Ch.137The Lost One (4)

When drinking, one gets drunk, but when sober, the alcohol brings pain.

The Helm Knight described honor and pride in such terms. Upon hearing this, Najin remained silent.

“……”

With closed lips, Najin gazed at the Helm Knight. The eyes behind the helmet remained invisible. Though Najin had always read others’ thoughts and moods through their eyes, his perceptiveness didn’t work on the Helm Knight.

So he had to find another way.

“Are you saying honor and pride are useless?”

“No, never said that. I told you, didn’t I? It’s strong liquor. Alcohol is an essential element in life.”

“Pardon?”

“How can anyone live without alcohol? Nothing is as dry as a life without drink. Having a drink occasionally, getting a bit tipsy—that’s what makes life bearable.”

The Helm Knight spoke with feigned innocence.

“But one can’t stay drunk forever. Eventually, you must sober up, and then you pay the price for your intoxication.”

What will you pay that price with?

Those who live on the continent say they’ll pay with their lives. But the Outer Continent asks them again:

Is that all?

“The deeper the intoxication, the more painful the hangover. I don’t know how you lived on the continent, but I’m telling you to sober up a bit. Otherwise, life will be hard.”

With his scarred hand, he pointed to the wandering dead in the Outer Continent. There were corpses still clutching weapons, eternally struggling even in death.

“They too were once knights. They simply couldn’t remain knights forever.”

A death without honor or pride.

The Helm Knight said this was the fate that awaited those who lived drunk on honor and pride.

‘The forgotten ones.’

Those who have forgotten.

Najin looked at the wandering dead. Among them were some who had planted spears in their own bodies, with flags fluttering in the wind.

Emblems of knightly orders. Imperial emblems. Or family crests.

Bearing various flags, the forgotten ones wandered the Outer Continent. As if those flags were the only honor permitted to them.

2.

Following the Helm Knight for quite some time, Najin arrived at a certain place. It was filled with large rocks, but their shapes weren’t natural.

They weren’t rocks that had naturally emerged from the ground or been eroded, but rather seemed to have flown in from somewhere and gotten stuck. The Helm Knight stopped among these massive rocks. He picked up a suitable stone from the ground and sat on it.

“Sit down too.”

The Helm Knight looked around, gathered something resembling firewood, placed it on the ground, and lit a fire. The problem was that this “firewood” consisted of severed human arms, but the fire caught well nonetheless.

Crackle, crackle…

Gazing at the blazing fire, the Helm Knight spoke.

“You said you came from the Empire, right?”

“Yes.”

“How much history do you know?”

“Enough.”

“That’s fortunate. Then do you know about the Dawn War?”

Najin nodded.

He did know. It was a war he’d learned about while investigating Juel Lazian. After all, that war was where she had first been sighted.

“Wasn’t it a war that broke out when one of the Empire’s Pillars rebelled? I know about it.”

“How much time has passed since that war?”

“150 years.”

“150 years.”

The Helm Knight murmured.

“Quite a long time. What happened to the Empire afterward?”

“The Empire won the war. Lord Gerd, who led the Royal Guard at the time, secured victory by eliminating the rebellion’s leaders.”

“Gerd? Him?”

The Helm Knight asked in apparent surprise.

“That’s surprising. He wasn’t much of a fighter. What happened to Gerd afterward?”

“In recognition of his achievements, Lord Gerd became a Pillar of the Empire. He started at the lowest position, but now he’s called the Empire’s First Pillar.”

The Helm Knight fell silent for a moment after hearing Najin’s words. The silence didn’t last long. Soon, he rattled his helmet and burst into laughter.

“I didn’t mishear, did I? That Gerd became the First Pillar? The Empire’s first pillar? Then he must have become a Sword Master. He would have earned stars too.”

“That’s right.”

“How many stars does he have?”

“Seven.”

“Ha! Seven stars? That’s surprising.”

“Do you know Lord Gerd?”

“I know him well. Though he probably doesn’t remember me.”

The Helm Knight chuckled.

Afterward, he continued to ask Najin about the outside world. Mostly questions about the Empire’s situation, like “Is the Empire peaceful? Who is the current Emperor?”

“It’s been enjoyable hearing about the outside world after so long. I’ve asked too many questions. Let me answer some of yours now. Do you have anything you want to ask me? I’ll answer anything except questions about myself.”

“What are the ‘crows’?”

“Ah, that?”

Both Graf and the Helm Knight before him had referred to Najin’s attackers as “crows.” Najin was curious about what that meant. Merlin had said, “I think I know what they are, but the terminology is different from my time…”

“They’re hunters. Those who hunt newcomers who have just set foot in this land. They’re also scavengers who feed on the leftovers of others’ hunts.”

“Hunting?”

“Yes. There’s no easier method than hunting.”

The Helm Knight gazed at the bonfire as he spoke.

“This cursed land called the Outer Continent constantly wears humans down. Once the wear reaches a certain point, you become one of the forgotten. If you don’t want that terrible fate, you must resist, but there aren’t many ways to do so.”

He held up two fingers.

“Either build achievements and earn stars to continuously prove yourself…”

He folded one finger.

If not that, he said with a sneer:

“Or hunt other stars. Of course, hunting the constellations in the night sky would be killing two birds with one stone—gaining both achievements and stars—but how easy is that? Facing transcendents is very tiresome. It’s difficult.”

“Then…”

“Exactly.”

The Helm Knight extended his hand toward Najin.

“They hunt newcomers like you.”

“……”

“By devouring the starlight nestled in your heart, they can somewhat delay their wear. They can prevent becoming one of the forgotten. Those who hunt newcomers or the weak to take their stars are called ‘crows’ in this land.”

So that’s why they’re crows.

Filthy beasts that feed on corpses.

“They’re fools.”

The Helm Knight said quietly.

“They travel in packs because they’re weak. They act collectively. But that’s precisely what makes them foolish. Even if they swallow a newcomer’s single star whole, it’s not enough, and they have to share it. Before hunting, crows earnestly discuss things like distribution of starlight according to contribution…”

He sneered.

“Who would honor that? These are people who have lost their pride and honor. People who have sold everything they have just to survive today. How could they keep promises?”

Once the hunt is over, the crows fracture.

The starlight they receive is already meager, and dividing it further makes it insignificant. Muttering this, the Helm Knight continued:

“None of them can be trusted. They’re all ready to stab you in the back and run away at any moment. Those who travel in packs are fake. They don’t deserve to be called hunters, so they’re called by the derogatory term ‘crows’.”

“Then what are the real ones?”

“Real ones? What would real hunters be? Those who hunt alone.”

The Helm Knight laughed.

“They pretend to help prey escape from the crows. They make all kinds of excuses, pretending to be kind and well-intentioned to make the prey lower their guard. They wait for the moment when they can get rid of the cumbersome crows and be alone with their prey.”

His laughter, once hitting the helmet, sounded heavy.

“After that, well, you can guess what happens, can’t you?”

He raised his head.

The helmet, flickering in the firelight, stared steadily at Najin. The eyes hidden behind the helmet were unreadable. It was impossible to know what expression he wore inside.

Only his voice. Najin could feel the temperature of that voice.

It was a cool voice. Though invisible and unknowable, Najin thought those eyes would have a temperature not much different from the voice.

“Using kindness, goodwill, anything they can to lure in prey, then tearing into them when they let their guard down. Feasting on the prey alone. That’s how real hunters operate.”

“I see.”

“I’m contemplating right now. Should I take your heart, or should I show you kindness one more time?”

“So it seems.”

The Helm Knight spoke impassively, and Najin responded just as impassively. Seeing Najin respond with the same attitude as his own, the Helm Knight’s gaze lowered slightly.

“Did you not understand? I meant I’m considering whether to kill you or not.”

“I understood.”

“You seem rather calm for someone in your position.”

“I thought it was quite a kind declaration of war.”

“What?”

Najin shrugged.

“You’re telling me to my face, ‘I’m thinking of killing you now, what do you think?’ What kind of hunter hunts so carelessly?”

“It might be a demonstration of confidence that I can kill you even while giving you leeway.”

“That could be the case.”

Najin slowly rose from his seat.

“But isn’t there another expression for this?”

“Another expression?”

“You tell your opponent you’re going to attack them. Yet you don’t ambush them and give them time. You wait until they take action, whether they run away or prepare to fight.”

Doesn’t this seem like a familiar procedure?

Saying this, Najin inserted his fingers between his wrist and glove. Then he pulled off the glove and held it in his hand.

“All that remains is to throw down the glove and declare our names.”

Najin threw the glove to the ground.

A well-tanned leather glove. It was a gift from Argo, a knight of Atanga. As he had boasted, when the glove hit the ground, a crisp “swish!” echoed.

“Najin, descendant of Ivan of Atanga.”

Najin placed his hand on his sword hilt.

“I accept your duel challenge.”

Then he turned up the corners of his mouth into a grin toward the Helm Knight. The smile was contagious. Realizing what Najin’s actions meant, the Helm Knight burst into laughter.

You call this hunting?

I would call it a duel.

Whether to accept it or not is your choice.

Hunter and prey. Attacker and victim. Najin broke that dynamic by throwing down his glove and declaring his name. Not a hierarchical relationship, but an equal one. The Helm Knight rattled his helmet and laughed at this act.

“You’re out of your mind. You want to take this as a duel?”

“Helm Knight.”

Najin said. Not “the Helm Knight,” but “Helm Knight”—that’s how Najin addressed the man before him.

“You said honor and pride are like alcohol?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Let’s have a drink then. I’ll be your drinking companion.”

A moment of silence. Then, laughter.

The Helm Knight laughed loudly and replied:

“Not a bad proposal.”

The knight slowly rose from his seat.

“I’m sorry, but I have no name to declare. I’ve lost it.”

“I see.”

“But it would be impolite not to introduce myself before a duel.”

He raised his spear. Even though he had lost his name, there was still a way to introduce himself.

“Do you know the Golden Horn Knights? Also called Horned Helm.”

“I don’t.”

“Then remember the name of the Golden Horn Knights.”

With his spear pointed at Najin, he said:

“I am the first captain of the Golden Horn Knights, the owner of the Horned Helm. This helmet proves my existence. This helmet, and the story contained within it, stands in place of my name.”

He tapped his helmet with his spear shaft. With a clang, his laughter echoed as well.

“Najin.”

He called Najin’s name. Not “boy” or “kid” or “hey,” but the name that referred only to Najin. That was courtesy to a dueling opponent.

“I’ll let you have the first move.”

3.

Najin looked at the Helm Knight before him.

He had said he would give Najin the first move. But Najin couldn’t rush in easily. The sound of the bonfire burning down stretched out—tak, tadak… The subjective time Najin experienced had slowed down that much.

Tadak.

The brief moment when a spark from the bonfire jumped up and died out seemed to stretch into tens of seconds or more for Najin. In this extended subjective time, Najin observed his opponent.

A powerful one. Undeniably powerful.

None of those who had pursued Najin since he entered the Outer Continent could compare to the knight before him. It wasn’t just the Outer Continent. Even among those Najin had met on the continent, few could match this man.

Sword Masters. Transcendents of that caliber.

Only those at that level didn’t pale in comparison to this man. The pressure emanating from the Helm Knight was comparable to that of Sword Masters. So, was this man before him a transcendent who had reached that level?

‘No, that’s not it.’

He wasn’t. Najin’s eyes narrowed.

A strange energy emanated from the man before him. Where had he felt such energy before? It didn’t take long to trace the memory.

The Witch of Glimmer, Ermina.

The opponent he had met when he first set foot in the Outer Continent. A witch who had lost all her stars, whose circle had been shattered, and who was no longer a transcendent. The aura he felt from the knight before him was similar to what he had felt from her.

Too weak to be a transcendent.

Too intense to be anything but.

‘Once a transcendent, but.’

One who is no longer.

Najin took a deep breath.

Najin’s reason screamed that this was a fight without prospects of victory and that fleeing immediately was the right choice. The man before him had declared he would hunt Najin and take his life—Najin’s reason screamed in terror.

‘Run away now. The man before you is dangerous. The chances of winning are infinitesimally small. He’s hiding something.’

That was a conclusion based on thorough reasoning.

But Najin’s intuition drew a different conclusion.

‘An honorable duel. Show your best.’

That’s what he desires.

Najin’s intuition shouted.

Of course, there was no evidence. It wasn’t rational. It was spontaneous.

But Najin had always trusted his intuition more than reason. If he had only followed reason, Najin’s journey would never have begun. Wasn’t it intuition that told him to pull Excalibur that started his journey?

As always, Najin trusted his intuition.

It wasn’t irresponsible trust. He would pay the price for that trust.

When Merlin asked “With what?” Najin answered:

With what I hold in my hand.

A sword aura rose over Najin’s blade.