It Is Time

Roland’s hand rested upon the hilt of his sword.

“Did you finally come to terms with reality?”

Flint didn’t move.

Roland’s eyes drifted toward the bound researchers, then toward the flames consuming their only exit.

“Even now… you still hesitate.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Flint looked down at the Bloodblade.

“…Because I don’t want this to become my first answer.”

Roland frowned.

“Your first answer?”

Flint rested his hand against the sheath.

“You were right about one thing. There may come a time when I have no other choice.”

His fingers tightened.

“But as long as there’s another way… I’m going to look for it.”

Roland regarded him with something almost resembling pity.

“And how many people will die while you search?”

Flint didn’t answer right away. That gave Roland the time to exhale in disappointment.

“I knew it.” Roland’s voice dropped, “You’re just another protector… unwilling to protect.”

Then—

“FLINT!”

Ludmilla’s voice cut through the smoke. Flint turned to find her breathing hard, but the panic was gone. Her hands had stopped trembling, and the sharp focus in her eyes had returned.

“I remembered!”

She pointed toward one of the towering bookshelves along the eastern wall.

“The Academy’s original construction plans!”

Her eyes widened.

“There’s an old maintenance passage behind that wall! It predates the lower Archives. If it hasn’t been sealed off—”

She pointed urgently toward the shelf.

“We can get out through there, if we move that shelf!”

Flint smiled simply.

“…Good.”

He looked back at Roland.

“I’ll leave them to you.”

“Quick! Isla! Help me with this!”

Murry and Isla immediately moved toward the bookshelf while Ludmilla stayed back, waiting for Flint to give her a chance to reach her classmates.

“It seems you found the answer I tried to make you forget…” The knight tilted his head in irritation.

“Even so… you think I’ll let you put that plan in motion?”

Roland reached over his shoulder and closed his hand around the hilt of his broadsword. Flint watched as the blade slowly slid free from the sheath across his back.

“…Sir Roland.”

Roland paused with his sword half-drawn as Flint spoke.

The young man tightened his grip around the Bloodblade, his knuckles turning white.

“…Please.”

For the briefest moment, neither of them moved. Then Roland pulled the sword fully from its sheath.

That was when Flint understood.

There wasn’t another way.

He couldn’t fight a knight with more than twenty years of experience using nothing but the axe at his hip. He couldn’t overpower him, couldn’t keep him away from Ludmilla and the others, and couldn’t trust that a man willing to burn four innocent people alive for the Bloodblade would suddenly stop before someone died.

Flint had searched for another answer.

Ludmilla had found one.

Roland simply wouldn’t let them take it.

His hand slowly closed around the Bloodblade.

He knew what that meant.

Behind him, Clara made a muffled sound through the cloth over her mouth, while Elias went completely still. They knew what drawing the Bloodblade meant too.

For most of his life, Flint had imagined a hero as someone who would always find the right answer. Someone who could save everyone without ever becoming the thing he fought against.

Killing Sir Roland would never fit that image.

And once, that would have been enough to make him let go of the sword.

Not anymore.

If protecting that dream meant standing aside while innocent people died, then it wasn’t a dream worth protecting.

He would rather abandon the hero he had always imagined becoming…

than abandon the people standing behind him.

The voice of the Bloodblade returned to echo inside his mind.

It is time.

Flint closed his eyes for the briefest moment, accepting what came next. He wouldn’t run from the Bloodblade anymore; if there truly was no other choice, he would draw it—even if doing so cost him something he wasn’t ready to lose.

“Bound unto fate, break mortal tether…”

Crimson light awakened, shining through the diamond gaps of the scabbard.

“A Crimson Gate, bind thee forever…”

The flames continued to rise around them as Murry and Isla strained against the bookshelf, slowly forcing it away from the wall.

“Temper the crown, for death won’t be undone.”

The blade slid free.

“Demand a sacrifice, till judgement has been won.”

Crimson light flooded the Archives as Flint launched himself forward, the wooden floor cracking beneath his feet from the sudden burst of speed. Roland barely raised his sword in time before the Bloodblade crashed against it, steel meeting crimson with enough force to drive the knight backward.

CLANG!

“…!”

Roland’s eyes widened.

He’s stronger than what he’d anticipate from a woodcutter.

No.

Not just stronger.

But faster too.

Far faster than anything he’d ever faced.

Flint gave him no time to recover, surging forward in another crimson flash. Roland twisted aside at the last possible moment, but the Bloodblade still carved across his breastplate, splitting the steel as effortlessly as parchment.

“…Impossible.”

Roland countered immediately, years of training taking over as his sword blurred through three precise strikes—a high slash, a low cut and a thrust aimed straight at Flint’s chest. Yet Flint’s body answered immediately, the Bloodblade moving instinctively as he parried the first, stepped away from the second and turned the thrust aside with a final sweep of crimson steel.

Not one strike reached him.

“…So that’s what they meant when they said… the sword teaches…”

Roland whispered but Flint didn’t give him the courtesy to reply. There would be no more talking.

Flint dashed forward again, but this time Roland met him head-on, their blades colliding and locking between them. For a heartbeat they stood face to face, Flint quietly meeting the knight’s eyes before twisting the Bloodblade and breaking the lock hard enough to send Roland stumbling back.

Flint immediately followed with a sweeping crimson slash. Roland threw himself backward, but he was a fraction too late; the Bloodblade carved across his side, splitting through his armor and sending blood across the stone as he dropped to one knee.

Still, Roland forced himself back to his feet.

“Man...”

Murry looked over his shoulder while dragging the bookshelf.

“That sword really packs one hell of a punch...”

Roland raised his sword once more.

“I have protected this Academy… for twenty-three years.”

He took another step.

“I will not fall… to someone unwilling to protect it.”

Flint looked behind him.

Ludmilla had reached the captives, while Isla hurried between them, cutting through bindings and pulling the cloth from their mouths.

“The corridor!” Nina gasped immediately. “Get everyone through!”

Clara stumbled free beside her, but her eyes remained fixed on Flint and the crimson blade in his hands.

“Move, idiot!” Elias croacked.

“Interesting choice of escape…” Otto simply said as he went to help Murry who shoved the bookshelf aside with one final heave.

Stone groaned behind them as the hidden panel finally shifted open, revealing the maintenance passage beyond.

That was plan B.

Roland’s eyes snapped toward the opening and he immediately moved to stop them—but Flint was faster.

The Bloodblade swept through the smoke in a single crimson arc, cutting straight through Roland’s sword before continuing across his chest. The broken half of his blade struck the floor as a thin crimson line appeared across his armor.

Roland’s knees gave way.

Flint slowly lowered the Bloodblade as the Archives fell quiet around them, leaving only the crackle of the fire.

Roland coughed blood, his eyes meeting Flint’s. His gaze didn’t betray disappointment. Only a profound sense of peace.

“See, woodcutter? We’re the same now…”

Flint remained silent.

“You sacrificed the one… to save the many—“

“…No.” Flint shook his head.

Roland’s breath hitched.

“The blood on your blade seems to disagree…”

Flint nodded.

“I did it, only because you left me no other choice."

“…Then what’s… the difference?”

Roland could barely croak.

“The difference is that you stopped searching.”

Flint met the man’s gaze resolutely, as the archives around them burned.

“You found one answer… and decided it was the only one.”

His gaze drifted toward Ludmilla.

Toward Isla.

Toward Murry.

Toward the researchers disappearing into the maintenance corridor.

“I kept searching.”

A quiet breath.

“…Until there wasn’t another way.”

Roland stared at Flint, the fire reflected in his fading eyes as understanding slowly settled across his face.

Not defeat. Just the pure realization of something profound.

“…You never abandoned anyone…”

Flint looked away, A faint smile crossed his face.

“…I tried not to.”

Roland chuckled weakly.

“Maybe you… were the true… protector all along.”

His eyes slowly closed, as he collapsed forward, his armor thundering against the stone.

Flint sat there for a moment, above the body of who he thought was a valiant knight.

Sir Roland hadn’t been a monster. Just a man who’d convinced himself there was only one road left to walk.

Flint felt like he could be the same person if he were alone. He didn’t want to give up on being a hero. Not now… not ever.

But he had to take decisions against that dream if he wanted to keep everyone safe.

🗡

Morning sunlight spilled across the Academy courtyard.

The smoke had long since cleared. Aside from a few workers repairing damaged stonework near one of the Archive entrances, it was difficult to believe everything that had happened the previous night.

The betrayal and death of Sir Roland had shook the foundations of the Grand Academy.

But still that safe haven of knowledge… had a duty to keep going.

Flint adjusted the strap of his pack.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

The entire research team had come to see them off, with Clara already crying before they’d even reached the Academy gates.

“…You were only here for a week…”

She sniffled dramatically.

“But it felt like a month!!!”

She bawled.

Elias stepped forward, carrying an absurdly tall stack of books.

“I copied everything we found relating to the Bloodblade.”

He proudly handed the bundle to Murry.

“There wasn’t much. But now you don’t have to remember it all.”

“What the—“ Murry’s knees buckled as he accepted them, “The hell you mean it’s not much?!”

“Mr. Flint…” Elias ignored him and cleared his throat, turning to the young man who had saved them.

“You were really heroic back in the library. Thank you.”

The boy bowed bashfully. Flint smiled, slightly embarrassed and unsure.

Was he, really?

“I think you’re exaggerating…”

Besides, he had already accepted that saving them might mean letting go of the spotless hero he had once imagined becoming.

“You were…” Clara swallowed in between dramatic sobs, “OUR KIND OF HERO!!!”

Flint scratched his cheek while Isla laughed behind her hand.

I wonder… what kind of hero that could be?

Otto adjusted his glasses.

“…Interesting journey ahead, friends.”

Murry blinked.

“…Is that your way of saying ‘good luck’?”

Isla smiled warmly.

“We’ll come back someday.”

“We’d like that.” Nina nodded, “The room will be much too silent without you.”

“BAAAAAAH!!!”

Clara continued bawling.

“Or maybe not…” Nina smiled wryly.

Ludmilla, however, was nowhere to be seen, prompting Flint to glance around the courtyard in search of her.

“…Is Ludmilla busy?”

The four researchers exchanged a glance, before Nina answered the burning question.

“She hasn’t left her office since sunrise.”

Elias scratched his cheek.

“She said she had paperwork to take care of.”

Murry shrugged.

“Sounds like her.”

Flint nodded. “Then give her our gratitude.”

His smile widened.

“…For everything.”

The three turned toward the Academy gates, however they didn’t manage to take a single step towards it.

“WAIT!!”

Murry closed his eyes.

“…I knew it.”

Rapid footsteps echoed across the courtyard before Ludmilla came running toward them, her usually immaculate hair escaping its ribbon and her glasses sitting slightly crooked. Behind her trailed enough luggage to supply a small expedition.

Two suitcases.

A satchel.

A backpack.

Three rolled maps.

And, somehow…

A wooden crate full of books.

She finally came to a stop in front of them, breathing heavily.

“Ludmilla, are you okay?” Isla asked softly.

“…I’m…”

She caught her breath.

“…coming.”

She let down her things.

“With you!”

Flint blinked.

“You are?”

“I am.”

Murry slowly looked down at the mountain of luggage.

“No.”

Ludmilla adjusted her glasses.

“…No?”

He pointed at the crate.

“That’s a library.”

“It’s research material.”

“That’s furniture.”

“That… contains more research.”

“You packed more than the three of us combined.”

“Even still!”

She folded her arms.

“Do you truly intend to continue investigating the Crimson Gate …without the only person in the kingdom specializing in Crimson Gate theory?”

Murry looked toward Flint, who returned his gaze, while Isla tilted her head thoughtfully.

“She does have a point.”

“Besides, I don’t see why you need a logical reason to let someone join your party…” Ludmilla narrowed her eyes at Murry. “Considering he joined too.”

Isla covered a laugh behind her hand.

“What?!” Murry flipped, “But I’m smart too! Tell her, kid!”

The ex-knight pointed at Flint, who simply smiled.

“I think it’d be nice if Ludmilla joined.”

“You ignoring me, oi?!”

Meanwhile Ludmilla’s cheeks reddened ever so slightly, before she straightened the front of her skirt.

“Y-You do?” She coughed into her fist, “D-Don’t worry, I can carry my own luggage.”

Murry stared at her in disbelief.

“You say that now…”

Before anyone could continue—

Clara suddenly wrapped Ludmilla in a hug.

“You’d better write!”

The bespactacled girl was taken aback, but didn’t break away from the embrace. Instead, she let out a quiet exhale.

“I will. Worry not.”

Elias smiled.

“Bring back a ton of answers for us when you come back.”

Otto gave a small nod.

“Find something…”

He paused.

“…Interesting.”

Ludmilla laughed.

“I’ll try my best.”

Nina was the last to step forward, immediately straightening Ludmilla’s slightly crooked collar.

“Don’t forget to eat.”

“I won’t.”

“And sleep.”

Ludmilla looked away.

“No promises.”

“…That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

For a moment, nobody spoke before Ludmilla finally smiled—a small but genuine smile, the first she had worn since Roland’s betrayal. She then turned toward her new party.

“…Shall we?”

Flint smiled back.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

The four disappeared beyond the Academy gates. The researchers remained standing there until they vanished from sight.

Ludmilla had spent her entire life chasing answers hidden inside old books.

Flint had shown her something she had never considered.

Some answers… could only be found by turning the page.

Others… had to be walked toward.

For the first time in her life…

Ludmilla Rosenberg left the Academy not to study history.

But to witness it herself.