Tale of the Fake Hero

Chapter 23 – Origin, Kaisen Alter Aradamantel (6)

“Instructor, it feels like something is running wild within my body,” Kaisen said.

“Really?”

“Strangely… I can’t control it. The Mana Chain won’t retract.” The mana quietly trembled in Kaisen’s body and glowed with a brilliant golden light. Had a candidate ever emitted such dazzling brightness before?

“Jump. Come on.”

Kaisen concentrated on the wave of power washing through and healing his body before concentrating on his toes and leaping from the front of the pit.

Like a hawk swooping down on its prey, the boy flew through the air, spinning and landing a great distance away.

“What…?” a cadet murmured.

“Goodness…”

The cadets’ eyes widened in surprise. Kaisen was sitting much farther away than those who had already jumped were. Was it roughly more than the radius of the pit?

Olliere couldn’t control her shocked laugh as she looked at Kaisen in the distance. ‘Is this the power of the dragon spirit from His Excellency, Yoshhar…?’

Kaisen broke every record the previous cadets had, one by one. Well, he would have, anyway, had he not suddenly lost consciousness just before they started the other tests.

‘Huh…?’ He had been participating in a noon training session, but when he opened his eyes, dusk had fallen.

The instructors spoke from his bedside.

“Chief Instructor, Kaisen woke up.”

“What time is it?” Kaisen asked.

“It’s been a little over four hours.”

Kaisian said, “Chief Instructor, I am sorry. I suddenly…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. The dragonkin priest already looked over you.”

“…?”

“Listen carefully… You collapsed after exerting yourself for about 10 minutes. We’ll have to measure it again, but that was the rough time.”

“Right…”

“And you woke up four hours later. Do you have any idea why?”

Kaisen tilted his head. He couldn’t understand the instructor’s question.

*You know that dwarves use steam engines, right?” Olliere asked.

“Yes.”

“If excessive force is applied, it will hang in balance for a moment and eventually collapse. In short, it means that your body cannot withstand the power of the dragon spirit stone it absorbed.”

It felt like the world was darkening before Kaisen’s eyes. Despair and darkness filled his eyes. “Are you saying… I’m a failure?”

Olliere pursed her lips. She always enjoyed creating tension, but that time, it was different. “Well, I can’t say for certain.”

“…?”

“Your situation is different from other Fake Warriors, who can use their power at will. You can use your power conditionally with a time limit, and the power you use is ridiculously strong.”

‘A time limit…?’

Olliere Dune Jeraye held up three fingers. “You can exert the power of two or even three Fake Warriors by yourself.”

“…?!”

“A Fake Warrior’s power cannot be calculated through simple math… Still, no one can deny that you will become the strongest Fake Warrior of all time.” She seemed excited for a moment.

Olliere’s expression darkened as she looked out the window. “The problem is that it is only for 10 minutes. The priests said that if you use your power to the fullest, it could be even less. In the end, we’re uncertain. You’re a Fake Warrior who needs a four-hour break, which is ridiculous.”

Rachel Dune Jeraye, an instructor in charge of military theory, spoke up in Kaisen’s favor. “All he has to do is annihilate the enemy within those 10 minutes.”

“The battlefield is not a game of chess.”

“I’m not talking about every enemy he comes across. Kaisen has already shown an unbelievable track record as a child soldier. Even if he can’t always use his powers, he will fight well.”

Rachel Dune Jeraye and Kaisen’s eyes met. Rachel nodded confidently, her voice excited. “The point is that you only need to release the dragon spirit in an emergency situation or when you encounter a powerful enemy.”

“Rachel…” Olliere began.

“Chief Instructor, this cadet’s presence will soon cause an uproar on the battlefield. Whether it’s an enemy or an ally, who could have imagined a Fake Warrior who can unleash the power of two or even three of his kind?!”

The instructors whispered among each other after Rachel’s shout. Kaisen’s mind was blank, and he wondered if there was hope.

“That’s true, but the battlefield is full of variables. The weakness of four hours… We’ll have to mitigate it somehow,” Olliere said.

“…”

“Kaisen, can you get up?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s continue testing. Your power is beyond the standard. I think we need to accumulate more data to think of a solution.”

‘A side effect due to too much power, huh…?’ Kaisen had definitely woken up, but his mind was foggy, and his stomach was sore. Nevertheless, he stood up. He had to. “We can start right away.”

“Judging from your expression, that’s not true, right? Don’t overdo it.”

Had his life ever been smooth after his mother’s death? Not once. Life was always an uphill slope, and he had to keep going. If he gave up, he would just fall to his death.

“After you become a Fake Warrior… let’s go together… so Kamila can rest next to her master…”

He’d made a promise to someone, and he’d made a promise to his mother. Those promises led the boy forward, farther and farther.

When he’d said, “I will come back,” it was a promise to himself and a bond to fate.

“No, we can really start right away,” Kaisen said. That day, he was surrounded by instructors and underwent quite a few physical tests. After every use of his dragon spirit, he rested for four hours.

“Instead of denting the steel plate, he’s splitting it.”

“He doesn’t need to prepare himself before jumping either.”

“His flexibility goes without saying.”

In each test, the instructors couldn’t help but marvel at his performance. They couldn’t believe their eyes.

“He already surpasses the standard Fake Warrior.”

“The problem may be that he still lacks experience, but if you look at his physical ability alone, he is definitely above them.”

“Except for the four-hour risk,” Olliere Dune Jeraye persistently mentioned.

The instructors tried to ignore it, but it was clearly a big problem.

“What should we do?”

Rachel Dune Jeraye, who was the most strategic, raised her hand. Olliere nodded and gave her permission to speak.

“It’s such a simple problem that you don’t even have to think about it.”

“…?”

“If four hours is an issue, wouldn’t it be okay to provide a partner who can protect him on the battlefield during that time?”

Olliere’s eyes narrowed.

Rachel pushed further. “Whenever we deploy him, we can have another Fake Warrior serve as an assistant, or we can have Kaisen sent out as the assistant.”

“A single Fake Warrior is a heretic-level force. We already don’t have nearly enough of them, but you want to put two together in one corps? That’s not something we can decide on our own,” Olliere argued.

“What would happen if you reported to the cardinals?”

Olliere took a step back and drew a line.

Rachel’s will was firm. “Kaisen will become humanity’s strongest soldier. Maybe he can even surpass Raminea Alter Aradamantel and the Hero of the Troubles, Rista Alter Schirpin. He just needs a little help.”

Kelly scratched her chin in thought and softly sighed. “That’s if he can be an Alter, a proxy, and not a Dune like us.”

Rachel also let out a short sigh. “Now that I think about it, the cadets haven’t taken the holy sword compatibility test yet.”

* * *

“I’ll check your basic aptitude again. If you can’t do this much, then not even entering the ‘Holy Swords’ Cradle’ will help you be selected by a holy sword.

Sometimes, Fake Warrior training classes were held at the Holy Workshop. The topic of that particular class was clear—they were to awaken the mass-produced holy sword stuck in the pedestal and pull it out.

“What kind of training is this?” the blacksmith’s young apprentice asked.

The blacksmith, sweating from the hot furnace, answered, “It’s to prove they can awaken a holy sword with the power of their dragon spirit.”

The blacksmith wiped his sweat with a towel before tilting his chin to indicate one of the cadets. “Look at that. It’s dazzling, right? That’s talent that you can’t reach with effort alone.”

The blacksmith was talking about a girl holding a sword, her white hair blowing in the wind—Ophelia, the 2nd Seat of class 997.

Creak, crreeeeaaaak, creaaaaakkkk—

A bright brilliance rose from the mass-produced sword, Dialae’s blade, at a suitable person’s call, and a powerful current swirled around the blade.

“Yes, it’s really dazzling.”

“Look at that. That’s the same as being talentless.” There was little sympathy in the blacksmith’s gaze as he looked to the other side at Kaisen, a white-haired young man.

Unlike with Ophelia, the light emitted by his Dialae was extremely faint and silent.

“Kaisen! Try to make Dialae resonate with your dragon spirit through a prayer! How many times do I have to tell you not to try forcing it?”

It was already resonating. His dragon spirit was running, and the power raging in his veins was dizzying, but… how did the lack of a result make any sense?

‘What do I have to do to make it shine as much as theirs?’ Unlike with the others, the sword only faintly blinked in his hands instead of shining. After he exhausted himself, Kaisen retreated in despair.

“That should be enough to confirm him as a Dune Jeraye.” Whispering reached his ears. “Well, how on earth could a man become a Fake Warrior?…”

Contempt filled Ophelia’s eyes as she looked at Kaisen from afar. “Hmph…”

* * *

A short outing was permitted the day before entering ‘Holy Swords’ Cradle’. The next day would decide whether each candidate became a Fake Warrior or an instructor.

Kaisen didn’t know how Tarcio learned that they’d be going out, but she insisted on going with him. Her logic was that, since his body had grown enormously, she could hide behind him.

Of course, such a thing was obviously impossible, but the instructors did not notice Tarcio’s presence, and neither did the dragons. Did they not notice, or were they deliberately pretending not to see?

What on earth was happening…?

Thus, Tarcio walked over to the fountain in the square with a bright smile.

Kaisen carefully looked around the city. Haraldoniki, where the Imperial Palace was located, was more brilliant than any city he had ever seen.

The citizens seemed to be overflowing with smiles, and songs left the lips of the sailors traveling through the port along the sea route.

In several spots around the city, flags with the seven-pointed flame, the symbol of the Church of the Light Dragon, flew in the sky; a gold-lacquered bell tower rose in every church, spreading the grace of light to the world every hour.

“How peaceful…” Kaisen said in an empty tone.

The city of Divine Dragon, seen from the top of a hill, was dazzlingly majestic.

How could the world be so peaceful? To the citizens there, the war seemed like a non-existent rumor from a distant sea. Meanwhile, the southern front knew only pain and despair.

Tarcio spoke. “They say the whole world was happy in the Golden Age, the Silver Age, and the Bronze Age, but now we live in the Iron Age, an age in which blood must be shed.”

“How do you know that?” Kaisen asked.

“I read it in a book. Kaisen, why do you look upset?”

“Because of the Holy Sword compatibility test.”

It was the final course for cadets who succeeded in being injected with the dragon spirit stone. Kaisen recalled what Olliere had said while delivering news of the test.

“You want to use Aradamantel, right?”

“Of course.”

The Cross Sword Style was meant to be used with a longsword. There were clear limitations to the techniques of the style when used with a greatsword or a shortsword.

“Kaisen, you are not the one who will choose the holy sword. The holy sword must choose you.”

“…?”

“No matter how much you want it, there is nothing you can do if Aradamantel doesn’t want you. Just like us instructors, the Dune Jeraye.”

Olliere’s warning sent a chill down his spine. It was a problem he had never thought about.

Aradamantel not wanting him? If that happened, what on earth should he do? What about the Cross Sword Style he had learned? If Aradamantel’s will to save Kamila was what freed him from the fight with Kishun, could it turn away from him?

Tarcio smiled inexplicably. “You don’t have to worry. Aradamantel is waiting for you.”

He didn’t know what she was talking about. For some reason, Tarcio always referred to the holy swords as if they were people.

“Tarcio…”

“Huh?”

“What kind of holy sword do you want?”

“Sarillion.”

“Sarillion? That’s right, you mentioned it before. What is it?” Whenever Kaisen asked her something, Tarcio was happy rather than annoyed.

Even on that day, there was a smile on her face. “A true holy sword, once wielded by a real hero.”

“A true holy sword?”

“Sarillion is a true holy sword kept in the Imperial Court. The other half of my soul, just like you and Aradamantel.”

Tarcio smiled and added something that was difficult to understand right away. “You guys go first. I’ll follow soon. We’ll meet again when you need me the most.”

Her body looked frail enough to break in a strong wind, and deep wounds constantly appeared all over her. He didn’t even know what all of the bandages were meant to help with.

Kaisen didn’t see Tarcio again from the day he left the Imperial Court to ‘that moment’, far in the future.

“Goodbye for now, until we meet again.”