novelraw Chapter 139 : The Blade That Refuses to Rest
Chapter 139 : The Blade That Refuses to Rest
(Elara’s POV)
The clang of steel echoed across the academy’s training field — crisp, rhythmic, relentless.
The air was thick with mana, sweat, and the faint smell of ozone from the lightning wards I’d set around the perimeter.
“Again,” I said.
The student across from me, a young swordsman barely older than Riaz, nodded shakily and raised his blade.
His stance trembled.
Mine didn’t.
He lunged.
I parried, stepped forward, and disarmed him in a single motion.
His sword clattered to the ground.
“Again,” I repeated.
He hesitated. “Lady Elara, I—”
“Pick it up,” I said flatly. “The world won’t wait for you to be ready.”
He swallowed hard and obeyed.
By the time the sun dipped below the academy walls, I’d gone through seven students.
Most had left limping, a few crying, and one so drained of mana he had to be carried to the infirmary.
The instructors didn’t stop me.
They knew better.
I was no longer a student.
I was the academy’s prodigy — the next Valemont to bear the weight of a legend.
They whispered it with pride.
But every time I heard that name, it scraped against my heart like a blade against stone.
Because that same name reminded me of him.
I still remembered the sound.
The sound of wood breaking.
The sound of his body hitting the ground.
The sound of my mother screaming.
Four years had passed, but the memory of that day had never left me.
Rooga’s small body, limp.
The blood staining the dirt.
My father’s eyes, wide in disbelief.
My mother’s rage.
And me — standing there with a wooden sword, unable to understand how my love had turned into harm.
I used to see that moment in my dreams.
Now it haunted me when I was awake.
Every strike I threw now was against myself.
Every parry was a plea for forgiveness.
Every duel, every scar, every sleepless night was a promise — that I would never let myself lose control again.
If I couldn’t be the sister who nurtured him, then I would be the shield that stood in front of him.
Even if he never needed it.
Even if he never forgave me.
“Again,” I said to my exhausted partner, voice sharp enough to cut mana itself.
He collapsed mid-swing.
I stood there, chest heaving, watching him struggle to breathe.
A shadow passed over me — an instructor, old and calm, his eyes faintly glowing with appraisal magic.
“Elara Valemont,” he said quietly. “You’re not training them anymore. You’re punishing them.”
I turned to him, sweat streaking down my neck. “If they break here, they’ll die outside.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “And what about you?”
I didn’t answer.
That night, I sat alone by the window in my dormitory.
The moonlight poured across my desk, illuminating a sealed letter — one I hadn’t sent.
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Mother,
I know I said I would grow stronger, but sometimes I wonder if strength is still what I’m chasing.
I don’t know what Rooga’s doing now, but I can feel it — the world hums differently. Even here at the academy, the air feels alive.
He’s changing the world again, isn’t he?
And here I am, still stuck trying to atone for a mistake a nine-year-old me made.
I exhaled slowly and folded the letter away.
They didn’t need to see my weakness.
I returned to the training grounds just before dawn.
No one else was there — only the cold mist and the faint hum of mana still lingering in the air.
I drew my sword and whispered, “Valemont Style — Thousand Flow.”
Blue mana exploded outward.
The air split, the ground scarred, and light danced across the field like falling stars.
Each swing was perfect.
Each step, flawless.
But no matter how fast I moved, I couldn’t catch the peace he carried.
Somewhere far away, Rooga was making the world grow.
And here I was, stuck cutting through ghosts.
I lowered my sword, breath heavy, and whispered to the empty field,
“Little brother… when did you stop needing me?”
(Seris Revingale’s POV)
The academy dorms were alive with the usual chaos of holiday week — trunks slamming, students shouting goodbyes, and mana signatures flickering as teleportation sigils lit across the courtyards.
Everyone was eager to go home.
Everyone except me, apparently.
I’d been up since dawn, packing with the precision of someone on a mission. Every piece of clothing folded, every gift for the Valemonts wrapped neatly. Even my hair was braided properly for once.
This wasn’t a simple visit.
This was the visit.
The year before, I’d missed my chance to go because of my family’s endless “Revingale Summits.”
A waste of time.
Now, I wouldn’t lose another chance to see him.
Rooga.
Just thinking his name made my chest twist with something sharp and sweet.
I was halfway through double-checking my satchel when someone knocked on my door.
“Come in!” I said, tying the strap tight.
The door opened, and Edmond stepped in. His uniform was half-buttoned, his expression unreadable — as usual.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I shot him a look. “What does it look like I’m doing? Packing.”
“For what?”
“Going back to the Valemonts,” I said, slinging the satchel over my shoulder. “And why are you standing around? Shouldn’t you be getting ready too?”
He didn’t move. “You know she’s not going back.”
I blinked. “Who?”
“Elara.”
For a second, the room was quiet.
Then my hand froze on the strap.
“…What?”
Edmond sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She told the headmaster this morning. She’s staying to train the new students. She wants to focus on swordsmanship.”
I turned slowly, my voice flat. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
The heat crawled up my throat, sharp and uncontrollable.
“I didn’t know you wanted to try being a clown, your highness,” I said, my tone like a blade. “But that wasn’t funny.”
“I’m serious, Seris.”
“Then you’re lying,” I snapped. “You have to be lying.”
He frowned. “Why would I lie to you? You’re valuable to Asterion — you’re practically its future noble ace. The last thing I want is to be on your bad side.”
The satchel slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
Elara… wasn’t coming home.
Not this year.
The words echoed over and over, each one colder than the last.
Edmond started to say something else, but I didn’t hear it.
The rush of blood in my ears drowned him out.
I turned and bolted.
“Seris—!”
His voice faded behind me as I tore through the corridor, skirts flying, boots striking stone like thunder.
I ran past students laughing, past the guards preparing carriages, past the academy gates and into the courtyard where the sword pavilions stood.
My breath came ragged, but my mind screamed louder than my lungs.
Last year, I’d spent months begging my family to let me travel — and I’d lost that fight.
I’d spent this year counting the days, replaying every word, every memory, every smile.
Telling myself: Just wait. You’ll see him again. You’ll see him soon.
And now Elara wasn’t going back.
Which meant he wouldn’t know I was coming.
Which meant I might not see him at all.
Which meant I’d have to wait another entire year—
No.
No, I wasn’t waiting.
I rounded the last corner, nearly colliding with a few trainees.
One of them tried to call after me, but I didn’t stop.
“Elara!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the open training yard.
I could already feel the frustration boiling, the anger and ache all twisting together.
Last year, my family stole my chance.
This year, Elara was stealing it.
Didn’t she understand?
Didn’t anyone understand what it was like to need to see him?
I didn’t even realize I was crying until the cold wind hit my face.
It wasn’t fair.
She had everything — his family’s love, his trust, even his forgiveness.
And she still chose not to go home.
“I’ve waited long enough,” I whispered, breath trembling.
Elara’s voice echoed in my memory — calm, older, always a step ahead.
But I was done being the one left behind.
If she wouldn’t go home to him…
then I would.
Even if no one asked me to.
Even if no one wanted me there.
Because waiting wasn’t love.
Running toward him was.