Ch-309. **Enlightenment**
—
The Sanctuary of Honor.
As its name implies, it is the place where those deemed honorable perform their rites.
A location one must inevitably pass through to be formally issued *qualification*.
For example, to become a king ruling vast territories, or to be properly acknowledged as a hero or a noble, one must undergo a rite at the Sanctuary of Honor.
Especially in an empire where the Emperor slumbers, one’s qualifications had to be verified at the Sanctuary of Honor without exception.
How honorable one was.
How righteous.
“Nothing is as futile as something called ‘honor.’”
Clop, clop.
Riding his horse, Raiga spoke.
At present, I was leaving the Empire together with Raiga.
Yet for an escort of the Eight Houses, the procession was remarkably meager.
It consisted of no more than him, myself, and two horses.
And yet Raiga, who had maintained silence for quite some time, suddenly spoke those words.
That honor was futile.
“Why do you think so?”
“Because people are born with a certain amount of ‘honor’ determined by their circumstances. The children of kings and nobles hold more ‘honor’ from the very beginning than commoners do.”
It was a rather unexpected statement coming from Raiga.
Despite holding the position of master of the Eight Houses—one of the highest ranks in the Empire—he was openly lamenting the system’s unfairness.
But in Pangaenia, *unfairness* was something taken for granted.
Being born with different status and different honor was nothing strange.
Above all, the numerical value of *honor* differed.
An ordinary human of Pangaenia is born with zero honor.
I had heard that the child of a sinner could even start with a negative value.
But the child of a noble or royal family is born holding at least a hundred points of honor.
“Isn’t it natural for the ‘honor’ accumulated by one’s parents to be passed on to their child?”
“…I see. So you think that way as well.”
Raiga looked at me with a hint of disappointment in his eyes.
Yet it wasn’t wrong.
This was precisely how Pangaenia maintained order.
The honor of parents, the sins of parents, were inherited by their children.
That was why so many people tried to live kindly and honorably.
After all, one could not deny the very foundation upon which the world of Pangaenia turned.
Raiga continued.
“Honor is a qualification one builds with their own hands. And yet, merely by being born, someone bears a heavy burden and enters the mines, while another flies through the skies without any effort. Don’t you find that strange?”
It was, in essence, the spoon theory.
Like the divide between dirt spoons and golden spoons.
But honor was not merely a matter of *wealth*.
In Pangaenia, the difference between having honor and not having it was far more severe than that.
“It isn’t strange.”
Even so, I shook my head.
Because a society where everyone is equal does not exist.
Such a utopia exists nowhere.
At my firm answer, Raiga’s brow furrowed slightly.
“You truly believe that?”
“Yes. The reason we must live honorably, the reason we must live as humans—aren’t they to become fathers our children will not be ashamed of? However…”
“….”
“Separately from that, I believe that everyone must be given equal *opportunity*.”
“Opportunity?”
“If someone is denied even a chance despite having ability simply because of their background, there can be no greater dishonor than that.”
“…!”
Raiga’s eyes trembled slightly.
Hearing my definition of honor—that true dishonor lay in denying opportunity to the capable, regardless of their origins—his heart wavered.
“…Yes. That would indeed be the most dishonorable thing.”
Soon after, Raiga nodded.
At the same time, the gaze with which he looked at me softened.
A faint smile even appeared at the corner of his lips, as if satisfied.
*Unexpected.*
As expected, Raiga’s way of thinking differed from that of ordinary nobles.
He was nothing like those who were overbearing and took lineage for granted.
What Raiga valued was solely ability.
Ability and effort.
*So it wasn’t that he despised the weak—he despised those who did not try.*
He loathed those who gave up without attempting to overcome their circumstances.
This, too, was entirely different from the privileged classes of Pangaenia.
They tended to treat the word *effort* as something laughable.
Soon, Raiga spoke again.
“Honor is also like a ‘sword.’”
“…?”
“The more you polish and hone it, the more it shines and the sharper it becomes. Even a rusted sword, depending on how diligently it is honed, can shine and grow keen.”
“Isn’t that true of weapons other than swords as well?”
“A sword has two sharpened edges. If you simply polish it without care, it loses balance. Only by honing both edges properly can even a rusted blade become a famed sword.”
Another discourse on honor.
On how to sharpen a sword.
Yet he had not begun speaking merely to explain such a method.
With his expression hardening, Raiga continued.
“I will teach you how to hone both edges of the sword properly. Even if the Sanctuary of Honor—or *they*—refuse to acknowledge you.”
“….”
“I will do so no matter what. If one has ability and talent, it is only right to grant them opportunity.”
You have talent.
That was what Raiga was telling me.
Perhaps because of that—
*I feel guilty.*
He was entirely different from when I first met him as an executive of the Reaper Church.
Raiga’s passion toward me was genuine.
It felt as though I was finally seeing the truth of Raiga—something I had never known, never understood.
And so, I felt apologetic.
Because I had not been sincere with Raiga.
Because I had never imagined he would be this kind of person.
Moreover—
*Raiga has seen through me.*
Hyun of Adrium.
I had claimed to be from Adrium, but it was clear he had discerned that to be false.
Yet he said it did not matter.
On the contrary, he seemed to believe there must be a reason for it.
*…I should be a little more sincere as well.*
The relationship had been false from the beginning, and now it was too late to tell the truth.
His flame would soon be extinguished.
The light in his eyes was gradually fading.
Still, precisely because of that, I could treat him with greater sincerity.
At the very least, I could help fulfill his wish in the way he desired.
After all, we needed each other.
“…I will learn diligently.”
For now, I decided to show him the image he so desperately wished to see—a *hardworking genius*.
That would be the best expression I could offer Raiga.
—
—
—If someone is denied even a chance despite having ability simply because of their background, there can be no greater dishonor than that.
When he heard those words, Raiga felt a small tremor.
Hyun was not merely talented.
He shared the same way of thinking.
In the Empire, there had been no one who held values like his own.
*Is this a gift the heavens have bestowed upon me before my death…?*
Hyun felt like a gift.
Like a present the heavens had taken pity on him to send before he died.
Because Raiga knew those words had not been spoken merely to curry favor, the joy he felt was all the greater.
*Background doesn’t matter.*
The holy city of the Goddess Church, Adrium.
Claiming to be from there was a lie.
Hyun had not been born or raised there.
But he had clearly sought opportunity there.
Most likely because of his origins.
Being a commoner—or perhaps of even more wretched birth—he had needed opportunity.
He had gone to Adrium and seized that opportunity himself.
Wasn’t that admirable?
So many people in the world fail to grasp opportunity even when it stands right before them.
Hyun, on the other hand, went to Adrium and took it with his own hands.
*There is no information about Hyun anywhere in the world.*
And why would that be?
Hyun had left no trace in this world.
No family, no friends, no one who knew him.
Even with his information network, Raiga could uncover nothing.
Which meant—
*Most likely, he was of slave origin.*
There was a high chance that Hyun, like himself, had been born a slave.
There was no slave brand, but just as Raiga had done, there were many ways to erase such a mark by regenerating the body.
Perhaps that was why—
He felt even closer to him.
Of course, even if they went to the Sanctuary of Honor, Hyun would likely be scolded for possessing paltry honor.
The Sanctuary itself might reject him outright.
It was, after all, a place that quantified honor and granted qualifications.
Naturally, the Eight Houses would oppose it—but Raiga saw this as the last chance.
The first step toward reforming the Eight Houses.
And thereby, changing the world.
Though he himself had failed, Hyun might be different.
No—he *had* to be different.
“From now on, face me.”
As they headed toward the Sanctuary of Honor, Raiga continued to instruct Hyun whenever there was time.
…Through sparring.
They had already sparred several times.
Yet Hyun absorbed Raiga’s teachings like a sponge.
The sword that no one had ever followed.
His sword.
His sword forms.
The subtleties embedded within the blade, and the will Raiga sought to convey through it—Hyun followed them with remarkable ease.
This was a first.
Never before had Raiga enjoyed teaching someone this much.
Clang—!
When sword met sword, a clear sound rang out.
*Was this how my master felt when he taught me?*
Raiga realized he was smiling unconsciously.
Thinking back—
The previous master of the Eight Houses.
His master had always smiled when teaching him.
He had genuinely enjoyed it.
At the time, Raiga had thought his master was merely amused by watching him struggle.
But now he understood that wasn’t the case.
He had simply enjoyed it.
Teaching Raiga.
Yet until now, Raiga had never experienced such a feeling.
Teaching someone had always been nothing more than a nuisance and a waste of time.
Because no one could keep up.
Because no one could resonate with his sword.
Because no one could see what he saw.
*…He can see the grain.*
All things possess a *grain*.
Raiga could see it.
He knew where to thrust to inflict a fatal wound, where to cut to disrupt the balance of the grain.
And Hyun, too, clearly could see the grain.
But there was a slight difference between how Hyun saw it and how Raiga did.
Raiga sought only to sever the grain.
Hyun, however, knew how to make use of its circulation.
Because of that, Hyun was weaker at severing the grain.
Conversely, Raiga was weaker at utilizing the circulation of the grain.
*The circulation of the grain… accepting the vibrations of existence…*
While teaching Hyun, Raiga came to realize the part in which he himself was lacking.
He understood that such a method existed.
Not merely using the opponent’s power—but accepting the very vibrations of the opponent’s existence.
Had someone else used such a technique, Raiga would have instinctively rejected it.
But because it was Hyun—the one who had taught him the joy of teaching—using this subtle principle, it stood out to Raiga with overwhelming clarity.
After all, it was the first time Raiga had ever tried to understand someone else.
*Ah…!*
…It was at that moment.
The more their swords met.
The more Raiga tried to understand Hyun.
The something that had been slowly filling within him finally reached its critical point.
Raiga’s entire body trembled.
Then, still with their swords crossed, he stopped.
“……”
It felt as though the world had come to a standstill.
With his eyes closed, even the sound of breathing nearly faded away.
In stillness.
Raiga attained enlightenment.
