"Hey, Issei."
"'Sup, Wright."
The greeting we exchanged was the same as always—simple, unchanging, as if no time had passed at all.
He looked exactly as he did in my memories: the same handsome features, the same chestnut hair, and a body honed through rigorous training. His eyes, his expressions—everything about him was the Wright I knew.
Wright pulled a wooden practice sword from thin air and tossed it toward me. I caught it mid-flight, my eyes drifting to his right hand. He was already gripping a matching one.
He leveled the tip of his blade at me, a familiar smirk playing on his lips.
"Go a round with me, Issei."
Without waiting for an answer, he kicked off the ground with explosive force and lunged.
A short while passed.
Our wooden swords clashed again and again, but not a single word passed between us. The only sounds in the clearing were the whistling wind, the rustle of grass, the dry thwack of wood on wood, and the steady rhythm of our breathing.
I swung my blade down in a heavy overhead strike. Wright manipulated his sword with fluid grace, trying to entwine my blade and strip it from my grip. Reacting instinctively, I twisted my wrist to shift the flow of power, neutralizing his parry.
Predicting my move, Wright thrust forward with a sharp, piercing jab. I ducked, feeling the air whistle as the tip grazed the very ends of my bangs.
In a split-second counter, I batted his blade aside, using the momentum to transition into a spinning slash. It was a heavy blow. Wright caught the strike on the flat of his blade, but the sheer weight of the impact seemed to exceed his expectations. His stance crumbled.
—Got him.
It was a tiny opening, but we both knew all too well that a single opening was all it took to be fatal.
The moment his balance wavered, I unleashed a sharp strike toward his shoulder. If this were a real blade, I would have cleaved him open from shoulder to flank. Since it was wood, he'd walk away with nothing more than a nasty bruise.
The instant I was certain my "edge" would reach him—
Wright caught the length of my wooden sword with the pommel of his own hilt, redirecting my momentum and shoving me back.
Always so technical. I might not be on Old Man Maurice's level yet, but when it came to pure swordsmanship, Wright still had the edge on me.
My sword was knocked wide, and this time, it was my balance that broke. My upper body recoiled, my center of gravity falling too far back.
Capitalizing instantly, Wright regained his stance, shifted his sword to his left hand, and let fly a horizontal sweep.
I won't make it. Judging that a block was impossible, I executed a desperate backstep, putting distance between us to reset my center of gravity.
The constant clatter of wood died away. Silence reclaimed the meadow. We both stood frozen, the frantic movement of a moment ago replaced by total stillness.
Our blades were locked in a stalemate—my sword was leveled at Wright's throat, and his was pressed against mine. A perfect draw.
Wright looked at the tip of the sword inches from his neck and chuckled.
"You've gotten strong. There's still a bit of roughness here and there, but you're refined. You must have gone through hellish training to get this far, huh?"
"Yeah. Old Man Maurice and my Master put me through the wringer. There were plenty of times I thought I was actually going to die."
"Hahaha! Maurice's training is legendary for being a nightmare. Sounds like your Master didn't go easy on you either. Well, I'd say it paid off. It made you the man you are now."
He wasn't wrong. I only made it this far because I survived training that forced me to stare death in the face every single day.
I lowered my sword and spoke from the heart.
"I owe it to you, Wright. I always looked up to you. I always wanted to be just like you."
Wright gave a wry, embarrassed smile as he lowered his own weapon.
"Hey, don't go saying stuff like that out of nowhere. It's embarrassing."
"But it's the truth. Besides, I had that promise to keep."
Back then... when Wright was run through by that demonic blade, he entrusted me with everything. 'I'm counting on you to look after everyone.' That single sentence had become the core that supported me through everything.
Wright let out a soft laugh, vanished his sword, and sat down in the grass. He turned his back to me, gazing out at the view in the distance—the castle town of Audelia.
No wonder this place felt familiar. This was Wright's favorite spot, the one he had shown me long ago.
"Well," Wright said. "Take a load off."
"Sure."
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