It had happened when Jelkku staked his life to break the elven seal and empower the Mana Eater.
As death loomed, Ren had collapsed beside Licia, his hand coming to rest against her chest. In that moment, the crystal on his bracelet had pulsed with light, granting him the ability to summon a mysterious magic sword known as "????"
According to what he later heard from Licia, powerful Saintesses were sometimes born with a Magic Stone embedded within their bodies. Just as one could extract a magic sword from the Magic Stone of a unique monster like the Thief Wolfen, Ren wondered if the stone residing within certain Saintesses held a similar, sacred significance. Even for a fantasy world, he scoffed at the idea as a far-fetched delusion.
He wanted to investigate further, but he could hardly ask Licia to let him place his hand near her Magic Stone—whether directly on her chest or through her back—for the sake of "verification." He also had to consider the risk; there was no telling if drawing power from her stone might harm her.
Besides, Ren’s ability typically required him to defeat an opponent before he could absorb the power of their Magic Stone. He realized now that this was likely why nothing had happened when he carried Licia on his back during their escape.
"...I should just sleep."
Realizing he had no way to confirm his theories, Ren gave up for the night. He closed his book, set it back on the desk, and blew out the lamp.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
The next morning, they stood inside a clothing boutique that exuded luxury from its storefront to its smallest interior detail.
"Your conduct on that day was magnificent, young master. It’s already the talk of the town among us common folk," the proprietor said warmly.
Many residents had witnessed the moment Ren and Licia finally reached Clausel at the end of their grueling flight. Ren blushed at the praise, drawing smiles from Licia and Weiss.
"Now then, Saintess. What can I do for you today?" the proprietor asked.
"I’d like some clothes for him. Could you pick out a few suitable outfits?"
"Certainly. Then, we shall begin with the measurements—"
Before Ren could process what was happening, the conversation was already moving forward. He looked at Licia in a panic.
"Why me!?"
"Almost all the clothes you had at your manor burned to ash, didn't they?"
"Well, yes, but... even so..."
"It’s fine, isn't it? I just want to give them to you."
Licia turned away with a huff, her nose in the air. She laced her fingers behind her back and began to wander through the shop.
Ren looked up through the atrium to the second floor, noticing that while men’s clothing occupied the first floor, the second was dedicated to women’s fashion. Licia, however, showed no interest in the stairs, keeping her eyes strictly on the men’s selection. Meanwhile, the shopkeeper began measuring Ren’s frame.
"Weiss-sama, please help me. I feel terrible accepting such expensive gifts."
"Rest easy, lad. This is coming out of the young lady’s personal allowance. There’s no need to hold back."
Even the dark brown flooring was polished to such a high gloss that it looked expensive. The accessories and leather goods displayed in pristine glass cases were clearly premium items.
"Besides, the young lady has very little material desire of her own. Most of her allowance goes untouched, simply piling up in her accounts."
Ren started to protest again, but he realized that being too stubborn would be rude and might trample on Licia’s genuine goodwill.
"Measurements are complete," the shopkeeper announced.
Licia returned from her browsing just in time. "So, Ren, what kind of clothes do you like?"
"I... I like ordinary clothes."
Nothing specific came to mind, so he offered the most abstract answer possible. Licia, however, didn't laugh or look exasperated; she simply nodded.
"I see. So you dislike anything too flashy and prefer clothes that are easy to move in."
"How did you know that?"
"Who knows? I just had a feeling."
Licia took Ren by the hand and began leading him through the displays.
"Licia-sama!?"
"Never mind that, let's look over here!"
The shop was currently closed to other customers, giving them the entire space to themselves. Perhaps that was why Licia was acting so uninhibited, her voice filled with a rare, playful excitement.
"Next is this—oh, and I think that one would suit you perfectly!"
"No, no, no, that’s way too flashy!"
"Don't give up until you’ve tried it on. Look, the fitting room is right there."
Pushed along by Licia, Ren eventually found himself inside the changing area. She waited outside the door, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. When the door finally creaked open...
"This... this isn't exactly everyday wear, is it!?"
Ren stepped out wearing a sophisticated suit that looked ready for a high-society gala. It was certainly not meant for a casual stroll. Even Weiss and the shopkeeper had to agree on that point.
But Licia’s eyes lit up. "It looks wonderful on you," she said happily. "Could you tailor this set to fit him?"
"As you wish," the proprietor replied with a bow.
"Licia-sama!? When am I ever going to wear this!?" Ren protested, but his words fell on deaf ears.
"Someday. You’ll be in trouble if an occasion arises and you don't have something like this ready, won't you?"
By the time they finished, Ren had been gifted a total of three outfits, including his new everyday clothes.
(I really have to find a way to pay her back.)
The problem was the funds. As Ren crossed his arms and agonized over his lack of money, he had no idea that this particular problem would be solved in the very near future.
Weiss, watching Ren with a smile, suddenly noticed something. "Hmm?"
Looking toward the entrance, he saw a knight of House Clausel approaching. "Master Shopkeeper, I’ll have to leave the rest to you."
Weiss stepped away to meet the messenger. The knight was out of breath and took several seconds to recover.
"Actually—"
After hearing the report, Weiss crossed his arms in thought. "So the party arrives this evening?"
"Yes, sir. That is the word."
"Then we’ll return after noon as planned. I know we should hurry back to prepare, but... the young lady is having such a good time. It’s hard to tell her we have to cut it short."
"Understood. There shouldn't be a problem, so I will inform the Lord that you’re on your way."
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
They returned to the manor in the early afternoon as scheduled.
"Welcome back," the maid greeted them.
"Young lady, the Lord is requesting your presence in his office regarding the guests."
"I understand. In that case, Yuno, could you help me find a book in the library? Ren is looking for the sequel to the one he read the other day."
"Of course, my lady. Leave it to me."
Yuno was a maid who had been with Licia since childhood. She was a neat, lovely young woman, around eighteen years old, with a bright smile that always reminded Ren of his mother, Mireille. Because she was so often at Licia’s side, Ren spoke with her frequently.
"Ren-sama, this way, please."
Ren followed Yuno toward the library.
"Did you find any garments you liked today?"
"Licia-sama chose everything for me... wait, how did you know about the clothes, Yuno-san?"
"The young lady told me all about today’s plans last night. She seemed very excited."
(That explains it.)
It would still take some time for the tailored clothes to be delivered.
"What sort of outfits did you purchase?"
"Two sets of casual wear and one formal suit. I feel bad enough receiving even one outfit, let alone a formal one I’ll never have a chance to wear."
"Oh? But if you have formal wear, you could wear it for the young lady’s birthday party this summer. Wouldn't that be lovely?"
The comment assumed Ren would still be there in the summer. Since his future was still undecided, Ren couldn't give a straight answer and simply offered a noncommittal smile. Yuno seemed to sense his hesitation and didn't push further, though her smile turned a bit wistful.
"By the way, I heard guests are arriving this evening," Ren said, changing the subject.
"That’s right. It seems they’ve arrived a bit earlier than expected."
Ren thought about the visitors as they walked. (Well, it’s not like it involves me.) He was just a temporary guest, after all. He planned to spend the rest of the day quietly reading.
As the sun began to dip, the manor grounds grew noisy. From the window, Ren watched Lezard and the others go out to receive the guests. The visitors were a group of knights in fine uniforms. A man who appeared to be their commander was exchanging greetings with Lezard while Licia stood respectfully nearby.
(The Regular Knights?)
That was the collective name for the Empire’s national military. Unlike Weiss, who served a specific noble house, these knights served the state. Ren tilted his head in curiosity but soon turned away from the window. Everyone looked calm, so he assumed this wasn't another hostile visit like Viscount Given’s.
(This book is actually pretty good.)
He became engrossed in the sequel to the novel he’d been reading. He stood up to head back to his room with the book but then hesitated, not wanting to get in the way of the guests now entering the building.
"Oh? What is it, lad?"
He bumped into Weiss in the hallway.
"I was going to my room with this book. I didn't want to disturb the guests."
"Good grief... you show more consideration than most adults. However... hmmm..." Weiss paused, struck by a thought. "Since you’re here, why don't you come along? The guests are going to evaluate the young lady’s swordplay. I thought it might be a good chance for them to look at your skills as well. What do you say?"
"...Huh?"
Ren let out a confused sound. Since he’d already agreed to train under Weiss, he wasn't particularly interested in the Regular Knights, but Weiss tried a different angle.
"You can watch the young lady’s lesson. You might learn a thing or two."
"Ah, if that’s the case, then I’d love to."
Apparently, Lezard had arranged this to help Licia improve. Since a unit of the Regular Knights was campaigning nearby, their commander had agreed to stop by.
"Is the commander famous?"
"He leads the Regular Knights, so he’s certainly capable. I heard his style is the Holy Sword Arts. Have you heard of it, boy?"
"I think so. It was founded by the Hero Ruin, right? A style practiced by many knights."
"Exactly."
Knights usually studied a basic style before branching out into one that suited their personal aptitude. The Holy Sword Arts were a favorite choice, largely because of the prestige associated with the Hero Ruin. It was a style that transcended political factions. Ren, of course, knew all this from the lore of Legend of the Seven Heroes.
(Holy Sword Arts were always the most versatile skills in the game.)
There were many schools of swordsmanship in the world. If one mastered a style, they could acquire "Arts"—techniques that used mana as a resource. For those born without innate skills, these were an essential way to gain supernatural power.
(I remember the animations from the game, but it’s not like I can just mimic them and expect an Art to trigger... right?)
As they walked toward the garden, Weiss continued, "Aside from Imperial Swordsmanship, I've never really branched out. The Holy Sword Arts didn't suit me, so I stuck with what I knew."
"I think that was a good choice. Imperial Swordsmanship is a defensive style; it’s perfect for someone protecting Lezard-sama."
Imperial Swordsmanship was the foundational style for most knights. It was highly versatile and, as Ren noted, focused on protection.
"If you're interested, I’ll teach you some Imperial Swordsmanship next time."
"Really!? That would be a huge help!"
"Haha! If it makes you that happy, it’ll be a pleasure to teach you." Weiss’s face softened at Ren’s enthusiasm.
(Now that I think about it...)
In the game’s original timeline, Licia Clausel was a master of the Holy Sword Arts. The style was known for being perfectly balanced—capable of offense, defense, and support. Combined with her White Saintess skill, she was a force to be reckoned with.
Swordsmen in this world were ranked by their prowess. Licia eventually reached the rank of "Sword Saint," the second-highest tier. The very top tier was reserved for the "Sword Kings," of which there were only five in the entire world. These five were ranked by the War God themselves, and their names were inscribed on stone tablets found in War God temples. These tablets, known as Sacred Relics, updated automatically to reflect the current state of the world’s strongest warriors.
"Weiss-sama, did you ever try to learn any other styles?"
"I did. I gave the Strong Sword Arts a try once."
"Ah... I see..."
"You know of those as well, I see. As you likely know, that style requires a specific innate talent. There are very few users for a reason, and I simply wasn't one of them."
Ren offered a strained smile. (Strong Sword Arts, huh?)
That style had been founded by the Lion King, the progenitor of the Leomel bloodline. In the game, it was an enemy-exclusive style used by the Imperial Faction. Players couldn't learn it even in a New Game Plus. It was an absurdly powerful style, balanced between brutal offense and defense.
(I’m getting bad flashbacks...)
Strong Sword Arts users were bad enough, but they also used debuffing Arts that permanently lowered the player's stats. Combined with unavoidable, near-instant-death attacks, the style was a collection of every unfair mechanic imaginable—a privilege reserved for bosses.
So, while the Holy Sword Arts were the all-rounders of the battlefield, the Strong Sword Arts were the specialized experts of destruction.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
In the garden, Licia was already receiving instruction from the commander. Several other Regular Knights and the Clausel house knights were watching.
"Ren!"
Licia, who had just started a break, noticed him. She wiped her brow and ran over, grabbing his hand. "Hey, you should join the lesson too!"
"No, I’m fine just watching."
However, the commander spoke up from across the yard. "If you like, feel free to join the Saintess."
Ren felt it would be rude to refuse at that point. He walked over to join them.
"I’ve heard much about you from the Saintess. She says you are stronger than her and that even Weiss-dono recognizes your talent."
Ren gave a humble smile. "I wouldn't go that far."
The commander, clearly intrigued, didn't let up. "You seem like a very promising young knight. I’d like to see your form for a moment."
Seeing no way out, Ren decided to accept the guidance. Licia stepped back as he picked up a wooden training sword.
"Let’s start with some basic strikes," the commander said.
Ren began to swing, slowly warming up his body. The other knights fell silent as they watched. Unlike with Licia, there was something about Ren’s form that commanded their full attention.
Eventually, the commander’s expression grew serious. "Let's try a proper exchange. Don't hold back."
"Yes, sir."
The commander focused primarily on defense, offering light counterattacks. The gap in their experience was still massive, so he wasn't trying to overwhelm the boy. The dull thud of wood on wood echoed through the garden.
(As expected of a Regular Knight commander!)
Even so, Ren’s speed and precision were shocking for his age. The wind from his swings was sharp enough to sway the grass. Despite the difference in physical strength, Ren found himself enjoying the exchange. He loved the puzzle of it—trying to find a way through a master’s defense.
Suddenly, the commander stepped back and lowered his sword.
"Young man, try fighting more like yourself. Stop trying to mimic our style."
Ren blinked. He realized he had been consciously thinking about the Holy Sword Arts from the game, trying to see if he could trigger the mechanics.
"Like myself...?"
"Don't worry about me. Move in the way that feels natural to you."
Ren took a breath and reset his stance. He tapped into everything Roy had taught him, everything he’d learned in the forest, and the growth he’d achieved against Jelkku.
"—Understood."
The atmosphere around Ren shifted instantly. It was no longer the presence of a polite boy; it felt like a powerful predator.
"I see... I had a feeling...!"
The commander’s eyes sharpened. He had to brace himself, as Ren was suddenly on the verge of landing a clean hit.
"Pardon me!"
Ren unleashed a flurry of fierce, heavy strikes. The commander put his full weight into a downward parry, trying to break Ren’s guard.
"Ngh...!"
"Impossible...! He held his ground!?"
Ren had caught the strike horizontally. Despite the massive weight of a grown man’s strength, his knees didn't even buckle.
The commander nodded to himself and sheathed his sword. "Tell me your name."
"Ah, sorry... I’m Ren Ashton."
The commander let out a long breath and stepped closer. "Ren-dono, I must apologize. I don't think the Holy Sword Arts are right for you."
"Huh?"
Ren blinked in surprise.
"Why!?" Licia shouted, her voice sharp with indignation. The sudden change in her normally calm demeanor surprised the commander.
"Saintess, as you saw, he is incredibly strong. My men and I recognize that. But it’s a matter of compatibility." He turned back to Ren. "Your temperament is visible in your sword. Do you remember when I told you to move freely?"
"Yes."
"I said that because I thought you might have picked up a few bad habits from your father’s teaching. But that wasn't it. Your 'habits' are actually your essence—an aggressive, vividly fierce way of fighting. That nature will eventually work against you if you try to master the Holy Sword Arts."
He explained that while some things could be corrected through training, Ren’s natural style was so deeply ingrained that forcing him into the Holy Sword mold would only make it harder for him to use a blade. It would be counterproductive to force a different style onto him now.
"Some adventurers use a similar offensive style, but they do it out of a reckless necessity to survive. Your style is different. It’s innate. It’s who you are."
He concluded that Ren might never be able to master the specific "Arts" of the Holy Sword style because they required a different inner state.
"In that case, I should probably focus on a different style entirely," Ren said, accepting the verdict calmly.
"Exactly. However, I would still be honored to teach you the fundamentals of general swordsmanship. It’s not every day one gets to instruct someone with your potential."
Ren’s mind had already moved on to the next step. But Licia, along with Weiss and the watching servants, was still reeling.
"Ren!? Why are you so calm about this!?"
"If it doesn't suit me, it doesn't suit me. I’m just happy to learn the basics while I’m here."
The rest of the session was spent on general techniques that both Ren and Licia could practice together. It turned out to be a very productive afternoon.
As the sun set, the commander spoke privately with one of his subordinates.
"Commander, just because he’s aggressive doesn't mean he couldn't eventually learn the Holy Sword Arts. Why were you so blunt with him?"
"Because I felt it when we clashed." The commander wiped his brow, watching Ren and Licia walk back toward the manor. "That boy... he has the talent for an entirely different kind of swordplay."
He didn't want to ruin that potential by forcing it into the wrong shape. The subordinate could only tilt his head in confusion.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
That evening, after a quick bath, Licia came to Ren’s guest room. She sat on the edge of his bed, her legs dangling.
"Was the lesson really okay with you?"
"Hmm? What do you mean?"
"You’ve been in a bad mood since the middle of it, haven't you, Licia-sama?"
"Oh? What makes you think that?" She tried to look defiant, but the mask slipped for a split second.
"You have a habit of fiddling with your hair when you’re annoyed."
"Wait... I do!?"
"I’m lying. But that reaction confirms it—you were in a bad mood."
Ren smirked. Licia looked up at him from the bed with a sulky pout. "...Meanie."
Ren laughed. "I only did it because it didn't make sense to me. That commander made it sound like you didn't have any talent!"
"He just said the style didn't suit me. It’s a subtle difference, but an important one."
"Then why are you so—!"
"If you're asking why I'm calm, it’s because compatibility is just a fact of life. Honestly, he did me a favor. Now I won't waste time on something that won't bear fruit."
Ren looked at her seriously. "Licia-sama, please don't worry about me. Focus on your own training. You can't let my situation distract you."
"Hmph." She looked dissatisfied. She was clearly grateful for the lesson, but the news about Ren had bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
"I did have a lot of thoughts after he said the Holy Sword Arts weren't right for you," Licia admitted softly. "But... he told me something too." She gave a wry smile. "He said that I have a few concerning habits of my own."
Ren tilted his head. Licia was supposed to be a natural prodigy for the style.
"He told me my swordplay has habits very similar to yours."
"To mine?"
"Yes. Because I studied your movements so much. I watched how you moved and swung your sword, over and over, trying to find a way to beat you. I practiced by mimicking you."
"So that means..."
Licia nodded. "Because my goal was to defeat you, I ended up taking on your style. And now... I don't want to fix it. Correcting those habits feels like being told that my goal—that you—were wrong. I don't want to accept that."
She spoke with a fierce, quiet conviction.
"But you shouldn't worry about me—!"
"No, it’s fine. Like you said, there are other styles. If the Holy Sword Arts aren't a perfect fit, I don't have to force it. Maybe there’s something else that suits me even better."
Ren knew she had the talent to become a Sword Saint in the Holy Sword style, but her mind was made up.
"Ren, if someone told you to forget everything your father taught you just because it was 'wrong' for a certain style, would you just say yes?"
"That’s..." He couldn't. Even if it was for the sake of progress, it would feel like his past efforts were being discarded.
Licia smiled. "It’s the same for me."
"But I’m just a country knight’s son. You’re a Saintess. Your path is more important."
"I don't have any special obligation to a specific sword style. My father told me to find the path that feels right to me. I want my late mother to see me find that path."
Ren couldn't find the words to argue. Licia was right—it was her choice, and House Clausel didn't have a rigid policy on it anyway. Besides, he reminded himself, Licia wasn't just a game character. She was her own person.
"Learning while trying to suppress my natural habits would just be a struggle and a waste of time. Don't you think I’ll grow faster if I find a style that actually fits me?"
Ren felt a pang of guilt for having influenced her style so much, but he offered her a smile. "I'll help you find the perfect style, Licia-sama."
"You mean... you'll help us find ours."
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
Far from Clausel, at the Ignat manor in Eupeheim, the night was quiet.
In the garden, Fiona was accompanied by a single maid.
"—Eek!"
Fiona, who had been practicing walking with the maid’s support, cried out as her legs gave way. The maid caught her before she hit the ground. The necklace Fiona always wore swayed sharply.
"S-sorry... my strength just left me...!"
"My lady, let’s stop for tonight."
Fiona was drenched in sweat. She bit her lip in frustration. "No... I can't. I'm so far behind everyone else. I have to work twice as hard."
Until her illness had been cured, Fiona had spent almost her entire life in bed. She had endured constant pain and headaches, her body becoming fragile from lack of use. Now, she was obsessed with her physical rehabilitation.
"My lady..."
"Just a little more! I'll stop before I get hurt, I promise!"
Fiona set her sights on a terrace chair just ten meils away. For her, those ten meils felt like a marathon.
"Ngh... it’s so close...!"
Each step was an agonizing struggle. When she looked back, she realized she had only moved two meils from where she’d almost fallen. She refused to give up, gritting her teeth and forcing her legs to move.
"If I can't do this much..." another step "...then I’ll never be able to stand on my own feet to thank Ren-sama properly...!"
This spring, Ren Ashton had saved her life. She wanted to stand before him, face to face, and tell him everything she felt.
"Look...! I’m almost there...!" She managed a brave smile.
The maid wanted to stop her, but she was too moved by the sight of the girl spending nearly an hour to cover a distance a normal person could walk in seconds. She began to offer quiet words of encouragement instead.
When Fiona finally reached the chair, she sank into it with a gasp and looked up at the maid with a radiant smile. "I... I did it. It took forever, but I made it."
"It was magnificent, my lady."
"Hehe... it’s embarrassing to call it magnificent when I only walked that far."
Fiona leaned back, letting the cool night breeze dry the sweat on her neck. "If I keep this up and take my potions every day... do you think the day I can walk by myself is coming soon?"
"I’m certain of it. By autumn, you’ll be walking alone, and perhaps even doing more vigorous exercise."
Fiona nodded, emboldened by the words.
"I was watching from the office," a voice said. Ulysses Ignat stepped into the garden. He thanked the maid and knelt on the grass in front of his daughter’s chair.
"You did well, Fiona." He reached into his jacket. "A letter arrived for you. It’s from the Imperial Military Academy."
"For me? Oh... is it the result of the exam?"
"Yes."
At the end of May, Fiona had traveled to the capital in a wheelchair to take the entrance exam for the academy’s Special Merit Class. She had spent her recovery studying in bed, hoping that by the time the next phase came, she would be able to walk into the hall herself.
She opened the envelope and let out a sigh of relief. "Father! I passed!"
"Of course you did. I never doubted you for a second."
"Eh? Why not?"
"Well... don't you agree?" Ulysses looked at the maid.
"Absolutely, sir. Even when her health was at its worst, the young lady never stopped studying."
"See? I’m only worried about the final physical exam."
"Oh, honestly... I was so worried about this part," Fiona said, pouting slightly.
Ulysses laughed. Half a year ago, he hadn't dared to hope he would ever see his daughter like this. He took her hand gently. "Let's take it one step at a time. It wouldn't do to get injured before you can properly thank Ren Ashton."
"I know that! Good grief!"
Fiona’s voice, full of newfound strength, echoed through the quiet night garden.