The Regressor’s Notebook – Episode 4
A Young Heart (1)
A four-person room in the orphanage dormitory. I sit on the edge of the bed, looking in the mirror.
Blond hair grown out shaggy like a stray dog’s. Blue eyes, sunken and haggard. Facial lines still carrying baby fat. A height that hasn’t reached 170 centimeters, and proportions I could at least call decent enough.
That is me at eighteen.
Normally, eighteen is when growth is wrapping up, and most people won’t deviate far from the physical foundation built by then—but I’m different.
I grow bigger. I grow stronger.
Ironically, it’s thanks to dantian cancer.
As the cancer cells in my dantian multiply, they spray a special mana called “fission mana,” affecting the musculoskeletal system including the growth plates and forcing an abnormal “tertiary development.”
Of course, I don’t grow infinitely. Eventually, the body adapts to the fission mana of the cancer cells and develops a resistance.
Anyway, from here I grow nearly 30 centimeters more. Bones and muscles grow stronger, and my originally decent proportions are forged into muscles and bones optimal for combat.
That was the reason I could scrape by at the bottom.
Because while my insides were rotting, my outside was rock-hard.
“……Three days.”
I looked at the calendar. The match was already right around the corner.
I had trained pretty hard during that time. I had built up core muscles over the course of a week, loosened up my body enough to adapt to training, and subscribed to more channels too.
Boxing with [SenGun], judo with [Mochitapa Degel], swordsmanship with [ActiveKnight A].
Ruxido had been diligently applied throughout all of that, and I was certain this was a passive of the [Notebook].
[33 / 100]
Capacity history over the last 24 hours: +3
Even though I hadn’t memorized anything, my capacity had risen by 3.
“Ugh, my whole body aches.”
Of course, even with this Ruxido, properly copying the movements required time for practice, effort, and training.
However, there was a way to pull up and use proficiency while skipping all of that.
You just had to infuse mana.
For example, even if I tried to mimic a 100-meter sprinter with [Ruxido] right now, I wouldn’t run 100 meters in 5 seconds.
Naturally, because my athletic ability was insufficient. Because the muscles essential for running hadn’t been formed.
But if you received assistance from mana there, you could roughly—that is, forcibly—become similar.
The price was tremendous muscle pain.
“Guess I should get going.”
I checked the time on my smartphone and stood up.
It was almost time for the appointment that doubled as training.
I had an appointment too.
* * *
“Hey. Sion.”
The moment I sat on a park bench at the orphanage, someone called out to me. It was a dark-skinned man.
He approached with his hands stuffed in his pockets and sat down beside me.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve being so relaxed?”
It was a voice spoken through tightly clenched teeth.
I shrugged.
“There are only three days left. You guys should rest up and manage your condition too.”
“…The hell, man? Seriously? You weren’t like this before. You used to train like crazy on your own without anyone telling you to!”
I looked at him. Copper skin covered in freckles, glossy black semi-curly hair, a fine physique.
He was a distinctive man, but I couldn’t quite remember who he was.
I muttered as if sighing.
“I can’t train like that anymore. I’m too old. My body’s not good, either.”
“You crazy? What do you mean, old.”
Strenuous exercise is poison to me. From the start, the amount of time I can move my body intensely is limited. That’s just how dantian cancer patients are.
You wouldn’t know unless you had it.
“Forget it, punk! Even if we’re all coming of age and leaving soon, those kids are gonna have to stay here.”
He pointed to a playground on one side of the park.
Many children with tiny hands and feet were swinging on swings, climbing jungle gyms, playing cops and robbers, hide and seek.
“If we lose, everything falls apart. Getting adopted would be a stroke of luck, but if not, nobody knows which orphanage we’ll get scattered to. You know it too. We might even get sold off to another country!”
He laid his hand on my shoulder, speaking with passionate eloquence.
“…Ah. Right. You’re Telun.”
Then it suddenly came back to me.
Telun.
I know this guy.
When I had shaved my head for brain tumor surgery, there was a kid who had acted tough and told the other orphanage children bullying me, “Are you childish enough to make fun of something like that?”
“You said your dream was to be a knight, right?”
“…That’s old news.”
Telun narrowed his brow slightly. I looked at the sword at his waist. It was a broadsword.
“You’re planning to fight with a sword?”
“Well, yeah. Instructor Dent even praised me. Though I’m not as good as you. Your dad was a Libra knight, after all.”
A knight of Libra.
Father was.
If you could call a low-ranking knight a knight.
I looked at the orphanage playground and asked.
“…Do you like Libra?”
“What? Of course, man. We’re here thanks to Lord Libra.”
“Really?”
Well, that was the natural reaction.
Because my resentment is mine alone.
“Ugh, never mind.”
Telun dusted off his butt and stood up.
“You are so disappointing.”
“Save your disappointment for later. I’m not planning on losing.”
“…Really? Then I’ll believe you. Since believing is all I can do.”
Telun said with a pout. I laughed inwardly.
He’s a dependable guy. Quite so for an eighteen-year-old.
Waaaaaaaah—
Just then, two little tykes appeared from down the walking path.
Three and five years old, respectively. Children I was now familiar with, running toward me with their mouths wide open, calling my name.
Sioooon—
Telun tilted his head.
“Belle? Berry? Who are they? Are you close with them?”
I checked the clock on my smartphone.
It was exactly 10:30.
“I promised them 30 minutes of smartphone time a day.”
“What? What phone?”
“This.”
I pulled the smartphone out of my pocket.
“…Where did you get that? Can I see it too?”
At that, Telun made an expression similar to Belle and Berry running toward us from afar.
* * *
February 25, 2013.
Noon on the day of the match to decide the orphanage’s closure.
On the training ground under the sun, I stood in line with nine others, including Telun.
“…Are you ready?”
The air in the orphanage was heavy and subdued, but mixed within it was a sourceless hope called faith.
It all belonged to the children. As children do, they believed in the victory of “our home.”
“There’s no need to be nervous. Just show the skill you’ve built up. They aren’t opponents you can’t beat.”
Dent said. I looked around. Small children and slightly older children were seated in the stands. There were many orphanage teachers too.
They seemed to be trying to cheer us on, but it was a burden instead. There were something like 600 of them. Thanks to that, the nine warriors were already trembling.
“They’re here.”
Telun looked somewhere and clenched his fist.
—Vrooooom.
A mercenary truck appeared at the orphanage entrance. They parked neatly in a corner of the training ground and poured out.
“Ah~ this is it. Nice to meet you.”
First, a bald man who appeared to be the person in charge approached Dent. He was wearing fairly neat leather armor.
“I am Rohas, vice-captain of the Blue Claw Mercenary Corps.”
“Instructor of the orphanage, low-ranking knight of eight years, Dent.”
“Yes. I’ve heard of the orphanage’s circumstances. I see there are ten of you?”
Dent nodded. The vice-captain quickly swept his eyes over our group.
“We’ve also prepared while matching the balance as much as possible. They’re all members with less than one year of actual combat experience. Here, the supporting documents. Please take a look.”
The bald bastard was spewing bullshit.
“They may be younglings, but since they’ve been promised a commission fee and victory bonus, they won’t take it lightly.”
Contrary to his shameless lies, his manner itself was gentlemanly. Even if they were impersonating a mercenary corps, they were active-duty knights.
The bald vice-captain looked back at us and spoke.
“I hope all of you prove your own skill and protect—and seize—what you desire.”
Suuuuu—
Amid his voice, a quiet rumble quite different from the mercenary truck.
From afar, three luxury sedans reflected the sunlight as they entered the orphanage. Of the three that glided closer, two stopped first, and chauffeurs got out to open the rear doors.
The faces coming out of them were familiar to me as well. There was no face among Libra’s key figures that I didn’t know.
They were confidants of the eldest son, Jedric, led by butler “Henry.”
“…….”
My expression hardened coldly. My veins pulsed.
I endured, biting my molars tight.
I looked at the last, third sedan. It seemed to have no intention of coming outside.
Inside was probably Libra’s youngest, “Zia.” A person who loathed revealing herself to the outside world.
“Distinguished guests have arrived.”
At the vice-captain’s words, Telun and the others grew even more tense. Meanwhile, Butler Henry and the rest prepared and sat in deluxe chairs on their own.
Did they bring chairs in the trunk?
“Who will step up first?”
The vice-captain asked. Dent looked around at us.
Telun shot his hand up.
“I’ll go first.”
Seeing his courageous expression, the vice-captain smiled slightly.
“Very well. Hey! Our side?”
“I’ll do it.”
A female mercenary. Heavy makeup and obviously dyed green hair. She even wore a mask, as if she’d bought mercenary merchandise from somewhere.
“O-oh, it’s a lady.”
A brief flush rose on Telun’s face. The mercenary scoffed and asked.
“A swordsman?”
“Huh? Ah, yes. I wield a sword.”
“So do I. You first.”
Telun swallowed and gripped his broadsword. The mercenary raised a curved blade as well. It was a scimitar.
I watched quietly.
What kind of show would they put on in this match?
“The refereeing will be shared by myself and Instructor Dent here.”
“Yes.”
“The rules will follow international sparring rules. Calling surrender is a loss. If there seems to be a risk of casualty, the referee will intervene. Because this is a match, not actual combat.”
“Let’s do that.”
Dent nodded.
“Then.”
Ahem. The vice-captain who had cleared his throat shouted loudly.
“Forward—!”
Telun and the mercenary. The two ascended the dueling stage prepared at the center of the training ground.
“Ready!”
The mercenary offered her hand first. Telun nervously took hers.
A short handshake.
Soon, the two turned around and stood ten paces apart.
“—Begin!”
Despite that loud shout, the beginning was a probing phase. Neither Telun nor the mercenary moved rashly.
They were real blades.
A slight cut could kill, and a single slash could be fatal.
“…Here I come.”
Before long, the one kindly announcing “I’m coming” was, of course, Telun.
He stepped forward three paces and swung his sword. It was orthodox, as if trained from textbooks. The mercenary simply parried his blade.
Clang— Clang— Clang— Clang— Clang—
The sound of swords clashing.
No, “clashing” was too monotonous and regular a sound to call it that.
“Tsk.”
There was no need to even watch.
They were putting on some kind of play, far beyond holding back. Matching Telun’s level, dragging out the time moderately.
“Hah!”
Of course, Telun didn’t know. Because the gap in skill was too severe, and the opponent’s acting was unnecessarily professional.
“Kugh!”
On stage, a layman facing a veteran actor. Two swords embroidered in the air. Chaeeeng— Within the hollow resonance, an exchange of real and fake.
“Kuaah!”
Sweat flew from Telun’s copper-toned body. Blood flowed from the hand gripping the sword.
Telun poured out everything he had. His will was sufficient, his heart was upright. Everything about him was “real.”
However, this play itself was merely a stage to deceive the real.
“Hup!”
At one point, Telun took a large breath. Perhaps deciding to throw in a decisive blow as his stamina reached its limit. He twisted his body and brought his sword down from high to low.
A strike laden with weight.
The mercenary took a close backstep and simultaneously launched a counter.
Shiik—!
A single thrust blew through Telun’s guard. The scimitar blade touched the base of his throat.
“…….”
“…….”
The two stopped their movements silently. They faced each other as if they’d made a promise.
Haa, haa—
Rough breaths intertwined. Drops of sweat fell from the tip of Telun’s chin. The woman smiled breathlessly and spoke.
“Surrender, or I stab?”
“…I lost.”
Telun bit his teeth and bowed his head, and the children burst into sighs.
The remaining warriors comforted Telun as he trudged down from the dueling stage.
“Good effort.”
“You worked hard. I saw it. You did well.”
“…Sorry.”
Even Telun himself seemed somewhat relieved. He seemed to think he had been rewarded for his effort, at least somewhat.
I was displeased.
Because it was deception.
No, because it was contempt beyond deception.
“Blue Claw Mercenary Corps wins! Next!”
The matches continued without rest.
After Telun, one person, two, three, four… Each round, the mercenaries’ pacing was excellent. Everyone in the orphanage watched with bated breath, but the results were obvious.
Feigning a push, feigning a pull, then it was over.
Over. Over. Over.
All nine lost.
“…Well now. That’s 0 wins and 9 losses.”
The vice-captain scratched the back of his neck as if troubled.
The nine defeated were sprawled on the ground, and the training ground was already filled with children’s crying.
“The last one should be that friend. The knight’s son.”
The vice-captain pointed at me.
“Sion Ascal.”
Dent looked at me too. I think I knew the meaning of that gaze.
Show them.
Or, at least you show them.
“How convenient. We also have our best fighter remaining in our mercenary corps….”
“Hey. Give it here.”
I held my hand out to Telun. Telun, whose expression was one of despair, blinked his eyes, then soon handed me his broadsword.
“…Sion, you definitely said you wouldn’t lose.”
“That’s what I said. Who knows what’ll happen.”
“What?”
Telun furrowed his brow. I immediately ascended the dueling stage. The opposing mercenary was already standing across from me. It was a man with brown disheveled hair and camouflage cream between his eyes.
He asked.
“You a swordsman?”
I silently gripped the broadsword. It was heavy. The opponent also had the same broadsword. He let his sword hang down and grinned languidly.
“Cute. Well, you are a knight’s son. But you know what? These days the world has changed, and there are more knights who don’t use swords.”
—Ready!
The enemy is strong.
I don’t yet know how strong, but it might be a realm that I, as I am now, can’t even reach with my fingertips.
Therefore, he will definitely let his guard down.
To use an analogy, I am an infant hiding a pistol. Rather than being wary, he’ll worry about whether I’ll fall over on my own.
He might even think of me as a newborn baby.
Begin—!
A chance.
I have one.