Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 145

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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 145.
Two Blades, Four Names (29)
The heat—July was fading, and Anomarad’s summer burned like a furnace.
Between two young boys standing with swords held at the ready, their gazes locked upon each other, silence itself became a form of heat. For a stretch of time that could hardly be called brief, only their eyes had spoken.
“Do it.”
Luisan’s voice reached out. It could only have been heard by Boris.
Boris answered nothing, merely shifting his gaze slightly. He could see that Hector’s blade had split his earlobe, but the healers’ skill had already sealed the wound shut.
“…Or won’t you?”
Luisan’s blade began to move. A short arc, followed by a probing thrust—the crowd roared without reason as they watched.
Yet surprisingly, the voices cheering for Boris were considerable as well. Those who had come purely to watch the match, unconcerned with gambling, cried out for him.
They were also young people who longed to see the authority that had endured for four years challenged by anyone.
But none of them knew the torment that gripped Boris.
Swish, clang!
The blades met once and parted again. Luisan felt the stubborn resistance in his opponent’s sword, yet found no sign of a counterattack.
Luisan widened his stance and began to circle left—a motion like a leopard deliberately taking a wide arc around its prey.
And so once more, then again, the blades clashed. Both were exceptional swords, and the ring they produced when they met was distinctive.
Luisan thrust three times in succession from the same stance, targeting the wrist, the shoulder, the neck. Each came perilously close to landing.
Yet Misteria held firm, as though waiting until I revealed my full strength.
“…Is that so?”
Following the murmur that escaped his lips, Luisan’s blade aimed for the unarmored lower body as he closed the distance.
In that instant, Boris’s wrist twisted in an unusual vertical angle, knocking his blade upward, and without room for a feint, a direct strike came in—or so it seemed, before it slipped past like lightning, grazing near his collarbone. My vision reeled.
The blade tip seemed to trace only useless paths, yet suddenly lightning-fast attacks erupted from unexpected angles. In that moment, I realized that if I failed to regain this rhythm, I would lose in an instant.
Abruptly, the blade withdrew. The bronze-haired boy had already retreated to a distance.
“Why?”
It had been the best opportunity, so why had he thrown it away? Had he carelessly underestimated me, thinking he would grant such chances again?
There was no way to know what Misteria was thinking, and the more uncertain I became, the more anxiety ignited within me.
I had to end this quickly!
Without hesitation or deliberation, I rushed in again and struck. This time I executed it properly. Just as the same counterattack from before was about to begin, Luisan quickly retreated, twisted his body, and thrust at my ribs.
Again, Boris’s blade moved in the same manner, tracing swift lines like a serpent with many heads as the offensive unfolded.
Among all the participants, Luisan was the first to truly witness this rapid and comprehensive assault. Even the one wielding it found it difficult to fully comprehend.
Yet once again, the blade stopped.
Luisan understood something. Was Misteria perhaps afraid of his own swordplay?
Each time his technique reached its most brilliant expression, he flinched and withdrew his blade. There was no doubt about it.
Why such a thing occurred was unimportant. What mattered was not to let this opportunity slip away.
Luisan quickly slid his blade against his opponent’s hand and simultaneously raised his foot to sweep at the knee.
“Ah!”
Boris released his grip, but Luisan’s blade tip had already cut into his wrist.
He had somehow evaded the knee strike, but Boris understood perfectly why this had happened. He had hesitated. And his hesitation stemmed from attempting to suppress the mysterious power that dwelled within him.
Luisan did not know the complicated emotions that gripped Boris in this match. Though I had grasped the goblet of wine that Duke Fontina had offered last night, seeing my opponent pressing forward with such earnest effort before my eyes had shaken my resolve once more.
Winning would be good, and I knew well that I must win to become safe, yet to achieve that, I was destroying someone whom others depended upon and followed.
The existence of being someone’s Elder Brother.
That despair, that anguish and suffering—did Boris not know of it? How many times, how many hundreds of times had I replayed that thought: how much better things would have been if it had never happened? The image of my younger self, clinging to that wish, surfaced vividly before my eyes.
Those days in the Meadow when I woke each morning hoping everything had been a dream, unable to grasp what was slipping away, powerless to help, watching Elder Brother crumble slowly before my eyes….
“Hah!”
Once Luisan recognized his opponent’s weakness, he had no intention of overlooking it. The moment he felt the hesitation in the blade, he pivoted into a counteroffensive, unleashing a ferocious barrage of attacks.
When the two fighters separated again, Boris bore wounds on his wrist, left upper arm, and part of his thigh. Blood trickling from multiple places gnawed at his focus. The roar of the crowd—whether cheering or concerned—grated against his nerves.
Even as Luisan pressed forward with renewed attacks, Boris found himself slow to shift back into defense, partly because of this very distraction.
“Ah!”
He barely twisted his head away, but his cheek was torn open in a long gash, blood droplets falling in scattered patterns. Had he not evaded, it could have cost him his life. Yet despite this, he forcibly suppressed the counterattack that threatened to burst forth, replacing it with an ordinary defensive movement instead.
But seeing the sleeve that wiped his cheek stained crimson filled his chest with frustration. What was he to do? Could he succeed at what he had promised like this?
Duke Fontina, seated in the special box without taking his eyes off the match, murmured as though speaking to a certain girl.
“The cats made quite a commotion the night before last. I wonder what tonight will bring.”
“….”
Isolet sat in a small chair positioned at the Duke’s feet. Since she had requested his protection, the Duke’s orders were clear: she was not to leave his sight.
Chloe, seated where she could see Isolet’s back, found her gaze drawn more than once to the two blades hanging from Isolet’s back.
In the direction where Isolet’s unwavering gaze remained fixed stood that stubborn boy. Isolet understood perfectly what he was being obstinate about.
Regrettable as it was, that too was an undeniable part of who he was. It was precisely because of such things he could not easily cast aside that the current Boris existed. A captive soul, bearing the weight of countless memories and names.
Blade tips tangled, blocked, descended, collided. If Boris felt suffocated, then Luisan burned with impatience. He had landed successful strikes multiple times and sustained no wounds himself, yet the match showed no signs of ending. His hands ached as though he were battering against a stone wall.
Perhaps it was merely his imagination. He adjusted his grip on the blade. A tremor of unease betrayed itself in a horizontal slash.
“Why do you hesitate!”
Boris heard his opponent’s displeasure. Despite holding the advantage, there was no joy in that voice.
“Why do you hold back so! Are you looking down on me? Are you afraid I’ll die if you show your true strength?”
The blade whistled past, grazing the inside of his shoulder. It was a dangerous moment, yet his mind remained blank.
“Don’t mock me! I have always won with honor!”
“Can one be honorable even in defeat?”
Boris’s blade traced a swift arc through empty air and passed by. Luisan’s neck convulsed briefly.
“You….”
“You know nothing.”
You have no idea what I am hesitating about, why I am prolonging this match, what I am trying to avoid. Do you think I am toying with you?
I am not suppressing that incomprehensible, sinister power merely for the sake of some honorable duel!
Clang! Tschang! Crash! Ching!
“Don’t pretend to understand!”
Luisan’s face flushed crimson. His blade was gripped with excessive force. As the afternoon passed three o’clock, geothermal heat began rising slowly from the earth, scorching his feet within his boots. His entire body was drenched in sweat.
Neither of them realized it. The words “I look forward to a good match” had been their first real exchange of conversation.
If asked why he was so fixated, at first it had been because of the name Misteria, and now it was a bitter revulsion toward an opponent who deliberately concealed his true strength.
He wanted to break through this frustrating impasse with his own skill.
“You….”
Blood and sweat mingled on Boris’s cheek as well. Though he had wiped his sweat-stung eyes several times, his vision blurred again.
Once more, he restrained the flash of speed that threatened to unfold in an instant. His heart pounded wildly. He too desperately wanted to shatter this suffocating deadlock with his own power.
Because he had accepted Duke Fontina’s sinister scheme. That was why.
Because I must steal the future of one I do not hate, and that is why.
While committing such an enormous act… I cannot use strength that is not my own, and even if I act with my own power, that shame will never wash away in a lifetime, so I have chosen to maintain the bare minimum of courtesy, to wage a fair fight, and to give him a chance.
Luisan will defeat me and protect his right hand with the opportunity I grant him.
The future of one such as him may be shattered only through another’s rightful strength. Because, because to him….
“Follow your heart.”
Isolet sent forth a whisper none could hear and closed her eyes for a moment. The clash of blades echoed like a distant memory.
“Come at me, come at me!”
Luisan’s blade carved a thin wound across Boris’s shoulder. He slashed at the elbow while driving force into the waist. Each time Boris faltered, Luisan’s fury deepened, and each time Boris merely retreated backward.
Sweat poured down the face of the enemy Luisan beheld like rain. His concentration was unbelievable, yet it seemed directed not at Luisan himself.
“Look at me!”
Suddenly Luisan swept his blade upward to knock Boris’s sword aside and pressed in close. Then, as if withdrawing his blade, he unleashed a tremendous kick at Boris’s knee.
The moment his leg buckled, another kick followed, and with his left hand Luisan shoved his opponent’s shoulder, sending him sprawling.
“End this!”
Yet the fallen Boris did not rise immediately; instead, he parried the descending blade and leveled his sword at Luisan from his seated position.
“….”
Luisan’s eyes gleamed with fervor. There, far away—or rather, closer than expected—their blades pointed at each other’s throats, separated by only the length of an elbow’s push.
Both held this posture for a moment. It was neither balance nor danger. They had simply chosen to stop.
“You… what are you hesitating about?”
Luisan was no fool.
“Why are you toying with me? I am not afraid of defeat. Show me your true strength.”
“If I show you my true strength and completely shatter your future… what then?”
“What?”
It was not a simple matter. The distinction between his original strength and the strange strength that had appeared from somewhere was gradually becoming impossible to maintain. When he tried to stop one, the other ceased as well.
“I merely wish to treat you fairly. No more insults.”
Boris rose to his feet. His blade trembled slightly, yet neither drove it forward. Even the crowd held its breath in silence.
Duke Fontina was thinking of the events at midnight the previous day. When the agreement had been reached, he had nodded and sent them out, then muttered to himself.
‘Succeed, or fail utterly. If you accomplish this task brilliantly, I shall make you a faithful hound. And if you fail….’

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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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