'This can't be!'
Creed, who had been watching Rohan from a distance, sucked in a breath.
He had been secretly following Rohan under orders to keep watch over him.
'He awakened to mana?'
A boy who had enlisted less than a week ago had awakened to mana, and entirely on his own.
Creed rubbed his eyes and looked again, but the wavering blue light remained unchanged.
'Impossible.'
Creed could hardly believe the absurdity of what had just happened.
Normally, awakening to mana required a considerable level of swordsmanship.
Those who failed to form a Mana Heart might go their entire lives without ever sensing mana.
There were countless people like that.
'How long has it been since he first picked up a sword, and he's already a Sword Expert...?'
Creed was currently a mid-to-upper-tier Sword Expert.
The line separating a Sword User from a Sword Expert was whether they could use mana.
Converting that mana into aura marked the threshold of Sword Master.
Rohan had now reached at least the lower tier of Sword Expert through his own efforts.
The shock did not end there.
- CRACK!
Rohan appeared to lift his sword lightly toward the tree.
But two sword marks appeared in its trunk.
Creed's mouth fell open at the sight.
'That's Rainer's technique.'
The swordsmanship Rohan had used on the tree unmistakably belonged to Rainer.
The Swift Sword. It was a sword technique so fast that others' eyes could not follow the wielder's movements.
To an observer, it looked as though the swordsman slowly raised the blade or thrust once.
In reality, the technique struck two or three times at tremendous speed.
'No one else in the unit has ever managed to imitate it.'
How in the world had that child learned Rainer's technique?
Only a few days earlier, the boy had been capable of nothing more than imitation.
He seemed to have grown after Creed advised him to find his own path, but what he had just done was something altogether different.
Something had happened that vastly surpassed his level.
SHHHHH—.
The pouring rain blurred Creed's vision.
When he narrowed his eyes for a closer look, he saw a smile on Rohan's lips.
Rohan suddenly turned his head slightly.
"Hup."
Creed held his breath and hid behind the tent.
'Did our eyes meet?'
That was impossible.
Rohan was roughly 100 paces away.
It was too far for an ordinary person even to sense another's presence, and the rain made traces even harder to detect.
Splash. Splash.
Yet footsteps came from the distance.
Only Rohan and Creed were on the training ground.
'It's a coincidence, right? It has to be.'
Unfortunately, the footsteps grew steadily louder.
At last, Creed turned and stepped out in front of the tent.
He saw Rohan approaching from about 30 paces away.
The boy's steps were unmistakably carrying him in Creed's direction.
"Squad Leader."
Rohan called to Creed with a calm expression, as though this were only natural.
Looking baffled, Creed asked.
"You knew I was here?"
Rohan looked at him as though wondering why he would ask such a thing.
"You've been following me since I went out to the training ground."
"How in the world did you know?"
"A wolf is more sensitive to a gaze directed at itself than to its prey."
A wolf......?
Creed was momentarily speechless at the unexpected remark.
Then it was as though lightning flashed through his mind.
When they had crossed swords before, Creed had felt that Rohan was like a bird of prey.
Could it have something to do with that?
Pretending not to understand, he probed Rohan's meaning once more.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I've done a lot of hunting."
But Rohan offered only a vague answer.
Creed's doubts remained.
He had kept more than 100 paces between them while following Rohan.
Even someone with fairly keen senses would have struggled to notice him from that distance.
This was a separate matter from Rohan awakening to mana and learning a technique.
Creed was about to voice the many questions he wanted to ask when Rohan cut him off.
"Squad Leader."
"What?"
"I need to use my command of the squad."
The questions in Creed's mind evaporated into the distance.
Command of the squad.
What that meant was perfectly clear.
***
Distinctive dark skin and a pure-white robe.
Meiwa, Platoon Leader of the First Platoon, Eighth Company, sat in front of her tent polishing her sword.
Meiwa was the only dark-skinned, bald woman in the entire unit.
Her body was so slender and elongated that she almost resembled a willowy woman.
"What are you doing, Platoon Leader?"
"Can't you tell by looking?"
A soldier approached and sat beside her.
He gazed curiously at Meiwa's sword.
Meiwa's blade was shaped like a hook and curved like a crescent moon.
Likewise, Meiwa was the only person in the entire unit who used such a sword.
"This really is fascinating every time I see it."
"Shouldn't you be used to it by now?"
SWISH— She swung the sword horizontally.
Its reach was so short that her movements looked more like hand-to-hand combat than swordsmanship.
Despite its short reach, the blade curled around her fist, making it remarkably agile and sharp.
The soldier rounded his mouth at the sight.
"The Nakandiya tribe's swordsmanship imitates the leopard, doesn't it? You really look like a beast."
"The leopard is only one part of it. Our swordsmanship contains the techniques of many things in nature."
The Nakandiya tribe.
A tribe settled deep in the remote mountains of the Carnia Empire.
They were renowned for their outstanding swordsmanship and agile physiques.
Their swordsmanship in particular, modeled after nature, was worthy of being called a national treasure.
The imperial knight order had once visited them in person and asked for instruction, only to be flatly refused.
Although they lived within the empire, they claimed to belong to no nation, and the empire chose not to interfere with them.
That was because they plainly forbade the worship of anything other than the god they served.
No one knew why a woman like Meiwa was here.
"Is today a special day? You're even cleaning your sword so carefully."
"It never hurts to be prepared."
"That's true."
After answering, Meiwa returned the sword to her waist.
The curved sword could not fit inside a rigid scabbard, so it was wrapped in leather fastened with buckles.
Meiwa waved the soldier away as though shooing a bothersome fly.
"Go inside and sleep."
It was already past midnight.
Rain had fallen over the camp all day.
"What about you, Platoon Leader?"
"Today is a day for prayer to the god Nakumana."
"The Nakandiya tribe really is sacred and mysterious."
Meiwa gave no particular answer.
The moment she confirmed that the soldier had left, Meiwa's expression hardened.
'Prayer to a god, my ass.'
There was no better excuse when she wanted to drive off nuisances or explain herself.
So little was known about the Nakandiya tribe that people seemed to believe almost anything she said.
'A sacred and mysterious tribe... what fucking nonsense.'
Her goal was the destruction of the Nakandiya tribe.
Her entire family had been slaughtered after they were branded Noxis spies.
They had been stoned to death by the people of the Nakandiya tribe.
The memory twisted Meiwa's face into a deep scowl.
Wrinkles spread across her hairless forehead.
'I'll show them what a real Noxis spy is.'
She had volunteered to become a Noxis spy in exchange for that very thing.
They had promised that if she resolved this operation successfully and destroyed the White Wolf Knight Order, their next attack would be directed at Nakandiya.
That made the coming secret gathering extremely important to her.
'I'm sure nothing will happen.'
She stroked the sword at her waist.
She had never carried it to a gathering before.
The sword alone made it easy to identify her.
But she felt she should bring it today.
'I can only hope nothing happens.'
When Meiwa first heard of Rainer's death, she had considered skipping the gathering.
But after learning it had been the work of a Noxis assassin, she changed her mind.
'Was his name Rohan?'
She had no idea why the boy kept bothering her.
***
A bell rang twice through the silent camp.
It signaled 2:00 a.m.
Rain was still pouring over the unit.
The soldiers on duty stood guard more vigilantly than usual.
Ominous rumors of an assassin had spread throughout the entire unit.
Splash. Splash.
Footsteps pierced the silence.
It was Meiwa.
As an officer, she passed the soldiers openly and appeared at the meeting place.
'It's quiet.'
She stopped before the door to the underground supply cellar.
Few people visited the place even normally, and it was even more deserted before dawn, when no supplies arrived.
Standing before the door, she looked around, searched inside her robe, and pulled on a pure-white mask.
A small Ⅱ was written on the mask.
She still saw no signs of danger.
CREAK— The cellar door opened with an ancient groan.
Meiwa descended the stairs step by step.
There were a table and chairs inside, and two people were already seated.
"Why didn't you light a few more lamps?"
The inside was strangely dark.
On closer inspection, all but one of the torches illuminating the room had been extinguished.
As Meiwa reached for a match, one of the masked figures spoke.
"Why don't you spread a rumor that we're having a secret meeting in the cellar while you're at it?"
The altered voice echoed through the cellar.
The masks were artifacts with a voice-changing function.
A small Ⅰ was written on the mask of the person who had spoken.
Number One. It meant this person was the strongest among them.
Meiwa, Number Two, put the match back inside her robe and sat opposite Number One.
"Number One. You look small today. Or am I wrong? Then again, what can I see in here?"
Meiwa narrowed her eyes and surveyed the room.
Number One's body seemed unusually small.
But it was dark, and Number One was already seated, so Meiwa could not tell whether she was seeing correctly.
She felt Number One staring at her.
'Meiwa. Calm down.'
Meiwa swallowed.
Her anxiety had reached such a peak today that everything set her on edge.
There was nothing to gain by getting on Number One's bad side.
"Well. Just an observation. Nice atmosphere in here."
She forced her voice to sound bright.
Number One only continued staring at Meiwa.
It was a silent act, yet Meiwa felt the majesty of a predator hunting prey caught in a trap.
At last, Meiwa looked away.
Creak. Creak.
As time passed without further conversation, the door opened and more masked figures descended.
They wore the masks of Number Three and Number Four.
Each of them took a seat.
They sat in a circle around the broad round table.
'I'm glad I arrived early.'
Sitting beside Number One was a burden.
Number Three sat beside Number One, followed in order around the table by Number Four, Meiwa, and Number Five.
Number Five and Number Three were seated on either side of Number One.
"Everyone is here."
Number One spoke.
There were five spies in total, so everyone was indeed present.
But Meiwa suddenly felt a powerful sense of incongruity.
Meiwa shot to her feet and spoke.
"Wait. Why are there five people? Wasn't Number Five dead?"
Hans—Number Five—was certainly supposed to be dead.
Only then did Meiwa notice that the mask of the figure who had been with Number One bore a Ⅴ.
She had failed to see it properly in the darkness, but once she used mana to clear her vision, it became unmistakable.
"Was Hans not a spy?"
The masked figures became confused.
Because none of them knew the others' identities, they had merely assumed Hans was a spy.
Poison had indeed been found on Hans, and using it had been the operation Number Five agreed to carry out at their previous secret meeting.
"Hey, Number Five! Say something! Weren't you Hans? Then what was the poison found on Hans's body? Why didn't you carry out the operation?"
Meiwa fired the questions in rapid succession.
Number Five seemed flustered, then looked at Number One.
It was a look that seemed to ask what to do.
"Hmm."
Number One rose with a low hum.
The masked figures showed their alarm.
"What the hell? Number One really is smaller!"
Meiwa shouted.
Number One's build had originally been much larger.
Number One now stood no taller than a child who had not yet reached adulthood.
Without speaking, Number One picked up the sword placed beside him.
When Number One suddenly took up the sword, Number Three, seated next to him, rose in alarm.
"W-what are you doing...?"
Before Number Three could react, Number One raised his sword.
That was how it appeared to them.
SLASH—! But Number Three's head had already been separated from his body.