431 – The Resolve of One Who Reclaims -7-

Three hours remained until the siege warfare concluded.

Upon a high spire, Hannah and Malik, their swords clashing, exchanged small, knowing smiles.

“Huh?”

“Heh…”

Both were impressed by the noticeable improvements in each other’s skill.

‘What is this… I thought he’d been resting this whole time….’

Malik’s swordsmanship, which she’d assumed would be stagnant, had improved remarkably.

‘Riccardo, you b*stard… what did you do?’

Malik, likewise, clicked his tongue at Hannah’s own elevated prowess.

“You’ve become a monster.”

Malik offered this brief commentary to Hannah before delivering a strike with his full might.

“Oppa’s gotten a little better too.”

“Huh?”

“You’re much better than you were at the mansion.”

“To hear you say that to me. Time truly is terrifying…!”

Coldly honed blades moved, seeking to snatch victory by finding the other’s weak point.

“I’ll pick up the pace a little.”

Hannah’s sword sliced through the air, aiming a horizontal cut for Malik’s thigh.

A clean horizontal cut.

A perfect horizontal cut, devoid of any extraneous movements.

Watching Hannah’s sword, Malik bit his lip, knowing that he couldn’t dodge this technique.

‘I can’t evade it.’

A monstrous speed.

Malik, clicking his tongue at Hannah’s unorthodox attack, a horizontal sweep with a near-instantaneous rotation of her body, gripped his sword even tighter and closed the distance.

He reasoned that yielding a small piece of flesh and counterattacking was more advantageous than narrowly evading.

Malik focused all his concentration and moved his sword towards Hannah’s sleeve.

‘I can’t just stand here and take it.’

Like Riccardo, he believed a spear that pierced all was superior to an impenetrable shield.

-Clang!!!

He had no intention of yielding to his younger sister without a fight.

“Huu…”

Even more so, being her older brother, she refused to lose.

-Swish.

-Swish.

Having both delivered their cuts simultaneously, the two exchanged awkward smiles.

“…”

“…Damn it.”

Malik, his thigh grazed by Hannah’s sword, clicked his tongue as he saw the slight tear in his sleeve.

“Too shallow.”

“…Didn’t think you’d counter.”

“Even if I look like this, I’ve poured my life into the sword.”

“…”

“It’s called experience.”

‘Pfft,’ Hannah smiled, gazing at Malik’s wound, and tossed out a small provocation. She, too, was enjoying this fight.

“Tell me if it’s too much. I might go easy on you.”

“Not a chance. Still got plenty to spare.”

“Really?”

“You better watch out.”

Malik instantly surged towards Hannah.

‘I’ve grasped Hannah’s habits to a degree.’

First, the hand.

Malik observed Hannah’s empty hand, moving his legs. From watching Hannah until now, he knew that when a strong attack was coming, she would brace the hand not holding the sword against her wrist to make up for the lack of power.

If he twisted his ankle, feigning a route to the right…

“…!”

An opening would inevitably appear.

Malik’s sword, having completed its analysis in a flash of time, met Hannah’s, unleashing a tremendous sound.

-Clang-g-g-g.

One step.

-Clang-g-g-g-g.

Two steps.

Closing the distance, Malik began to press forward like a fierce lion, pouring all his strength into breaking Hannah’s faltering center.

Hannah’s strength was speed.

Malik’s strength was power.

-You two…

-…

-Are you really siblings?

-I am.

-We are.

-…You two don’t have a single thing in common when it comes to style. Hannah, in your case, your speed is overwhelmingly fast, but your strength is weak. And you, sir, you’ve got so much power, it’s like you’re fighting a demon.

-Good that we aren’t alike.

-I agree.

-You can always tell you’re siblings, though…

Power and speed.

It couldn’t be said which was better.

Neither element could be removed from the sword.

-What do you two think is the weapon a swordsman must possess?

The two’s answers were different.

-Power.

-Speed.

They were prodigies, each intimately familiar with their own strengths and dedicated to honing them.

Even Malik, focused as he was on business, possessed the blood of Histrania—a love for the sword—in his veins.

“Hraaah!”

Hanna, though untutored in the ways of Histrania, possessed a natural talent, and thus, her flower was destined to bloom.

“…”

Struggling to parry Malik’s blade, Hanna opened her eyes, now cold, and murmured in a low voice.

“Flower… bloom.”

The secret technique she had grasped during this very lesson.

“…!”

With a calm that settled over the air, a faint aura, like layered flower petals, began to gather around Hanna’s sword.

A flower with a white sheen.

Superficially, it possessed a beauty surpassing any other blossom, yet it shone with a bewitching allure, like a flower harboring a deadly poison.

Malik clenched his teeth, gripping his sword tightly.

“Histrania…”

He wouldn’t be outdone.

Old memories surfaced.

-Older brother… won’t you spar with me, just once…?

A time when fear of their father kept him from reaching out to his lonely younger sister.

-…

-Just once, I beg you. Just once…

-I’m busy.

A coward, afraid of his father, unable to extend a hand to his young sister.

-If… if you’re not busy, could you… maybe?

-…

-S…sorry for taking up your time.

He was proud of Hanna, who had overcome that cowardice and bloomed so beautifully, but the memory of the indelible mark he had left on his sister’s heart remained.

-Clench-.

An unforgivable transgression.

A mistake once made becomes a shackle, embedded in someone’s memory, impossible to break free from.

He could still vividly recall the sight of his younger sister weeping like a child when he first apologized to her.

-Why…! Why apologize now!

-…I’m sorry.

-I hated you to death! You treated me like I was invisible, and now you apologize? What difference does it make…!

-I’m truly… sorry.

-I wanted to die… I wished you would just tell me to die… But… but…! Why are you acting like an older brother now, all of a sudden?

-…I want to, even now.

To sever that shackle.

But because he couldn’t undo that pain, couldn’t bear it in her stead, Malik poured his heart into his sword, weaving the tale of a cowardly, timid boy.

Not Histrania.

“Histrania Form One.”

With her brother’s sword, indeed.

Before Malik’s thunderous blade, Hannah inhaled steadily, then spoke the sword’s name in a low voice.

“Blooming Zenith.”

The petals that gathered upon Hannah’s blade erupted in a dazzling sword dance, scattering into the air.

Malik bit his lip, watching the petals fall as if drunk on the light of the rising sun, intertwined with the dawn sky.

‘It’s been countered.’

The Histrianian swordsmanship, countered.

Malik felt the aura in his hands dissipate as if scattered by the wind. He spun his body sharply, plunging into Hannah’s embrace.

The swirling petals were unavoidable.

“Huu…”

He had to close the distance, seek shelter beneath the bower where the petals fell.

-Shring.

Hannah’s sword scraped against the ground, its movements relentless, showing no mercy for Malik’s intent. It began to move, swift once more.

“My brother used to tell me,”

“…”

“That I lacked talent.”

“…”

“I wonder if he’d say the same now. Brother.”

Hannah’s eyes gazed upwards, towards a place far higher. With unwavering conviction, she looked upon a vista more magnificent than any she had seen in her youth.

‘That b*stard…’

He resented Ricardo.

‘Enviable.’

That he seemed to command more trust than his own blood.

Hannah moved her sword, wearing a lighthearted smile that betrayed no lingering attachment to the past.

“Thank you, Brother.”

“…”

“For apologizing first.”

Malik saw the approaching blade and smiled brightly.

“…No.”

His eyes held a complex mix of emotions.

Apologies were never enough, no matter how many were offered.

Not even a hundred times would suffice.

Even if that person said it was alright.

He knew that the bruises etched into the heart could never truly heal…

And so.

“…”

He had no intention of losing today.

“I am your brother.”

He still had promises to keep with Hannah.

-I want to be a proper brother, even if it starts now.

– …What?

– Even if you hate me. Even if you despise me.

– …

– I am your flawed older brother, after all.

I couldn’t let myself be robbed of playing the part of a proper brother before I even began. I am a brother before I am Malik. A disgusting coward, a garbage older brother who has left an indelible bruise on my sister’s heart.

Therefore.

“I cannot lose.”

I *could not* lose.

Malik’s sword tip moved, reflecting the sun revealed by the dawn.

In order to become a haven for my sister, to avoid falling, I swung my sword with all my might.

“I am your brother, after all.”

“…”

“I cannot lose, not yet.”

A world where no one is hurt doesn’t exist, but Malik, wanting to be a selfish older brother in that world, smiled faintly and unleashed his sword.

Happier than ever before.

.

.

.

“Hahaha…”

“Don’t laugh…”

Gazing at the soaring sun through the hole-ridden ceiling of the spire, the Hystania siblings let out hollow laughs.

“I won, it seems.”

Malik said to Hanna with a gentle smile.

“I can continue playing the part of an older brother.”

Malik, who could not lose, not yet.

Of course.

“Whoa~ Boss.”

Except for that guy.

“That was impressive, wasn’t it?”

*

*Clang…!*

With a gigantic roar, a circular cloud of impact spread from beneath Ruin’s feet.

“Gah…!”

Impurities spewed from Ruin’s mouth, and his body trembled violently. It was an attack too much for a mage’s body to withstand.

“Ruin.”

“…!!”

“Breathe.”

Yuria, uttering cold words, bent over and began preparing her next attack.

In a split second, divine power coalesced in her fist, beginning to shine.

“Keeeugh…!!”

As Yuriah’s fist hurtled towards him, Ruin rapidly chanted the magical formula, bracing both hands to deflect the blow.

– *Thwack…!*

Of course.

“Gah…!”

It was too much to completely nullify the impact.

His legs giving way, Ruin lifted trembling eyes to meet Yuriah’s gaze.

“Why.”

Why was she pummeling him with such… gusto?