The Academy’s Crude Pink-Haired Martial Artist

[We have lost.]

“…Shit.”

Once again, I couldn’t hold back my curse.

This isn’t Luna’s handwriting.

It’s… Paulo’s.

Could it be that Luna got hurt badly enough that she can’t write?

I don’t know.

[The Demon King is an existence that transcends the concept of death.]

[It is impossible to kill it.]

Crunch, I bit down on my lip.

Paulo hates the word impossible.

He loathes it so much that he doesn’t want anyone to find out.

For him to say something is impossible…

[If only ■■■ and Ronan were here, would it have been possible?]

[Who knows.]

[Perhaps our defeat was predetermined from the very beginning.]

“…Don’t fuck with me.”

Blood seeps from my chewed lips.

I want to tear apart these pathetic words right now. I want to go find that wimp Paulo and stab him in the belly.

[Faced with an opponent we cannot win against, we have despaired.]

The handwriting changed.

It’s elegant and flowing.

Arisa Eustetia.

[But, there was a way.]

Yet, this isn’t a record written on the spot.

It’s written in the style of reminiscing.

[A way not to lose to an opponent we cannot defeat.]

[A bit difficult, painful, and lonely perhaps, but.]

[Still, we must, no.]

[I had to do it that way.]

[Because I promised.]

[So, we decided to seal the Demon King.]

A promise?

Is she talking about some nonsense that doesn’t sound like the last words I said before I died? No. Arisa doesn’t refer to nonsense as a promise.

Shit… I came to the Forbidden Library to resolve my curiosity, but instead, my questions only multiply.

I muttered as I flipped through the pages.

And then.

“…Huh?”

I let out a dumb sound.

[It was a success.]

The end?

There’s no intermediate process?

I flipped the page back.

It was what I had seen. What comes after?

It says it was a success. One line ends.

I blinked my eyes and opened the book wider.

There are signs of pages being torn.

The care taken is so meticulous it’s almost invisible unless closely inspected.

“Uh, Lord Balamir.”

“Yes.”

“Is there anyone besides His Majesty the Emperor who can enter the Forbidden Library?”

Balamir, who had thought for a moment, replied quietly.

“Similar to the Lady Eliaernes Eustetia, only those who have achieved the feat of saving the lives of royalty or those who can elevate the Empire’s prestige can enter.”

“Do you attach observers like today every time?”

“Yes.”

“Then information will never be damaged or anything like that, right? Under any circumstances?”

“Correct. That is something even His Majesty the Emperor would not easily overlook.”

“Hmm… Okay. For now, I understand.”

I don’t trust blindly, but if even the Emperor is cautious about information being damaged… I must think that these records were like this before entering the Forbidden Library.

That means…

Arisa erased Kaloso’s information.

Arisa hid the sealing process.

I really want to slap someone right now.

Why are they hiding everything?

Trying to calm my boiling insides, I turned the last page.

The last page.

There were chaotic doodles.

Drawings, texts, symbols, magical formulas.

Nothing but random scribbles.

I know this.

When facing the jealousy of Ankanious, we created this language only we could understand to fool the creature’s eyes.

I blinked.

Mana settled in my eyes. I began to rotate it vigorously.

My eyelids felt heavy, and blood vessels burst.

I didn’t care and kept spinning. Tears streamed down my face. Thick and mingling with the blood.

Yet, I didn’t close my eyes.

When that ‘filter’ was completed…

*

The scenery changed.

A red sky. A dead land.

The kind of sky that looks like blood will pour out any moment, and a barren ground where no life can be found.

Gebihenum.

The Demon Realm is visible.

…An illusion? A dream?

I wiggled my fingers.

There was a sensation of movement.

I bit the tip of my tongue.

The taste of blood was sharp.

I opened my mouth and tried to speak.

The sound… did not come out.

This isn’t a dream. This is an illusion.

Illusion magic?

Balamir’s attack from behind?

No way.

There’s someone far stronger than Balamir standing right next to me, the Nameless Captain.

There’s no way he could cast such an advanced illusion magic on me.

Besides, Balamir is a Swordsman. There’s no way he could manage this level of illusion magic.

No, from the start… I…

To interpret the language we created…

The interpretation of language.

Illusion.

When that thought crossed my mind…

From a distance, flames erupted.

Not ordinary flames.

Pure white flames. So bright they could blind you, holy flames.

‘Holy Fire.’

As soon as I realized the true nature of that flame…

*

The scenery changed.

‘…This is one hell of a joke.’

A woman with white hair and white eyes appears. She is crying. She looks like she wouldn’t bleed even if stabbed.

She is sobbing hard.

Her eyes, which once sparkled like a beautiful daffodil, are now shedding tears.

Her elegant voice emits a sound that resembles a painful cry, with none of its usual grace.

Luna.

Luna Sacred Pranecia.

Beside her is a man with unkempt hair.

He wears three swords at his waist.

Originally, he should only have two.

A rugged sword and an unnecessarily flashy one.

Yet, there’s a third.

The sword I used.

The too-cool-for-school tone and mannerisms are nowhere to be found, replaced with swearing.

Even so, it seems he is trying to maintain his bravado, his eyes reddened from holding back tears.

Paulo.

Paulo Humble Prandis.

Next to him is a woman with pink hair.

Her hair is tied in a ponytail, and her pink eyes are so clear they are almost transparent.

Her hands are bandaged, soaked in blood that drips with a thud.

It wasn’t from fighting. She just clenched her fists so tightly that her skin tore.

She is crying.

With the same face that always smiled, with the face that seemed happier than anyone else.

She is crying bitterly.

Arisa.

Arisa Eustetia.

The three of them surround the holy fire.

In the center of the holy fire lies a corpse.

With short-cropped hair.

A face marred with a big scar.

Even with his eyes closed, his face exudes a dirty aura.

His stomach has a hole in it.

Though his entrails do not spill out. All of it rotted away and disappeared.

No blood flows either. All the blood inside him has evaporated.

Yet, this bastard…

Is laughing. He died with a smile.

Ronan.

Ronan Luzarack.

‘Ha, ha…’

This isn’t… a randomly made illusion or a dream.

This is. This scene, those guys’ faces…

A memory from the past.

That memory unfolds like an illusion.

Such a fucked-up prank.

Still, well…

Seeing that flower lady Luna sobbing, Paulo dropping his act, and Arisa’s serious face isn’t so bad.

In fact, it’s a little… fun.

It must be fun.

Otherwise, I might lose control of my emotions.

“…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Ronan. I didn’t want to… I really… didn’t want to burn your body, but… seeing your body come back to life… I thought… I would go insane… I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

I could hear Luna mumbling as she sat down.

“Ronan. Ronan Luzarack. You are… weaker than me. We made a bet. We agreed that whoever dies first is weaker. And, after 26 years since that promise was made, you died first. Damn it. You were always in front of me. You bought time for me, killed the most demons, and were the only human who inspired fear in the Demon Race. But you died before me. So, you are… weaker… than me…”

Paulo muttered like a lunatic.

Is he really losing it?

Towards the end, he really seemed to be going off the rails.

That aside, this bastard still believes that he’s stronger in this situation—

“You were stronger than me. Recently… it was hard to keep up with your movements.”

Oh…? So it’s only after I died that he realized that?

“That’s because that damn Ronan wimp burned his own life for that! Paulo, you idiot. You always praise him for being strong, so that loser… he thought he was really strong… and died!”

Oh? Look at this crazy woman?

“It’s… my fault. If only I had been a little stronger… if only I hadn’t been so foolish and had noticed a bit… faster, I…”

Uh, that’s incorrect.

No matter how strong Arisa was, she definitely wouldn’t have been able to block Kaloso’s final attack.

And why are they even arguing about who’s right or wrong? If that piece of shit Kaloso hadn’t made such a fuss, none of this would have happened.

They really are idiots.

While I chuckled at the suddenly started argument, Luna’s tears soaked the ground, Arisa’s blood mingled with the holy fire, and Paulo’s curses echoed serenely.

Despite that, my corpse continues to burn.

Limbs vanish, my body crumbles, and even the ashes are engulfed in the holy fire and disappear.

Seeing that made my stomach churn a bit.

But what can you do?

If my corpse remains, that hungry thing will devour it and become uncontrollably strong.

So it couldn’t be helped. I made a wise choice.

A bit later, the holy fire extinguished.

*

The scenery changed.

A pristine white snowfield spread out.

In the blizzard that erases everything, footsteps leave a mark. Looking up, cherry blossoms bloom there.

Arisa Eustetia.

I see her back.

Her signature ponytail is completely undone, her hair flows like a madwoman’s.

She walks across the snowfield.

In her arms are several weapons.

My weapons, the weapons with Arisa’s name inscribed on them.

From behind, she looks like a porcupine.

Did I walk around like that?

Would I have looked like a porcupine to others?

I chuckled, trying to calm my boiling emotions with such silly thoughts.

Yet, my feelings didn’t settle easily.

Arisa keeps walking.

Weapons drop, she stumbles, and though she looks precarious, she doesn’t stop.

Then, for a moment, Arisa collapsed.

Instinctively, my steps moved forward.

*

The scenery changed again.

The Empire. The Empire, which was on the brink of collapse due to the Demon Race’s invasion, is being rebuilt.

Arisa walks through the streets of that empire.

She’s not bare-bodied. She carries the weapons she had brought along earlier.

Waddling like a porcupine, she walks.

Her steps lead her south.

The place where the ground is lowest, where the sewage collects.

At the end of that place.

Towards a heavy iron gate, Arisa walks in.

*

The scenery changed.

Somewhere underground.

A vast cavern.

Looking at Arisa, it seems quite a bit of time has passed. How long has she walked? If even Arisa looks this exhausted, she must have walked quite a long while.

Standing at the center of the cavern, Arisa begins to plant the weapons she brought one by one into the ground.

Then, she picks up a big rock she must have found somewhere and starts breaking it with her fists.

Thud, thud, thud.

A strong vibration that shakes the ground resonates.

One hour, two hours, three hours pass.

Five hours later, the rock has turned into a gravestone.

This stone doesn’t seem like an ordinary stone.

Blood flows from Arisa’s fists that have burst the skin of the Demons.

Despite that, Arisa doesn’t mind and carves letters into the stone.

The sight of her digging in with her fingers looks ridiculous and funny, but it’s tragic.

Despite her nails breaking and her skin peeling off, she stubbornly engraves the letters.

The engraved letters are simple.

Ronan Luzarack.

My name is written on the gravestone.

Surrounding it are my weapons.

Arisa is making my grave.

A grave with no corpse.

No grass, no sunlight, nothing.

A grave that smells rotten, dark, and damp.

A very miserable grave, yet I find it somewhat pleasant.

I like it, but oddly enough, it’s suffocating.

As if someone is choking me.

Is it the smell of sewage?

That must be it.

Because of the sewage smell, breathing becomes unbearable.

I forced a grin through trembling lips.

While doing that, Arisa completed the grave.

As I watched, she smiled while writing on the gravestone with my name.

In the Golden Palace I saw.

For the first time, I smiled.

But that smile didn’t bring satisfaction.

Is it because the wounds on my fists hurt?

Because it smells vile? Because it’s dark? Because there are rats?

Because those bugs I despised so much are wriggling everywhere?

The laughter tastes bitter, suffocating, and heartbreaking.

“Ronan.”

A clear voice echoed through the cavern.

“Ronan. Ronan. Ronan Luzarack.”

Arisa, with her tattered hands writing on the gravestone, placed the junk she had packed in her arms in front of the gravestone.

Elixirs, potions, unknown books.

A-Space Pocket, gold coins, magical stones, jewels.

Red shards, leaves, twigs.

Cherry blossoms.

After placing everything down, Arisa took a moment to steady her breath.

Then she turned around.

She looked straight at the direction where I am.

Can… Can she see me?

That can’t be right.

It must just be a coincidence.

It should be.

It must be.

That crazy woman… she’s laughing.

“Ronan.”

She speaks with a smile.

“I really miss you.”

I, I…

I, just like Arisa, smiled and said.

“You crazy woman. Stop saying creepy things.”

At the same time.

“…Hehe. You shouldn’t say bad things with such a cute face.”

“…What?”

“Still… yeah. As expected, Ronan is Ronan.”

Transparent droplets fell from Arisa’s eyes.

“I’m just glad that you’re still the Ronan I know…”

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