Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 15

Chapter 15
“I’ll end it here!” Leon declared, being the first to go on the offensive. Using the momentum of his all-out charge, he spun his entire body like a top and swung down.
This was one of the strongest, most powerful final strikes despite being part of the fundamental techniques.
Some schools praised this clean vertical as the “Slash of Wrath.” Even a novice could instinctively pull it off, and its raw power and speed were among the strongest there were.
And Leon was no novice. With momentum behind him, this strike would shatter any sloppy defense—blade and all.
However, Lyon scoffed. With a pale face, sweat-soaked body, and bloodless lips, he still managed a smile. It wasn’t bravado. It was a certainty.
I’ve won, Leon,
Lyon thought.
He had known, somehow, deep down, that even with Blinkstep, defeating Leon wouldn’t be easy. Leon would endure to the end and find a chance to counter. If he wanted to completely crush Leon, he would need a strike greater than anything he’d done—or something that could even overcome Leon’s final counter.
It was already too late for the former. His secret technique came with tremendous recoil, and in his exhausted state without Aura, he couldn’t use it. So, he had been gradually preparing for this moment—Leon’s counter—throughout the course of their duel.
Blinkstep had already exceeded its limits. His overworked blood vessels began to rupture, and his muscles tore strand by strand, swallowing him in waves of pain. His body expelled the rapidly burned energy in the form of heat and steam from his pores.
He had hit a literal limit. What lay beyond was the realm of the impossible. To step past it was to risk total collapse.
Lyon crossed it without hesitation, thinking,
If I’m truly a hero, then this much...
He should be able to overcome it, again and again. The weight of his duty on his back and the talent running through his blood exploded against his first real equal.
Until now, there had never been a reason to push past his limit. He had never wanted to win this badly. That feeling, that will, pulled his body through the brink.
He bent backward with limit-breaking Blinkstep. Leon’s blade narrowly missed and sliced the air, leaving himself completely open. When a finishing move failed, it turned on its user.
Lyon’s blade shot forward like a flash, aiming for that instant of vulnerability. It was
his
finishing blow.
Then, a sharp
clang!
rang out as shards of a blade scattered.
After more than a hundred clashes, one of the blades—its durability at its end—had snapped under the final strike, but only one of them. The one that remained was aimed at the other’s throat.
In that moment, the winner and loser were clearly decided.
“Why...?” Lyon muttered as he stared blankly at the blade tip.
In contrast, Leon’s gaze was sharp and resolute.
“I win, Lyon,” he said.
It was simple. Just as Lyon had believed in himself, Leon had also believed in Lyon. He figured Lyon would have one last card to play—that he’d strike back at the very end. So Leon had prepared his own.
El-Cid commented, —Looks like all that training until your palms bled paid off, huh?
Leon glanced down at his palm, nodded, and thought,
Yeah.
It was a technique he had practiced over and over for the past few days—a variation inspired by Elmont’s Crescent Stab, one that disrupted timing between upper and lower body movements. Leon had used it to counter Lyon’s final move perfectly, though he hadn’t expected Lyon’s blade to break so cleanly.
Now that I think about it, this ended just like last time,
Leon thought.
Only the roles had reversed. A sword was broken, and victory came with a blade to the neck. Leon couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of reflection.
Gilbert stepped into the ring to announce the outcome.
“Victory goes to Leon.”
It was the end of a rivalry that had lasted for years. After countless defeats, loss after loss, Leon had finally won.
I lost, huh...?
Lyon dropped his head, his expression unreadable.
It was the first time. The first time he had lost to someone his own age. The first time he had truly wanted to win, and the first time that desire had been crushed.
Blaming the fact that he hadn’t used Aura would be a meaningless excuse. This was a duel he had accepted and fought wholeheartedly. The result said everything. And the sting of defeat—one he’d never felt before—sank into his voice.
“What would you like, Leon?” Lyon asked.
Leon gave a dry smile at the uncharacteristic tone and replied, “I don’t know.”
He knew exactly why Lyon sounded that way.
Losing was painful even for ordinary people—how much more for a genius like Lyon? And to lose to someone he’d never once lost to before, someone without even using Aura? It was a bitter pill to swallow.
Anyone would feel broken once in their life. It was just that Lyon had been so exceptional that his first real defeat had simply come late. The disappointment he felt now must have been overwhelming.
El-Cid chimed in, —Still, once he overcomes it, he’ll be even stronger.
Damn these nasty geniuses
, Leon thought.
El-Cid was right. Just as the earth hardened after the rain, failure was often a necessary growing pain for geniuses. Leon could fail a hundred times and still stay in the same place, but Lyon wouldn’t. If he could turn this loss into nourishment, he would be a completely different opponent in just a few days.
Leon added, “I’ll save it for later.”
“Sorry?”
“I don’t have anything I want right now. If I think of something, I’ll let you know then. That alright with you?”
Lyon hesitated at the unexpected answer, but Leon just took that as consent and turned to go.
Leaving Gilbert and Lyon behind, he quickly walked out, but the moment he stepped outside the annex, his pace slowed, and soon he staggered to the wall, leaning heavily against it.
Ugh... maybe I should’ve just collapsed there.
It was pride—he didn’t want to show weakness in front of Lyon.
Unlike Lyon, who was only exhausted, Leon’s body was a complete wreck. There were no deep wounds, but so many minor injuries had piled up that he’d lost a lot of blood. If he let go of the tension of battle right now, he would surely collapse and pass out on the spot.
Then, a voice came.
“Light of healing, grant rest to the wounded.”
A gentle glow surrounded Leon. Shallow cuts closed, and the bleeding stopped. A faint vitality returned to his body, and the fog in his vision began to clear. Realizing that it was a fourth-tier healing spell, Leon turned around, already knowing who it was.
“Of course, it’s you, Chloe,” he said.
“Yeah.”
Chloe, the spectator, smiled softly as she kept casting. Her healing magic wasn’t as efficient as divine techniques focused solely on restoration or blessing, but for injuries like these, it was more than enough. In just under a minute, she had closed most of his wounds.
“Looking at you, I can’t even tell who won. You used to just scratch your hands a little but look at you now. You’re practically a pulp.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t have won if I hadn’t gone this far.”
“So what if you’d lost some duel? You and Lyon, I just don’t get you two.”
She muttered under her breath as she laid her hand on his last wound—his right shoulder, where Lyon’s thrust had grazed him. The torn flesh knitted back together, and a sharp sting ran through him like static.
“You’ve gotten really strong, Leon.”
Leon said nothing, unable to think of a reply, but Chloe didn’t wait for one. It was as if she had read his heart.
“You’re leaving the Academy, aren’t you?” she asked.
Startled, Leon looked back at her and asked, “How did you know?”
“You think I don’t know you? Seriously, you idiot.”
“I figured you’d try to stop me.”
“As if that’d change your mind. You’re just saying that.”
She wasn’t wrong. When Leon scratched his head awkwardly and looked away, Chloe gave a small laugh and continued.
“You’ve always been like this. Taking on stuff everyone else says you can’t do, and in the end, you always pull it off. Took a while this time, though.”
“I thought I was pretty quick, considering the difficulty this time.”
“You were late. Really late,” she said and gave him a playful smack on the back.
Leon staggered for a second, then started laughing for a reason even he didn’t quite understand. Chloe chuckled too as if it were contagious.
It felt like they were kids again.
“That so?” Leon said.
“Yeah.”
“Really late?”
“Yeah.”
And so the two of them kept exchanging words. Like exchanging letters buried under three years of dust, they shared a conversation only the two of them could understand.
Leon said without hesitation, “I’m all good here. Go give Lyon a smack on the head for me.”
“I thought you were going to do it.”
“Beat him up in front of his girlfriend? That would be kind of sad.”
“What?
Hahaha
!”
Chloe burst into laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. Who would’ve thought Leon of all people would crack a joke like that?
Maybe it was because he finally felt lighter after beating Lyon. Whatever the reason, she was glad to see it.
“Well then, I’ll be off,” Leon said.
The rain had stopped at some point. Stars glittered across the night sky, pouring through the cracks between the clouds. Leon looked up at the view as he said his goodbye.
Chloe, watching his retreating back, called out to him, “Leon, what do you plan to do after leaving the Academy?”
“That’s a secret. For now.”
He didn’t turn around, only raised a hand over his shoulder. He couldn’t tell even her. Not yet. If he said it now, it would only sound like a joke.
After all, there was only one thing a Hero was meant to do—just as Holy King Rodrick, and every Hero before him, had done.
I’m going to save the world.
As if in response, the mark on the back of his left hand shimmered. This was only the beginning.
***
Chloe remained there until Leon disappeared from sight. The fingers that had touched him still burned.
Blood.
His blood had soaked her nails from one of his wounds. Even after wiping it off with a handkerchief, the warmth lingered. He was like an unquenchable fire—a man who had finally claimed victory after years of relentless effort.
She had always been drawn to that fire since they were kids. Studying despite the boredom, enrolling in the Academy—everything had been her way of chasing after him.
I knew it all along.
When had it started? When had the heat in his gaze begun to fluster her? When had it become so hard to meet his eyes?
She hadn’t understood it at first. They’d been close for so long, change felt frightening. Maybe his affection overwhelmed her. Leon had always been like fire. Once he made up his mind, he would push forward without ever giving up.
Maybe she had sensed a difference in the depth of feeling. She didn’t think she could match how deeply he cared.
So, she chose someone else. Someone easier. Someone she could be with comfortably.
Leon, I won’t regret my choice.
Clasping both hands together, Chloe looked up into the night sky and into a universe that stretched before her, too vast for anyone to comprehend, a darkness filled with starlight.
A mage did not worship gods, but she also did not deny their existence either—and sometimes, she sent up prayers even magic couldn’t reach.
Goddess, please...
If one day Leon becomes the most remarkable man of all and makes her regret the choice she made that day, let someone truly worthy stand by his side. Let him find joy so much greater than the pain she gave him.
With all her heart, Chloe wished for his future.