Lawrence writhed on the ground clutching his chest, groaning in agony. He looked like a dying cicada at the end of summer.

I shattered a few of his ribs. Hit him harder than I did during the entrance exam. Back then, I meant to go easy, but this time, I intended to break him.

All for the sake of my adorable disciple.

“You're overreacting. I only struck you with the flat of the blade. I didn’t use the edge.”

“...Ugh...uhhh…”

Still, maybe I did go a bit too far.

“Hey, Lawrence. Want me to call the infirmary?”

“...”

He's quietly crying. How pathetic.

“Don’t cry just because you lost. It’s disgusting.”

“...It’s not because I lost...! I...I seriously...like Instructor Ituka...!”

I frowned at him.

“Why are you so fixated on Lili? She’s past the age to marry. There are plenty of other women out there. You’re a count’s son—shouldn’t you have your pick of noble ladies?”

Ugh, saying it out loud hurts my own heart.

Sorry, my dear disciple. Personally, I like women her age just fine.

“I won’t tolerate anyone speaking ill of Instructor Ituka! Argh...!”

“Don’t shout. Your ribs are broken.”

“You’re the one who broke them!”

“Anyway, our deal. Stay away from Lili from now on.”

Still sitting cross-legged, I wiped the dirt from my cheek with my fingers and asked the same question again.

“So? Why are you so obsessed with Lili?”

“Maybe a brat like you can’t understand, but that war... that war was truly hell.”

I frowned again. What’s war got to do with anything...?

At the time, Lawrence was part of the Kingdom’s 17th Knight Platoon, which had been dispatched from the capital to reinforce the border knights led by Lord Mald Orunkaim of the border city of Gallaia.

Apparently, the Republic had launched a large-scale invasion then. I say "apparently" because I—Blythe—was already dead by that point. It was the battle where the Republic, having slain the Sword Saint and gained momentum, threw in all its forces to settle things with the Kingdom.

The front lines at the border were so brutal that they had to fight atop layers of corpses.

Except for Lawrence, the entire 17th Platoon was wiped out. Lawrence survived not due to brave chivalry, but because he prioritized crawling through the mud to survive over dying with honor. He wasn’t particularly good with a sword. He knew he was ordinary.

He threw away his sword to run faster, and ditched his heavy armor.

He ran and ran through the mountainous border region, screaming pathetically, going without food or sleep for days as he fled through the forest.

But just when he thought he had shaken off his pursuers, a Republican company of a hundred soldiers appeared before him. Covered in blood and mud, he tried to flee again, but his strength was long spent.

—This is it. I’m going to die here.

He felt like a rabbit being hunted. If only he had been a bird—then he could have been shot down without even realizing, without having to feel fear.

But he had no wings.

He was born a coward, lacking courage. Of course he had no talent with the sword. No aptitude for magic, and he wasn’t even especially intelligent. He had nothing.

Nothing but the fact that he was born a middling noble.

Surrounded by the Republican company, Lawrence finally dropped his sword and shut his eyes.

—Enough already. Just end this nightmare quickly.

But the pain never came. Instead, what poured down on him was blood so hot it felt like it would burn him, and the screams of the Republican soldiers.

He opened his eyes.

Before him stood the back of a goddess dancing on the battlefield.

Unarmored, wielding a sword in each hand, she struck down the charging Republican knights in single blows. Without even being splashed by their blood, she moved like she was dancing, and in an instant felled nearly twenty of them.

In his hazy vision, the white blades in her hands looked like free, soaring wings.

—To me, she looked like the Valkyrie, the war goddess of myth.

Fear vanished. He thought the war goddess had come to take his soul to Valhalla, the land of heroes. That even a coward like him could be brought there.

But in the next moment, a group arrived to protect her, snapping Lawrence out of his delusion.

Only about a dozen of them.

They let out beast-like roars that echoed across the battlefield and charged at the Republican company like an avalanche, as if to shield the war goddess.

They were strong. Incredibly strong. Each one was on par with her.

As he regained his senses, Lawrence realized immediately—

These were the infamous followers of Blythe. Even after losing their leader, the “Sword Saint,” they still fought like savage beasts. A whirlwind of blood tore through the battlefield. Screams and roars overlapped in a chorus of carnage.

After slaying most of the Republican company, they gave no time for breath. With the war goddess at the center, they chased the remaining enemies into the forest like a storm.

A few days later—

Somehow, Lawrence managed to return safely to the border city of Gallaia. He investigated the Blythe group and found her name.

The war goddess was named Lili Ituka.

“I could never forget the sight of her back that day. ‘War Maiden’? No. You don’t just call someone like that a noble or a royal and be done with it.”

Lying on his back, Lawrence gazed up at the night sky with distant eyes and whispered,

“To me, she wasn’t a maiden. She was a goddess. The war goddess who saved my life.”

I listened in silence and thought—

Man, that's creepy. This is basically a deranged religion at this point. Maybe I should smack some sense into him.

I brought my fist down on Lawrence’s head.

“Ow!? What the hell was that for!?”

“Sorry, you were just being too creepy, I couldn’t help myself...”

“Which part of my story was creepy!? It was a pretty decent tale, wasn’t it!?”

“I just think people who describe ordinary women as goddesses or angels are usually kinda gross.”

Huh, he went quiet. Well, whatever.

“So I hit you to knock some sense into you. Ha ha ha, my bad.”

“Th-There are other ways to do that! Use your words! …Ow!”

“Your ribs are broken. Quit yapping. It’s only going to hurt more.”

“Don’t say that like it’s not your fault!”

I stood up and brushed the flowerbed soil off my body with my hands.

“Well then, Lawrence. I win. Keep your promise. Stay away from Lili.”

“No way. I’ll never give up. If you want me to back down, you’ll have to kill me here and now.”

Scratching my head roughly, I spat out my reply.

“Do whatever you want then. But don’t drag others into this anymore. No one. Not Lili. Not Count Givley. Not His Majesty.”

“...”

“If you call yourself a man, face her with nothing but your own strength—not your family name or your connections. Coward.”

He lay on his back, draping his right arm over his eyes.

Under the moonlight, I snorted and left the flower garden behind.