Chapter 93: A Depressed Kendo Player Possesses a Bastard Aristocrat

Against a backdrop of deep darkness, youthful screams echoed."Ugh...! Haah, haah…"

"No… No, please! Make it stop…!"

"Aah… Aaah…!!"

"I-I can’t breathe…"

Their cries, soaked in despair, pierced the silence.

Agony, like a single flower, bloomed, violently disrupting the quiet that had settled in the air.

The darkness, robbed of its inherent stillness, was left with nothing but a lingering sense of loss.

"Gah… Aaaargh…!!"

"I’m sorry… I'm sorry I survived…"

A flickering candle faintly illuminated the room.

As the shadows receded, the figures of the children, collapsed on the floor, slowly came into view.

Allen, clutching his head as if in pain.

Clara, retching violently.

Lorraine, muttering apologies to someone.

And Margaret, frozen in place, tears streaming down her face.

The children were,

In every sense of the word, utterly broken.

"Ugh… H-Huh…"

The consciousness and emotions they had shared with Raiden,

Had forced them to confront a depth of pain they had never known.

The feeling of an invisible hand constricting their throats.

The sensation of icy needles piercing their hearts.

A headache so severe it felt like their brains were about to shatter.

"Ugh…"

"Mmm…!"

It was a struggle to maintain their sanity.

They felt as though their very beings would crumble if they remained still.

Each of them could do nothing but whimper.

As chaos threatened to consume them,

A sharp voice cut through the air.

"Everyone… Get a hold of yourselves…!!"

It was Eivy.

Her face was pale, but her voice was filled with urgency.

"If you don't want to live as a wreck for the rest of your lives, calm down…!"

Eivy slowly drew upon her mana.

A deep green aura swirled around her.

Fighting to maintain her own slipping consciousness, she reached out to the others.

"Everyone… Grab the hand of the person next to you…!"

Following her instructions, the children’s hands intertwined.

Her red lips moved, whispering an incantation.

"The Breakwater of The Soul."

A hereditary magic passed down through her family.

The Breakwater of The Soul, known as the most powerful mental barrier magic.

Eivy chanted the spell with unwavering focus.

More than half of her remaining mana drained away.

"Ugh, huh… Haah, haah…"

The casting of the barrier brought a wave of fatigue.

Even for Eivy, an elite student from one of the three Dukal families, casting such a high-level magic was a strain.

"Cough… It’s not over yet…"

She forced her weary body to rise.

The calamity that had befallen their minds could not be contained by a single barrier.

Eivy gripped the others’ hands tightly.

Drawing upon their mana, she opened her eyes wide.

"The Breakwater of The Soul."

Her lips moved once more.

New layers were added to the existing barrier.

The chanting continued.

"The Breakwater of The Soul."

A third time.

"The Breakwater of The Soul."

A fourth time.

"The Breakwater of The Soul."

The ultimate defense magic.

Layer upon layer, it formed a massive seawall.

Eivy poured all of her mana, and that of the other four, into the barrier.

Finally, after eight layers,

The children, who had been drowning in despair, found a moment of peace.

“…Ah.”

Only after the choking sensation in her own throat subsided did Eivy allow herself to collapse.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as mana exhaustion set in.

The room, once filled with screams and moans, was now silent, save for the sound of their ragged breaths.

***

“Margaret… Are you alright?”

“…”

“Margaret.”

“…Ah.”

Margaret blinked, her consciousness returning.

As her scattered thoughts began to coalesce, she noticed the blonde girl looking at her with concern.

“Do you still have a headache…?”

Lorraine asked softly.

Margaret ran a hand through her hair and slowly shook her head.

“I-I’m alright.”

“…I see.”

Her voice trembled as she replied.

Lorraine, who had been watching her silently, reached out a hand to help her up.

“Eivy wants us all to gather in the bedroom. She said we need to assess the situation…”

Margaret slowly rose to her feet.

She didn't take Lorraine’s hand.

She didn’t deserve it.

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“Ugh…”

She stood, her legs shaky.

Her vision, blurry just moments ago, began to clear.

The floor, stained crimson.

Bandage scraps scattered everywhere.

The metallic scent of blood heavy in the air.

The vivid reminders brought a chilling reality crashing down upon her.

Margaret’s eyes welled up.

She stumbled towards the bedroom, her path littered with the remnants of Raiden's breakdown.

A short while later,

Margaret and the others were gathered in Raiden’s bedroom, where he lay unconscious.

“…Is everyone alright?”

Lorraine asked, wiping away the tear stains that streaked her cheeks.

Her voice was strained as she addressed the others.

The children responded with weak nods.

“That’s… good to hear…”

Her words hung in the air, followed by a heavy silence.

“…”

Margaret was still reeling.

She sat closest to the bed, her gaze fixed on Raiden.

Her eyes, filled with sorrow, fear, and guilt, never left him.

In the moment their consciousnesses had connected,

Margaret had glimpsed Raiden’s memories.

The string of tragedies he had kept hidden.

The other children had seen it too.

They all stared at Raiden, their expressions heavy with sorrow.

“…I had no idea.”

Allen was the first to break the silence.

“To think that House Lishite… that he… had been through so much…”

His voice was low.

A shadow had fallen over his usually bright, golden eyes.

“And I… I pushed him… again and again…”

He remembered the cruel words he had spoken to a weary Raiden after the attack during the field trip.

-Professor Lucas, the Head Professor who died in the attack during the field trip… was it you?

-I’m asking if you killed him.

Allen clutched his head.

“…I’m such an idiot.”

It wasn’t just memories they had shared.

They had felt the emotions Raiden had buried deep within himself.

As Allen drowned in self-reproach,

Eivy frowned, her expression unreadable.

“This… This doesn’t make sense. I’ve peered into the minds of countless people, but this… this is a first.”

Eivy, the second daughter of House Roben, known for their mastery of mental magic, had just said “a first.”

“I’ve never… encountered someone with such a shattered mind.”

She muttered, beads of sweat forming on her brow.

The image of the overwhelming wave of despair she had glimpsed within Raiden’s mind refused to leave her.

How was he even alive?

Any ordinary person would have been driven mad or taken their own life.

How could he have endured such agonizing pain and lived each day?

Eivy couldn't even begin to comprehend it.

“…Lady Roben.”

Margaret, who had been silent until now, spoke up.

“You said… that we only felt twenty percent of what he feels…”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Then… Lishite… Raiden… he’s carrying five times the pain… the emotions… that we felt?”

“…Yes, I believe so.”

Eivy’s confirmation was blunt.

Margaret felt her breath catch in her throat.

Five times.

Five times…

“How…”

She muttered, unable to believe it.

Her shoulders trembled.

“I… I could barely handle twenty percent…”

Her cold fingers clutched at her skirt.

The hallucinations that had assaulted her ears.

The self-loathing that had threatened to choke her.

The guilt of surviving at the cost of her mother’s life.

The compulsion to isolate herself from others.

It had been unbearable.

An agonizing, yet poignant loneliness and sorrow.

“Raiden… he’s been feeling that kind of pain… those emotions… all this time…”

The truth of the boy’s heart, revealed for the first time, pierced her deeply.

Margaret bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears welling up inside.

“I didn’t know… Why… How could I be so…”

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess.

Words tumbled out of her mouth, disconnected and fragmented.

Her vision blurred once more, and tears streamed down her face.

“H-Huh…”

The children were lost in their thoughts, each grappling with the weight of what they had experienced.

A heavy silence descended upon the room, threatening to consume them.

“D-Don’t… g-go…”

“…Raiden?”

“Young Master…?”

Raiden, who had been unconscious, his breathing shallow, suddenly frowned and began to mumble.

“Please… don’t…”

As if caught in a nightmare,

He tossed and turned, his hand reaching out blindly.

The children tensed, afraid he might try to hurt himself again.

But his hand didn’t reach for the bandages covering his wounds.

Instead, it found Margaret’s hand, resting on the bed.

“…Please… don’t leave me…”

He pleaded, his voice thick with tears.

He pulled her hand towards him, clutching it tightly.

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Drip, drop.

It fell onto the bedsheet, leaving a dark mark.

“Mother…”

His plea, so raw and desperate,

Froze the children in their tracks.

“Please… don’t leave me… alone…”

His muffled sobs echoed through the room.

For a long moment, none of them could speak.

***

Meanwhile, on the road leading to the Academy,

A carriage sped along at a breakneck pace.

-Clatter, clatter…!

The carriage rattled violently, the sound of hooves pounding against the cobblestones.

Every time the wheels hit a bump,

The golden crest emblazoned on the side of the carriage jolted precariously.

“Gilbert! Can’t you go any faster?!”

A frantic voice called out from the carriage window.

The elderly coachman, Gilbert, cracked his whip, urging the horses onward.

“We’ll be at the Academy soon, My Lady…!”

He said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Ariel, her anxiety growing with each passing moment, sank back into her seat.

She bit her lip, her expression a mixture of worry and fear.

Rachel, her brown-haired maid, gently patted her back.

“Calm down, My Lady… The Young Master will be alright.”

“Rachel…”

Ariel clung to her, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Rachel… what if… what if something happened to Brother? I… I can’t…”

“It’s alright… I’m sure he’s fine…”

Rachel whispered, holding Ariel close.

But despite her reassuring words, her voice trembled just as much as her mistress’s.

-Clatter, clatter…!

The red-haired young lady and her brown-haired maid.

The carriage, carrying the two girls, raced towards the Academy.