90. A Master’s Way

Drip.

Drip. Drip.

The sound of water droplets echoed.

It didn’t take long to realize it was the sound of blood trickling down his arm, hitting the floor.

Already.

The ground was soaked, the corpses piled so high that the puddles of blood were barely visible.

“Haa… haa…”

Each ragged breath felt like his lungs were being squeezed dry.

His sword hand was losing its grip, slick with sweat and blood that clung to it stubbornly.

“Monster…!”

“He’s insane. Truly insane!”

“Does he even know how many he’s killed?!”

Isaac’s eyes slowly lifted at their cries.

“Ah…”

Already.

Dawn had broken, the day was beginning.

The crimson pool, resembling a viscous blackness, shone with a newfound brightness, as if shedding its darkness.

Like lifting a curtain, it illuminated them, reminding them never to forget the carnage that had unfolded through the night.

Those who had been consumed by the drug staggered backwards as the light grew, acting as if they were the victims.

“T-This isn’t right! This isn’t how it was supposed to be!”

“We just needed it to survive. Is getting high enough to die for?”

“It’s unfair! So unfair!”

Splash.

Isaac’s foot moved forward.

The tip of his sword brushed the blood-soaked ground, sending out a ripple.

Isaac’s voice, weak and breathless, drifted through the heavy air.

“Baron Volten, implicated in the attempted assassination of Princess Adeline, has been summarily executed for treason.”

Having come this far under the Princess’s orders, he was entitled to it.

“You who supported Baron Volten resisted me, and that, too, constitutes treason.”

“Alright, just a moment, we just–.”

“For… the drugs.”

Perhaps the sunlight helped clear their heads. They stammer, ever mindful of Isaac’s gaze.

Drugged, thinking and acting only for the immediate moment.

Knowing that paradise could no longer be maintained, acting out their rage.

As one must eventually wake from the intoxication of drugs.

As the morning dawned, they began to grasp the meaning of their atrocities.

“……”

Isaac’s blood-stained gaze weighed upon them. His arms hung limp, his legs bent as he struggled to stand, his wounded body looking ready to collapse at any moment.

Yet, it was precisely that sight that instilled a sense of oppressive dread, and at last, the few remaining madmen slowly knelt.

“S-s-spare us.”

“We’re sorry! We’re sorry! You know, when you’re high, your head just goes haywire–.”

“We were wrong. Just please, spare us.”

The very same ones who, moments ago, were so reckless with their own lives.

With the carnage and the scent of blood dissipating, with the drug that stole their reason gone, they were nothing more than ordinary folk.

Perhaps this was the most painful sight Isaac had witnessed so far.

“……”

Above the pool of blood.

Countless people kneeling and bowing their heads towards him.

The madness was quelled, and Volten was washed in blood.

Just as Isaac could no longer endure and collapsed.

Thud.

As hands caught him, Isaac barely managed to turn his eyes.

“…I will say nothing.”

Familiar touch, familiar voice.

As if waiting for this moment, the Grand Master embraced Isaac and whispered softly.

“Rest now.”

At those words.

Isaac slowly closed his eyes, marking the end of a long and arduous day.

* * *

Isaac opened his eyes again that noon. Despite his exhaustion, he’d only managed a few hours of fitful sleep before waking once more.

“Where…”

He was in a bed.

The room was adorned with animal hides, a certificate bestowing a baronial title, a bow and arrows, a leather coat.

Even a glance told him whose room it was.

“Ugh…”

A vile, medicinal reek vibrated through his body. Not only that, but he was heavily bandaged, making movement a struggle.

Grumbling, he emerged from the room, only to come face to face with a man carrying a damp cloth.

“Baron Logan!”

“…?”

“Ah, I am the steward of this manor, and formerly Baron Volten’s secretary…”

The secretary spoke his name, but the sudden ringing in Isaac’s ears prevented Isaac from understanding.

Well, no matter.

“The rebellion was swiftly suppressed thanks to your valor, my lord. I am most grateful.”

The secretary bowed deeply.

He was carefully studying Isaac, likely fretting that Baron Volten’s crimes might splash back onto him.

But Isaac had no bandwidth to consider that right now.

*‘If he’s committed a crime, he’ll pay the price.’*

The fact that he hadn’t tried to flee suggested he might be intending to confess everything, angling for leniency.

Just as the late Baron hadn’t appeared to imbibe the illicit drugs, his secretary seemed clean in that respect as well.

“I must send a letter to the Royal Palace.”

“Yes! Of course! I will prepare a pen, ink, and parchment immediately. Given your condition, perhaps I could transcribe it for you…”

“No, I shall write it myself. Her Highness must read my own hand.”

“Understood, my lord.”

The secretary bowed once more.

Isaac hastily called out to him as he turned to leave, eager to please.

“Wait.”

“Yes? Is there anything else you require?”

“…You were, in essence, Baron Volten’s right-hand man, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Ah, that… indeed. I have already compiled a complete inventory of the drug stores, the ledgers, even the details of external distribution…”

“No.”

The secretary, expecting a reprimand, prostrated himself like a toad and spilled forth his explanation. But that wasn’t what Isaac was curious about.

“Milli Marceau’s family.”

Baron Volton had distinctly said he’d found them.

“Take me to them.”

* * *

Unbeknownst to him back in the mansion, dark storm clouds gathered above Volton, unleashing a downpour.

Yet, despite the torrent, the sound was strangely muted. It was a spectacle of the city being cleansed.

“…A blessing, wouldn’t you say?”

The Grand Master, taking the umbrella from the secretary’s grasp, spoke softly from behind.

“Thanks to the timely rain, the stench of blood will naturally wash away. The city will be a little cleaner, perhaps.”

“…”

Isaac couldn’t respond.

This was a small, deserted park.

The reason for its emptiness was simple: it wasn’t made for people.

Before Isaac stood a massive tombstone.

Tracing the names etched upon it, he found the people he’d desperately sought.

– Marten Marceau.

– John Marceau.

– Marlina Marceau.

“These are the graves of those whose identities have been confirmed.”

Isaac spoke flatly, gazing up at the tombstone.

“Not the revolution. They were caught up in the violence that followed.”

What kind of violence, he didn’t know.

In Volton, violence was practically commonplace.

Isaac lowered his head. Otherwise, he feared tears would stream down his cheeks.

“I know it was self-serving.”

“……”

“Just my own self-serving desire, hoping Millie could rest a little easier.”

Tears welled, shimmering.

With his broken body, his heart, too, was steadily eroding.

“In the end, this is all I was capable of.”

Even after returning, regressed.

He’d been too preoccupied with simply protecting his own skin.

Why?

Why did someone like me return like this?

Tears traced paths down his cheek.

Though not even a day had passed since countless lives had been taken.

He felt a hypocrite, grieving the death of his friend’s family.

It was worse than when there had been no chance at all.

Now, having had the opportunity but failed to seize it.

It was shattering Isaac all the more.

“Do not break.”

From behind, the Archmage’s arm carefully enfolded Isaac.

“If you crumble here, you will have even less face to show your friend.”

His legs refused to hold him.

Had the Archmage not embraced him, he would have surely collapsed, sinking to his knees.

“Is it difficult?”

A gentle tone.

Isaac, reminded of the past, nodded almost unconsciously, tears streaming down his face.

“It is difficult. I cannot forgive myself.”

“That much I understand.”

“I just wanted to… do even this much for her.”

“I understand.”

“The guilt—”

“In that case.”

Unseen, there behind him.

A voice that might as well have been smiling.

“As you learned the sword from me, this time too, look to me and follow.”

“…!”

Isaac’s eyes widened. Strength returned to his weakening legs for an instant, and he slowly released her hand.

Turning his head, he found the Grand Master standing there, a bitter smile upon her face.

“I will believe your words. Disciple, returned from the future.”

“Why–?”

“Because I must impart my teachings to you.”

The hand holding the umbrella tightened. Just so, the Grand Master was also suppressing a surge of emotion.

“My fellow disciples, all of them are dead.”

“…!”

“Unwilling to believe it, I treated you as a liar. For that, I apologize.”

“G-Grand Master…”

“No doubt, seeing me, my fellow disciples would have been unable to suppress their sighs. The departed should be left to depart, as is the way.”

The reason for helping the patrons, for collaborating with Princess Claris, was just one thing.

To find her fellow disciples.

Even the reason for maintaining a connection with Isaac was because he served as a kind of witness to their survival.

“I have overcome it.”

But now.

The Grand Master had finally decided to accept everything.

Opening eyes that had been closed, she looked upon Isaac.

“A master, after all, is one who imparts teachings.”

Her hand rested upon Isaac’s head, placing a weight of encouragement there.

“Child, I intend to forget the past and live in the present.”

“…!”

“If it is difficult, learn from me. I shall live a life that would make my old friends envious.”

To allow Isaac to let go of Millie.

Conversely, the Grand Master herself had also given up on her fellow disciples.

In the end, it was an acknowledgement of Isaac’s return.

“You too, are learning to let go.”

His head hung low.

“Always-.”

His voice, a mix of despair and tears, sounded like a childish plea.

“You only ever offer me teachings.”

“That is the way of a master.”

The Grand Master smiled faintly.

“I have much I wish to ask about my future, but there are matters to attend to first, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Grand Master wiped the tears from around Isaac’s eyes, concerned about his injured arm.

Isaac accepted the gesture in silence, took a steadying breath, cleared his throat, and nodded.

“Indeed. In truth, we failed our mission.”

Originally, they had come to capture the Bellingwaltz Mercenary Group, who had directly attempted to assassinate the princess.

But that had failed, so it seemed-.

“Ah! There they are!”

A carefree voice cut through the sound of the rain.

Even amidst the grey city, a girl with particularly vibrant red hair ran towards them, waving.

“I-saaac!”

Behind her bright smile…

“Ugh!?”

“C-Could you be a little gentler!”

Bound by ropes, the Bellingwaltz Mercenary Group was being dragged along by Sharen’s rough hands.