Chapter 39: The Abandoned Man

-Thud.

When the door opened and Isaac stepped inside, he was immediately struck by the mixed smells of disinfectant and decaying bandages.

Layered atop all that was the sticky after-scent of blood, telling him just how urgent things were here every single day.

Malidan Infirmary.

They do have separate medical tents outside, but this place is for soldiers too critical to be handled out there. He had heard that a mage dispatched from the magic tower was also stationed here.

Moans drift from every direction. Among the rows of medical beds, a man sits blankly, eyes round and unfocused.

It was Jonathan.

“How are you feeling?”

As Isaac approached, Jonathan jumped up and shouted,

“I’m perfectly fine!”

“Really?”

“Yes! I can return to my duties right away!”

Yet even so, Jonathan never once said he wanted out or that he hated staying here. Knowing his personality, he likely felt uneasy taking up a bed. But he also understood that he couldn’t just leave whenever he wanted.

The fact that he was here in the infirmary instead of in a prison cell was, in truth, only by the grace of Margrave’s mercy.

“Let’s step out into the hallway for a moment.”

“Is that all right?”

“We can’t talk about this where everyone can hear.”

The mage in charge of the infirmary glanced over, but said nothing.

They moved into the lantern-lit corridor, shadows flickering. Through the corridor windows, the sky outside was growing steadily darker.

Jonathan followed behind. The skin that had been so disfigured last time, along with the protruding fangs and blackened eyes, had already returned to normal.

“I had no idea either.”

Though Isaac hadn’t spoken a word of blame, Jonathan hurried to offer an excuse, seemingly embarrassed.

“I didn’t even know such a thing as the Transcendent Race existed. Or that I was one of them. I just assumed I felt things differently than most people.”

Jonathan confesses honestly, his expression dark.

“In some ways… it might have been better if my sensitivities were just twisted. At least then I’d still be human.”

A confession poured out under the lantern light. The wavering shadows seemed to mirror his troubled heart.

“Ever since Nortemus laid a hand on me, something feels off. There’s something squirming inside my chest. Like it’s about to consume me at any moment.”

Jonathan almost reached out for help, but hesitated and drew back. Perhaps he feared he might harm Isaac.

“Why did you choose Helmut?”

“Pardon?”

Jonathan looked at Isaac blankly, as though the question had come out of nowhere.

“Because Helmut is… different from other knight orders.”

What made him admire Arandel Helmut? Why did he cling to Helmut so fiercely?

“You know it too, Isaac-nim. The knights of Helmut and the direct lineage of Helmut are on completely different levels.”

Helmut’s knights are, quite literally, the human remnants that remain by Helmut’s side. Like a label declaring themselves under Helmut’s name.

“Those of the direct lineage… they’re monsters who devote themselves entirely to the sword.”

“I know that all too well.”

Except for the youngest ones—Sharen, who’s still a child, and Edel Helmut, the youngest brother—the rest spend every waking moment focused on their swords.

The Helmut estate has its own logic, different from the outside world. To them, only the sword and strength define what is right.

“That’s why everyone praises Helmut as great.”

Isaac gives a bitter smile. From up close, Helmut looks like a den of madmen.

But from a distance?

A massive sword protecting the kingdom. The very knights who rush out first when crisis comes. A symbol that deters war by its mere existence.

From the royal family to the common folk, what nobility could be more reassuring than Helmut?

That colossal force—Helmut. Ironically, it keeps the kingdom most peaceful.

Who would ever want to cross swords with Arandel Helmut?

“That’s what—I admired that.”

A bright smile appears on Jonathan’s lips, as though he can’t help thinking of Arandel Helmut.

“The Master gave up everything. For the sword alone. You know how incredible that is, don’t you?”

“…”

“I wanted to be like that. To abandon the ugly desires inside me and live a life dedicated solely to the sword.”

The one who changed Jonathan’s life was Arandel Helmut. That much is undeniable. Because he admired him, Jonathan overcame his own foul nature and became a knight.

“Do you know what happened when I told the nun who raised me that I’d become a Helmut knight…?”

Remembering that time, a faint smile spreads on Jonathan’s face.

“She cried so much. She’d been worried sick about my evil nature, but once she saw I’d become a proper knight… oh, how she wept—really, so much.”

“…”

“Isaac-nim. I know this is a huge favor to ask.”

Slowly lowering himself to his knees, Jonathan bows his head.

“Please… let me remain a knight of Helmut.”

“Jonathan.”

“I’ll hide the fact that I’m a hybrid of the Transcendent Race until the day I die. Sharen-nim saw what happened, but if you can just—!”

“My master was also a hybrid of the Transcendent Race.”

Jonathan’s urgent voice cuts out. He slowly lifts his head, and Isaac meets his gaze and continues,

“To be precise, she was Transcendent but mixed with human blood. She was closer to the Transcendent side, you might say.”

Black hair hanging down.

Wolf ears perked upright.

Eyes reminiscent of moonlight.

A greatsword in hand, shaped like a crescent moon.

“I don’t harbor any strong aversion toward mixed blood. I’m not planning to tell you to quit being my guard. That’s the main reason I came to see you today.”

“Isaac-nim!”

With tears welling in his eyes, Jonathan grabs Isaac by the foot, overwhelmed. Finding it a bit much, Isaac takes a step back and continues speaking.

“I’ll talk to Sharen about it. Don’t worry about a thing—resume your duties starting tomorrow.”

Sniffling, Jonathan leaps to his feet, wipes his tears, and snaps a salute.

“I, Jonathan of Helmut, will devote my entire life to following you!”

“That’s enough. Get going.”

“Yes, sir! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Leaving Jonathan behind—who bustles around laughing—Isaac walks down the corridor with a heavy expression.

“Idiot,” he mutters inwardly.

He had no intention of telling Jonathan about the divorce. The less Jonathan worried, the better. Isaac just hoped he would remain in Helmut.

Stepping outside, Isaac notices the sky has gone completely dark, and a round moon hangs above.

‘You can’t help but acknowledge the head of the family’s sword.’

After all, to Arandel Helmut, nothing else mattered besides the sword.

Once, Isaac asked the Grandmaster:

[ What if Arandel hadn’t died? How do you think the war would have turned out? ]

Arandel had passed away from illness. Isaac posed the question after stumbling upon the man’s autobiography-cum-last-will.

[ It’s a foolish question.]

The Grandmaster replied with a laugh, sipping her drink.

[ Well then, Silent Sword Isaac, how about you? What do you think? ]

Amused, the Grandmaster teased Isaac as if testing him.

[ Even he couldn’t have single-handedly turned the entire tide of war ]

Isaac answered, leaning on his staff.

At that, the Grandmaster burst into raucous laughter and applauded. She laughed so long that Isaac began to feel uneasy.

[ I’d rather not say it, because you won’t like it. ]

The Grandmaster went on, [ but the war wouldn’t have happened at all.]

[…What? ]

[ The Transcendent Race would have just lurked in the shadows, biding their time. They’d have kept an eye on exactly when Arandel would die, whispering among themselves. ]

No one could deny the greatness of that sword.

“Ha.”

Walking under the night sky, Isaac mutters as though gripping an old wound:

“It's ridiculous.”

Arandel Helmut, the man who gave up everything for his sword.

“From the perspective of those he left behind, that is.”

Among the things Arandel abandoned, Isaac was included as well.

***

Early the next morning, Isaac arrived at the training grounds for his usual routine. Standing there before him was Rihanna Helmut. Neither spoke a word; they simply stared at each other.

They hadn’t agreed to meet. Isaac had come out to train, only to find Rihanna crouching there.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asks.

Rihanna Helmut draws out the greatsword she brought.

“I said I would teach you aura.”

“I didn’t think we’d start this soon.”

“I only have so much time while we’re here.”

“Right.”

Once they return to Helmut, there’ll be no such thing as formal sword training. The moment someone sees him using a slender blade, they’ll probably chop it in half, scolding him with, “What’s a Helmut doing with such a flimsy weapon?”

“Draw your sword.”

Isaac draws his slender blade. Even this small act has a certain elegance, evidence that he’s become a proper swordsman in his own right. It’s a slightly comical sight: Rihanna, who’s much smaller and more delicate, wielding a person-sized greatsword, while Isaac holds a thin blade.

“Aura means manipulating the individual mana in your body. Isaac, have you ever measured your mana?”

“No, never.”

“All right. Even if you don’t know your total amount, you’ll figure it out once you learn to use it.”

Like calmly lighting a little flame, a crimson glow ripples from Rihanna’s greatsword.

“When you learn aura, you can figure out how best to direct it—”

Suddenly, a woman’s voice calls out from afar:

“Isaac!”

Silverna comes running, white hair streaming behind her, waving enthusiastically. She’s shouldering a spear, apparently planning to train alongside them.

“I wanted to join in starting today. Am I interrupting?”

She looks back and forth between Isaac and Rihanna with a smile.

“You two don’t mind, do you?”

She’s like a bull—once she sets her mind to something, she just charges straight ahead.

Rihanna presses her lips together, waiting for Isaac to decide.

“Do what you want.”

And so this odd scene unfolds, with a member of Helmut teaching aura to someone of Caldias.

***

About thirty minutes later, Rihanna Helmut lowers her greatsword and speaks flatly:

“Isaac, it seems you have no talent for aura.”

[ Idiot ]

Isaac was silent. For some reason, he almost hears his Grandmaster snickering in his ear:

[See that, you Idiot.]

– – – The End of The Chapter – – –

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