Ch.173About the First Horn (1)

The Empire’s First Horn, Gerd.

The exact age of this man, the first pillar supporting the Empire and the Empire’s Sword Master, has never been precisely determined. This is because numerous records were lost due to the rebels’ arson during the Dawn War.

His age is roughly estimated to be between 180-210 years.

But this estimation only confused historians. Wasn’t it the law of the world that once one reaches 150 years, their body deteriorates and they must depart for the Outer Continent? Of course, there were a few exceptional beings who escaped this rule, but they could not be considered typical examples.

Juel Lazian simplified herself.

By erasing her memories and emotions, defining herself with simple and clear principles of action, she avoided the deterioration of her soul.

The Lighthouse Keeper of the Sacred Host was immobile.

For a long time, he did not move. By remaining still, he escaped the flow of time, enduring deterioration by absorbing the faith sent by believers.

Then what about Gerd?

The previous two are essentially beings who have transcended humanity, and due to their uniqueness, cannot serve as examples. But Gerd was still human. A pure human unlike those two.

What makes him endure?

There are only abundant speculations about him. Many scholars suggest it might be related to Gerd’s aging, but all are merely conjectures, none definitive.

One who has endured in the Empire for nearly 200 years, or perhaps even longer. A swordsman who attained the rank of Sword Master at a surprisingly late age compared to his achievements as a Sword Seeker. An old man who did not rejuvenate even after reaching the realm of transcendence.

Full of suspicious elements.

But the values Gerd pursued had never changed since he first learned the sword. Born and raised during a chaotic era filled with traitors, he always remained loyal to one value.

“For the Empire.”

The Empire’s First Horn, the first pillar supporting the Empire.

True to that name, Gerd protects the Empire.

“The leader of the traitors is dead. The traitors will scatter, having lost their focal point. I’d like to sweep them all away myself, but I don’t have time.”

But no one knew.

“So, you try it.”

“It’s your turn next.”

That what he was protecting wasn’t the Empire.

“Now it’s your turn to protect the Empire I’ve safeguarded.”

The ‘Empire’ Gerd speaks of isn’t simply the Empire. The Empire he speaks of has a single sentence attached to it.

“For the Empire that he protected.”

Gerd keeps his promise.

He’s simply keeping an unforgotten promise.

2.

The tower of the Empire’s First Horn, Gerd, was quiet.

The tower of the Empire’s Fourth Pillar, Seal of Eternal Beauty Sifria, is filled with magicians who follow her. Other towers are not much different. The pillars of the Empire are the highest authorities after the Emperor, powers that even the Emperor cannot easily touch.

Naturally, such powerful figures are followed by adherents, and it’s usually noisy.

But Gerd’s tower is quiet.

A place so desolate it’s almost barren. Climbing toward the top floor of the tower, Najin thought this. Quiet. The tower was so excessively quiet that it seemed only Gerd lived there.

‘Gerd. The old Sword Master.’

Najin recalled what he knew about Gerd.

Information about the old man could be easily found in any history book of the Empire. After all, wasn’t he a man who had lived as a soldier and knight of the Empire for nearly 200 years?

Gerd’s name was recorded in every major event.

The subjugation of the black magician Kefalon, the subjugation of the fallen star that tried to cross the boundary of the Outer Continent, the uprising of black magicians, the protagonist of the Dawn War, and so on. His life was the history of the Empire itself.

Tap.

Najin arrived at the top of the tower.

At the tower’s peak, a vast meadow stretched out beneath the blue sky as its ceiling. Though it was his first time setting foot here, the meadow looked familiar to Najin.

Once, when he was about to duel with Gerd.

The meadow he saw then was the very one spread before his eyes now. Rustle, Najin stepped forward, treading on the grass.

“You’ve come.”

An old man stood in the middle of the meadow.

The old man turned his gaze from overlooking the Empire to look at Najin. Dry eyes that showed no emotion. They resembled Juel’s eyes, but with a crucial difference.

While Juel’s eyes were empty, having erased all her emotions, Gerd’s eyes resembled a parched desert.

Eyes worn down to dryness. But when they turned toward Najin, those eyes contained a slight interest. Gerd’s expression softened a little.

“The Empire is in an uproar because of you. Not only the youngest Sword Seeker, but also four stars at that age. It’s an achievement worthy of causing a stir.”

“I didn’t intend it, but that’s how it turned out.”

“That’s how great achievements usually are. They rarely come from deliberate planning. When you live consistently, achievements naturally follow.”

A rock in the meadow.

Sitting on the rock, Gerd gestured to the spot opposite him. It meant come closer and sit down. Najin felt a strange sense of déjà vu from the two rocks placed side by side.

It would be perfect if there was a campfire between them.

“What brings you here?”

Gerd asked as Najin sat down.

“You have the right to ask me for one thing, whatever it may be. It’s a right you earned in our duel that day. I presume you’ve visited my tower to exercise that right. Am I correct?”

“I might use it depending on the outcome of our conversation, but that’s not my purpose.”

“Oh?” Gerd narrowed his eyes.

“So conversation is your purpose. You have something to discuss with me?”

“Yes.”

“The time of the Empire’s First Horn is precious. A private audience with me is even more so. It’s not as valuable as the right you possess, but it’s not trivial either.”

Gerd gestured.

“Speak. If your words aren’t worth that much, I’ll take my interest and goodwill toward you as payment.”

He didn’t seem particularly expectant.

The old man who had reigned at the pinnacle of the Empire for ages had experienced countless things. Truly, countless things. He wouldn’t be greatly surprised no matter what story emerged.

Dry eyes. A dried-up human.

That excessively dry old man was unsuitable as a conversation partner. Whatever topic was raised, he would probably respond with just a nod and an “Hmm.” But Najin knew a subject that would instantly focus the old man’s attention.

“First Horn.”

Najin threw out the topic.

“I’ve come to discuss the First Horn.”

“First Horn?”

Gerd’s eyes narrowed.

They were eyes trying to gauge what the person before him meant, eyes trying to understand the meaning of those words.

“What do you mean? You’ve come to discuss me? The first pillar of the Empire?”

“No, not the pillar.”

A slight interest. Moisture seeping into the dry desert.

Just drawing that much interest from Gerd would be an achievement that the Empire’s orators would admire, but Najin wasn’t satisfied with just that.

“I’ve come to discuss the Empire’s first horn.”

Najin immediately got to the point.

“The previous Empire’s First Horn, Alderan Basaglia. I have something to discuss with you about him.”

3.

Alderan Basaglia.

The moment Najin uttered that name.

Swish.

For an instant, Najin saw a vision of his head being severed. In the past, he might have reflexively stepped back and drawn his sword, but now Najin didn’t move at all. This was merely an illusion.

The atmosphere suddenly sharpened. The pressure Gerd exuded showed Najin such a future.

Najin calmly faced Gerd. Gerd narrowed his eyes and spoke. His voice, as sharp as his sword, resonated.

“I warn you.”

Gerd glared at Najin.

“If you’ve mentioned his name to bring up trivial matters, or just to catch my interest… you’ll need to use the right you possess just to leave this place alive.”

The previous Empire’s First Horn, Alderan Basaglia.

Many know that name because Gerd had it inscribed in the Empire’s history books. There were also many fools who tried to catch Gerd’s attention by mentioning that name.

There’s no need to elaborate on what happened to those fools. Alderan Basaglia is like a sacred territory and a sore spot for Gerd. An area that should not be touched or invaded.

“Think carefully before you speak.”

To Gerd who warned him thus, Najin said nothing. He didn’t even open his mouth. He simply stood up.

Najin drew his sword from his waist.

Gerd’s eyes narrowed a bit more. Najin was pointing his sword at the empty air, not at Gerd. Unable to understand what the young man was trying to do, Gerd looked at Najin with a questioning gaze.

Then, Najin swung his sword.

Taking strong steps forward, one by one, Najin displayed the swordsmanship he had learned.

Whoosh.

Najin is not an orator. He is even less a politician, and has no talent for persuading or enticing others with words. Najin is, above all, a swordsman.

Whoosh.

Just as an orator persuades with their tongue, a novelist moves hearts with sentences, and a historian records history with a brush, a swordsman speaks with the sword.

The sword Najin is now wielding is the Imperial Sword.

It was the foundation of Imperial swordsmanship.

It was such exemplary Imperial swordsmanship that any knight or swordsman in the Empire who saw Najin’s sword would say, “That’s Imperial swordsmanship.”

But just one person.

Just one person recognizes the sword Najin is wielding.

He perceives the gap between Imperial swordsmanship and Najin’s swordsmanship. He notices the raw sharpness embedded in that sword, which doesn’t exist in Imperial swordsmanship.

Gerd’s narrowed eyes slowly widened.

In this Empire, only Gerd knew that swordsmanship. The original form of Imperial swordsmanship. A swordsmanship that remained only in Gerd’s memory. Gerd had refined and polished that swordsmanship to create Imperial swordsmanship. Because he thought that beautiful sword should not be forgotten.

A swordsmanship lost 150 years ago.

A swordsmanship that Gerd had imperfectly restored.

The sword of the previous Empire’s First Horn, the Triumphant Sword.

It was being recreated at the tip of a young man’s sword. Gerd was now not just wide-eyed, but staring intently. Rain pours down on a parched desert. The heart of an old man who had lost interest after being worn down over the ages beat fiercely.

And, boom!

Najin struck the ground.

Standing firmly with his foot pressed strongly against the ground, Najin raised his sword high into the sky. At that moment, Gerd reflexively had to stand up. The memory he kept in his deepest place was being recreated before his eyes.

First Horn.

Najin had said earlier.

That he came to discuss the First Horn. That wasn’t a lie. Najin showed Gerd the First Horn. You would recognize it. And, you would know.

What comes next.

Sure enough, Gerd was now staring at Najin with wide eyes, having cast aside even his dignity. Those eyes were no longer dry or parched.

Najin lived up to that expectation.

First Horn, Triumph.

Najin brought down his sword.

He didn’t use sword energy. He didn’t swing his sword while squeezing out his body’s power. Partly because common sense dictated that such a powerful technique shouldn’t be used in the middle of the Empire, but also because his current physical condition wouldn’t allow him to execute the Triumphant Sword.

But its form was perfect.

Slash.

A line was carved into the meadow.

Najin had carved a sword mark on the tower of the Empire’s First Horn.

Normally, damaging a pillar of the Empire is an enormous crime, one that could justifiably result in immediate execution by the pillar’s hand… but the Empire’s first pillar, who should hold him accountable, was silent.

He looked at the sword mark Najin had carved.

Then, he looked at Najin.

Even just recreating the form had reopened his wound, and Najin, pressing firmly on his shoulder, met Gerd’s gaze. Then he smiled at Gerd.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

Gerd’s eyes were trembling.

The Empire’s first pillar, who hadn’t been moved for over a century, who hadn’t wavered no matter what events he faced, was now trembling.

“That I came to discuss the First Horn.”