Several days had passed since Philie-san proved compatible with my magic swords.
Her synchronization rate, unstable at first, was steadily climbing.
Once her rate matched my own and we finished analyzing the magical resonance between blade and wielder, I would be able to pinpoint the exact commonality between the two of us.
Today was the test run for the Philie-san Mark V.
It had been forged at a pace I had never before achieved.
"Philie-san. Whenever you're ready."
"Right."
Her long, slender fingers closed around the hilt.
The instant she gripped the magic sword, a tremor ran through her body as though an electric current had surged down her spine.
"How does it feel?"
"...I can't... open my hand."
An excellent sign.
The boundary separating wielder and blade had worn down to an imperceptible sliver.
To her, it must have felt as though her hand had simply extended.
The readings on the measuring instruments looked promising.
If the numbers held steady after she struck, then maybe, just maybe—
"Take your swing."
Philie-san gave a quiet nod, drawing the magic sword back before slicing through the air in a single, fluid line toward the target.
Whoosh.
That was the only sound.
No violent impact, no clang of steel against stone—only the whisper of a blade parting the wind.
The target, reinforced to match the density of solid bedrock, split clean into upper and lower halves, falling away as effortlessly as if a seam had been there from the start.
"All right, it's a success."
"Th-that's incredible..."
It was only natural for Philie-san to be astonished.
This was the true nature of a Walker magic sword.
Blade and wielder resonated, amplifying the user's power many times over—sometimes even unlocking entirely unique abilities. That was almost certainly why Mercedes, with her absolute pride in her own swordsmanship, had been so obsessed with obtaining one.
If I swung the Philie-san Mark V, it would do little more than convert mana into light waves to marginally extend reach and sharpness.
Yet in the hands of its intended wielder, Philie-san, that property evolved into the power to partially ignore physical hardness.
It was an achievement made possible only because I had analyzed her magical aptitude data, tailoring the magic sword into a bespoke piece crafted exclusively for her.
More specifically, the blade served to assist and expand upon Dissect, one of her specialized medical spells, yielding the spectacular result before us.
Why was Philie-san, an outsider, able to wield my magic swords with such utter perfection? Once all the data was fully analyzed, the answer would surely come to light.
"So this is Walker-kun's magic sword..."
Setting the blade back on the rack, Philie-san stared at her trembling palms. The lingering sensation of the magic sword was still foreign to her.
"I can see why Meltzelia-san wanted one so badly... Walker-kun, just... who are you, really?"
"My master taught me my refining techniques. If you think my magic swords are extraordinary, the credit belongs entirely to him."
"Is that... someone in your family, Walker-kun?"
"Yeah. He's passed away, though."
"...I see."
Philie-san lowered her eyes, a gentle shadow crossing her face.
Best to get back to the matter at hand.
"At any rate, that wraps up this stage of the experiment. It was a short run, but you were a massive help, Philie-san."
"Not at all, I enjoyed it. I really hope your research bears fruit, Walker-kun."
"Thanks. If you don't mind, would it be all right if I kept forging magic swords for you going forward?"
"Of course. If I can be of any help."
Over the past few days, my craft had opened up entirely new horizons.
If I integrated the knowledge from the lectures at Magias, the variety of blades I could forge would only broaden.
I had a mountain of tasks ahead of me, but first, a breather.
Even I had to rest eventually.
Once I caught my breath, it would be straight back to the forge.
"What are you doing?"
The moment that voice drifted into the air, a chill gripped my spine.
I didn't even need to turn around.
I had heard that voice mere days ago.
Polite, refined, and effortlessly aimed straight for the jugular.
Philie-san's eyes went wide as she caught sight of the figure standing behind me.
"...Meltzelia... san."
"Good day, Adinson-san."
"Why are you here...?"
"Professor Blanchard asked me to take inventory of the equipment. But how unexpected. To think I would find you alone with that man."
"...We were just conducting an experiment together."
"Is that so? And—"
The sound of a single, deliberate step closed the distance from behind.
Even her quiet tread seemed soaked in stifled rage.
"Walker. Did you forge that? For that woman? That is what I just heard, is it not?"
Mercedes leaned in from the side, peering directly into my face.
Her lips were fixed in a fragile semblance of polite decorum, but her pupils were dilated with fury.
Caught in the worst possible way.
I had deliberately chosen this secluded clearing behind a disused storehouse to avoid precisely this scenario. Why was she here, of all places?
Given that she had caught our conversation word for word, there was no making excuses. At the very least, I lacked the silver tongue to talk my way out of it.
"You told me the other day that you were unable to forge one, did you not? Not that you 'wouldn't,' but that you 'couldn't.' Did you mean that you simply 'could not forge one for me'?"
"No, that's..."
"If you despised me that much, you should have just been honest instead of spitting such pathetic lies. Why couldn't you simply tell me that from the beginning?"
"I'm sorry, Mercedes. Just let me—"
"What is the difference? What is the reason you can forge for Adinson-san, but not for me?"
"Wait, Meltzelia-san. Walker-kun was doing this for your sake—"
"Silence. You will hold your tongue."
The absolute worst.
It was a disaster, yet entirely avoidable.
If I had truly wanted to keep this from Mercedes, I should have taken the time and trouble to carry out the tests off-campus rather than behind some dusty old storehouse.
Either that, or I should have laid out the truth to Mercedes and gotten her understanding before proceeding with the trials. Those were the only two sensible paths.
The shock of our previous fallout had rattled me so badly that I had completely botched the finer details. What had been a breakthrough moments ago was now incontrovertible evidence of deceit.
"........."
Mercedes stood in rigid silence, her eyes fixed on the pure-white magic sword resting in Philie-san's grasp.
"...Never in my life. Never in my entire life have I been made such a fool of."
Mercedes, whose face was usually graced with an air of effortless composure, glared at me as though she had swallowed poison. It was the first time anyone had directed such raw, unadulterated revulsion toward me.
"Fine. I will rely on the likes of you no longer. You can run along back to the countryside and forge plows and sickles for all I care."
"...I was wrong. Please, just let me explain."
"No. I will not stomach such humiliation. Brendan Walker. Enter the rookie tournament. I will shatter that piece of junk of yours in front of the entire academy and drag the Walker name through the mud."
"I'm sorry for making it seem like I blew you off. But please, just listen to me first."
"At worst, I shall simply petition Lord Van Walker directly for a holy sword. When I invoke the Meltzelia name and lay bare how you betrayed my trust, the least you can do is put in a good word with him on my behalf, won't you?"
As Mercedes pressed forward, dictating the narrative entirely on her own terms, an ugly heat began to simmer deep in my gut.
"...I told you, just listen to what I'm saying."
"Then again, if the disciple is this wretched, the master's skill cannot amount to much either. Still, he must be far better than you. If nothing else, simply tell me where he is. Even an incompetent fool like you can manage that much, can you not?"
"............"
"Answer me. Where is he right now? I confirmed he was sighted in good health in Decol City four months ago. I shall meet him face-to-face and tell him precisely how his grandson spits on the trust of others. Come now, out with it. Tell me where Van Walker is."
"He's dead."
"What?"
"The old man died last month. He's gone."
Mercedes's lips parted, trembling faintly.
She looked as though she wanted to speak, but her voice failed her completely.
"I'll enter the rookie tournament. If that's what it takes to satisfy you."
"...Wait..."
"Just leave Philie-san out of this. She didn't know anything; she was just helping me with my research."
I spun on my heel in no particular direction.
I just needed to get away from this place.
I wanted to run, to be entirely alone.
Being around anyone right now was unbearable.
"Walker-kun, wait! Let's explain everything properly together! I'm sure Meltzelia-san will understand—"
"I'm sorry."
Deep down, I wanted to explain and apologize, but the terror of clashing any further drove me to run. I never realized that facing another person could be such a frightening thing.
In the end, I had enraged Mercedes and dragged Philie-san into the fallout. What a miserable, pathetic mess.
If this was how it was going to end, I should never have let myself believe I could forge a magic sword for someone else.
Mercedes remained rooted to the spot, powerless to do anything but watch Brendan's retreating figure dwindle into the distance.
"Walker-kun... hadn't given up on your request, Meltzelia-san."
Standing beside her, Filiestra squeezed the words from her throat.
Though exhaustion shadowed her face, Mercedes clung desperately to her rigid composure as she answered.
"...Are you going to take part in that man's excuses as well?"
"Walker-kun's magic swords... no one can wield them except for Walker-kun himself."
"Do not insult me with such transparent lies. You just—"
"I was the only exception."
Perhaps it was the one truth she refused to leave unsaid.
Filiestra cut Mercedes off, her voice ringing with an uncharacteristic, unyielding strength.
"He believed that if he could figure out why I was able to use it, he might finally be able to forge a magic sword for you one day, Meltzelia-san..."
"............"
"I apologize as well. I'm truly sorry. So please... just talk to Walker-kun once more."
With that, Filiestra turned and walked away.
Was she going to chase after Brendan to offer some hollow comfort?
No, none of it mattered anymore.
Brendan Walker had been forging a magic sword for Mercedes Meltzelia's sake. Piecing it all together, that was the singular, undeniable truth.
Then what did that make Mercedes?
She had desecrated the memory of a departed hero she held in reverence.
She had hurled vile abuse at an innocent classmate.
And with her own two hands, she had brutally shattered the very door that had been left open for her.
Even so, what in the world was Mercedes Meltzelia doing, still standing there with her spine held rigidly straight?