Blood from Subaru's head wounds seeped into his eyes. He raggedly wiped at
them to clear his red-tinged vision.
He'd already lost count of how many times he'd been knocked to the ground.
His left eye was already swollen shut; he tasted too much blood to tell if it was
just his lip, or if the inside of his mouth was cut, too.
He didn't really feel the pain.
He wasn't sure if the aching had become so great that he had grown numb or
if it was the adrenaline soaking his brain. It was probably a number of things.
But what was driving the pain from Subaru's mind was pure anger.
The strength of Subaru's spirit, so deviant from the norm, earned him
exasperation from Julius, not praise. "How about you finally acknowledge your
own limitations?" His handsome face was still untouched by a single speck of
dust or a single drop of sweat as he calmly swayed the tip of the frayed wooden
sword he had used to beat Subaru to a pulp. He continued, "Surely by now you
are painfully aware of the difference between us, and how grievously you
insulted me by treating the word knight with such casual contempt?"
It was not an attempt to appeal to Subaru's heart, but to smash it to pieces.
Julius was only pounding on Subaru to show him what being a knight meant.
Subaru was only recklessly, stubbornly resisting the reality Julius was drilling
into him. There was no room for anything to grow between them. And nothing
did, no matter how long their confrontation continued.
Julius said to him, "I believe going any further may put your life in jeopardy."
"…Like this much is gonna kill someone. Don't talk about it like you know."
"You sound as if you have prior experience."
"I know more about it than any man in this world."
Since Subaru had set foot upon that land, he had perished a total of seven
times. There was no one in that whole, wide world that had faced death as
many times as Subaru.
People used words like hurts enough to die, mortified enough to die, enough
to die, enough to die, but he knew that people did not die of these things.
Shaking his cut, throbbing head, Subaru sluggishly lifted up his weapon,
raising his voice as well. The instant he brought Julius into range, the tip of his
wooden sword cried out as he raised it for a swing—
"There is no beauty in you."
A moment before Subaru was about to unleash a downward strike, a blow
struck his right wrist—his sword hand. The sharp smack sent his wooden sword
flying, and Subaru's eyes instinctively followed it. The next moment, he was
bowled over by another blow to the solar plexus.
His breath caught, and, unable to break the fall whatsoever, Subaru rolled
onto the ground, the earth and sky trading places about five times before he
ended up flat on his back, arms and legs spread wide. Subaru literally coughed
up blood.
The knights and guards were still gathered to watch Subaru's public whipping
at Julius's hands. But there were no cheers any longer.
Subaru was the villain who had belittled the very nature of knights at the
royal selection that would determine the kingdom's future. And so, Julius rose
to represent the Knights of the Royal Guard and rebuke him, making him taste
pain until he apologized—That was the scene they had come expecting to see.
Indeed, when it had begun, they cheered heartily in delight, or laughed in
mockery at Subaru's pathetic display, unreservedly supporting their comrade,
Julius. What had changed was that everyone now understood this was a
beating, and nothing more.
There was a vast, yawning chasm in ability between Julius and Subaru.
Unskilled in attack and wide-open in defense, the boy was knocked down over
and over.
At first, derisive laughter rang out each time he went down. The exasperated
sighs began when the number exceeded ten. By the time people had lost count,
everyone wanted to avert their eyes. Just end it already, they thought. Anyone
could see who had won and who had lost. They had learned all over again that
knights were superior. Beyond that, this was a meaningless dispute.
But Julius continued to beat Subaru and showed absolutely no sign of
relenting.
As referee, Ferris had the authority to stop the fight at any time, but made no
sign of stopping, regardless of how hurt or injured Subaru became.
And Subaru himself betrayed the knights' hopes, standing up again.
Everyone understood. This no longer held any meaning, any significance. It
was nothing more than a pathetic display of senseless stubbornness. Therefore,
in the end, it was the least they could do to watch Subaru be bullheaded to the
bitter end. They did not leave, because those who watched the spectacle unfold
had become part of it, and shared responsibility for it.
"—"
Subaru's quivering upper body sat up before the eyes of the knightly
onlookers. He picked up the waster that had fallen beside him, using it as a
crutch to prop himself up. He coughed violently, spewing a large volume of
blood.
The somber sight confirmed everyone's thoughts. As if by nature, they
understood—
The next exchange would be the final blow in this pointless dispute.