"Huh?!" Seven was perplexed. "What do you—"
"First!" Edward continued, unfazed. "Following the commander is far more beneficial than following a lord-in-waiting like you, whose chances of success are near zero. Second, the man you want protection from is far stronger than me."
Seven's breath hitched.
"But—!"
"Lastly…" Edward smiled for a moment, swinging his sword down. "You touched my little baby with those filthy hands."
Pain exploded through Seven's right hand as his fingers fell down one by one, detaching themselves from his knuckles. Blood splattered onto the frozen ground.
He staggered back, clutching his hand while screaming and tearing in pain.
'It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Hurts. Hurts. Hurts…' were the only words inside his mind at the moment.
After seeing the injury, the pain amplified even more as he was now aware of it. He vomited all the food he ate yesterday, and vomited, again and again, so much that blood were now the ones flowing out his mouth.
With diluted pupils and spiderwebbed his sclera, he looked at Edward with pure malice.
"Y-You—! YOU!!"
"Don't look at me with those hateful eyes, Young Lord. Blame your own family for this," Edward said calmly. "I was just instructed to discontinue this mission if you showed the qualities and potential befitting a lord. But what I've seen tells me otherwise."
Edward swung the sword in the air to shake the blood off.
"From your actions and words, especially that look in your eyes— all of it reeks of a pig's greed. I was momentarily distracted by your sudden passion for swordsmanship, but there was no way to change your reputation; my opinion of you isn't going to change either."
Seven's eyes wandered, and it started to get a little blurry. He was still vomiting as he listened.
"People do not change overnight, and I was lame to even consider that, perhaps, you did. In the end, you accused the wrong man even after I dropped so many hints."
"Haha, cough!" Seven chuckled faintly, realizing his miscalculation. "Hahaha— cough!"
Finally, all of it made sense now. How dumb of him to have overlooked such an obvious trap! The obvious hints! Obvious!
How dumb of him to not notice the way Edward's eyes follow his every move. He thought he was one step ahead, but Edward was seven steps ahead! He had been playing with him from the very beginning, and used Aizen as a red herring.
"You…" Seven's voice shook. "You piece of shit. Using tricks like this on someone who was never a match for you, are you— cough!— satisfied with yourself?!"
Truth was, a single thought lingered on his mind.
'Why?'
If Edward wanted him dead, he could have done it at any time. So why had he dragged this out? Why did he teach him footwork? Basic sword forms? Why did he act like a mentor? Of course, he also had an answer to it.
Based on Edward's words earlier, he did those things because he considered that Seven might have the qualities of what it takes to be a Lord.
'Still, why? Is it wrong to ask for help to face the battles I, alone, have no chance of winning?' he thought, having no idea for what reason did Edward carry this out. 'The mission he said gave him a lee-way, so why?'
"Hahaha! It seems like your mind is clouded by countless thoughts, Young Lord. Just let me tell you this."
Edward laughed, picking up the sword that fell along with Seven's fingers.
"If you want to convince someone you're righteous, you need to show them something that looks like righteousness."
Blood streamed from Seven's cut fingers. He had covered it with his white polo, but to no use as both the polo and the snow below were painted red. Though the wound could still be healed and the fingers could still be reattached, that if treated within the hour.
That if he were to survive.
"Here. Don't waste your last chance," Edward said, throwing the sword back to Seven. "Give me something worthy to report to that damned woman. Do your best. Your fate might change depending on your performance."
- – – 777 – – -
At the same time…
In the village, the elderly had gathered around the well. The same place where Seven (still Seojin that day) were playing with the children.
Most would think staying indoors was safer, but tonight the houses were real dangers.
For instance, Mutya's home had already turned into her grandmother's coffin, because the stone lamp maintaining the barrier stood closest to it was the one malfunctioned. Also, the gravewolves favored close structures.
They leapt from tree to tree, making the walls, roofs, and narrow corners, and tight spaces an advantage for them and a disadvantage for humans.
"Hey, maid woman," Lythian said, slicing cleanly through a gravewolf's neck with a somewhat small sword, slightly larger than a dagger. "Wasn't the boss supposed to be with you? I swear that guy's everywhere— slash!— except when he's actually needed."
"Ah. I requested for Sir Edward to guard or wake the Young Lord at the castle," Iria replied, in the process of reigniting the stone lamp. "I don't know what's delaying them, but they should be arriving soon. With the Young Lord."
"Tch." Lythian kicked a corpse he had just slain aside. "Then where's the old geezer? These things should be nothing more than a warm-up for him."
In truth, Aizen had been the first to eliminate the gravewolves that broke through the fences, and the one who saved Mutya, who now sat crying quietly by the well. Only Mutya had seen him.
The elders hadn't noticed anything because of his speed, or perhaps their failing eyesights.
Even so, gravewolves weren't especially advanced. They were the type of beasts who would charge blindly at whatever they saw. Especially humans. But there were too many! Even with five knights, they were being steadily pushed back as Iria worked to restore the barrier.
"Ah. Your grandfat—?"
"Don't fucking call him my grandfather!" Lythian snapped, cutting down another gravewolf mid-charge. "I— slice!— don't share the same blood as him."
"I apologize," Iria said quickly. "Actually, I haven't seen Mister Aizen either. I believe he was the one I crossed paths briefly on the way here, but… isn't it better that he's away from the danger?"
"Shut up. You don't know a single thing about him."
The five knights were barely holding the line as Iria focused on restoring the barrier as the fire was just taking too long to ignite. Normally, any mage could finish this in five minutes, just not healers, but Iria only has a single [Zi Star].
Sweat continuously ran down her temple as green light pulsed faintly from her palm.
"How long until you're done?" Lythian shouted. "With these numbers, we won't hold much— shit, fuck this."
He pulled another sword from the scabbard, their size was identical.
"You four," Lythian gestured for the other knights. "Focus on defending the barrier. I'll drown their territory with their own blood. If one gets past me, that's your shit to eat."