Love Letter From The Future

The middle-aged man's complexion held no sway over me.

With each deliberate step I took, he struggled, futilely attempting to drag his body backward.

But he couldn't outpace me.

Setting the hatchet down with a resounding thud, I crouched to meet his gaze eye to eye.

The fear in his eyes intensified, perhaps due to the realization that the stone floor beneath the hatchet could easily become a weapon.

“So, answer quickly while I'm still a pacifist... yeah? To whom did you sell these people?”

"Y-Young Master... You must be mistaken...."

Now, a polite tone flowed from the middle-aged man's mouth, a stark contrast to his previous demeanor. He had finally grasped the fragile thread of reason.

His pretense had melted away, and was now replaced by genuine sincerity.

"I-I'm just a tool! I have no use for you even if you take me as a hostage! Right now, dozens of organization members are gathering here... Among them, won't there be anyone who can defeat you, Young Master?"

With a scoff, I suppressed my murmur as he pleaded with a trembling voice.

"N-Now... It's not too late. Let's discuss a solution together. I-I don't want to die!"

"You won't die."

With those words, I rose to my feet.

Footsteps echoed in the long corridor, signaling the approach of reinforcements.

It seemed that any commotion in the reception room triggered an alert, spreading the news swiftly. Yet, the security measures were lacking, typical of a mere gang.

Was there truly someone capable of defeating me?

Even if they underestimated me, I was still a senior in the academy. These thugs, and even the former mercenaries I had just faced, were no match for my skills.

Even if I considered their numbers.

It was an intriguing situation.

I flashed a faint smile at the middle-aged man, offering reassurance.

"...Until I'm dead."

The middle-aged man flinched, his sobs resuming once more.

His ability to move freely would be severely limited for some time. With a nonchalant swing, I pushed open the door of the reception room and strode out.

In the distance, through the length of the corridor, a horde of thugs armed with an array of weapons were approaching.

It seemed like today's cleanup operation would take a bit longer.

****

Blood splattered with each swift stroke of my hatchet, painting vibrant hues on the colorless stone corridor occasionally adorned with traces of gold.

Severed body parts, flesh-toned and crimson, littered the ground.

I didn't kill them.

Of course, some of the weaker ones may have succumbed to excessive bleeding, but I tried to spare them as much as I could.

They were surely hiding some secret.

Even though they were facing a noble, they were still rushing at me as if they wanted to kill me. Even if they died, no one would say anything about it. However, I still didn't have any intention to kill them.

After all, they were only spies and informants, the faceless bottom-feeders of society.

The extent of their involvement in criminal activities remained uncertain, so I wanted to preserve as many lives as possible.

However, I had no intention of saving them, even if it meant sacrificing their own.

Driven by a reckless abandon of fear, they charged at me with bloodshot eyes.

Their numbers, restricted by the narrow confines of the corridor, was a limitation I was exploiting to its fullest.

A deep sigh escaped me as I adjusted my stance, my hand moving with lightning speed.

The hatchet met its mark on the abdomen of one assailant, aiming for impact rather than lethality, though the metallic force coupled with the added momentum ensured a torrent of blood. As his body doubled over, another attempted to parry with his own hatchet.

Oh, someone who was using the same weapon as me.

Certainly, their feeble attempt reminded me of my senior, Olmar, whom I faced in the hunting festival.

‘I wonder if he is doing well.’

With such irrelevant thoughts, I delivered a swift kick to the newcomer's solar plexus, leaving him gasping for air beside his fallen comrade.

In that brief gap, I once again seized the twirling hatchet, bringing it down on his shoulder, causing the man to collapse and opening the way for the next assailant.

And the relentless onslaught continued.

Clearly, the caliber of those charging at me was rising.

Initially, none of them could deflect my hatchet, but now, someone had managed to parry it up to the second strike that followed the principles of movement within stillness.

Still, they were not yet worthy to be my opponents.

Evading the sword strikes of a woman wielding a dagger, I twisted my body and swung my hatchet, severing her arm from her shoulder.

"Keuh… keuaccck!"

Her scream echoed as her body writhed on the ground.

I had seen countless scenes like this until now, so I no longer found it exciting.

This woman appeared slightly stronger, and she could even use magic. Mentally calculating, I ensured her survival by controlling the bleeding.

With each step I took, the floor became a canvas of blood.

As I firmly treaded on the fallen thugs like a carpet, their groans resonated beneath my feet. It wasn't a particularly pleasant sensation.

If there were artisans making such carpets, they would surely starve to death.

Yet, as the architect of this tragedy, it was undeniably sad.

At the end of this path of blood, groans, and pain stood a man, resembling a ghost.

He seemed to be a swordsman, and was wearing a shabby overcoat.

The long sword hanging from his waist caught my attention. It was a weapon that required a fundamental physical strength to wield.

Finally, a somewhat worthy opponent appeared.

To steady myself, drenched in my opponent’s blood, I wiped my face with my sleeves and spat out the blood that had pooled between my lips.

The smell of blood was overpowering.

"...I believed our relations with the Percus family were good."

"Today, that bond is severed," I declared, meeting the man's piercing gaze.

"I once met your younger sister, Young Master. She was a beautiful lady."

"Her only shortcoming is that she adores her brother too much… But, of course, I have no intention of giving her to someone like you."

I offered a faint smile, adjusting my labored breath. The man's expression hardened at my relaxed demeanor.

"...Some truths are better left unspoken."

"I may have come too far to heed such warnings. Haven't you heard the rumors about me?"

"I have heard about you, of course. You’re quite impressive. However, I, too, was once an academy student."

I furrowed my brow at this unexpected revelation.

Observing my reaction, the man let out a bitter laugh.

"I couldn't surpass the constraints of commoners... In the disdain and disregard of the nobility, I withered away. In the end, without even graduating from the academy, I fled from the academy, living now in the depths of a lower-class existence."

"Well… just getting into the academy doesn’t guarantee your success, you know."

My tone became somewhat polite as I realized that the man was my senior at one point.

The hierarchy within the academy was strict.

Despite my attempt at consoling him, the man clenched his teeth, his resentment still smoldering.

“That’s why I envy and, at the same time, despise you. Perhaps I could have been an audience in that position, or at least been close to it, or witnessed history being made."

I scratched my head with a sigh, feeling way out of my depth in such conversations.

It was unfamiliar for someone else to seize control of the atmosphere unexpectedly.

All I could do was offer what little comfort I could muster.

"...How about witnessing it firsthand?"

"It’s impressive, but..."

With a sharp, resonant sound, the sword was drawn, a sharp intent flowing through its keen edge revealing the meticulous care that had gone into its maintenance.

He was a formidable opponent compared to those I faced thus far.

It was only natural for a former academy student to possess such skill.

"There are lessons one can't learn within the confines of the academy walls. Allow me to show you the swordsmanship I honed at the bottom of life. Now, face me..."

Hearing this, I couldn't help but display a troubled expression.

With a sigh, I spoke to him.

"Um, I don't know what circumstances led to this, but... were you expelled from the academy?"

There were individuals who were worshiped for their brilliant talent, only to confront the miserable reality after being compared to true geniuses.

Well, most freshmen at the academy were like that.

Wasn't I once in that position, too?

I was in the mid to lower ranks at best. And even that was achieved through desperate training.

It took me a considerable time to accept that despite my efforts, there were limits.

"...It was the nobles' jealousy and envy."

"I see. If that’s the case..."

With a fluid motion, I sheathed my hatchet and drew my sword, a gesture of respect towards him.

Gratitude gleamed in his eyes, met with a wry smile from me as I adjusted my stance.

Then, silence enveloped us.

Though brief, the intensity of the moment returned, thickening the air.

In the intense gap of time…

With each stride, momentum surged to its peak.

I propelled forward, bridging the gap in an instant. The man, unfazed, moved his long sword with calculated precision.

My sword gleamed with a silver aura, cleaving through the air.

The long sword's trajectory remained steady, ready to intercept mine, with an azure aura now pulsating along its blade.

The man seemed lost in thought as his gaze deepened.

It seemed he was thinking about his next move.

But the next instant, a resounding crack shattered the calm.

His blade splintered into fragments, leaving him dumbfounded.

Unable to withstand my aura, his long sword crumbled entirely, my silver aura swiftly overpowering the azure.

My blade tore apart the space around his chest, blood spurting forth, yet the man still stood tall.

A disconnect lingered between the reality unfolding before him and his mind's attempt to comprehend it.

In a composed tone, I uttered a sentence.

"...Stop acting tough, you bastard."

The opponents I have faced so far might have been strong, but I had become incomparably stronger than before.

A dropout like him stood no chance against my blade.

Now, it was time to finally unearth the mastermind.

***

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