Chapter 23
“Are you alright, Headmaster?”
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Thalor replied, still gripping the blade in his bare hand. He inspected it calmly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
‘So it really is the Sword of Volsung.’
The sword began to tremble faintly in his grip, as if resisting his touch. Thalor’s eyes drifted to the unconscious Caelith lying on the ground. He almost couldn’t contain his laughter.
‘You’re pretty loyal to your master, aren’t you?’ he thought, placing the sword gently at Caelith’s side before straightening up.
“Headmaster, your hand…” Lucian’s voice wavered as his eyes widened at the sight of blood trickling from Thalor’s palm.
“It’s alright. No need to make a fuss,” Thalor said, nodding toward the unconscious Caelith. “Rather than me, see to him—get that boy to the infirmary at once.”
At his words, medical personnel swiftly moved in, lifting Caelith with urgency and rushing him out of the arena. Meanwhile, the professors worked to calm the crowd, trying to restore order and continue with the remaining examinations.
Thalor looked down at his injured hand, a frown creasing his face. He guided his mana into the wound, expecting it to heal instantly as it always did.
‘The wound… it’s not healing?’
After examining it further, he realized that wasn’t exactly the case. Something seemed to block the mana. Gradually, the resistance faded, and he was finally able to channel his energy, healing his hand as if nothing had happened.
“A sword that can disrupt the flow of mana.” he murmured, “It truly lives up to its name.”
Some time had passed since that match had ended, but Lyra remained slumped to the ground, staring blankly ahead. Her mind still caught hovering somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. She instinctively touched her neck, the fear from earlier still clinging to her skin. The image of that sword attack replayed in her mind, refusing to fade.
“My lady! Are you alright?!” a panicked voice cried out as hurried footsteps closed in.
Her personal maid knelt beside her, hands trembling as she checked for injuries. At last, she released a shaky sigh. “Thank the heavens… just minor injuries. Still, we need to treat them at once.”
Lyra didn’t respond. Her maid carefully hoisted her to her feet, supporting her as she swayed slightly, her face pale and distant. She then opened her mouth, muttering in a trembling voice.
“W-what am I supposed to do right now…? Clara… please, tell me…”
Clara had been by Lyra’s side since childhood. She knew well the constant pressure Lyra placed on herself, the expectations from those around her. Even so, this was the first time she saw Lyra so shaken—so unsure. She let out a helpless sigh, tightening her grip around Lyra’s shoulders.
“Everything will be alright, my lady. Let’s get you treated before anything else.”
Lyra gave a faint nod. Leaning into Clara’s support, she allowed herself to be escorted out of the arena, the crowd’s noise fading behind them. Just as they turned a corner on the way to the infirmary, a figure suddenly stepped into their path.
Thalor approached them. Clara’s eyes widened instantly, and she quickly lowered her head in a bow. But before she could react further, Thalor held up a hand, stopping her.
“No need for formality. I simply wish to have a conversation with your lady,” he said, shifting his attention to Lyra. “I believe this is the first time we meet. Allow me to introduce myself properly—I am Thalor Pendragon, the current headmaster of Ascalon Academy.”
Lyra’s heart skipped a beat, and she took a moment to gather herself, meeting his gaze. Her voice was soft but wary.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Headmaster Thalor. Can I help you with anything?”
He continued, “I’ve heard much about you, the daughter of Duke Valerius. And judging from your performance today, it seems you certainly live up to the rumors.”
Lyra remained silent, her gaze dropping to the floor as she averted his eyes, unsure how to respond.
“But from the look on your face, it seems you are not entirely satisfied with the result.” Thalor let out a low hum, as if weighing his next words. “Is it because of that boy?”
Lyra froze, her fists tightening at her sides, her expression shifting ever so slightly.
“It seems I guessed correctly,” Thalor said, his tone calm.
Tension hung in the air between them. Clara stood between them, her eyes shifting nervously from Lyra to Thalor and back again. Lyra finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady.
“I was supposed to win easily, yet… I didn’t stand a chance against him. I can’t accept it.”
“And why that?” Thalor asked
“Because accepting would mean tarnishing my father’s name.”
“And why do you believe that to be the case?” Thalor interjected.
Lyra bit her lip, steadying herself despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “It’s easy for you to say, but the only thing I know since childhood has been about living up to my father’s name.”
“Why weigh the opinions of others so heavily? It’s your life—you alone decide what you want to do, and what you don’t.”
“B-but—”
Thalor cut her off. “Let me ask you this. Are you Lyra Evermoon or Valerius Evermoon?”
Lyra hesitated, her mind scrambling for an answer. The question pinned her in place, leaving her silent. She didn’t know how to respond—was she Lyra Evermoon, or merely the daughter of the Duke?
“Given your silence, it seems you’re uncertain—and that’s understandable.” Thalor said, his eyes studying her intently. “It’s natural for a child to look up to their parents—but chaining yourself to your father’s shadow will only hold you back.”
His voice softened slightly. “I know being the child of someone great can be crushing, but perhaps it’s time you started thinking about yourself.”
“Of course, that father of yours carries his share of the blame.”
Thalor rested a hand briefly on her shoulder. “Still, I hope you’ll give some thought to what I’ve told you. If you excuse me I have other matters to attend to.” With that, he turned and walked away, waving his hand without looking back.
Lyra remained, watching him disappear down the corridor, before letting out a slow breath.
“...let's go, Clara.” As she moved to the infirmary, Lyra’s mind continued to linger on Thalor’s words.
‘Think for myself… what is it that I truly want?’
How long has it been? I wasn’t sure. The darkness keeps pulling me deeper and deeper, as if the world itself is trying to swallow me whole. Visions—memories that don't belong to me—were projected themselves into me.
The same woman from before stood in front of me, beckoning.
“What are you standing there for? Come on… let’s go home.”
Once again, my body moved on its own, following her without thought. Eventually, we stopped in front of a small, weathered cabin. The surrounding woods were overgrown and suffocating, yet somehow, the sight gave me a strange sense of comfort.
Inside, the cabin was quiet and warm. Sunlight filtered through small windows, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. She settled onto the nearby couch.
“You know… sometimes I wonder if these peaceful days could last forever.”
I didn’t understand what she meant—and even if I did, I couldn’t speak. She picked up a nearby cup, pouring herself some wine, but before she could drink, my body moved on its own, stepping in front of her.
“Oh, come on… it’s been weeks since I last had a drink. What's the big deal?”
I must have said something, because her eyes flickered with guilt, her lips pressing together.
“B-but… that only happened once—urgh… fine, I won’t argue,” she groaned, shaking her head as she set the cup down.
From there, the days blurred together. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak—I only watched. Morning after morning, it was the same routine: training, shared meals, and quiet evenings in the cabin. It was simple, yes, but oddly comforting.
But it didn’t last forever. The scene shifted, now, rain fell around me as I knelt on the ground, holding the heavily injured woman in my arms. Her tattered clothes clung to her bloodied body as the downpour washed over us.
She looked up at me, and, through the blood and rain, managed to muster a faint smile. Her breath shallow.
“Why are you making that face? It doesn’t suit you… you’ve always looked better when you’re smiling.”
What is my face like right now? I didn’t know. But I do know I feel a sense of helplessness and despair as I watch her slowly die in my arms. She reached one hand up, trembling, and gently brushed it against my face.
My vision began to blur. For a moment I thought it was the rain until I realized it came from me, tears beginning to fall.
“I’m sorry… for having to leave you alone…” She coughed violently, her voice barely audible over the patter of rain. “But you have to promise me one thing—no matter how cruel this world is, you must live on, ———”
I didn’t manage to catch her last word, as her hand slipped from mine and fell limply to the ground, the remaining light in her eyes fading away. There was nothing I could do, my body still kneeling there, holding her lifeless form.
The world then shifted again. The rain faded, replaced by a gray, overcast sky. I looked down, and my blood ran cold. A familiar figure—my older sister—lay crumpled in my arms. Panic surged through me, my breathing growing rapid and shallow as my chest tightened.
‘No… no… please… this can’t be happening…’
“That’s how you’ve always been.” a cold voice echoed in my mind, “A pathetic excuse of a person who can’t even protect the ones you care about.”
My eyes snapped open, gasping for breath. The first thing I saw was the unfamiliar ceiling above me. I clutched my chest, my mind still reeling from the surrealness of what I had just experienced.
I pushed myself upright, my eyes darting around as I tried to take in my surroundings.
‘Where am I?’
My memory was hazy. The last thing I could recall was collapsing after the fight with Lyra. I ran a hand through my hair and let out a low groan. Do I even want to know the aftermath of the battle, honestly I don’t, all I wanted now was to go home.
WHACK
Something slammed into my back, forcing me to bend forward. I twisted around to see what hit me and froze. Floating there in front of me was my sword, and I just sat there, dumbstruck.
‘Okay… genuinely, where the fuck did that old man find this sword?’
