"This is driving me mad."
Those were the first words Creed uttered after thinking for some time and pressing a hand to his forehead.
"Fine. A man has to take responsibility for what he says."
Creed spat out the dirt remaining in his mouth as he spoke.
'Just as I expected.'
This was another reason Rohan had specifically asked to be sent to the Fourth Squad.
The Fourth Squad was strong, and each member had a pronounced individuality, but they were tightly united around Creed.
"Before that, let me check something."
Creed snatched Rohan's hand and examined it from every angle.
After studying it, he wore an expression of incomprehension.
"Strange. Your hands show no sign of ever holding a sword... I don't know where you learned, but your swordsmanship was unlike any kind I've seen in my life."
"......."
"It was like... several styles of swordsmanship mixed together. Yet it felt as if there was nothing of your own in it."
"Nothing of my own?"
Rohan's eyes widened.
He had performed the swordsmanship in his memories, so in a way, that result was only natural.
But it was surprising that Creed had seen even that much from a single short spar.
Creed had not merely tried to subdue Rohan. He had analyzed Rohan's swordsmanship during their match.
Creed continued.
"Yes. It was like making clothes by patching together any scraps of cloth you could find. You somehow made a garment, but if you add any more cloth, no one will even be able to tell it's clothing."
"......."
Clothes made by sewing together any scraps of cloth.
It was only natural when he had used swordsmanship by retracing the memories of several people.
Rohan had clearly felt it while swinging his sword as well.
He combined several people's memories to use swordsmanship, but it was like a flame that burned briefly and vanished.
A blaze that flared chaotically without a center.
Like a leaf not attached to a tree.
He needed a center to bind it all together.
That was probably what Creed meant.
"Of course, even I nearly fell to your haphazard swordsmanship... but if you establish your own style and then layer that method over it, you'll develop good swordsmanship."
"......My own style."
"Yes. Your sword."
This was separate from growing by killing people.
That merely amounted to imitating their memories.
'A sword of my own.'
It felt as though he had been handed an assignment he could not solve immediately.
It was a mountain he absolutely had to overcome to grow.
How much time had passed?
"All right."
Clap. Creed clapped his hands as if to change the mood.
"Back to the point. Let's hear what this is about. Who are you to try and command the squad?"
He looked genuinely curious.
What could a novice who had been in the unit for only a day want command authority for?
"I'll tell you in advance. I probably won't grant your request, especially if it's for personal business."
Creed stated it ahead of time.
Right now, he seemed unlikely to grant any request at all.
Rohan spoke in an even tone.
"Even if it's to catch Noxis spies?"
"What?"
Creed's eyes widened at the unexpected words.
Noxis spies? Had there been more besides Hans?
More unbelievable words came from Rohan.
"I'll be catching the Noxis spies soon."
It was a bolt from the blue.
***
The Fourth Squad's daily life did not change much.
For three days, breakfast consisted of mashed potatoes or sweet potatoes.
Every morning, Rohan caught animals such as rabbits or pheasants and roasted them to eat.
Creed and Johanna remained uninterested in breakfast.
Kaisen drooled over Rohan's food every morning but never asked him to share.
As always, Rohan offered once with the word 'Eat,' and when Kaisen refused, he never offered again.
"Goddamn it!"
Every morning, Kaisen watched Rohan finish his food, then went to training with a curse.
For three days, Rohan watched his retreating back before joining the training.
Only three days had passed, but Rohan could now catch up to roughly the middle of the pack during the morning run.
It was because he ran more laps around the training ground during personal maintenance time to build his stamina.
He ran ten extra laps on the first day, twelve the next, and fifteen starting on the third.
Even when he was gasping for breath, he did not stop.
Most of the soldiers rested, saying the enemy would attack soon.
It had been quite some time since either side had fought a battle.
The soldiers found the absence of combat strange.
The place where the White Wolf Knight Order and the Black Dawn Knight Order faced each other was notorious for its exceptionally frequent battles.
No soldier was pleased by the absence of even minor skirmishes.
It was the calm before the storm. Everyone knew peace came briefly before something momentous happened.
After running around the training ground, Rohan focused on building muscle.
Creed stood beside him and taught him strength exercises.
The day after he began exercising, his body hurt so badly he could not even move.
But as he continued using it, by the third day he could move well enough.
His body seemed to have grown slightly firmer, though perhaps not.
After that, he practiced swordsmanship.
Creed watched over that as well.
He still did not seem to like Rohan, but...
Creed was a highly responsible man.
Like him or not, Rohan had become a squad member, and Creed had a duty to help his squad members grow.
Rohan did not find that unpleasant either.
Creed called him again today, as always.
"Follow me. Bring your sword."
"Yes."
Rohan followed Creed without complaint.
The two moved to one side of the training ground and took their stances.
They had not spoken a single word until then.
SHING—! Rohan silently drew his sword, its edge reflecting the sunlight with a cold blue gleam.
"Nothing improves skill as much as a real match. Think of it as a battle and come at... ugh!"
Clack. Rohan attacked before the Squad Leader could finish speaking, just as always.
The Squad Leader was the one who had brought up real combat.
Rohan had no intention of listening while an enemy stood there talking.
He swung his sword again and again, and Creed blocked it.
Clack, clack!
Creed blocked Rohan's sword more skillfully than in their first match.
The swordsmanship in the soldiers' memories had already shown its limits.
"There is no improvement. Your sword is still all over the place."
Rohan had sparred with Creed for three days, but had not improved.
If anything, Creed seemed to learn more about Rohan with every match.
'Why am I not improving?'
Was it because he relied on memories when thrusting his sword?
At some point, Rohan had begun to feel as though a wall blocked him.
He tried altering his sword path to introduce variation, but Creed saw through it immediately.
THUD! Rohan took a blow to the solar plexus and rolled.
He could not breathe, but sprang to his feet the moment he fell.
"That attitude is good. Losing your balance on a battlefield means death."
Creed offered Rohan instruction at every opportunity.
Rohan bit his lip, but tried to engrave the words in his mind.
He would be going to the battlefield soon himself, and Creed was a veteran who had lived by the sword for over ten years.
His survival meant he was strong.
Rohan raised his sword and charged again.
He had persistently attacked the right so far, so he intended to add variation by turning his sword to the left.
Clack. That, too, was blocked.
"The more I pick apart your swordsmanship, the cruder it gets. It has no weight. It's light."
Rohan felt frustrated.
He could gain swordsmanship by absorbing memories, but this was not the answer.
He could not shake the feeling that he had nothing entirely his own.
But Rohan did not know the method.
"A sword follows the emotions of the person who wields it. The sword of a belligerent person is sharp. A coward's sword, on the other hand, is timid. I swing my sword with the joy I feel in growing."
CLANG. The sword that struck the wooden blade vibrated.
Now that he had heard it, Creed's sword was meticulous.
As though he wanted to use everything he had ever learned.
Creed tapped Rohan's blade with his wooden sword.
"But your sword is like a corpse. It has no purpose. Why do you swing a sword? What are you trying to cut?"
Rohan's sword hand twitched.
Rohan had tried only to recall the swordsmanship in his memories and practice it. He had never considered what he was swinging for.
'Why do I swing a sword?'
To become stronger?
Then why was he trying to become stronger?
The figures of those Rohan had killed flashed past like images from a revolving lantern.
The Noxis soldier whose heart he first stabbed with a kitchen knife.
Hans, whose throat he cut after recognizing him as a spy.
Even the five Noxis soldiers who had been brought in as prisoners.
Cutting them. Then cutting again.
What he had felt while absorbing their memories was.
Pleasure.
Unmistakable delight.
Another predator encountered as he absorbed a predator's memories.
The fact that he was drawing one step closer to Reinach.
The thrill of climbing steadily upward without Reinach knowing.
The vow that one day he would kill him.
Did not the end of every sword point toward Reinach?
He would not balk at any killing if it meant killing him.
Reinach...
Reinach......
Thinking of that made his mind astonishingly calm.
It felt as if a path had been carved into his purposeless sword.
Rohan recalled each moment of killing in turn.
When he plunged a sword into a heart.
When he cut an enemy's throat.
When their memories were injected into him.
When those memories led him to another person to kill...
Gooseflesh rose over his body.
At the same time, the corners of Rohan's mouth twisted upward in a grin.
Adjusting his grip, Rohan swung the sword with force.
An honest horizontal slash from left to right.
Because its path was clear, Creed raised his wooden sword in its way.
It was to block Rohan's sword.
Slice—.
But the wooden sword made a different sound than usual.
For an instant, Creed's hand grew lighter.
The wooden sword raised before him had been cut cleanly in half.
Whizz, thunk. The severed piece that had shot into the air embedded itself in the ground a moment later.
'It was coated in mana?'
Creed looked at Rohan in astonishment.
When he turned his head, he was even more surprised.
Rohan wore a strange expression.
An ambiguous expression, as though he were both smiling and angry.
But the corners of his mouth were unquestionably raised.
And.
'Bloodlust.'
An immense murderous aura poured from him.
***
- Reduce the knight order's strength by any means necessary.
Rainer, Deputy Platoon Leader of the Fourth Platoon.
Wearing a black robe, he crushed the paper in his hand.
Between its folds, the emblem of Noxis's Black Dawn Knight Order, a black sun, showed faintly.
Once the enchanted paper fulfilled its purpose, it turned to ash and scattered through the air.
'Goddamn it. I haven't achieved anything useful.'
He searched inside his clothes and drew out a sheet of paper.
It was a report regularly detailing the White Wolf Knight Order's movements.
He tied it to the leg of a raven used as a carrier bird.
The raven's eye stared into the eye beneath his hood.
It recognized the iris and would obey only those it knew.
Flap—. After recognizing the eye beneath the hood, the raven flew into the distance.
"Fuck!"
Watching it recede, Rainer shouted through clenched teeth.
If Number Five—Hans—had done his job properly, none of this trouble would have been necessary.
Hans's exposure as a spy had made the atmosphere within the knight order ominous.
Rumors had begun to spread that more spies were hiding inside.
That made it even harder for the infiltration cell to move.
'What in the world is that brat?'
The brat named Rohan.
Rainer had been drinking rum at the scene when Rohan killed Hans.
At first, he had thought little of it.
Even members of the same infiltration cell concealed their identities from one another to prevent exposure.
Not even he had known Hans was a spy.
When Hans was exposed, Rainer had nearly fainted.
How in the world had that boy recognized Hans's identity?
Even the spies did not know one another.
'And why the Fourth Platoon of all places......?'
Moreover, Rohan had transferred into Rainer's own platoon.
The confused Rainer had been forced to act more cautiously than ever.
'I have to kill him.'
Rohan was an obvious threat.
He might know more about the spies inside the unit.
Rainer also had to clean up the shit Hans left behind.
Around ten days remained before the supply recapture operation began.
Within that time, he had to reduce the White Wolf Knight Order's forces.
'The operation has to succeed, no matter what.'
That was the only way he would survive.
He slipped a hand inside his robe and checked the paper.
He felt the coded directive he would leave on the notice board.
It was time to carry out their great undertaking.