The Warrior’s Ballad

The students of the academy lived in their own world, outside the attention of adults. Like wildflowers growing naturally in the fields.

The attention of adults doesn’t always work out for the better, but without proper guidance, children are bound to lose their way. And thus, they often brought cruel fates upon themselves.

In the Empire, there were at least dozens of adventurer guilds, and among them, there were also dozens that operated academies.

Though it was unclear how life at each academy was, at least at the Beringen Academy, there was hope.

They could earn money by working, train in martial arts, and support each other as friends. After graduation, they had the opportunity to carve out a life for themselves.

Even though brutal struggles and death cast shadows over them, the children were tougher than expected.

Of course, despicable people exist everywhere, but just as wildflowers overcome pests, fortunately, a positive atmosphere prevailed at the Beringen Academy.

The one leading that positive atmosphere was Ricardt.

Just as a lord’s presence kept bandits at bay, while his absence attracted vile delinquents, Ricardt’s mere presence at the academy created a good atmosphere, even if it was not something he intended.

Volka, Molty, Ice, Lara, Delphi, Falen, Jerome, and Melson, who had carried out the deserter elimination mission with Ricardt, were now starting to show signs of adulthood due to their age.

Including Ricardt, these nine were on a different level compared to other students and, along with Ricardt, took the lead in shaping the atmosphere at the academy.

Their overwhelming skill difference and the future they envisioned served as an inspiration to other students. It made them think, “I want to be like that.”

In any case, the growth of boys and girls goes hand in hand with time, and the graduation of these eight students was approaching. They had entered the academy about one year and 10 months before Ricardt.

The academy’s course was meant to last two years, but most stayed either a little more or a little less than that. It was due to the academy’s haphazard operation.

They often went out on requests, sometimes together, sometimes in smaller groups, and they frequently discussed whether to join an existing clan or start one of their own, while interacting with active adventurers.

After childhood, paths diverge between siblings, and after adolescence, paths diverge between friends.

“So, what do you think about us forming our own clan?”

Volka said. Being naturally proactive in everything, he spoke without hesitation.

It was midnight, and a campfire was blazing in an open space between the inner wall and the girls’ dormitory. Nine students were gathered around it.

From the grass, the sound of night insects chirping could be heard, and in the black sky, stars twinkled silently.

Though it was time to sleep, the top nine students, including Ricardt, had a bit more freedom when it came to the rules.

“I can’t. I have something I need to do.”

Ice shook his head as he spoke. Jerome and Melson, who had been with him from the beginning, were of the same mind. It made sense.

“What is it you need to do? Can you tell us?”

“I must take the final exam.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my destiny.”

The final exam was to become a special-grade adventurer and go to Fernland. There was a legend that passing that exam made one a Sword Master.

No one knew exactly what happened during the test that made it possible, except those who passed it. But hardly anyone ever did.

The final exam itself was incredibly rare, and no one knew who administered it, when it would take place, or why. People only knew that such a thing existed.

Those who passed were about one in several decades, and in the 70-year history of the Beringen Academy, not a single student had ever passed the final exam.

So, taking the final exam and passing was, in reality, almost impossible.

However, what could they do when it was his fate? The nine friends and comrades respected one another. For some reason, Ice looked somewhat bitter.

“Hm… well, it can’t be helped. What about the rest of you?”

Volka looked around at the students and asked. Molty also seemed negative.

“I’m thinking of quitting the adventurer life. I enjoy forging iron. Sorry about that.”

“I can’t either. I’ve decided to live with Molty. Sorry.”

Lara said. It looked like the two were planning to get married. Since they were already of age, it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

“Um, sorry, but I’ll have to pass too. I know a senior adventurer, and I’ve already decided to join their clan.”

Falen, who had briefly traveled with Ricardt and Ice during the deserter pursuit mission, said. He wasn’t the most assertive, but he was more than capable of pulling his weight.

“No, it’s fine. There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Although Volka said that, it was obvious from his expression that he felt disappointed.

That left only three—Volka, Delphi, and Ricardt. The problem was that Ricardt still had a long time before graduation.

Volka looked at Delphi with an almost pleading expression. His expression was so blatant that Delphi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Alright, alright. I get it. Just stop making that face. I know I’m the only one who’ll look out for you.”

“Delphi…”

“But what about Ricky?”

Delphi, who had tied her short hair back, asked.

“Let’s include Bori too.”

“Huh?”

“Bori said he wanted to be an adventurer, didn’t he? It’d be better if he joined us.”

“I don’t mind, but you know it’s a dangerous job, right?”

“Bori and I still have some time before we graduate. We’ll use that time to train and improve our skills. Besides, I believe he’ll do well. He’s tougher than he seems.”

“Well, if you say so… Then who’s going to be the clan leader?”

“Volka should do it. You’re the leader, aren’t you?”

Ricardt smiled without any hesitation. From the start, he had no ambition for such things.

Though Ricardt’s combat prowess and his ability to lead people in battle were unmatched, even among active adventurers, his ability to manage things in everyday life wasn’t as outstanding.

Management meant handling people. It required trust and leadership more than just money, and in that area, Volka was better. He also had a lot of connections here and there.

And when a request came in, Ricardt could temporarily lead in actual combat situations. Nothing was set in stone, after all. They could decide however they wanted.

“Alright then, what should we name the clan?”

Delphi asked. At this, Volka and Ricardt exchanged glances, and without saying a word, they both smiled as if they had come to an understanding.

“Viola. Clan Viola.”

Viola meant “violets”. Delphi didn’t understand the reason behind it, but she didn’t object. She just thought it was a surprisingly feminine name.

After all, most clan names were something like “Fire Ax”, “Widowmakers”, “Black Wolves”, or “Lion’s Roar”.

In any case, this was how the Viola Clan came to be. Ricardt was 11 years old at the time, Volka and Delphi were 16, and Boribori was 13.

Even though they spoke of it, they weren’t going to part ways immediately. Graduation was when the guild would send someone to pick up the students around late autumn or winter.

It was currently summer, so there were still a few months left. The students who had carried out the mission together were busy preparing for graduation in one way or another.

After graduation, they would each pursue their goals, or even without a clear goal, they would step into the harsh world.

That’s why the academy was a bit disorganized starting in the summer. There weren’t many classes, and there were students frantically trying to save up money, while others were worrying about how they would make a living once they left.

During this busy time, Boribori was swinging a practice sword in the backyard of his old dorm.

However, whether Boribori was really swinging his sword or just playing around, Ricardt, who was lazily lying down in the shade with his head propped up, couldn’t help but frown slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m writing characters. Ancient script. I’m studying and training at the same time, you see? Hehehe.”

“Bori, didn’t you hear about making a clan?”

“Yeah, you told me last time.”

Ricardt was dumbfounded and wanted to say something, but decided against it. There was no point in saying anything.

However, as Boribori swung his sword again through the air, it somehow looked better than ordinary swordplay. Huh? Wait, what is this?

Ricardt, being someone who had mastered the sword, felt something unusual, but he couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. It was something he had never seen or heard of before.

“Ricky, watch closely. I can do something like this now.”

With that, Boribori gripped his sword and began to focus. In that moment, Ricardt’s heart raced for reasons he couldn’t explain.

Boribori’s sword moved swiftly. He wrote in ancient script in the air, and a black mana trail lingered, leaving the letters briefly suspended in the air.

“Oh!”

Ricardt’s eyes widened in astonishment as he let out a gasp. Though the letters written in mana quickly disappeared, it was undeniably an amazing feat.

“What—! What is that?! Bori!”

Ricardt jumped up from where he had been lying down. Even he, who rarely lost his composure, was so surprised that he couldn’t help but get excited.

In any case, Boribori was the only person who could stir up Ricardt’s emotions like this. He could drive him mad with frustration one moment and surprise him like this the next.

“Hehehe.”

“Hey! Your swordplay was clean! Let’s go with this!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! This is the answer! Even I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

It was definitely a sword technique he had never encountered in his entire life, including his past life.

“Really? Then should we give this sword technique a name?”

“…No, not yet. It’s too early to call it a sword technique. It’s just a random skill right now. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Ricardt, always sure about what wasn’t right, said sternly.

“…Okay…”

“But maybe we should give it a name? Why not?”

“Okay, okay. Then what should we call it?”

“Obviously, it should be named after you. Sword techniques are often named after their creator. Boribori Sword Technique!”

“But my name doesn’t sound that cool.”

“It’ll start sounding cool now. Trust me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, then shall we spar now? My sparring skills have improved a lot too.”

Since Ricardt had mastered the sword purely for the purpose of killing, he wasn’t familiar with holding back in a sparring match. However, after sparring with Ice, he had learned how to fight without hurting his opponent too much.

In the beginning, Ice had been severely injured during their sparring matches, even suffering cracked bones. Looking at it this way, Boribori owed a lot to Ice, both for the mana drive and various other things.

Ricardt picked up a practice sword and stood opposite Boribori. As he prepared for the duel, his eyes gleamed with the confidence that came naturally, and a smile spread across his face.

“Come at me however you want.”

Boribori, feeling a bit nervous, swallowed dryly, but unlike Ice, his body didn’t freeze up.

He knew that no matter what he did, Ricardt wouldn’t hurt him, so she swung his sword freely without worry. No mana trails appeared this time because it drained a lot of mental energy.

Ricardt easily dodged Boribori’s sword swings. With slight tilt of his head or turns of his body, he avoided his strikes while staying within his reach.

As Ricardt widened the distance slightly, Boribori, trying to follow him too hastily, stumbled over his own feet and nearly fell. Ricardt hadn’t even swung his sword once.

Catching Boribori as he was about to fall, Ricardt said,

“Much better. The stroke is a slash, and the dot is a thrust. Even the same letters can change dramatically depending on how they’re written. Just focus a bit more on your footwork.”

Ricardt, seeing this sword technique for the first time, instantly grasped its essence. He also recognized its infinite potential.

“Okay.”

Boribori nodded energetically, and the sparring resumed.

He recalled a character he liked in his mind and began to write it in the air with his sword—strokes, dots—sometimes forceful, sometimes gentle. No one had taught him, but he naturally did it on his own.

Soon he found that using one hand felt more comfortable than two, and his stance adjusted naturally.

Then, as if by magic, his progress began to accelerate at an unbelievable pace. The difference between the sword he swung a moment ago and the one he swung next was staggering.

The reason this was possible was because it wasn’t just training or practice—it was play.

Boribori was drawing freely on the limitless canvas that was Ricardt, and Ricardt, a vast mountain and ocean, accepted everything he threw at him.

At some point, Boribori couldn’t help but smile, and Ricardt joined his in laughter.

“Hahahahaha!”

Someone had once said that those who reach enlightenment laughs loudly. It seemed as though these two boys had done just that.

Ricardt felt elated right now. It was because this was the first time he had experienced something like this. Who knew wielding a sword could be this fun?

A sword forged only in the brutal battlefields. A blade tempered with fire, steel, blood, and death. A sword that had burned itself away in a relentless self-purging…

When that sword met Boribori’s, Ricardt felt a sense of liberation. It was like a cursed demonic sword transforming into a sacred sword.

Since the deserter incident, Ricardt had carried a heavy burden in his heart, but now, it finally felt like it was being lifted.

He didn’t know why, but there was no need to. If one could explain why, then it wouldn’t truly be enlightenment.

Some people found wisdom from Ricardt, some felt the weight of an insurmountable wall and suffered, while others simply found joy. What caused the differences between these three experiences, no one could say.

For now, all that could be heard in the once henhouse-like backyard of the dormitory was the sound of two boys laughing, cooler than the wind.

Chapter 7 – Only a Pure Soul. The End.