Chapter 107 : Forest of Secrets (3)

Chapter 107: Forest of Secrets (3)

“Keugh!”

A chilling sensation swept across my forearm, and I couldn't help but let out a scream filled with pain.

How many exchanges had we had already?

Even in such a short span, we must have traded dozens of blows.

It had been so intense that even I, who had more confidence in my stamina than anyone else, was gasping for breath.

On the other hand, the boy remained completely unscathed.

Not a scratch, not even a disrupted breath.

‘……To this extent.’

Was the difference between us truly this great?

I couldn’t believe it.

Strength, speed, skill—

He surpassed me in every aspect.

Above all, it was as if he could see through my swordplay entirely, acting several moves ahead.

That, more than anything, was what I couldn’t believe.

It was no wonder, since my sword—

“You’re still clinging to that shoddy swordsmanship?”

The boy’s voice, laced with disbelief, rang in my ears.

I, who had been kneeling on one knee, silently lifted my head to look up at him.

“……Shoddy?”

Suppressing my rising fury, I forced the words out.

At that, the boy tilted his head as if puzzled.

“Then how else would you describe what you just did, if not as shoddy?”

As he finished speaking, the boy casually swung his sword.

He was mimicking the sword technique I had just shown.

“If you insist on using something, then just stick to the swordsmanship you learned from House Amiel. Either that, or move like us, listening to the voices. But instead, you’re straining yourself to move in the opposite direction of the voice—that’s what makes it so poorly done.”

“I thought you were starting to improve a bit after hearing that priest bastard’s words…”

Thunk.

The boy, who had been casually waving his sword around for a while, now drove it into the ground, as if he’d lost interest.

Despite the lightness of the motion, the blade dug deep into the earth.

“Why?”

“Oh? Don’t feel like answering?”

The boy glanced around.

There were still countless ‘Allen Amiels’ beside him.

“So you’ve been pretending not to hear our voices all this time? Just to cling to that shoddy swordsmanship? Is that how you intend to repay the grace of House Amiel, who took you in?”

“……Shut that mouth.”

Staggering, I got to my feet and readied my stance.

The boy no longer bothered to hide his displeasure.

“I don’t get it.”

“Why?”

I didn’t answer.

Seeing that, ‘Allen Amiel’ twisted his lips and spat out,

“Answer me.”

“……You really want to know?”

I pointed my sword at him.

“But even if I told you, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Why do you think that? I am you. I, too, am ‘Allen Amiel,’ just like you.”

“And that’s exactly why—because you’re asking that question—I’m telling you, you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”

“Hah.”

The boy let out a scoff of disbelief.

Then, turning to the surroundings, he shouted,

“Anyone here understand whatever nonsense this guy just spewed?”

None of the ‘Allen Amiels’ gave a reply.

The boy turned back to me and asked again,

“No one gets it.”

“Just say it. I’m genuinely curious why you’re so stubborn, even ruining your own body for it.”

How much time passed?

Eventually, I opened my mouth.

“It’s a teaching.”

“……A teaching?”

“Yeah.”

Allen quietly nodded.

“Count Amiel…… no.”

“The day Father took me in. The day it snowed so heavily that it chilled my entire body, when he took off his coat and draped it over me, saying we should return home together… That very day, on the way back, he asked me.”

‘What kind of person do you want to become?’

No one had ever asked me about my dreams.

Not even my own mother, nor myself.

All I had done was struggle desperately to survive each day.

A pit with no dreams, no hope.

I thought I would live and die just like everyone else in that pit.

And yet, he asked me about my dreams.

It was the first time.

So…

“I told him I wanted to become someone like him.”

Then, the Count had quietly patted my head.

If your dream is to become someone like me, then I must live even more earnestly so I won’t be ashamed before you—he had said.

“Father gave me a teaching.”

Know what is right.

Do what is right.

Protect what is right.

“Know it, act upon it, and protect it. Along with those words, he gave me the name Amiel. That’s why… That’s why, from that day on, I became Allen Amiel.”

With those words, Allen once again took his stance.

Though his body was in tatters, his determination hadn’t faded one bit.

“To reflect on that teaching, to live by it, and to act without a shred of shame.”

Allen declared.

“That is my way—Allen Amiel’s way.”

Allen asked the boy.

“On the other hand, I’d like to ask you something.”

“What?”

“How can you dare to call yourself ‘Allen Amiel’ when you’ve forgotten that teaching?”

Allen—Allen Amiel—asked back, as if he truly couldn’t understand.

“That was the beginning… the origin of me, of ‘us.’”

The boy said nothing.

He simply looked at Allen with a dumbfounded, bewildered expression.

“……That’s your reason?”

He muttered again in disbelief.

“Because of something so trivial, you ignored us, shut your ears to your—our—voices? Even though people around you treated you like a dumb fool for years?”

“Yes.”

Allen nodded.

It was a nod that held both affirmation and clarity.

“Because I had resolved to do so.”

At those words, the wounds that covered Allen’s body began to heal.

It was one of the secret techniques of House Amiel, personally passed down to Allen by Count Amiel.

Allen took his stance once again.

It was the basic stance of the swordsmanship taught only to direct descendants of House Amiel.

“Hah…”

The boy now let out a hollow laugh, as if it didn’t matter anymore.

Even though they were both Allen Amiel, they had realized once again that they were walking irreconcilable parallel paths.

There was no need for further conversation.

Instead, the boy took his stance, guided by the voices within, by the many voices of ‘Allen Amiel.’

Unlike earlier, it was a purely aggressive posture, filled with the intent to end this in one strike.

Allen looked straight at the boy—at an opponent superior in every way—and calmly regulated his breath.

‘……This is it.’

He had no intention of losing.

But to any onlooker, it was clear the chances of victory were slim.

Though their swordsmanship differed, Allen and the boy employed broadly similar tactics.

They both overwhelmed their enemies with superior strength, stamina, and endurance.

However, the opponent had the advantage in strength, stamina, and endurance—in short, in every regard.

The more they clashed, the more Allen would be whittled down.

‘Lian… How did he do it?’

He had closed the gap using his unique footwork and an uncanny level of experience.

But I had neither such footwork nor experience.

‘However…’

There was something else.

A method, different in direction from what Lian Gwendil had shown, that could bring down a far superior foe—he had it too.

Back in the day, a technique that had taken down a family knight with a single blow.

Even at a young age, he had sensed how everyone’s view of him had changed after that.

That’s why he had never used it again.

Even so, the sensation from that time remained vivid and alive—he could feel it instinctively.

“……Just die already, Allen Amiel.”

The boy raised his sword.

“Now, I’m the real one.”

With those words, he rushed at Allen.

In that moment of imminent clash, Allen remained calm and unwavering in his stance.

‘Please.’

Just one more time.

Let me feel it just one more time.

Allen whispered, desperate but steady.

If he pushed just a little more, it felt like the memory would awaken—but the countless voices crowding his mind showed no sign of letting it surface.

The boy was now right before him.

If they clashed like this, Allen would undoubtedly be the one to fall.

And then—

Fwoosh.

Flames.

White flames began to blaze from his chest.

‘This is…’

Allen instinctively knew what it was.

Lian Gwendil.

The blessing bestowed upon him by the boy he dared to call a friend—offered with a consecration, in prayer for his well-being in the past.

It was that very blessing from which the flame had flared.

“……Ah.”

And Allen realized that the countless voices that had tormented him his entire life had disappeared.

The vanished sound.

Silence and stillness.

A peaceful heart, undisturbed by even the slightest ripple.

And once again, the memory of that moment resurfaced.

Allen, surrendering himself to that memory, swung his sword.

A single strike.

A flash of light.

The boy didn’t even realize he had been cut.

Not until the moment his body was cleaved in two.

“Uh, ah……aaah.”

Only after his severed upper body crashed to the ground did the boy realize he had lost.

His sword had been shattered to pieces, and his body split in half, now pathetically buried in the mud.

It was fortunate he had been born of sorcery—had he been a living person, the scene would have been horrific.

“Th-this… this can’t be……”

The boy looked as if he still couldn’t believe he had been defeated.

But with his sword reduced to a broken hilt,

And his body severed in two,

While Allen remained unscathed, he had no choice but to accept his complete defeat.

“Heh… hehe…”

In the end, the boy let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

Even at that, Allen simply scanned his surroundings.

Understandable—it was only one of many enemies that he had managed to defeat.

“He’s the outer one, huh. Survived somehow.”

“Unexpected. I thought he’d be the one to win.”

“So, who’s next?”

Despite the boy’s defeat, the others showed no sign of panic.

On the contrary, they seemed somewhat pleased.

It made sense—one of the contenders aiming to become the true ‘Allen Amiel’ had just been eliminated.

Now they were choosing which remaining ‘Allen Amiel’ would go next.

“……Nothing has changed.”

The boy muttered.

It wasn’t driven by the desire to become the true ‘Allen Amiel,’ but by a fixation—wanting to see Allen crumble.

“You’ll lose anyway. And someone else among us will become the true ‘Allen Amiel.’”

“In the meantime, your brother, your friend, and everyone else will die. And… then…”

The boy chuckled bitterly before letting his head fall.

“Well… who knows. What happens next isn’t my concern anymore…”

With that, his body crumbled to dust, like ashes collapsing into themselves.

Allen, who had silently watched the boy’s end, glanced down at the sword in his hand.

It had broken in two.

It hadn’t endured the final technique Allen had unleashed.

“But that guy doesn’t even have a weapon. We’re letting him fight like that?”

“Then get it over with and let’s settle it among ourselves.”

“Still, we should at least give him a fair chance. No matter what, he is Allen Amiel.”

Their chatter rang out noisily.

The silence from earlier had long since vanished.

As had the white flame that had burned on his chest.

‘Ah.’

And only once the flame faded did Allen realize.

― You simply lack confidence in yourself.

Words Lian had once said to him.

Had he somehow foreseen this exact moment would come?

‘…No, that can’t be.’

Allen let out a small scoff.

No matter how extraordinary Lian was, predicting this kind of situation was absurd.

Unless he could see the future, that is.

“Yeah.”

Allen made up his mind.

He quietly drew the dagger he had tucked away inside his robes.

The very same dagger Kyren had thrown at him, urging him to take responsibility.

“…He once said a journey isn’t made through wilderness or desert, but through places overflowing with everything.”

Before he knew it, Allen was repeating Lian’s words aloud.

Even so, the other ‘Allen Amiels’ still paid him no mind.

“It’s not that there’s no path—it’s just that we can’t see it. It’s not the absence of roads, but the absence of certainty that keeps our feet from moving. In that case, what we need isn’t water or a compass…”

What’s needed is the tiniest resolve to take a single step forward.

Allen slowly began to draw the dagger.

At that, the other ‘Allen Amiels’ gradually began to turn their gazes toward him.

― May you make a choice without regrets.

“…This is my choice. Lian.”

Allen murmured softly.

A smile had formed on his face.

Only then did the other ‘Allen Amiels’ finally realize what was happening—and panicked, rushing toward him.

Each of them shouted desperately, spitting curses.

They shouted that he couldn’t possibly kill them.

That he would never be able to make them yield.

Allen thrust the dagger into his chest.

Right where the white flame had burned.

And then—they became him.

Allen Amiel, in order to remain Allen Amiel, sought to kill Allen Amiel.

And so…

A soundless scream.

Within that gap, Allen Amiel awakened.