Ember Reborn: The Flame That Defied Fate-Chapter 61: The Sun That Trembled -
The unicorn’s hooves thundered.
Not toward me—the one who actually cut it—but toward Yuren.
Lightning spat from its horn as it charged like a white storm given a body.
Yuren’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second... then sharpened.
His sword rose.
Golden mana gathered as naturally as breathing.
"Of course," I muttered, half annoyed, half impressed. "It picks a fight with the scariest person here."
The beast lowered its head, bell jangling.
Yuren drew his blade back like he was pulling a bowstring.
The air brightened.
I felt it even from several meters away—heat without flame, pressure without wind.
Sun Sword—Sixth Form.
White Light.
The moment Yuren swung, the condensed aura shot out like a spear of dawn, straight for the bell at the unicorn’s neck.
My eyes narrowed.
’If that hits, it’s over.’
Automatic first place. Bonus objective cleared. Reward claimed.
And the worst part?
He’d be right to take it.
He’d earned it with power alone.
But—
I moved before my thoughts finished.
Wind Step.
My legs flooded with mana, my body lightening as I cut across the ground like a thrown knife.
I slipped between the unicorn and the golden line of destruction and raised my sword.
Clang!
The impact blasted through my arms.
My palms burned.
The vibration rattled my bones like I’d just blocked a falling boulder with a thin strip of metal.
I slid backward several steps, boots carving shallow trenches in the dirt.
"Ugh..."
A thin line of red seeped from my palm.
Not deep, but enough to sting.
I flexed my fingers and clicked my tongue.
"That little—" I hissed, shaking out my hand. "His mana really is ridiculous."
Across from me, Yuren stared like I’d committed a crime.
"Dale...!"
"I told you," I said, forcing my voice steady. "It wouldn’t be easy."
The unicorn skidded to a halt, snorting angrily, confused by the sudden interference. Its lightning crackled louder, as if the air itself wanted to bite.
Yuren stepped forward.
His jaw was tight.
His eyes—normally calm, clear, almost noble—were sharp in a way that felt... wrong.
"Move," he said.
"And if I don’t?"
For a heartbeat, the forest went quiet.
The only sound was the unicorn’s heavy breathing and the faint ring of its bell.
Yuren’s grip tightened on his sword.
"...Then I have no choice."
Golden mana flared.
Not in a controlled shimmer like during our sparring.
This was a storm.
It poured off him in waves, pressing against my skin until my instincts screamed danger.
Even I felt my posture shift.
Not fear.
Caution.
Because this wasn’t the Yuren Helios I’d been teaching twice a week.
This was the Yuren Helios the continent worshipped.
And it wasn’t just power.
It was desperation.
"If you get hurt," he said quietly, "it won’t be my fault."
Then he stepped in.
Boom!
His sword swung, and the air ruptured.
The ground buckled as if it had been struck by a hammer from the sky.
A shockwave ripped through the trees, shaking leaves loose in a rain of green.
I barely dodged, Wind Step carrying me sideways, and the golden arc passed close enough that my cheek prickled from the heat.
"What the—"
Another strike.
Boom—CRASH!
A crater formed where his blade landed.
A boulder nearby cracked down the middle as if someone had split it with an axe.
The unicorn—a six-eyed beast that should’ve terrified most cadets—stumbled backward with a panicked whinny, suddenly deciding it wanted no part of this.
And honestly?
I didn’t blame it.
Who could look at this and think, Ah yes, swordsmanship.
This was a natural disaster with a blade attached.
I dashed, weaving between uprooted roots and broken stone, using Wind Step to keep my distance.
My breath stayed steady, but my mind worked fast.
’I always knew his mana was absurd.’
But this—
There should be limits.
Yet he was swinging like limits were for other people.
Boom! Boom!
Each strike carved scars into the land.
Trees snapped.
Dust rose thick enough to sting my eyes.
I narrowed my gaze as I moved, watching the rhythm.
Watching the intent.
And something clicked.
"...You’re rushing."
The power was overwhelming, but the sword wasn’t.
It wasn’t elegant.
It wasn’t precise.
The beautiful lines of the Sun Sword—the technique that once felt like sunlight painted in motion—were buried under brute force.
Like he wasn’t trying to win properly.
Like he was trying to erase the fight itself.
As if something was chasing him from behind.
That made him—ironically—easier to deal with.
Because desperate swordsmanship always left openings.
"Damn it!" Yuren snarled, voice rough, nothing like his usual refined tone.
He panted, shoulders rising and falling.
"How long are you going to keep running?"
"Until you come to your senses," I shot back.
His eyes flashed.
"...You’re saying I’m not sane?"
"If someone saw you right now," I said, dodging another strike by a hair, "they’d assume you weren’t."
His sword paused.
Just for a moment.
And that moment told me everything.
His expression tightened, then cracked—just a little.
"...I can’t help it," he muttered.
The words were quiet.
Almost swallowed by the forest.
But I heard them.
And for the first time since this started, my irritation dulled.
Something cold replaced it.
"Yuren," I said more carefully, "what’s going on?"
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
The way his hands shook around the hilt told me enough.
The way his eyes stayed locked forward like he couldn’t look away from something only he could see.
The way his mana surged like it was trying to drown out his thoughts.
He was afraid.
Not of me.
Not of the unicorn.
Of losing.
Of failing.
Of something deeper than an exam grade.
His voice came out strained.
"I... absolutely cannot lose."
Rumble.
His mana swelled again, making the air vibrate.
He raised his sword.
The golden aura condensed at the tip until it was almost blinding.
My eyes widened slightly.
’Sixth Form again?’
He was about to fire it like a wave.
Not a clean thrust—something wider.
Something meant to wipe everything in front of him.
Modified White Light.
A sweep.
A flood.
"Yuren—stop," I said, stepping forward despite the danger. "You’re going too far."
His response was a shout, raw and desperate.
"HAAA!"
The golden light surged outward.
A massive crescent wave of condensed aura tore across the forest.
Trees bent as it passed.
The stream churned.
The ground shuddered.
It wasn’t a strike meant for a bell.
It was a strike meant to end the world in front of him.
My eyes flicked to the unicorn.
It panicked.
Its instincts screamed run, and it bolted—straight into the path of the golden wave.
And in that instant, I understood.
If I did nothing, the beast would be caught in the attack anyway.
If I tried to stop the wave head-on, I’d be crushed.
If I chased the bell, I’d be too slow.
So I chose the only option left.
I moved.
Wind Step.
I slipped behind the unicorn in a blur, positioning myself on the far side of its body.
The beast whinnied, hooves slipping on wet stone as it tried to escape.
I raised my sword and made one sharp cut—not deep, not lethal—just enough to force it to stumble and lose its escape line.
The unicorn’s movement faltered.
Its neck shifted—
And the bell swung.
Right into the path of Yuren’s wave.
The golden aura hit.
Not as a focused spear, but as a sweeping tide.
The bell shattered.
A crisp, clear sound rang out.
Ding.
A notification flashed on my Hero Watch.
[Candidate ’Yuren Helios’ has achieved the bonus objective.][Bonus objective achiever will automatically be ranked 1st in the midterm evaluation.]
Yuren froze.
His eyes widened, staring at the message like he couldn’t believe it was real.
Then his shoulders sagged.
"...Thank goodness," he whispered.
And his body gave out.
He collapsed to his knees, then tipped sideways onto the dirt.
For a second I thought he’d been struck.
But no.
It wasn’t injury.
It was release.
Like a rope snapping after being pulled too tight for too long.
I jogged over, tension still in my legs, and crouched beside him.
"Yuren."
He didn’t respond.
His lips moved faintly.
"I... can’t lose..."
I stared at his face.
Pale.
Sweat-soaked.
Trembling even in unconsciousness.
I lifted him carefully—heavier than he looked, all dense muscle and exhaustion—and dragged him to a nearby rock where the ground was steadier.
I sat him down with his back supported, then checked his pulse.
Fast, but stable.
Breathing steady.
He wasn’t dying.
He was just... broken for a moment.
I exhaled.
Then I looked at the shattered bell fragments near the stream, still glittering with faint residue of mana.
First place.
He got it.
But not because he outplayed me cleanly.
Not because he was calm and brilliant.
Because he was terrified.
And I—
I had unknowingly pushed him into that terror.
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"...I thought I knew you."
I’d called him my friend.
My future mentor.
My one and only companion from a life that felt endless.
I assumed he’d be fine even if he lost first place.
I assumed he’d laugh it off.
I assumed it would motivate him.
But I hadn’t asked the simplest question.
Why does first place matter so much to you?
I looked down at him again.
His brow twitched like he was dreaming.
Fighting invisible enemies.
Clinging to invisible expectations.
Trying to shine so brightly that no one would ever look at him with disappointment again.
"...You weren’t shining because it was easy," I muttered.
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
"You were forcing yourself to shine."
The wind rustled through the branches above.
The unicorn had retreated far away, injured but alive, leaving only churned water and broken earth behind.
And I stayed there beside my unconscious friend, watching him murmur the same words over and over—
"I can’t lose..."
As if losing once would shatter him forever.
And for the first time since returning to the past, I felt something I didn’t like.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Regret.
Because maybe...
In trying to change the future, I’d overlooked the pain that already existed in the present.
And now I had to deal with it.
Whether I liked it or not.
