Prologue
A refreshing breeze was blowing.
Sweeping down from the ridges of the mountain range that towered in the distance, the wind carried the air of early summer to this land.
When the cool, dry wind begins to blow through this basin, so often shrouded in a soft mist in early spring, it is a sign that summer is near. The Demon-Sealing Academy: The Boundary of Dawn stood in quiet dignity on the shore of a lake situated in the center of the basin.
Vibrant green ivy, full of life, covered the centuries-old ramparts, and below them, nameless blue flowers swayed in the cool early-summer breeze.
The academy’s buildings, with their countless spires piercing the blue sky, boasted a majestic and imposing figure. As the wind swept briskly through the marble corridors, it faintly carried the dry clash of swords from the training grounds, mingled with the youthful laughter of students.
That day, after classes had ended, the Grand Library at dusk was filled with a soft, honey-colored light and enveloped in a comfortable silence. The air held a unique mixture of scents: the slightly dusty smell of old paper and dry ink, blended with the scent of the earth and the heady aroma of young grass drifting in through a narrowly opened window.
“――That’s why I believe your interpretation of the incantation is slightly off. In Ancient Runes, the word for ‘light’ carries a nuance closer to ‘waymarker’ or ‘guiding star’ than the modern word for ‘hope.’ The modern tongue is more... abstract, you could say.”
Philia Crescent remarked, looking up from the ancient manuscript. With a soft rustle, her silver hair spilled over her cheek. The setting sun shone through her hair, making it glitter beautifully as if threads of light were woven into it. Philia’s calm, blue eyes looked directly at her childhood friend, who sat opposite her with his arms crossed.
“‘A waymarker’... I see.”
Lian Arclight set the pen he had been fiddling with down on the desk with a soft ‘clink’ and nodded in admiration.
The two were working on a magical theory assignment due today. Although, in truth, Philia had finished hers days ago and was now acting as Lian’s tutor. On the stack of report papers piled on the desk, descriptions of magical theory he had clearly wrestled with were written in a hand that could hardly be called neat.
“It’s a huge help having you here, Philia. On my own, this assignment would’ve taken me another three days.”
“Hehe, you excel in the practical arts, Lian. The theoretical studies are my domain.”
A clean scent of soap drifted from her as she smiled. Her voice and that scent always brought peace to Lian’s heart, but at the same time, they brought a faint, sharp sting. Philia’s absolute faith in him cruelly highlighted the gap between her trust and his own frustrating lack of ability.
“Still, the one who was truly amazing was the founding king, Altorious...”
Lian shifted his gaze to the window. The symbol of the academy—the Central Clock Tower, bathed in the evening sun—etched its slender shadow against a sky beginning to burn with the sunset. A look of yearning flickered in Lian’s emerald eyes.
“To seal away the Demon King all by himself... just how strong was he? I wonder if I’ll ever be that strong... strong enough to draw the Holy Sword.”
It was a pure aspiration shared by every student at this academy. To draw the legendary Holy Sword, “Soul Cage,” said to seal the Demon King’s soul, and become the “Hero” who would save the world.
“You will.”
Philia’s voice was like the clear, resonant chime of a bell in the quiet library.
“You have a kinder heart than anyone, Lian. That is surely the kind of person the Holy Sword truly seeks. So you have nothing to worry about.”
Lian was left speechless by her words. From a distance, carried by the wind through the open window, came the faint sounds of Leo’s spirited cry, “Hyaah!“, and Lina’s cool retort, “Not that way, you muscle-head!”
“...Yeah, I hope so.”
Replying gruffly to hide his embarrassment, Lian thought of the next day’s classes and felt a pang of gloom. A practical mock battle was scheduled.
“Now, there’s no time to feel down. Let’s finish the rest of this. I’ll be cheering for you in the mock battle tomorrow.”
“...Right.”
Urged on by Philia, Lian picked up his pen once more.
As of yet, they had no way of knowing.
That these peaceful days, like the early summer sunlight of today, held only a finite brilliance.
That Philia’s prayers would one day come to torment her.
Nor the true weight of the destiny borne by the one called “Hero”—the very ideal Lian so admired.
A short while later, the bell of the Central Clock Tower rang out like the very heartbeat of the world.
With a solemn and somewhat fateful echo, the chimes announced the end of one moment and the beginning of the next to the majestic halls of learning.
