Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 31

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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 31
Breaking Through the Trap, Into the Storm (1)
From the moment I grasped the short sword I hadn’t touched in so long and bolted into the darkened corridor, I could think of nothing else.
It was nearly unbearable—the self-loathing that consumed me for having neglected something I could never afford to lose.
Was this truly all I could manage?
Less than a month had passed since I buried my brother with these very hands and departed. He had endured an unjust fate in silence.
How desperately Yefnen had labored to protect his gentle younger brother with every breath remaining to him, to teach me how to survive alone after he was gone.
As though I had already forgotten those bitter lessons, I had grown so careless that I’d even forgotten what I was meant to protect.
What had my brother told me? What had he taught me?
I didn’t even know where I was going. Half-dazed, stumbling forward in a half-run, I suddenly stopped.
As clarity returned, an obvious deduction came to me. The Winter Sword had been placed beneath my bed. The only people who had entered my bedroom that day were myself, Lanji, and the newly arrived Walnut Teacher.
Walnut Teacher had slept on that bed for more than four hours.
During that time, Lanji and I must have left the room several times. If Walnut had seized those moments to extract the sword and hide it somehow—
…
Cold sweat broke across my skin at my own stupidity. How could I have trusted someone I’d only just met today? How could I have left him alone in the room where the Winter Sword was kept?
No, it wasn’t even a matter of trust or distrust! I simply hadn’t been thinking at all!
In any case, if that man hadn’t already made off with his windfall upon finding the legendary blade, the next logical step was to rush to his room where he was likely still sleeping without a care.
But then it occurred to me—I had no idea where Walnut Teacher’s room was.
It was past midnight. There was only one person Boris could wake at such an hour without hesitation.
I retraced my steps down the corridor. I knocked on the door of the small room beside mine and entered without waiting for a response.
“Lanji, wake up for a moment.”
Under normal circumstances, I would never have awakened someone so abruptly, regardless of whether they were my servant or not.
But now I was too urgent to think of such courtesies. I had to find the Winter Sword as quickly as possible.
After a brief moment, a voice came.
“Boris… Young Master?”
I heard him stirring, and soon a single candle flickered to life, casting its weak glow upon the two boys facing each other.
Lanji’s face bore the exhaustion of fatigue rather than mere drowsiness. Only then did I feel a pang of regret.
“I’m sorry for waking you in the middle of the night. But something important has come up.”
“It is my duty, Young Master. Please, tell me what you need.”
Though roused from sleep, he showed neither displeasure nor hesitation. I knew that Lanji’s diligence toward his duties stemmed from his sense of obligation alone, having nothing to do with loyalty or devotion.
“Find the room where Walnut Teacher is sleeping.”
“Understood.”
He didn’t even ask why. Lanji retrieved a handled lamp from his room and lit it.
He was about to lead the way when he suddenly turned back to look at me, then set the lamp down again.
“You cannot go out looking like that.”
Only then did I look down at myself. Over my nightclothes, I had carelessly thrown on a strange outer garment with short sleeves and puffed cuffs.
Lanji turned to his wardrobe, withdrew a large gray cloak, and swiftly draped it around my shoulders.
I felt Lanji’s hands hesitate for just a moment. He had seen the sword I carried, but he spoke quietly as though he hadn’t.
“Let us go.”
After fastening the pin on one shoulder, I resembled a wandering swordsman. In that guise, I followed Lanji up the stairs.
Upon reaching Walnut Teacher’s room, Langie knocked politely on the door. When there was no answer, he turned back to look at Boris.
“Shall I just open it?”
At Boris’s nod, Langie turned the handle and stepped inside. He swept the lamp’s light across the room, approached the bed to examine it, then turned back to Boris.
“He’s not here. It seems he’s stepped out for a moment.”
Boris couldn’t think as calmly as Langie. My mind held only one thought—the disappeared Winterer.
“Light up the entire room.”
Candles in various candlestands were lit. The room was empty. Yet on one side, the robe that Walnut had worn upon arrival—the one Walnut had brought with him—hung undisturbed.
Boris opened the wardrobe himself and checked beneath the bed. As expected, there was nothing.
Around this time, Langie noticed something unusual in Boris’s demeanor. He approached the window to check for signs it had been opened, then opened it himself and looked down.
Then he spoke to Boris.
“Are you searching for something? There’s nowhere in this room to hide anything of significance.”
Langie was right. As my hypothesis gradually became reality, I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me.
“To leave through the castle gates, one would have to pass the guards, wouldn’t they?”
“At night, the gates cannot be opened without the master’s permission.”
“What about other routes?”
“The other doors are the same. The north gate might be open, but there are guards at the entrance leading from the garden to the outside. Unless one merely wished to take a stroll through the garden, using that door would be pointless.”
What should I do immediately? Inform the Count?
They were bound only by contract—I couldn’t wake the sleeping Count just to search for personal belongings.
Even if the Count helped, I would owe him too great a debt. He wasn’t someone I should ask such a favor of.
Several hours remained until dawn. Still unable to reach a decision, Boris spoke almost unconsciously.
“In any case, one can leave through that door, correct?”

A white moon hung in the sky.
Unlike the dark corridor, the night was bright enough to see the ground beneath my feet even without a lamp. The grass in the garden glistened with moisture.
Lanji walked ahead. Boris gripped the sword tightly beneath the cloak Lanji had draped over him. If the worst came to pass, he would not hesitate.
It was his only heirloom. Left behind by his brother and his father. If he could not even protect that, he had no right to bear the name House Jineman.
But what if he had already fled?
“Wait….”
The moment Lanji crouched low, Boris’s eyes caught it too.
At first he thought it was fireflies. But it moved too fast. It seemed like one, yet it was not one, nor was it many. It was a synchronized dance—a single unified body.
The man Boris sought possessed the Winter Sword.
At the same moment, Boris’s mind went blank. He thought he knew it well, but in this instant, the Winter Sword was not the blade he knew.
In Walnut Teacher’s hands, the Winter Sword became swift as lightning, danced, and radiated killing intent. It was like a demon’s blade. He had never seen it move this way even when Yefnen wielded it.
Reflected light scattered from the blade as it thrust and cut in all directions. Like a brief meteor shower. That was the true identity of the light he had first witnessed.
A chill ran across my cheeks. My chest grew cold.
Who first gave the Winter Sword its name? Could it have been Boris’s ancestor? Could that man have made the blade dance with such divine possession as this one did?
When they met yesterday, he had even doubted whether this man possessed the ability to teach swordsmanship.
“Haa….”
Breath grew increasingly difficult. Except for the brief moments when the man paused his movements, the Winter Sword was nothing but light. Its very outline was difficult to discern. A ghostly radiance shimmered and undulated. Above, the moon burned white.
Understanding dawned gradually. The Winter Sword had been hiding its true form all along. There was no doubt. The sensation that flooded through him watching this spectacle was different from fear. It was not the thought that he could not win if he charged at this man.
It was something far more urgent.
The Winter Sword had not been forged for righteous purposes.
“Is that your possession, young master?”
When Lanji asked from beside him, Boris was startled to hear the same emotion in his voice that he himself felt. Lanji turned his gaze forward again.
“It seems to be a blade with a dark history.”
The final flash shot forth like an arrow, then abruptly ceased.
When clarity returned, Walnut Teacher already stood with his posture corrected, the sword lowered at his side. His gaze seemed fixed upon the moon. After a moment, he turned his head toward the two boys.
“Well, the show’s over, so you two should disperse.”
His tone was playful, much like when they had seen him during the day, yet he could not hide that something had changed. He sounded like a man trying to gloss over having committed murder.
The two boys remained silent as shadows.
Walnut Teacher walked toward them. Even merely holding the Winter Sword at rest, it still gleamed like a monster thirsting for blood.
Boris clenched his teeth and stepped forward.
“That is my sword. I trust you have had sufficient opportunity to examine it, so I must ask you to return it.”
With the moon behind his head, Walnut Teacher’s eyes cast downward.
Boris thought that in the backlighting, the man’s face was dark, yet his eyes alone gleamed with an eerie brilliance. An unexpected answer rang out.
“And you lost it.”
Boris tensed his body, gripping the sword beneath his cloak.
“Are you suggesting that finding a spoon beneath someone else’s dining table makes it yours?”
“Do you have the ability to reclaim it?”
Boris lifted his chin and met the man’s gaze directly.
“You speak words I cannot comprehend. I was under the impression you came here as my swordsmanship instructor.”
The implication was clear—otherwise, you would be a thief. The face in the backlighting contorted for a moment, then something resembling a smile appeared.
“What boldness from one so young. Yet this is no sword for a child like you to wield.”
“Children grow into adults, do they not?”
Before the moonlight slipped beneath the clouds, it swept across the profiles of both figures one last time. Walnut Teacher’s voice had lost all trace of amusement.
“Before that happens, the sword itself will demand your blood first. I ask you seriously—how did you come to possess such a blade? Is this truly the Winter Sword that vanished so long ago?”
There was no point in concealing it now. Boris answered tersely.
“If you speak of the Winterer, then yes—that is it.”
“Hm.”
Walnut Teacher did not sheathe the Winterer, but held it as though ready to draw it again at any moment.
I could not fathom what he was thinking. Was he merely playing the role of a teacher toying with his students? Or had he truly conceived a desire—or perhaps a fear—of this blade, and resolved not to return it?
Walnut Teacher tilted his head, studying Boris intently. After a moment of deliberation, his conclusion fell from his lips.
“Then your house must be… House Jineman. The Jineman of Trabaches—the family that concealed the Winter Sword from the world. Am I not correct?”
Boris did not nod.
“What concern is that of yours? The boy who will become your student is merely Boris dal Velnor. You need know nothing beyond that.”
Walnut Teacher sheathed the Winterer as though his mind were made. The motion was more fluid and swift than anyone Boris could recall.
“I will not return the sword.”
Boris’s eyes darkened.
“I will take it back. Without fail.”
Walnut Teacher’s eyes narrowed as well. His voice came back, cruel in its edge.
“Then take it by force.”

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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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