Children of the Rune – Winterer - Chapter 528

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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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Episode 298.
Beneath the Almond Tree (41)
Korned—who had once declared he would seize Joshua’s body and live as him—had ultimately thrown himself into the effort to save Joshua’s life. It was a grudge that had stretched across an eternity. An affection and hatred so intertwined they could not be severed. The tangled, discordant history between Icabon and the People of Promise, between Icabon and Kelsni, had woven itself into Joshua’s existence, bestowing upon him both duty and right, crisis and life itself.
Joshua bit his lip until blood came.
“…Thank you.”
Korned turned his head away.
“Thanking me doesn’t amount to anything. At least I’m still conscious. If you want to say such things, do something about Kelsni instead. Will you leave him as he is? That priest who throws everything aside without hesitation whenever it concerns Icabon and Blessed Arnim?”
Korned turned and began to walk. Joshua called out to him.
“Korned. That you came…”
“Think of it however you wish. I merely lent what little strength I had. My hatred for the Duke hasn’t changed either. If the opportunity comes again, I’ll do to him as I did before. Though I doubt such an opportunity will arise. But if the Duke turns his back on Kelsni, even a wretch like me cannot forgive him. That alone. Even if he is frustratingly narrow-minded and rigid, it’s an undeniable fact that it’s all for Icabon and his bloodline—for you.”
Korned then passed through the wall and vanished beyond the window. The last thing visible was a pale bone-white arm disappearing over the sill. Joshua gripped the back of his chair, staring into the dark beyond the glass. His eyes grew hot. The hand resting on his chest slipped, touching the place where his scar lay. Beneath his fingertips, he felt the sealed wound. In that moment, an impulse to tear it open seized him. If only doing so could bring Kelsni back. He recalled the tomb where Anarose had buried him. This place too was a tomb. The place where Kelsni was sealed.
“Joshua.”
When another voice called from beside him, Joshua shook his head violently without thinking.
“I don’t need it. Go away. All of you, leave. I don’t want to hear it.”
“Who was that who just came and went?”
It was not a spirit. Joshua turned his head. The door to the adjacent chamber stood open, and there stood Cardi in nightclothes—bearing his exact likeness. At such moments, an involuntary chill ran through him. That child, encountered in the darkness, seemed like his own past or future reflected in a mirror at midnight.
Joshua barely exhaled before answering.
“Korned. One of the People of Promise.”
Cardi would not know of the People of Promise. But Joshua lacked the presence of mind to explain. He was in no mood for it now. Then Cardi asked.
“You spoke of Kelce?”
Cardi too knew of Kelsni. He could not help but know.
“You heard everything?”
His head nodded. Joshua bit his lip.
“It’s because of me. He became like this trying to save me. I swallowed him.”
“It’s because I stabbed you.”
Cardi approached calmly and raised the lamp’s wick. Their faces emerged in the reddish glow.
“Kelce didn’t come to me. He went only to you. I thought he had forgotten me.”
Joshua silently wondered how he would have treated them both had Kelsni been present. No answer came.
“Now Kelce and I won’t be like you and Kelce, will we? That’s fine. I’m not Arnim Duke, destined to become the second Demonic Duke, descendant of Demonic Icabon. I’m only Max Cardi.”
“…”
“But you must uphold your duty. You’ve drawn the shorter lot. There are only a few people I cannot take from you, and if not for them, I truly wouldn’t envy you at all.”
Cardi spoke as though he had completely forgotten about his own crumbling body. Joshua did not mention it either. Since Cardi had briefly left after the first lesson, he had not ventured outside again. He had shut himself away in his chamber, reluctant even to see Joshua.
“How will you conduct yourself at the Academy? With the dignity befitting a Young Duke? Or freely, like Cardi? Since we’ve parted ways, you must choose the former. The latter is mine. We’ve divided fairly, haven’t we? I’ve renounced the position of Young Duke. So you must keep your promise too. If you’ve chosen the latter, you must surrender that role to me. What do you say? Tell me. Which is it?”
Cardi’s voice grew increasingly sharp and insistent. Under ordinary circumstances, Joshua would have spoken carefully to soothe him. But now he was in no state to do so. Tears fell. Because of Kelsni, because of Cardi, and because of himself, who could think of nothing—it was unbearable. Joshua turned and fled into the bedroom. He shut the door and bolted it. He covered his ears against the voices that might come from outside, against the whispers that drifted around him.
The next morning, in the Training Courtyard where the first swordsmanship lesson was held, Lucian was delighted to see Joshua after so long.
“Hey, you finally came to class? Is it because it’s outdoors today?”
“…”
Joshua was lost in thought and did not hear Lucian’s words. Only when Lucian tapped his shoulder did he return to himself, but his response wandered into empty air.
“Huh? Oh, well, that’s true…”
“What’s wrong?”
Tichiel’s urgent gesture cut our conversation short. At some point, five first-year students had begun to be called the “Acorn Villa Brigade,” and when they gathered, Tichiel surveyed them with a serious expression.
“You lot did something strange yesterday, didn’t you?”
Lucian, catching on to what Tichiel was getting at, spoke with satisfaction.
“What’s strange about it? It’s exactly what they did to us.”
“That’s not the point. Those seniors in that chamber are absolutely furious right now.”
“Ah, success then. Did we ask you to be happy about it?”
When Maximian replied without much concern, Tichiel looked like his heart was burning.
“You don’t understand. In a chamber war, counterattacks aren’t a problem, but this time it was excessive. Those four seniors cleaned until this morning and still couldn’t finish. Plus, their personal belongings were ruined. Those seniors used magic, so what we cleaned was just water, but theirs was actual sticky honey-lemon jam.”
“Well, we can’t use magic, so what can we do?”
“Honey-lemon smell beats rotten celery a hundred times over. What’s the problem?”
There was no getting through to them. After a moment, a command echoed from behind, so Tichiel returned to her position.
Standing before the students who had come outside for the first time in a while was a relatively young instructor—or rather, a teaching assistant. The Swordmaster rarely attended freshman classes. One of the two assistants who helped the Master was in charge of basic freshman instruction. The freshmen were not given real swords.
“Now, I’ll distribute these wooden swords here. Take one each, and if you think you have some sword experience, stand on the right. If you think you can’t do it at all, stand on the left.”
After they were roughly divided, Lucian and Boris stood on the right, while Joshua and Maximian stood on the left. Lucian looked at them with a puzzled expression.
“You really can’t use a sword at all?”
Maximian instinctively knew that showing off knowledge in a situation like this would do no good. Joshua standing on the left also drew the attention of other students. For a noble’s son not to have learned swordplay was extremely rare.
Boris, being the Silverskull champion, would naturally be on the right, but Lucian’s skill was uncertain. Lucian seemed quite pleased with himself for standing on that side. Boris was the one who worried.
“Will you be alright?”
“Of course! Don’t worry. I got into this school through swordplay, after all.”
“That’s not a proven fact.”
“Then what else would I have passed on? Did I make the professors laugh?”
Brief physical training proceeded for a while. Soon, the teaching assistant called over two upperclassmen who had been practicing in the adjacent training courtyard.
“Test how skilled these freshmen are.”
One took charge of the left group of students, the other the right. The senior on the left selected one of the relatively sturdy-looking freshmen.
“Let’s do a simple sparring match. I won’t go hard, so don’t worry.”
Before the right group of experienced students stood a senior with a large frame and broad shoulders—clearly someone with considerable strength at first glance. He spoke.
“I’m Leroy.”
His voice was hardly what you’d call kind. His eyes swept across the freshmen.
“Who wants to spar? You there.”
The person Leroy pointed to was Lucian, standing in the front row. Lucian’s face flushed.
“Me? Me?”
“Yes, you. Come here.”
Lucian was tense but didn’t refuse. As Lucian stepped forward, Leroy had all the other students sit down. Then, without warning, he let out a shout and brought his wooden sword down hard against Lucian’s raised blade.
“Ugh!”
Caught off guard by the sudden force, Lucian nearly dropped his wooden sword. He barely managed to grip it, but the tip wavered and curved.
“Your mind wandered!”
From below, then from the left, the wooden sword came flying again. Having lost the rhythm, Lucian stepped back and spun halfway to the side, trying to regain his breath. But this match had many difficulties from the start. The wooden swords given to the students were all uniformly the same shape—close to a longsword—whereas the sword Lucian had been training with until now was much lighter and thinner. Lucian himself wasn’t particularly strong either. For something made of wood, the wooden sword was quite heavy.
After enduring several impacts in quick succession, Lucian’s wrist began to loosen, and Leroy pressed forward without hesitation. He knocked aside the defense once more, and his extended wooden sword touched Lucian’s shoulder. Normally, the match should have ended there. But Leroy’s wooden sword thrust hard into the shoulder, pushing, then came down. Lucian reflexively dodged, but caught a blow near his elbow. A tingling sensation spread through his entire arm.
“Ow…”
Lucian’s stance crumbled. Leroy didn’t miss the opportunity and thrust at his waist. Once, twice—the repeated attacks had far too much force to be called a simple skill test. Lucian finally cried out.
“Stop! I yield!”
“You surrender over something so trivial? What a pathetic wretch.”
The students’ expressions grew increasingly bewildered. This wasn’t a real combat scenario, nor was it an official sparring match. This wasn’t even a military academy. There was no need to press so relentlessly. Regardless of the crowd’s reaction, Leroy showed no sign of stopping. Every strike, every thrust, every shove landed without mercy. This had long ceased to be a practice bout.
Lucian cried out in alarm.
“Why are you doing this!”
Maximian, sensing the gravity of the situation, seized Joshua’s arm and pulled.
“Hey, Jo. Snap out of it. That bastard’s name—Leroy—does it sound familiar?”
Joshua, barely regaining his senses, echoed, “Leroy?” before answering immediately.
“Ki Leroy. It was written in front of Cream Tea Villa.”
Children of Rune – Winterer
Author: Jeon Min-hee
Publisher: 14 Months Publishing
The copyright to this book belongs to the author and 14 Months Publishing.
To reuse all or part of the contents of this book, written consent from both parties is required.

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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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