Chapter 71

Ah, I thought this was a dream.

But—it was strange. It wasn’t a dream of my past life. It felt like I was someone else, looking out from the outside.

—Was I being hit?

The moment I thought "whoa," the world I was looking at from the inside changed to an outside perspective. From the viewpoint of the boy being hit, to the viewpoint of seeing the boy being hit. The boy... the young boy was probably not even ten years old. He didn’t look well-nourished, so he might be a bit older.

Black hair, deep blue eyes... He seemed like a gentle child, with features that could rival those of young Alex. The first person I thought of was Sir Sil when he was a child. But, if it was just the hair and eye color, it was...?

Even though he was being hit, the boy didn’t resist at all.

"Take up a sword! Fight!"

"...No. It’s over. I can’t waste any more time on a failure."

"But..."

"It will also have a bad influence on Master Nathaniel. Act quickly."

One of the men who had been beating him grabbed the boy by the collar and spat at him.

"Is it because your wounds heal so quickly? You can heal without a scar in a few days, whether you’re hit or cut. It’s enviable. But, you should have more than just a good physique. This is my last warning. —Fight."

"—No."

The boy answered firmly. The man threw the boy to the ground.

I couldn’t stand it and tried to hit the man, but I just passed through him. Is this a dream? It’s not like that young man is going to appear, right? I’m supposed to be the strongest, right?

This dream is just too bad for my taste.

The boy coughed and got up.

Our gazes didn’t meet. The boy couldn’t see me. But, I could sense what he was thinking.

The boy had no name.

He knew he was considered a disappointment.

He was expected to have a distinguished lineage.

He was expected to display exceptional combat abilities. But the child—boy—was afraid to wield a sword even after growing up and being able to hold one.

So, he wouldn’t fight.

"Then, it’s time to dispose of you."

The man hit the boy again, knocked him unconscious, and tied him up with weights.

Wait, is this for real? I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

I could only watch.

The boy’s body was thrown into the lake. —He was sinking.

I reached out, trying to get close to him in the water, but my hand just passed through his body.

Gurgle, water entered the boy’s open mouth. He flailed his limbs, struggling, then suddenly became calm. That’s right. Keep going!

He tried to hold his breath and reach for the short sword hidden in his shoe. But he missed it, and the short sword fell into the water.

"!"

I tried to catch it, but I just passed through it! I’m useless!

But the boy’s left hand finally grabbed the short sword. He cut the thick rope tied around his legs. The rope and the weights sank to the bottom. The boy’s body became lighter, and he swam. He struggled to surface. Above was just water, dark and murky. He couldn’t see anything. He had to believe he would eventually reach the surface, so he kept swimming. It was getting harder to hold his breath, and water started to enter his open mouth.

I felt like I was the boy. Was I merging with him?

"—! Cough, cough..."

Only his face emerged above the water. He opened his mouth wide, gasping for air.

The boy, who had reached out to the shore, noticed someone.

"What? You’re still alive?"

The man stepped on the boy’s right hand with the sole of his shoe, using all his strength.

"Just die already."

—Stop it! I can feel it.

The boy’s heart is... fading.

"...What?"

The boy muttered.

While his hand was being stepped on, he finally understood.

It was something very simple.

"...I..."

"What? You don’t want to die? How... pitiful..."

Suddenly, the boy thrust the short sword in his left hand, raised from the water, into the man’s leg. A scream echoed.

The short sword wasn’t meant to hurt anyone.

I didn’t want to understand, but I did. The boy’s heart was incredibly calm.

Just as others had expected him to have talent, he had expected someone to come.

To help him. To reach out a hand.

But.

"Finally, I understand."

—Finally.

Finally, the boy understood.

—No one will come to help.

If he wanted to live, he had to do something himself. He had to carve out his own path.

By any means necessary.

The only person he could rely on was himself.

Once he realized this, the weapon felt very familiar in his hand. The cold, inanimate tool wouldn’t betray him. He could control it as he wished.

It was ridiculous that he had been afraid to hold a sword—afraid to fight humans.

"What will you achieve by doing this...!"

"Fight. All I have to do is show my talent, right?"

—I’ll show you.

The boy declared.

—No one will come to help.

I could sense the boy’s heart. His resignation and determination.

And even though this was a dream, I recognized his fighting style.

A completely different appearance from when he was being hit passively. An overwhelming difference.

That’s right. This boy also had black hair and deep blue eyes, and the short sword he held...

"Clifford...?"

My voice came out.

The boy, holding the short sword—identical to the one I borrowed in the ‘Air Room’—and covered in blood, immediately turned around.

Can he hear my voice?

"Who’s there?"

A cold, hostile question echoed.

The boy looked at me. The same deep blue eyes as Clifford’s widened in surprise.

His lips moved—

And then, the dream ended.

That’s all I remember from the dream.