Long, long ago, just before his death, the knight Aker thought it would be a shame for his swordsmanship to disappear.

'Strictly speaking, it's not my swordsmanship. It's everything I've learned.'

He had often offered to teach, but had never taught anyone properly. Like so many geniuses, Aker was no different. Teaching could hardly be enjoyable. But he wanted to leave behind his techniques, swordsmanship included, and just before his death, he hit upon a method.

Anyone who heard it would have called it madness. Why not store his thoughts inside a sword? Aker's specialty was transferring Will into weapons.

'Will is willpower. Couldn't I implant my thoughts in that determination?'

Aker's imprinted weapon had been a gift he received when he first took up the sword. Reheating and reforging it had made it his imprinted weapon. He had used it all his life, and it was tailored to the knight Aker. With transference of Will as his specialty, the feat was possible. Luck had played a part, of course. In some things, luck could be the most important factor of all.

Aker enlisted a mage's help and ultimately succeeded. He implanted his thoughts and intentions in his imprinted weapon.

["There are four conditions."]

Aker established the conditions for the sword's awakening. The first three were simple. Someone who had learned his swordsmanship, since surely it would never be lost. Someone who had awakened Will, since without at least that, there would be no point. And the sword's owner.

The fourth, hidden condition was someone who still yearned even after becoming a knight. That condition was demanding, but it was also indispensable. The person would have to learn something in the world of consciousness the sword created. What good would it do to teach someone who had no desire to learn?

But why was this essential condition the most demanding? Because becoming a knight meant having already forged one's own path with a sword. The time for struggling to learn was past. Yet he needed to find someone who still had the determination to learn. It was no easy condition to fulfill.

Everyone who learned what Aker had done called it pointless madness, but the knight Aker did not care. He was satisfied. And so the sentient sword Aker was born.

That knowledge was passed down incorrectly to later generations, giving rise to things like the demon sword The Tutor. Some foolish mage had stolen the secret art of the mage who helped Aker and used it to create The Tutor. It was a demon sword that imprisoned a human soul, the sword that had forced Encrid to experience mental death.

In other words, The Tutor was an imitation. Over the long years, Aker's swordsmanship had also been lost. It was not mere coincidence that a portion of it had ended up in the demon sword called The Tutor.

The knight Aker created the demon sword Aker and died content. That was the final chapter of the knight's story, but something remained beyond its end. An unfulfilled desire. It lingered as thoughts within the sword.

Then would those thoughts remain sound? Thoughts filled with nothing but lingering desire? When even a human soul trapped in a sword could become a wraith? Might they not become a wraith with a warped mind, like the demon sword The Tutor? They might well have.

The thought-form Aker had been trapped in the sword for a very long time. Though made of thoughts, he was a sentient being, and could have gone mad. But he had originally been part of the knight Aker. Lingering desire or not, he came from one of the three swords that had protected Naurilia's founding king. That knight's lofty mental fortitude had passed to the thought-form as well, keeping it untainted.

The goal the knight Aker had set out of lingering attachment might not have been noble, but it had given him a firm purpose. Still, an untainted mind did not mean he was content with everything. Unfulfilled desire was what had formed him.

He was no person. One could even call him a ghost of the past who could hardly be said to exist. But the thought-form had a wish of his own.

'I want to pass it on soon, finish my work, and ascend.'

When his thoughts scattered, he would cease to exist. But whether it was ascension or annihilation, he wanted to resolve his lingering attachment. That was the thought-form Aker's wish.

So how could the ghost Aker be anything but delighted to meet someone who had perfectly fulfilled even the fourth condition? The man being a little mad, for instance, did nothing to diminish his joy. He had waited far too long for that.

That was why Aker was volunteering information no one had asked for. He was being considerate, lest the man push himself too hard and grow sick of his circumstances or something else. He had wanted to tease him, but the man would not take the bait, so there was nothing for it. This was the savior who would let him resolve his lingering attachment, after all.

"If you want to stop, just tell me. You can rest and come back."

There was no need to die. If it became too difficult, he could rest. That was the difference between the demon sword The Tutor and the famed sword Aker. At the thought-form's words, the man kneeling on one knee with the crown of his head exposed looked up.

"... You're going to burn a hole in my face," Aker said.

Those blue eyes blazed. What had made the man like this? He did not know, nor did he want to. Aker was simply delighted that his lingering attachment could finally be resolved. Even so, he was concerned.

'Isn't he pushing himself too hard?'

He wanted to keep attacking? That was fine. Aker would not inflict mental death on him as The Tutor had. But without proper rest, surely anyone's mental strength would wear away? He thought it only right that the man rest before returning to face him.

"Hey, give it up. You can come back."

Aker repeated himself, but the man before him knew nothing of giving up.

"Still."

He did not finish, but Aker could guess what was missing. Still fine, he probably meant. He had been repeating the same thing for a while now.

"You said there was only a month."

Encrid planted his sword tip in the ground and stood, then held the blade upright as he spoke.

"Now that you've met the fourth condition, we should have a little extra time, you know?"

Aker's unfulfilled wish was to meet a successor to whom he could pass on his techniques. He did not necessarily have to pass on everything. What mattered was something in the mind. Once the foundation was laid, the successor would learn and develop the techniques independently. That was Aker's view, but Encrid thought differently.

'There's only a month.'

Shouldn't he make the most of it? He could not fight Rem, Ragna, Jaxon, or Sinar to the death. Even if they were more skilled than he was, he could not deliberately unleash everything he had. There would be no telling who would die and who would survive. So they fought with a measure of reserve and a restrained amount of killing intent.

But there was no need for that against the knight Aker manifested by the thought-form. Aker's sword had already punched holes in his body eight times, yet he had not died. There was pain, but only a dull sensation remained, as though he were fighting after drinking his fill of pain-numbing medicine. It did not hurt much. Not compared to the pain of dying.

"Doesn't that even hurt?"

Aker worried that the pain would scar Encrid's mind, but this much was easy for Encrid. He was not actually dying, nor was he suffering a mental blow close to death. Compared to repeating today or being trapped in the demon sword The Tutor, this was far easier. In short, there was little risk for what he stood to gain.

"Push too hard and you'll do more harm than good."

"I'll handle it."

"I really hate you."

Aker said it with another smile, but for some time now, Encrid had been unable to take that hatred at face value. He could sense a quiet fondness. And that fondness finally made Aker speak.

"I'm only telling you this because I don't think you'll ever leave if I let you be. You're shouting far too much."

'What does that mean?' Encrid asked inwardly as he thrust his sword toward Aker again.

"You're shouting too much. You come at me screaming 'Right!' How could anyone miss it?"

Rem had described Encrid's way of manifesting Will as blunt, Ragna as cluttered, and Jaxon as noisy.

"When did I do that?"

Though he moved his mouth and spoke, neither his stance nor his breathing faltered. Above all, Encrid was enjoying this moment madly. Why wouldn't he? He had become a knight. Sense of omnipotence aside, wasn't it only natural to want to unleash every ability he had? He was indulging that desire to his heart's content.

What would happen if you handed a bottle of water to someone who had not had a drop for three days? That was why, even as he questioned Aker's words, his body moved naturally.

"You crazy bastard, at least listen before you attack."

BOOM!

Grass shattered and the earth gouged out beneath him. Encrid surged forward twice as fast as the proto knight's charge he had once witnessed at Green Pearl. He tightened his sword hand, leaving his shoulder and elbow loose, and cut with the force of his forward motion.

SWISH!

Even to eyes capable of tracking motion at a knight's level, the blade seemed to bend. Aker swung his sword straight up as well. His blade blocked Encrid's, and several more exchanges followed.

Encrid forced the sword aside and tried to kick Aker's heel out from under him. Aker withdrew his foot first, then tried to smash his pommel into the back of Encrid's hand. Staying put would get him hit, so Encrid needed to pull his hand back. But did he really? Couldn't he take one blow to land another? Here, that should be fine. His decision was instantaneous, his action unhesitating.

"What good are quick decisions when you tell me everything in advance?!"

Aker rendered all those tactics useless. With that shout, he leaped backward to open up the distance. Encrid had meant to sacrifice the back of his right hand and leave a lovely bruise on the ghost's face with his left fist, but he stopped. Aker's words had finally sunk in.

"Will is determination. I understand that yours is overflowing, but what happens if you spread it around indiscriminately? Anyone close to your level wouldn't even need foresight. Your intentions are so obvious they wouldn't need mind reading to see them," Aker continued.

"Is that what you meant by shouting?"

"Yeah."

Aker nodded. He was a thought-form created by a genius. Naturally, the living Aker had not been good at explaining things.

"You just do it like this. Why can't you?"

That was the sort of thing geniuses said when teaching. But the thought-form Aker had had time to consider how to pass on what he possessed. That difference in time made his explanations comparatively excellent.

'He's an angel compared to Rem.'

Encrid nodded. Blinking, he recalled what Aker had said and mulled it over. With a sword-wielding opponent right in front of him, he began his Review. He entered a state of concentration, briefly forgetting his circumstances. Standing where he was, he thought it over again and again, beginning to organize his mind.

"So get plenty of rest, then come back and—Hey? Huh? Is this bastard completely insane?"

The thought-form was dumbfounded. With Aker standing right before him, Encrid had suddenly half closed his eyes in contemplation. He spent a considerable amount of time that way. After a while, his eyes opened fully again, and he spoke.

"I think I get it."

"Get what?"

"What you meant."

After spending that much time, shouldn't he have grasped it all rather than merely understood the words? Aker had given him every answer. But apparently not.

"Again."

Encrid attacked once more, and Aker had to raise his sword to face him again. Encrid swung his sword and moved his body. He fought with everything he had, as though his life were on the line. In the process, he gradually learned to wield Will. More precisely, he learned to wield the enormous mass he possessed.

What should he do if it was too heavy to handle? Break off small pieces to use? Encrid did not. Rather than divide it, he chose another path. Instinct told him that splitting it would ruin him.

His path might not be the right one. But shouldn't the path his heart chose be considered the right one? In the end, one could only walk a single road through life. Repeating today did not mean he could undo every choice. Even if he could return to childhood and begin everything anew, he could only choose one life.

So all he needed to do was give his best to the path he had chosen. There was no reason to leave regrets at the forks he had passed. Encrid had always lived that way, and he did so now. Like swinging his sword straight and steadfastly.

The great mass of Will within him reached out as it pleased. He seized those extensions one by one and brought them under control.

"You utter brute."

Aker meant it, but Encrid kept doing what he had been doing. How much time had passed? He did not know. At last, Encrid thought he had scaled a wall. By then, they had sparred more than a hundred times.

"What I've just taught you is the foundation. Insight is what lets foresight predict. By showing false intentions, you complicate things inside your opponent's head."

"Is that all?"

He had more or less gotten the hang of it, hence the question. Aker's smile vanished.

"No, but go rest before you come back! No negotiating!"

Aker was adamant. Even he could see that Encrid's mental fortitude was extraordinary, but no one in the world could keep going without food or sleep. The mind was no different. However strong it was, wear was inevitable.

Encrid recognized the need for rest too, and nodded.

"Until next time, then."

He left out the promise to meet again, but his meaning came through clearly.

"Yes, next time."

Aker drove Encrid out of the world he had created. Probably not even an hour would have passed outside...

Hardly any time had passed since Encrid vanished before he returned to the world of consciousness, black-haired, his open eyes like blue flames.

"Why are you back?"

He had only just sent him away. Encrid had entered the world of consciousness again. For someone who had been there only once, he seemed to have learned how to enter it far too quickly.

"I've rested enough."

Instead of looking surprised or flustered, Aker nodded. There were only so many times he could be surprised. He felt he was beginning to understand this human Encrid's strength.

'That mental fortitude must be what gave him such an enormous mass, right?'

Though a thought-form, he possessed the knight Aker's experience, and with it an exceptional eye.

"Aker liked spiders."

At the abrupt remark, Encrid swung his sword. They could talk while they fought.

"You crazy bastard, at least hear me out before attacking."

"It's a waste of time. Talk while we fight."

Even as he spoke, Encrid was picking up Aker's knack for keeping his breathing steady in any stance. With his yearning burning anew, he intended to do everything he could. Ambition surged as never before, urging him on. Go farther. Do not stop. And Encrid did not resist its push.