much she wished to express, she swallowed it all and spoke only one thing.
“Is there truly no other path for you? No way to find greater happiness… than this?”
“All the happiness remaining to me depends on this. What else could there possibly be?”
“It is not yet over. You have much time left to fight for yourself. Life does not end so simply as that. Why can you not see the other facets of the life that remains to you?”
“No.”
Nauplion shook his head, closing his eyes before opening them again.
“I shall wage the battles of my life on the battlefield I have chosen.”

“So Hector came and apologized? Sincerely?”
Isolet lifted only one shoulder slightly.
“Whether it was sincere or not is entirely irrelevant. I would not accept it anyway.”
Daphnen sat perched upon a rocky outcrop, leaning on a wooden sword as he fell into contemplation.
Around this time, Daphnen’s voice was changing severely, making it impossible for him to sing directly. Instead, Isolet frequently assigned him composition tasks.
When he came up for lessons, Isolet would sing the new song a few times before evaluating it, and then countless topics would emerge, leading to endless conversation.
“That is true for me as well.”
Why had Hector asked Isolet to show him the Ilios Priest’s sword before departing for the Continent? What was his reason for speaking of elevating the Ilios Priest’s honor before everyone’s eyes?
If he had wished to win Isolet’s favor from the beginning, the numerous discourtesies he had committed beforehand would have remained unexplained.
He had recently shown signs of changed thinking. When they had happened to meet before Daphnen fell from the Cliff, he had said he would help him three times, and his relationship with Ekion and others had certainly transformed from before. Yet there was no reason this should be connected to Isolet.
What suddenly came to mind was the matter of Silverskull’s championship.
“Among the Pilgrims, I heard that Isolet’s father was the only one to compete in Silverskull and win. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
It was a brief answer. Daphnen continued with another question.
“Then the people of The Island must desperately hope for a new champion to emerge? If a new champion were to arise, would they not rejoice as though your father had returned to life?”
“Perhaps.”
“Then that champion would hear the tale that they possess the qualifications to become a Priest of the Sword, just as your father did?”
“To some degree.”
“Then as a disciple of Nauplion Priest, I would become a formidable rival to them?”
“You would be.”
“By chance, did Isolet’s father wield dual swords as you do?”
“Of course.”
“Among the Priests of the Sword throughout history, were there many who wielded dual swords?”
“….”
Isolet regarded Daphnen quietly before speaking.
“You know well for having heard nothing. Your suspicion is correct. Since ancient times, The Island has inherited two separate sword techniques—one wielding two short blades and another wielding a single long blade. The first is called ‘Tiela,’ which means ‘storm.’ The second is ‘Tigris,’ which carries the meaning of ‘tiger.'”
Tiela and Tigris—both were words he had never heard before. Remarkably, this island where scarcely a thousand souls dwelt possessed an abundance of extraordinary traditions. It was difficult to believe that such a small population could have preserved them.
Daphnen gazed at Isolet’s face for a moment. He was certain that if he asked now, she would answer in detail.
“I wish to understand more precisely. What are the differences between these two sword techniques? Where are those who have inherited them?”
Isolet rose and grasped the two swords sheathed at her back, displaying them. Yet she did not draw them.
“You’ve probably never heard of it before. That’s because when that incident happened in the Upper Village—the one you know about—almost everyone who could properly wield a sword died. Now The Island is left with nothing but mediocre swordplay. Since they use only one sword, if I had to compare it, I’d say it’s closer to Tigris? In any case, as you can see, I’m the only one who carries on the true lineage of Thaela.”
True to her words, Isolet was the only person on The Island who carried dual swords. A deduction crystallized in my mind, taking on concrete form.
“And you never taught it to anyone else, did you? Then what about Tigris?”
“Even when Father was alive, the Tigris tradition had already faded considerably. There was an elderly man who was supposed to be Tigris’s successor, but his skill was mediocre, so no one wanted to become his disciple. Meanwhile, many people wanted to become Father’s disciple, but he only accepted a select few and made it clear he wouldn’t take any more. Yet people kept waiting for a position to open up, and they never turned their attention to Tigris.”
“Why was that?”
“For roughly a hundred years, only the successor of Thaela has become the Priest of the Sword.”
Daphnen sprang up from the rock and gazed down at the wooden sword in his hand. He thought of the few stances Nauplion Priest had recently begun teaching him.
“Is it because dual-sword Thaela is superior to Tigris?”
“No.”
Isolet answered briefly and stepped back a few paces. She drew her sword swiftly and assumed a basic stance.
Daphnen was somewhat startled. It was the first time he’d seen her hold a sword since the incident last summer, and Isolet usually refused to teach her swordplay to anyone, let alone display it.
“Thaela looks promising at first, but it becomes increasingly difficult to learn. I don’t know much about Tigris, but unlike other sword techniques on the Continent that use a single blade, you must master peculiar quick-draw techniques from the beginning, making the middle stages quite grueling. They say you need something beyond mere practice to learn those quick-draw techniques… but I wouldn’t know.”
Isolet’s blade traced a brief arc through the air and was sheathed again. The movement was swift.
“Then does Tigris become easier in the later stages?”
“I wouldn’t say easier. In any case, at the beginner stage, it’s virtually impossible to defeat Thaela with Tigris. But once you surpass a certain level… they say you need to raise Tigris three stages to raise Thaela by one. That gap widens further, and Thaela approaching mastery demands not just effort, but special physical conditions and mental states as well.”
Isolet sheathed her sword and held out both hands for inspection.
“For example, you must use both hands completely independently in a state of perfect absorption. Since Thaela’s dual swords have no difference in length, in a real moment of combat, which blade to extend and whether that choice is correct depends entirely on talent. The difference is that precise—it determines victory or defeat.”
“What if someone lacks that talent?”
“Then completing Thaela is impossible. It’s not something practice can achieve. You simply must be a person suited to Thaela. But unfortunately, when you first begin, there’s no way to know if you’re such a person or not.”
Isolet examined her own hands. Calluses had formed in identical places on both palms, but their shapes were not quite the same. They bore the form her choices had created.
Isolet continued.
“When you hit a wall, there comes a moment when you realize that while others can open a door and walk through, you have no such door. Then you become a dropout, condemned to remain a second-rate swordsman. It’s a realm you cannot cross through willpower or miracles. If you’re simply not suited to Thaela, it’s actually better for you if that moment comes sooner.”
Though it was difficult to accept, Isolet’s voice was so earnest that I couldn’t help but nod.
“That’s a sad thing. But what about you?”
“So far, when I grope about, I find the doorknob. But what happens ahead, I don’t know.”
It was an answer without a trace of bitterness. Perhaps because she knew there was no other way if the path was blocked, she could actually give up more easily.
“Then is it easier to reach mastery with Tigris?”
“That can’t be… but they say Tigris has a power that drives people forward endlessly. From what I hear, once you surpass a certain stage, Tigris’s development is like setting fire to a dry meadow—no beginning, no end, no knowing which direction to go first—talent spreads in all directions at once like that.”
Unlike when speaking of Thaela, Isolet’s tone was somewhat reserved. She made no attempt to hide that this was unfamiliar territory.
“The speed of improvement is so overwhelming that you can’t even gauge your level day to day, yet you’re so delighted that you swing your sword every day until you collapse from exhaustion. I’ve never learned it myself, so I’m not sure what that really means.”
As I listened, unlike her explanation of Thaela earlier, this somehow made sense. It could be that way, I thought.
Though it might be even harder to accept, my head nodded as if I’d experienced it myself.
“Then because that elderly man had no disciples, the line of Tigris was cut off?”
Isolet suddenly wore an expression caught between laughter and seriousness as she looked at Daphnen.
“Are you truly asking because you don’t know? Because you don’t know who inherited Tigris?”
“What?”
“You yourself, aren’t you?”
“Me?”
Daphnen looked down at his own hands with a skeptical gaze. And shook his head.
“I’ve never learned such a thing. But what you’re saying now… does that mean Nauplion Priest is the successor of Tigris?”
“Yes, that old man’s sole disciple is precisely that person.”
Isolet’s voice turned slightly acerbic, though Daphnen failed to notice. His mind was too preoccupied, sifting through his memories to determine whether Nauplion Priest had ever actually taught him Tigris or anything resembling it.
“I mentioned it before—Nauplion Priest is self-made. It didn’t take him long to surpass that old man’s abilities. Everything the old man merely spoke of, the Priest accomplished entirely through his own efforts. Given such a person, it’s hardly surprising that Father sought to summon him….”
Isolet suddenly fell silent, then called out to Daphnen, who remained lost in thought.
“Daphnen, you wanted to leave for Silverskull, didn’t you?”
“Pardon? Ah… Of course I wanted to leave.”
Only then did I return to reality. It seemed Isolet had said something during that interval, but I couldn’t quite recall it.
“It’s not too late even now.”
“But everyone has already departed?”
“Even if we all left together, we wouldn’t travel as one group across the Continent anyway. We scatter and journey separately, arriving at the tournament grounds on the appointed day—that’s all that matters.”
“But surely you wouldn’t send me alone anywhere. Priestess Despoina said before that I cannot venture onto the Continent by myself until I become a formal Pilgrim.”
“It’s possible if you have a companion.”
“But who would abandon everything to accompany me across the Continent? Nauplion Priest is far too occupied.”
“Shall I help?”
For a moment, Daphnen thought he’d misheard. Yet the voice was unmistakably clear, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
“Are you… serious?”

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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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