Chapter 213 - Damn Reincarnation

The Darkroom

Anisilla Caines.

She maintained the dignity befitting the lady of the illustrious Lionheart family at all times and in all circumstances, but she did not insist on keeping up appearances even before her beloved husband, whom she had married. Having just awakened, she rubbed her sleepy eyes and sat up in bed.

“Are you going again today?”

“I'm afraid so.”

Gilead answered listlessly. The sight of her husband's slumped shoulders made Anisilla's heart ache. Looking closer, she thought his face seemed a little thinner, too.

It was all because of Eugene. More than half a year had already passed since the boy first attempted Lionheart's secret trial. At first, he had challenged it roughly once every ten days... but the intervals had gradually shortened.

The problem was that this was not a trial Eugene had to bear entirely on his own. Whenever he attempted it, not only Gilead, the family head, but Gion and Carmen were put through a trial as well. Gilead himself had never called “that” a trial, but to Anisilla, it was no different.

“I am the lady of Lionheart, and I remember when you underwent the trial yourself, so I haven't said much until now... but isn't Eugene taking things too far?”

“... He does have that tendency.”

Gilead could only acknowledge the fact. After loosely tying back his ash-gray hair, he began wrapping bands around each of his finger joints.

“But I cannot criticize his passion. I myself have been inspired by it.”

“... Gilead.”

“As you must have noticed, my dear, the trial he is undertaking is not solely for his benefit. I, Gion, and even Lady Carmen are benefiting from his efforts.”

Was that really true? Anisilla narrowed her eyes at her husband's back. Then, with a deep sigh, she climbed out of bed and retied his hair for him.

“Even Lady Carmen seems to have passed the point of enjoying herself. And I wouldn't be surprised if Gion ran away at any moment.”

“Well... I believe you're right. Had I not been the family head, I would have run away with Gion about a month ago.”

“Then Eugene really is the strange one. No matter how young he is... how can he possibly do this?”

Gilead could not understand it either.

The Darkroom's trial put the mind through tremendous strain. Dying at the projection's hands did not truly kill the mind, but the experience was so intense and realistic that it could cause psychological disorders.

When Gilead first challenged the Darkroom, he had failed and experienced death about four times. The sensation of his neck being severed, his heart pierced, his body sliced apart. It had taken him quite some time to shake off those vivid memories completely.

Yet Eugene had already repeated that experience dozens of times. Concerned by his frequent attempts, Gilead had suggested counseling or having a priest cleanse his mind, but his advice had fallen on deaf ears.

If only Auxiliary Bishop Kristina had not been at Lionheart, physical exhaustion alone would have prevented such frequent attempts. Even Gilead had to admit that Kristina's healing magic was far too excellent...

“... Well, I'll be going.”

After forcing himself to muster some enthusiasm, Gilead picked up a wooden sword and left the room. Naturally, it had not been like this from the start. Just a few months ago, Eugene had attempted the trial once a week at most. The interval had become far too short.

Now there was no interval to speak of. He was attempting the trial every single day. Carmen, Gilead, and Gion did not dislike training. They quite enjoyed it. It was merely that, having reached their present positions, they could no longer devote themselves to it as intensely or wholeheartedly as they had in their youth.

The sixth star of the White Flame Formula.

The wall standing before the seventh star was staggeringly high. Taking the seat of family head did not mean Gilead had abandoned his aspirations as a warrior. Both he and Gion yearned to cross that wall and reach the seventh star someday. Carmen, too, yearned to become the first Lionheart since the founder to reach the eighth star.

If hardship and trials were necessary to cross that wall and attain greater martial heights, then fighting Eugene while the projection possessed him was an excellent hardship and trial. While they had to hold back, the projection showed no restraint whatsoever. It sought to kill its opponents without exception. Without Kristina's support and healing, they might have suffered mortal wounds any number of times.

That was how it had been at first.

Eugene was not the only one who had made progress through the repeated trials. Those who subdued him each time had improved as well. Mental fatigue and exhaustion remained unavoidable, but they could now subdue him without serious danger or injury. Fighting him one-on-one, as Carmen had insisted on doing, was impossible, but they could face him individually for short stretches so long as they were not trying to subdue him completely.

'... Perhaps I'll reach the seventh star before the Knight March.'

The early dawn sky was a dark blue. Autumn was already drawing to an end, and the predawn air was chilly.

There was roughly half a year left until the Knight March. Since the northern kingdom of Ruhar was blanketed in snow all year round, he would not be feeling the sweltering heat next summer.

“You're here?”

The others had already gathered at the entrance to the underground Treasury. Eugene's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, but the others could not say the same. Their trained bodies had recovered from their fatigue, and divine magic had cleansed their minds.

Even so, there was nothing to be done about their dwindling motivation. Yesterday, the day before, and three days ago, they had come here early in the morning and returned to their rooms close to midnight.

“... Don't you think... doing this every day for three days straight is a bit much?”

Carmen asked with a heavy sigh. Crouched beside her, Gion nodded in agreement.

“I haven't been able to return to Black Lion Castle for over half a year now. Sir Genos is looking after my knights, but... surely this is going too far? I came to the main estate only a month after becoming captain of the Fifth Division, and I haven't been able to return for half a year.”

“That's a serious problem... Even if you return now, Gion, the Fifth Division's knights will think of Sir Genos as their captain more than you.”

“That's precisely the problem.”

The conversation continued. Kristina did not speak up herself, but she was not entirely without complaints. Her divine magic had improved astonishingly over the past six months. But had those six months truly been fulfilling for “Kristina Rogeris”?

[“Ultimately, aren't you just disappointed that you haven't been able to spend time alone flirting with Hamel, or tend to his wounds and lick them?”]

'Sister...! Lick his wounds? What an indecent, filthy thing to say!'

[“You cannot take a metaphor as a metaphor, can you? Or did I unwittingly touch upon your unsavory desires, Kristina?”]

Kristina did not answer. She stopped thinking.

“Now, now. Don't be so upset, everyone.”

He had slept soundly and enjoyed a good meal. Eugene was as fit as he was enthusiastic. Smiling cheerfully, he continued.

“Today is the last time.”

“... What?”

“I just told you. Today is the last time. I actually wondered if I needed to call you all here, but it's not somewhere I can enter by myself, is it?”

“Really? Today really is the last time?”

Gion asked with a desperate expression. Carmen said nothing herself, but her eyes were shining too.

Enjoying their reactions, Eugene shrugged.

“Yes.”

There was nothing more for him to gain from the Darkroom.

He had felt it over the past several days of repeated attempts. To ensure he would not have even the slightest lingering regret, he had repeated the process, deliberately letting himself die when he did not need to. Yesterday, at last, he had become certain.

The Darkroom could no longer serve as a trial for Eugene.

Eugene followed the path he had become so familiar with over countless visits in the past six months. Vermouth's portrait deep within the Treasury. The unfathomable magic that began there. He descended underground, opened the door, entered the Darkroom, and stood upon the magic circle.

“If you were capable of conversation, I might have grown attached to you.”

He faced the projection.

Half a year.

It was enough time for one's appearance to change, but Eugene had hardly changed at all. His hair was still ash-gray and shaggy, and his eyes remained clear and bright, undimmed by despair despite repeated defeats and deaths. He could not bear to leave his patchy facial hair alone, and Mer had been adamantly against it, so he had not grown a beard.

He did seem to have grown a little taller, though. The first time he had seen the projection, he had needed to look up at it. Now he no longer had to.

The projection's appearance had not changed. It still looked like a blend of Eugene and Hamel, and it held a sword.

“Hmm.”

Eugene spun the sword in his hand.

“I'm not sure I even need to swing this to fight you.”

The projection did not answer. But it sensed the distinct killing intent Eugene was giving off and began to react.

“I've fought you so many times.”

Acceleration. The distance between them vanished. Charging in an instant, the projection swung its sword at Eugene's neck. It was a killing stroke that left no room for escape. When he had first entered the Darkroom, he had struggled to deal with that “slightly” greater speed.

Not anymore. Eugene stepped back half a pace and tilted his head back slightly. That alone was enough for the slash to narrowly miss his neck.

The attack did not end there. The slash curved so fluidly that it was hard to believe its course had changed midway. Nor was it merely a physical cut. A flicker of the blade's tip and precise mana control produced countless blades of sword force right before his eyes.

“And every fight lets me see more.”

It did not take much to pierce through all that sword force. A single thrust. He did not even need his sword. His flame-wreathed hand pierced through the bewildering array of sword force and seized the projection's sword.

“So there's no need to fight you anymore.”

CRUNCH.

The sword shattered between his fingers. The projection immediately released it and tried to drive a fist into Eugene's body. Eugene stepped back another half pace and moved the sword in his other hand.

There was no sound. Dozens of lines simply appeared in the space into which the projection was thrusting its fist. Dark flames protected its body, but the lines Eugene drew pierced and sliced through those flames with ease, reducing its fist and forearm to hundreds of pieces of flesh.

Having lost an arm, the projection sprang backward. It had no sense of self, but its combat instincts were exceptional. It understood from that brief exchange that it could never defeat Eugene at that distance. So, instead of attacking again, it activated the White Flame Formula and began swelling its flames.

After half a year of fighting, Eugene knew the projection very well. It did not inherit memories of previous fights. Eugene grew more familiar with it with every attempt, but the same was not true for the projection. Thus, no matter how hopelessly one lost at first, repeated attempts would eventually make victory possible.

The Darkroom did not merely test combat instincts and the White Flame Formula. It also trained the mental fortitude needed to keep fighting, even through repeated battles, defeats, and deaths.

Eugene already possessed such fortitude, but Vermouth's descendants, born and trained within the “illustrious” Lionheart family, had neither been born with it nor cultivated it. It was particularly difficult to develop that sort of resilience in this age of peace.

“A contest of firepower sounds good too.”

Eugene murmured with a smile.

He had reached the point where he could defeat the projection long ago. Even so, he had continued challenging it, again and again.

The reason was simple. There was no better place to train.

Eugene was strong. If he unleashed the full output of his White Flame Formula now, without restricting it, his surroundings would be devastated before he could even do anything with it.

The Lionheart main estate possessed almost every facility needed for training. There was even a separate place for training mana. However, that training chamber was far too fragile to freely practice with the immense mana output of the White Flame Formula's fifth star or higher.

But what about this mental world? Even using Ignition left no aftereffects on his body. No matter how much mana he released, he did not need to worry about his surroundings. Eugene had spent months using the Darkroom that way. As a result, he had been entering before dawn and staying until late at night, escaping through death and putting everyone else through misery.

It had been worth it.

And he had gained something tangible.

The projection increased its flames. Its White Flame Formula transformed into the Ring Flame Formula and began to rotate. The swelling flames flickered for an instant, then surged explosively upward. It had used Ignition as well. Watching it, Eugene raised a hand before him.

He turned his outstretched hand palm-up. Unlike the projection's explosively increasing mana, Eugene's mana seeped out slowly. The six stars surrounding his heart were spinning furiously. Within that rotation, mana exploded in a chain reaction, and countless cores formed.

Eugene did not immediately release that violent mana. He compressed it again and again, reducing the destructive mana that would otherwise be impossible to control to a tiny point.

With a sudden flare, a sphere rose above Eugene's palm. It was a dazzling white sun. The instant it appeared, space began to tremble.

This was a finite world. A mental space, not reality. The meaning and potential bestowed upon the sun Eugene had “conceived” and manifested were approaching a level that could destroy the laws governing this space.

This sun was made from mana compressed to its utmost limit. Yet that compression had been achieved solely through the Ring Flame Formula. Eugene's lips twisted into a grin.

The sun was a crystallization of sword force. Eugene drew out more mana and covered its surface. He applied the Dragonic family's secret technique, Empty Sword, to the sun. He coated it in multiple layers of mana, and within them, the ultra-dense mana comprising the sun underwent repeated fusion and explosions.

Gradually, the pure white sun turned black.

The projection had already finished its preparations. It could handle everything available to Eugene Lionheart when he was first projected slightly better than the original. It had already used Ignition, and had even activated Empty Sword on the sword in its hand.

But it could not attack. It possessed no sense of self, but it did have combat instincts. If it attacked, it would die. Survival, even by chance, was impossible. Sacrificing flesh to take bone would not work either. It would simply vanish without being able to do anything.

“Eclipse.”

Murmuring the name, Eugene casually tossed the blackened sun. The projection could no longer remain standing still. It concentrated all the mana raging around its body under Ignition into its attack and charged.

Light erupted. It filled his vision, making it impossible to see even an inch ahead. Rather than try to keep his eyes open, Eugene closed them. Once he could see nothing, he heard a sound like the world collapsing.

One, two,

three.

He opened his eyes.

“So that's how it works.”

Grumbling, Eugene planted both hands on the floor. This was the first time he had truly killed the projection. Thanks to that, he could now see what state he had been in before entering the mental world.

He had collapsed the instant he stepped onto the magic circle. Eugene pushed himself up from where he had been lying facedown and looked around. He took a cautious step, just in case, but he was not dragged back into the mental world.

“... I can consider that a pass, right?”

Muttering to himself, Eugene strode forward.

During his half-year of visits to the Darkroom, he had heard from Gilead, Gion, and Carmen, who had already overcome it, what happened after the “battle.”

Once one defeated the projection and moved forward...

A flame appeared.

When that flame entered the body, the White Flame Formula's sixth star would be “completed” and transformed.

“... A flame, huh.”

He walked for a while. The magic circle was already far behind him, but there was still nothing around him.

'... Surely Eclipse wasn't so powerful that it broke the magic constructing the Darkroom?'

Surely not... or so he wanted to think, but he could not convince himself it was absolutely impossible. Even Eugene thought Eclipse was far too powerful. In terms of sheer power alone, he had possessed no offensive technique of that magnitude even in his previous body.

“What if I really broke it? If I can't find that flame, will my White Flame Formula stay at an incomplete sixth star forever? F*ck, is being too strong a crime...?”

Eugene was spitting out his complaints with his face scrunched up when he froze.

Something had appeared in front of him before he knew it, but it was not the “flame” Gilead, Gion, and Carmen had described.

A man sat in a black chair.

“Vermouth?”

Before he realized it, Eugene had called out the name of his friend from three hundred years ago.