章節 28: "Aldric Would Be Proud, For Training His Child"[]~(￣▽￣)~*

JULIAN FELIS

Even though he had been hard on the boy, the results were undeniable. El Ritch wasn't just like him—he was better. The sequence Julian had taught him, a set of efficient but taxing moves, had been altered in ways Julian hadn't anticipated. El Ritch's version was more energy-efficient, looping seamlessly with minimal strain on the muscles.

Precision had been sacrificed in the process, the strikes missing vital points, but Julian wasn't concerned. In a battle of attrition, he thought, what matters is endurance, not perfection. And every battle is a battle of attrition.

The boy had nearly frozen to death in the process, but Julian shrugged off the thought. It was better than watching him get torn apart by beasts or humiliated by his peers during the Academy's brutal tournament. Survival came first, and El Ritch had proven he could survive.

Throughout the day, El Ritch practiced relentlessly in the ruins, his small figure moving tirelessly through the snow-dusted clearing. Each repetition of the sequence carried subtle modifications, the boy adjusting for efficiency in ways that surprised even Julian. Watching him work, Julian couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction—though he'd never admit it aloud.

"El Ritch!" Julian called out, clapping his hands loudly to break the boy's focus. The sharp sound echoed through the ruins, making El Ritch stop mid-strike.

"Enough with the brawns~!" Julian declared with exaggerated flair, grinning as he approached. "Now we need the brains."

El Ritch, as always, tilted his head, his curious, wide-eyed expression making him look more like a lost pup than an aspiring Hunter.

Julian crouched and began drawing in the snow with his finger, carving two circles—one within the other. He pointed to the smaller, inner circle. "This is the Hornet. The Academy. Where the tournament, or you could say the examination, will begin. From here, it will open straight into the forest of Hornet." He drew lines connecting the inner circle to the outer one. "This outer circle is the forest itself, where the real competition will take place."

El Ritch leaned closer, his face alight with curiosity, though Julian could see the familiar flicker of confusion in his eyes.

"There are eight parts to the exam," Julian continued, drawing a series of evenly spaced marks around the outer circle. "Divided into four sets. Which means—" He gestured for El Ritch to complete the thought.

"Two... parts for one set...?" El Ritch ventured, tilting his head slightly, his voice unsure.

Julian nodded, grinning. "Exactly."

He paused, letting the gravity of his next words settle before he spoke. "In these eight parts, it will be a manhunt. A culling of the weak."

El Ritch blinked, his expression shifting as he absorbed the meaning of Julian's words.

"Our Academy isn't like the Capital's or any of the others," Julian said, his tone serious now. "We don't teach the weak. The weak don't belong in the Hunt. This tournament isn't about giving everyone a chance—it's about survival. Aldric knew this, and still, he sent you." Julian paused, his voice softening. "You can go back, you know. Return to the witch. Learn witchcraft with ease. You don't have to do this."

He already knew the answer, of course. Although, he was a child, he had enough sense of shame and responsibility. El Ritch was curious and knew the difference between good and evil and also between right and wrong. Like every child, he was a hypocrite and would always go for the right thing even though it being evil.

El Ritch's sense of shame, responsibility, and curiosity wouldn't let him walk away. The boy was young, yes, but not naive. He understood the weight of words and actions, even if he didn't always grasp their consequences. Last night had proven as much. He would have frozen to death chasing a goal instead of prioritizing warmth and safety. He also had a sense of shame, as he came back to Julian's house's storage back when dawn broke out, without anyone noticing. Survival, shame, curiosity—those forces drove him as surely as instinct.

"Thank you for telling me all about that," El Ritch began, his voice steady, though his face betrayed a hint of nervousness.

Julian felt his lips twitch, fighting to suppress a smile. Handling emotions is rather tough, he thought, amused by the irony of it.

"But," El Ritch continued, his small shoulders straightening, "I will participate. I want to be with Doctor Adeline and Uncle Aldric—not as someone they have to lift up, but as someone who can stand beside them. As an equal."

Julian's grin widened despite himself. The lad really is something else, he thought. He stood, brushing snow from his hands. "Well, then," he said, his voice light but edged with approval. "Let's make sure you're ready to stand tall, El Ritch."

__________

El Ritch wandered into Julian's room, his eyes flickering across the sparse furnishings as though trying to piece together the chief's life through its belongings. It was his second time here, yet he still seemed unsure of his place, just like the chief. His lips parted as if to speak, but the words faltered.

"Can I… never mind," El Ritch muttered, shaking his head.

Julian didn't look up from the stack of parchments he was rifling through. "No, no, do say what ravels through the young mind," he encouraged, his tone light, though his attention remained fixed on his search.

El Ritch hesitated for a moment longer before finally asking, "Why did you make me sleep in the storage house?"

Julian's fingers closed around the parchment he had been looking for, and he straightened, turning to face the boy. "Why, of course," he said with a smirk, "I will not let you sleep in my room, obviously. Privacy."

It was a sassy quip, a deflection as much as it was an answer. He wasn't about to admit the truth—that he had been spying on the child. After all, people revealed the most about themselves when left alone, with no one to talk to but the silence.

El Ritch sighed and shook his head, clearly unimpressed with the response.

"Well, that's about that," Julian said, holding up the parchment he had retrieved. He pinched its edges between his fingers of his hands, lifting it as if presenting a treasure. "But here's the important stuff. This, here, is the map of the tournament outside the Hornet. Every year, it changes, and the maps are only given to the manager of the tournament, the principal, and, of course, the chief—me."

He held the boy's gaze for a moment before continuing. "Now, here's what I want you to do—"

"I want to participate with no advantage," El Ritch interrupted, his voice firm and resolute. "Sorry, Chief Julian."

Julian blinked, momentarily taken aback by the boy's determination. He shook his head, his expression turning serious. "There will be dangers there. The manager will keep out higher-grade beasts, like the special grades—platinum or gold—but silver-grade beasts will still roam the forest. They're no joke, El Ritch. Silver grades are highly dangerous. It's good and all that you have good sportsmanship, but this really dangerous-"

The boy simply smiled, his expression calm yet resolute. "If I fail, then I'm just not good enough."

Simple words, Julian thought. Simple, yes, simple indeed.

"I must go out and practice," El Ritch added, stepping toward the door. "Only seven days are left, after all."

He left without another word, the faint echo of his steps fading into the distance.

Julian stood in the quiet room, staring at the door where the boy had exited. He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. "As honorable as a knight," he muttered under his breath.

Then the pain struck.

His chest seized, a sharp, searing agony ripping through his heart. He staggered, his hand clutching at his shirt as blood spattered from his lips, staining the floor in dark red droplets. The pain flared cursed, but he had long since grown accustomed to it. His heart stitched itself back together almost immediately, the ache fading into the dull memory of what could never truly kill him.

The blood remained, sticky and drying slowly against his clothes. Julian leaned back, his breathing steadying as he stared at the mess.

If everything is a fragment of the past… then did the boy reincarnate? Even when cursed and forced to be forgotten by the world, you all still cling to the realm, crawling... The thought lingered, circling in his mind.

But that, Julian decided, was a matter for another time.

Julian muttered to himself, as he wiped off the blood that sticked to lips with his hand, "Your kind is really living up to the reputation of Anvil's motto," He sneered with irritation laced to his scrunched face, "We're still standing."