Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 5

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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 5
The Winter Sword (5)

Rulken was the opposite of Blado. He was determined to confront his younger brother directly. Despite being past forty, his blade remained sharp enough that many soldiers were overwhelmed and fled.
If his younger brother fell into these hands… he would not be satisfied until he pierced that wretch’s throat. He would put an end to his sinful brother once and for all.
His wish soon became reality.
As anticipated, it was not an honorable duel. Suddenly, a flood of soldiers pressed toward him from all sides. He gritted his teeth and struck at vital points, pushing forward. The enemy seemed to thin out, only to continuously reinforce their numbers.
Rulken sensed something was amiss. The answer came quickly.
“We meet again this afternoon, Brother.”
It was only then that he realized the warm sensation spreading across his flank. He had been so delighted to hear his younger brother’s voice that he’d let his guard down.
“You! You bastard, Blado Jineman!”
*Squelch!*
Once more, something sharp and cold pierced beneath his chest and drove inward. Something rose in his throat. A voice called out near his ear.
“Master!”
Blado sneered and turned away. Tulk, the magician serving as his steward, was quite skilled, but he possessed no offensive magic whatsoever. That wretch hardly frightened him at all.
“Let’s kill him together!”
In that instant, lightning flashed across the empty sky. It was merely the weather, but Blado froze in surprise. Had this fool secretly learned lightning magic without his knowledge?
Tulk did not miss the opportunity heaven had granted. Blado saw a thick black mist rushing toward him. This won’t do. He retreated sharply and called upon his own magician in his mind.
The Khan Elector’s magician was right behind him. As he spread his arms and wove a hand seal in the shape of wings, a violent gust swept forth, scattering the mist away.
Yet Blado gazed in dismay at the spot where his brother had been standing moments before. Both of them had vanished.
Boris pressed forward alone, pushing through the undergrowth.
His fears were twofold. One was the devastation of the manor that he could feel through the sounds alone, without needing to see it. The other was the approaching Emera Lake.
The sounds gradually receded, and silence slowly drew near.
Boris suddenly stopped. He hesitated, then walked again. But he stopped once more. Something was pulling at his heels. After lingering for a long while, he resumed walking slowly.
Darkness fell. It became so pitch-black that he could see neither forward nor behind. Unable to bear it any longer, Boris stopped again. Then, gradually changing direction, he began to circle around the lake.
The sound of water reached his ears. Perhaps it was merely his imagination. Boris did not know whether a stream flowed into the lake or not. He would rather believe that rain was about to fall. He absolutely did not want to think about the lake crouching invisible in the darkness around him.
Soon the surroundings grew quiet. Remarkably, Boris found the three trees his father had mentioned, relying only on moonlight. They were merely dozens of paces from the lake he so feared, but Boris did not realize this.
The trees were quite large and seemed to provide good cover for his back. The boy wiped cold sweat from his sleeve and collapsed onto the ground. With the moonlight at his back, his shadow stretched forward.
His body felt heavy. Even with simple armor, it was still a burden for a twelve-year-old boy.
His father… if he did not die, he would come searching for Boris. Though he had never shown deep affection, Boris trusted in his father’s sense of responsibility.
But what if his father died? Then who would know Boris was here and come to find him?
Boris shook his head, then felt a chill again. That was not the real problem.
If his father died, the Jineman Family he would return to would cease to exist. Boris had nearly died at his uncle’s hands when he was very young. Without a father to protect him, his uncle would become all the more relentless in eliminating his nephews. And his older brother…
It was then.
Boris saw a shadow darker than darkness itself suddenly rear up behind him, and his throat froze—he could not even scream. He could not bring himself to turn around.
With only his eyes wide open, he stared at a much larger shadow that was engulfing his own.
*Whirrrr… whirrrp… whisp.*
A sound like a massive insect rubbing its wings rang out, then abruptly ceased. Immediately after, Boris felt a grip seize his body and hoist him violently into the air. Only then did his throat open and a scream tear free.
“Aaaahhh!”
The boy’s body stopped at a height of about three paces above the ground. Boris’s gaze swept the floor below. Above the shadowy mass that was difficult to make out, something long and blade-like protruded.
It wasn’t just one. Two, three, four… Eight perhaps? Tentacles? Or something else entirely?
My limbs were free, yet I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed. Even as I sensed I might be torn to shreds at any moment, my body had gone rigid and my mind had ceased to function. And then…
Splash!
A bluish light flashed brilliantly. Simultaneously, a foul-smelling liquid cascaded down upon my head, streaming down to my feet where it dripped relentlessly. The grip that had held me weakened, and my suspended body fell free. I crashed to the ground.
Had I simply plummeted, I would have twisted my ankle. But Boris, who had spent countless afternoons rolling down hillsides with his older brother and absorbed countless falling techniques without conscious effort, quickly bent his knees and executed a smooth forward roll.
Rising and turning to look back, I saw a grotesque corpse sprawled like a deflated leather pouch. The same viscous liquid that had soaked my body glistened across the ground.
Behind the corpse stood a figure holding a luminous blade. The sword that gleamed with an azure radiance amid the flames and darkness was none other than the Winter Sword.
“Boris! What are you doing here!”
Yefnen’s voice erupted with exasperation. Sweat poured down his face as he wiped it away repeatedly with the back of his hand.
Yet he quickly pulled his younger brother into an embrace. The profusion of sweat was born of tension. Though Yefnen excelled beyond his peers, his real combat experience remained limited. During those brief moments when he charged at the monster that had seized the boy who resembled his brother, such torrents of sweat had flowed.
The brothers separated, both shuddering as they regarded the repulsive liquid that now stained their bodies. Boris opened his mouth.
“F-Father said to c-come here…”
“Father told you to come here?”
Yefnen understood immediately. Yet he could not comprehend it.
Father must have sent Boris here for the same reason Yefnen had come—because he never imagined that even an uncle would flee to Emera Lake.
Emera Lake had long been considered an ill-omened place, but after their aunt’s death, it had become a forbidden location that could not even be spoken of.
And this place harbored not mere rumors but genuine monsters. The one he had just slain was far from the first. Yefnen had once ventured alone through the lake’s vicinity long ago, seeking to discover the true nature of the monster that had killed their aunt.
That was when he learned the truth: creatures like the one he had just killed were common in this region. And that was not all.
“But why are you here, brother?”
Boris recalled the last words Father had shouted to his older brother. Surely he had commanded him to flee far away?
Yefnen delayed his answer as he wiped the liquid from his brother’s hair. At last, his voice came low and measured.
“I’m waiting for Father.”
“What?”
Yefnen looked at Boris’s face, then spoke with unmistakable clarity.
“I’m waiting for Father. My thoughts differ from his. To me, Father and you and those who have protected our family matter far more than any treasure.”
“But didn’t Father say your duty was to guard the Winterbottom Kit? Grandfather…”
“Yes, Grandfather risked his life to obtain it and sacrificed his honor to preserve it. But.”
“But?”
Though complex thoughts churned in Yefnen’s mind, he spoke to his younger brother in simple, direct terms.
“Isn’t a treasure meant to be used in times like these?”
If it cannot be used, there is no purpose in guarding it.
Over the long span of years, it was clear that the name of the Jineman Family would not endure as long as the renown of the Winterbottom Kit. Yefnen believed it was right to act as a member of his own family rather than become merely one of countless treasures’ keepers. Once the Jineman Family ceased to exist, what did it matter where the treasure went?
No one could possess a treasure forever. No one lived longer than the treasures they guarded.
“Then will you return to where Father is?”
Yefnen shook his head.
“Not now.”
“Then what?”
Yefnen struggled to find words that would help his younger brother understand the complexity of their situation. He glanced toward the lake shrouded in twilight, then seated his brother on the ground.
“We must wait until the fighting ends.”
Boris’s round eyes widened in surprise.
“What if Father passes away while we’re here?”
“Father won’t pass away.”
My clothes clung to my skin, damp and cold in the night breeze. The two brothers watched with displeasure as the liquid gradually dried and stiffened against their bodies.
“Boris, our family isn’t just dealing with one greedy uncle right now. Behind Uncle stands Khan Elector. He lent Uncle Blado an army of a thousand men. That’s difficult to explain away as merely the reward for long loyalty. But even though the Jineman Family has declined, we’re not the sort to be dealt with by a mere few hundred soldiers. So what’s the conclusion? It’s obvious. There’s some kind of secret deal. And the contents aren’t hard to guess.”
Boris gazed at the silver-white armor his brother wore.
“Snowguard and Winterer?”
“And Uncle’s acquisition of the Jineman Family’s loyalty and cooperation. Father’s disappearance is naturally a prerequisite for that.”
“But then?”
The more Boris heard, the more he believed Father was in danger. Yet why didn’t his brother think the same?
Yefnen gazed at his younger brother with sunken eyes.
“Father understands these facts far better than I do. That a direct confrontation has no chance of victory. You can tell just from the fact that he let us escape like this. Does Father seem like the type to sacrifice his life in a hopeless battle? No. Father sent you here. So Father will come here too.”
Father was the sort of man who would sacrifice every loyal soldier under his command to gain practical advantage. Of that there was no doubt. Yet there remained something I still couldn’t understand.
“But Brother, you didn’t know I was here, did you?”
That was the most difficult part for Yefnen to explain. It was certain that both Father and I had arrived at the same thought—that this place was the only safe haven from Uncle’s army. That’s why I had waited here for Father.
But what if Uncle never came? How truly dangerous was this lake, really? It was nearly incomprehensible that Father would send a child here alone. When Father fled here, would it have mattered if Boris was waiting? Would it have mattered if he had perished by misfortune? Was it truly like that?
Yefnen eventually spoke with an awkward smile.
“Why wouldn’t I know? Didn’t I tell you before that I can sense it if you’re in danger?”
Brother had certainly cried out “Why are you here?!” just moments ago. But Boris didn’t press further. As if understanding his own value to his brother.
As we talked, the shock gradually subsided. My eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, but we remained so quiet and obscured that we could have passed unnoticed even by someone walking beside us.
When moonlight illuminated the corpse of the monster—grotesque as a shattered egg—Boris trembled and asked.
“Brother, what was that? Is that the phantom of Emera Lake? Did you defeat it?”
“No.”
“Then is there something else?”
“Yes.”
Yefnen, who had been leaning on his sword, trembled slightly in a way Boris didn’t notice. There was no guarantee that skill and fortune would always align. Whatever happened, he would protect his brother. But…
Licking his dry lips, Yefnen waited for Father to arrive soon. Only then could they leave this place.
Only then would he not have to face the Red-Eyed Phantom.

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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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