Drip.
Driiip.
Isaac heard the sound of droplets falling.
It didn’t take long to realize that the droplets running down his arm and hitting the ground were actually blood.
Before he knew it, the floor was drenched, and so many corpses were piled up that you could hardly see the pools of blood beneath them.
“Haah, haah.”
Each ragged breath felt like it was squeezing his lungs.
His grip on the sword had weakened; it clung stickily to his hand, sared with sweat and blood.
“M-Monster—.”
“He’s insane. Completely insane!”
“Do you even know how many you’ve killed?!”
Their desperate cries made Isaac slowly lift his gaze.
“Ah….”
By then,
Dawn had passed, and the day was growing bright.
What had been dark, viscous pools of crimson in the night now shone under the morning light, like a curtain being drawn back, reminding everyone not to forget the atrocities that took place overnight.
Those who had been drugged, as daylight broke, now backed away as if they were the victims.
“T-This isn’t right! It’s not supposed to be like this!”
“We only did what we had to, to survive. Should we really have to die just because we got high?”
“It’s unfair! So unfair!”
Splash.
Isaac took a step forward.
As the tip of his sword cut through the puddle of blood, a rippling sound spread out.
Amid his ragged breaths, Isaac spoke in a faint, exhausted voice.
“Baron Bolten, who was involved in the attempted assassination of Princess Adeline, was executed on the spot for treason.”
He had the right to say this, having co all this way by order of Princess Adeline herself.
“All of you who supported Baron Bolten and opposed have also committed treason.”
“W-Wait, we only—”
“We only wanted… the drug.”
Maybe the sunlight cleared their minds a bit. While they mumbled incoherently, they kept a close watch on Isaac.
They had been too intoxicated to see beyond the mont, too consud by rage when their so-called paradise began to crumble.
As surely as one sobers up from any drug, they were now forced to reckon with their cris in the light of morning.
“…….”
Bloodstained and weary, Isaac fixed his gaze on them. His arms hung limp, his legs barely holding him upright. His body was covered in so many wounds that it would have been no surprise if he collapsed on the spot.
Yet sohow, that made his presence even more intimidating. In the end, the few remaining mad rioters dropped to their knees.
“S-S-Sir, please spare us.”
“We’re sorry, we’re sorry! We just lose our minds when we’re high—”
“It’s our fault. We know we were wrong. Please, just let us live.”
A mont ago, they had attacked with no regard for their own lives. But now that the drug’s madness and the stench of blood had faded, they were nothing but ordinary people again.
In so ways, it was the most painful sight for Isaac yet.
“…….”
Kneeling in the crimson puddle,
They bowed their heads toward him.
The madness was subdued, and Bolten was awash in blood.
Finally, at that very mont Isaac could no longer stand and collapsed—
Thump.
A hand caught him, and he rolled his eyes to see who it was.
“…I won’t say anything.”
That familiar touch, that familiar voice.
As if waiting for this, the Grandmaster pulled Isaac into her arms and whispered softly,
“First, rest.”
With those words,
Isaac slowly closed his eyes, bringing the long, grueling day to an end.
****
Isaac reopened his eyes around noon. Despite his exhaustion, he’d only managed a few hours of sleep.
“Where… is this—?”
He lay on a bed, in a room adorned with animal pelts, noble certificates, bows and arrows, and leather coats.
Just by looking around, he knew exactly whose room this was.
“Urgh.”
A pungent dicinal sll clung to his entire body, and the bandages wrapped so tightly around him made it hard to move.
Groaning, he struggled out of the room, only to run straight into a man carrying a damp towel.
“Baron Logan!”
“…?”
“A-Ah, I’m the caretaker of this mansion, forrly the secretary to the late Baron Bolten—”
The secretary was introducing himself, but Isaac barely registered his na, thrown off by the words “Baron Logan.” Well, no matter.
“Thanks to your valor, Baron Logan, the rebellion was put down swiftly. We owe you a great debt.”
The secretary bowed his head, watching Isaac warily, likely afraid that Baron Bolten’s cris might implicate him as well.
But Isaac had no ntal space left to consider such things.
‘If he’s guilty, he’ll just have to face punishnt.’
Given he hadn’t tried to run, perhaps he intended to confess everything to lighten his sentence.
Just as Baron Bolten never indulged in drugs, this secretary also seed uninvolved in that aspect.
“I need to send a letter to the royal palace.”
“Yes, of course! I’ll prepare paper, ink, and a pen right away. Since your hands are injured, shall I write it on your behalf—?”
“No. The princess will read it personally, so I’ll do it myself.”
“Understood, Baron Logan.”
The secretary bowed low, eager to be of help, and turned to leave. Isaac called after him urgently,
“Wait.”
“Yes? Was there sothing else?”
“…You were Baron Bolten’s closest confidant, weren’t you?”
“Y-Yes, that’s correct. I’ve already compiled all the records of the stored drugs, the ledgers, the outside distribution channels—”
“No.”
As if expecting a reprimand, the secretary flattened himself like a toad, spewing facts. But Isaac wanted to know sothing else.
“Milli Marceau’s family.”
Baron Bolten had claid to have found them.
“Take to them.”
****
By the ti they left the mansion, dense rain clouds had gathered over Bolten, unleashing a torrential downpour.
Oddly enough, despite the heavy rain, it was strangely quiet,
like it was washing the city clean.
“…This is a relief, isn’t it?”
Holding the umbrella the secretary had been carrying, the Grandmaster spoke quietly from behind Isaac.
“Right on cue, the rain ca to wash away the stench of blood. This city will be a little cleaner for it.”
“…….”
Isaac couldn’t answer.
They stood in a small park, empty of any people.
There was only one reason for its emptiness:
it wasn’t a park for the living.
In front of Isaac was a large headstone.
Following the nas etched there, he found the ones he had searched so hard to locate:
Marten Marceau.
John Marceau.
Malinnea Marceau.
“Apparently, these are the graves of those whose identities have been confird,”
Looking up at the tombstone, Isaac spoke calmly.
“It wasn’t a revolution. They were just swept away by the violence that followed.”
He didn’t know exactly what that violence might have been.
In Bolten, violence was practically an everyday occurrence.
Isaac bowed his head. If he kept looking up, tears would surely spill down his cheeks.
“I know it was just for my own peace of mind.”
“…….”
“I only wanted Milli to be able to rest a little more comfortably.”
His eyes brimd with tears, threatening to fall at any mont.
His battered body was giving out, and his heart felt more worn down with every passing minute.
“In the end… this is all I could do.”
Even after returning to this ti, he’d done little more than struggle to protect his own skin.
Why?
Why would soone like him be sent back at all?
Tears stread down his cheeks.
It hadn’t even been a full day since he’d taken so many lives.
Now he felt hypocritical, mourning the death of his friend’s family.
It was worse now that he’d had a chance—
and still failed to save them—
than never having had a chance at all.
It was crushing him even more…
“Don’t fall apart.”
A pair of arms wrapped gently around Isaac from behind—
It was the Grandmaster.
“If you collapse here, how will you ever face your friend again?”
His legs felt like jelly. Had the Grandmaster not been there, he would have sunk to his knees on the spot.
“Is it difficult?”
Her tone was soft, reminiscent of old tis. Eyes filling with tears, Isaac nodded involuntarily.
“It’s hard. I can’t forgive myself.”
“So it would be.”
“I just… wanted to do at least this much for that child.”
“I understand.”
“The guilt—”
“In that case.”
She stood behind him, unseen, but her voice carried the hint of a gentle smile.
“Follow again, as you did when you first learned the sword under .”
“…!”
Isaac’s eyes went wide. Strength returned to his trembling legs, and he slowly let go of her hand.
Turning around, he saw the Grandmaster wearing a bittersweet smile.
“I’ll trust your words. My disciple from the future.”
“But why—?”
“Because I have to teach you.”
Her hand tightened around the umbrella. She, too, was struggling to hold back her emotions.
“All of my fellow disciples… are dead.”
“……!”
“I didn’t want to believe it, so I treated you like a liar. For that, I apologize.”
“Grandmaster...…”
“I’m sure that, looking upon , my fellow disciples would have felt the sa sorrow. It’s only right to let those who have passed on… truly go.”
She had helped her Patreons, cooperated with Princess Clarice, all for one simple reason:
to find any surviving disciples.
She kept Isaac close because, for her, he was proof that sowhere, at least one of them might still live.
“But I’ve moved on.”
Now,
the Grandmaster had decided to accept it all.
She opened her eyes—having closed them for a mont—and t Isaac’s gaze.
“A teacher is soone who imparts lessons.”
Her hand rested gently on Isaac’s head, as if offering him support.
“Child, I am letting go of the past and choosing to live in the present.”
“……!”
“If it’s too difficult, watch and learn. I will live a life that my old friends wouldn’t be ashad of.”
She wanted Isaac to let go of Milli.
In turn, she was letting go of her own lost disciples.
Ultimately, it was her way of accepting Isaac’s return from the future.
“You too… must learn how to let go.”
His head dropped forward.
“Always—”
His voice, a mix of emptiness and tears, sounded almost like a child’s complaint.
“You always teach .”
“That’s what a teacher does.”
The Grandmaster offered a slight smile.
“I have so many questions about what becos of in the future, but it seems we have more pressing matters right now.”
She wiped away Isaac’s tears, mindful of his injured arm.
Isaac, accepting her kindness, took a mont to steady his breathing before he nodded.
“You’re right. In fact, you could say we failed our mission.”
Originally, they’d co here to deal with the Bellingwaltz rcenary Corps, who’d made a direct attempt on Princess Adeline’s life.
But they had failed, and so—
“Ah! There they are!”
A bright, energetic voice rang out through the downpour.
Even amid the dreary gray cityscape, a girl with striking red hair ca running, waving her hand.
“Isaac!”
Behind that cheerful smile—
“Oof!?”
“P-Please, a little more gently!”
—was the Bellingwaltz rcenary Corps, tied up in ropes and dragged along by Sharen with rough, unyielding force.
– – The End of The Chapter – –
[TL: I really like this chapter. It shows that he is experiencing very complex emotional turmoil after killing so many people. To , it doesn’t seem like it’s just because of the Milli family that he is this broken.
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