Ch.167Battlefield of Stars (1)
by fnovelpia
As the two Sword Masters set foot on the ground, the sky tore open above them. This wasn’t a metaphor—the sky literally tore apart. Beyond the tear, countless stars shone brightly.
Juel and Kirhov were just the beginning.
The Empress of Bliss is a Constellation with ten stars, considered the strongest in the Outer Continent aside from the Round Table. Hyenas wouldn’t miss this opportunity when such a Constellation revealed her weakness.
Flash!
Stars gleamed as numerous Constellations attempted to descend upon this land. Even Constellations too low in rank to normally attempt descent stepped onto this land through the passage opened by the “Matyr of Thorns.”
The Matyr of Thorns, patron deity of the Order of Sacred Blood, ascended long ago and cannot normally descend to this land. The process is too complex and time-consuming. However, she was able to open a passage by consuming starlight gathered over hundreds of years in the form of faith.
A passage for stars to pass through.
A justification for stars to descend upon this land.
Constellations gather beneath the beacon she raised. Not all are heroes, nor do all have noble purposes. Though some heroes might be mixed in, most are crows coveting the Empress of Bliss’s stars.
Nevertheless, it’s fine.
The Matyr of Thorns doesn’t care about the motives of those attempting to descend through the passage she created. Her purpose hasn’t changed for a thousand years, three hundred years ago, or now.
『Kill the demons.』
『Kill every last demon on this land.』
Kill demons. If that purpose aligns, it doesn’t matter who you are. We’ll all be comrades united by a single cause.
Whoosh!
Dozens of constellations rose in the sky that had been stained with the Empress of Bliss’s paint. Dozens of Constellations descended to this land to kill the Empress of Bliss. As these massive beings descended, the surrounding space began to creak.
Dozens of Constellations gathered, led by two Sword Masters.
The pressure they created was indescribable. A force capable of erasing an entire nation without a trace. These beings with enough presence to make space itself creak pointed their blades at the Empress of Bliss.
Dozens of spears, swords, bowstrings, staffs… all manner of weapons and stars shining.
Faced with all this, the Empress of Bliss’s response was simple.
Hee, heeheeheee, heeheeheehee!
She laughed. She burst into laughter like a clown, ridiculous and boisterous. With her laughter, she tilted her head to the side and raised both arms. Then, she clapped her slanted palms together with a “smack.”
At that moment, silence fell.
The laughter stopped. The clowns’ performance ended. The voices of the Constellations who descended to this land disappeared, and even their breathing subsided. No one could break this unnatural silence.
Flutter.
In the silence, a massive curtain draped across the sky. A curtain separating the audience from the stage. A black curtain covered the sky.
Snap.
At that moment, the connection between the stars in the sky and the Constellations standing on the ground was severed. Disconnected from their stars, they fell from being Constellations to merely humans with strong powers. As the Constellations were bewildered by this sudden fall, the Empress of Bliss clapped once more.
A long, resounding clap.
The halted performance resumed. The clowns danced again and burst into laughter loud enough to wash away the world. That laughter grew louder than before, more boisterous.
Flash.
And the Empress of Bliss’s star shone.
Flash, flash, flash…
Stars were embedded in the artificial night sky—the black curtain—created by the Empress of Bliss. These were stars she had collected, stars that chose to live in her shadow. The clowns who danced only for her answered their master’s call.
To face dozens of Constellations.
Hundreds of clowns set foot on the ground.
Leading these clowns was Quixote, Star of Contempt. Breaking through the weakened boundary of the forbidden area, Quixote’s spear appeared with Bernstein’s head impaled on it.
Even as his body burned in the flames Bernstein had ignited with his life, Quixote didn’t stop laughing.
“Let’s go, Sancho.”
Quixote charges forward, his spear gleaming.
Hundreds of clowns follow behind him.
Since they are all subjugated to the Empress of Bliss, they too aren’t free from the nature of the forbidden area. Even as their souls and bodies wear away, they charge forward.
To protect their master, lady, princess, royal daughter, highness, lord, knight, lover, captain, madam, child, belief—they willingly walk into danger.
For the clowns, the Empress of Bliss is literally everything. To them, she is the most precious being, irreplaceable, someone they would gladly sacrifice their lives for. Brainwashed as they were, they willingly burned their lives at a single gesture from the Empress of Bliss.
Heeheeheehee.
The Empress of Bliss laughs and laughs again.
As if mocking those who sacrifice their lives for her, as if thoroughly enjoying their unsightly appearance, she didn’t spare her clowns from ridicule.
Because for them, that was the highest praise.
The clowns marched on, nourished by their master’s mockery.
2.
Originally, the Empress of Bliss never leaves her domain. She is a being who operates behind the scenes, not one who steps onto the stage.
Yet this Empress of Bliss has stepped onto the stage.
She has stepped onto a stage that isn’t her territory, where she is at a disadvantage, exposing her weakness. Many Constellations rush in like moths to a flame to exploit this weakness… but they overlooked one thing.
Even weakened and exposed, the Empress of Bliss is still the Empress of Bliss. The fact that she is a Constellation with ten stars remains unchanged.
Heeheeheehee.
The laughter doesn’t stop, and the clowns’ march doesn’t cease. Though the clowns are swept away by the transcendents’ attacks, they stand up again and charge toward the transcendents.
The clowns are already close to being forgotten ones.
One cannot kill what is already dead.
Drinking in the starlight of the Empress of Bliss and reviving again and again, the clowns mock the Constellations. If they think they can match us with numbers, that’s a foolish thought. From the moment the black curtain draped across the sky, this place became a stage.
A play starring the Empress of Bliss.
In this play, the numerous Constellations are mere supporting characters. Even dozens of supporting characters cannot match a single line, a single monologue from the protagonist.
“Kill her!” “No, we should first…” “We need to remove the curtain in the sky!” “Damn it, I’m telling you to target her first! If she’s alive, she’ll keep…” “Ah, really!” “Everyone get out of the way! I am fire, the battlefield…” “Aaaaargh!” “Quixote, it’s Quixote! Fuck, it’s the Star of Contempt!” “Is she really weakened?” “She’s supposed to be weakened? How is this…” “Ah, aaah!” “Where are the Order’s great warriors? We need to join them first…” “My head, my head? Huh?” “Shit, we’re breached! This way, this way first!”
On this stage, they aren’t even supporting characters. They are bit players, or merely props decorating the stage. The Constellations’ cries are reduced to mere noise.
Perhaps they uttered more noble and dignified lines. But bit players are only meant to highlight the protagonist. On the stage created by the Empress of Bliss, their lines echoed in distortion.
“I shall open the way. Follow me.”
One Constellation said that, but.
“Run away, run away! Fuck, I told you we can’t win!”
The voice that was pronounced carried a completely different meaning. The Constellations couldn’t distinguish which was truth and which was falsehood. With dozens of individuals acting independently, the advantage of numbers was practically nullified.
“I hit her!” “Huh?” “But why…” “Wait, did it work? The stars are rising again…” “Crazy.” “Fuck, I told you that wouldn’t work!”
Even if by luck their strikes reach the Empress of Bliss, she simply detaches one of her stars and gives it to them. Even after giving away one, the Empress of Bliss still had hundreds of stars. She could simply replace them.
There is no protagonist who dies at the hands of a bit player, so their blades and spears could never inflict a fatal wound on the Empress of Bliss.
“……”
However, not everyone is like that.
There are Constellations who haven’t fallen to the role of bit players. Unlike the opportunists who descended aiming for the Empress of Bliss’s stars, these individuals participated in this battlefield with firm resolve. Those who have a reason why the Empress of Bliss must die.
Such individuals silently cleared away the clowns. They made a path to the Empress of Bliss. They were supporting characters who transcended bit roles. The supporting characters opened the way.
Following that path, figures worthy of being protagonists on this stage began to run.
Juel Lazian, Star of Destruction.
Kirhov, Star of ■■.
Their stars weren’t obscured by the Empress of Bliss’s black curtain. Without losing their light, they swept through the clowns and charged forward. Kirhov widened his eyes as he stepped firmly on the ground. Blue sword energy swirled above his sword.
Slash.
As Kirhov swung his sword, the sky tore silently. A piece of the black curtain cast by the Empress of Bliss was cut away, and the stars hidden by the curtain once again illuminated the ground. As the Constellations reconnected to their stars ran wild, Kirhov continued to swing his sword.
Each time he swung his sword, the battlefield was dyed blue. Kirhov’s sword energy resembled blue petals. Each time he swung his sword, blue flowers bloomed on the battlefield. Among the blooming flowers, Kirhov shouted.
“Look at me, Empress of Bliss.”
He spoke through gritted teeth. At the tip of his sword bloomed the blue flower, the national flower of Rondinell.
“Rondinell stands strong here. Rondinell is not forgotten. Rondinell lives and breathes at the tip of my sword.”
The Empress of Bliss couldn’t distort those lines.
Because he had the qualification.
The Empress of Bliss’s gaze turned to Kirhov and Juel Lazian rampaging beside him.
Six stars, and one star.
Judging by star count alone, Juel and Kirhov aren’t particularly impressive Constellations. But stars don’t always signify absolute strength.
Of course, it’s true that the more stars a Constellation has, the stronger they become, and Constellations with many stars can wield more authorities, giving them an advantage in battle. But battle is always relative.
There are many in this world who defy the count of stars. Kirhov was one, Juel Lazian was another, as were Charon, Gerd, and most of the Constellations called heroes.
Screeeeeeeech!
A sword cry resembling a human scream drowned out the laughter of the clowns, and even buried the laughter of the Empress of Bliss. A sword energy crossing the battlefield grazed the mask of the Empress of Bliss.
Crack.
A piece of the mask fell off. The mouth of the Empress of Bliss revealed beneath the fallen mask was not smiling.
3.
Sitting on the ground, Najin blankly watched the battlefield. Not because his fighting spirit was broken, but because there was nothing Najin could do right now.
A battlefield of stars and transcendents.
On this stage, Najin, who had not yet reached transcendence, couldn’t be a protagonist, nor a supporting character, not even a bit player or a prop decorating the stage. Najin was merely a spectator.
A being who couldn’t even step onto the stage.
A being who could only watch helplessly.
The anger that had whitened his mind subsided. What remained was ash left after burning. Najin laughed. The laughter that escaped his lips was hollow. Najin couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying.
His master had been humiliated. His final moments were defiled. Even though the cause of his master’s fate was right in front of him, there was nothing Najin could do.
Grind.
Najin gritted his teeth. With his head bowed, he trembled his tightly clenched fist.
-……
Merlin looked down at Najin.
Looking at the boy sitting on the ground, Merlin bit her lip hard. She too shared the emotions Najin was feeling. She wanted to descend right now and tear off that clown’s head to place before Najin, but… Merlin knew that couldn’t be the answer.
-Najin.
Merlin called Najin’s name.
Najin slowly raised his head. Merlin bent down to meet Najin’s eyes and reached out her hand.
-Stand up.
There’s nothing you can do.
But you shouldn’t remain sitting.
-Whether you plan for the next step, or find something you can do here, anything is fine. Do what you want to do.
Merlin said.
-I’ll help you.
Najin repeatedly opened and closed his mouth.
Then suddenly, Najin’s gaze caught Alderan kneeling beside the Empress of Bliss. The Empress of Bliss was gripping Alderan’s helmet and whispering something in his ear.
Najin doesn’t know what she’s whispering. Nor does he understand the meaning of that action. But even in this urgent situation, the Empress of Bliss, protected by Quixote, didn’t stop whispering into Alderan’s ear.
Najin found what he needed to do.
Najin slowly stood up.
‘Merlin.’
-Yes, tell me.
‘Did you see where my sword fell?’
Merlin nodded.
She pointed in a direction. Najin staggered in that direction. Then he grasped the sword he had dropped.
-……
Merlin realized what Najin was trying to do. She closed her eyes tightly, then let out a long breath.
-Are you going to do it?
‘Yes.’
-Can you see?
‘Not very well.’
-I thought so.
‘Can you tell me the direction?’
-Yes, that’s the role of a guide.
Merlin grasped Najin’s hand holding the sword. In Najin’s place, becoming Najin’s eyes, Merlin pointed in the direction the sword should be swung. Najin slowly raised his sword.
His wounds opened and blood burst forth like a flood. Najin’s complexion turned pale, but he didn’t stop.
He held his sword and took his stance.
With blurry eyes, Najin doesn’t see reality. He saw his inner self, the direction Merlin was pointing.
What he recalled was the Empire’s First Horn, Alderan Basaglia.
Among the stars of transcendents filling the night sky, Najin’s star shone. Though few in number, Najin’s star shone with a light that didn’t lose to theirs, gleaming white. For a moment, the gazes of all Constellations and clowns turned to Najin.
Even the Empress of Bliss stopped whispering to Alderan’s helmet and looked at Najin.
Constellations are drawn to the starlight created by an insignificant boy. They saw it. A boy who hadn’t reached transcendence imitating transcendence.
The First Horn.
A sword raised high as if to pierce the sky.
Triumph.
Najin swung down his sword, gleaming white.
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