Ch.237About Those Strange Companions (5)

The genre of the story had changed.

To a light, cheerful, ridiculous comedy. That was the true nature of the discomfort Najin felt. Najin tapped his chin with his finger.

Exaggerated actions. Comical gestures. The contradiction of a transcendent being with perfect balance and complete control over their body vomiting. All of these things made Najin feel as if he had stepped onto a stage.

An actor or clown on stage.

Tap.

“I don’t know much about transcendent beings,” Najin said.

“But one thing I can guess.”

Najin extended his finger to point at the ground beneath his feet. Then, he pointed to the path they needed to walk to reach La Mancha. Come to think of it, even this was strange.

Why did I think there was only one path?

There must surely be alternative routes to their destination, yet Najin, The Sacred Host, and Juel were all convinced with certainty that “there is only one path.”

“La Mancha is a star’s grave and a kind of domain created by the constellations—a stage where mental imagery is displayed. And La Mancha serves as both heaven and ‘the final destination of the story.'”

La Mancha.

A place similar in nature to Avalon from the Arthurian legends, serving as the story’s final destination. In the original fairy tale, Don Quixote overcame hardships and adversities to reach La Mancha at the end of the story.

And Alonso Kehano, who imitated him, must have also overcome various trials to reach La Mancha.

“If that’s the case,” Najin exhaled briefly.

“I believe La Mancha is not simply a destination, but rather the entire area including the path leading to it is likely the constellation’s stage—La Mancha.”

We’re already within La Mancha’s sphere of influence.

Perhaps we’ve already set foot in the star’s grave.

“That’s a reasonable conjecture,” Juel nodded.

“La Mancha is a place that hasn’t been discovered for hundreds of years. We’re not the first to target it. The fact that information about ‘La Mancha’ exists even in erased and damaged records is evidence that numerous attempts have already been made.”

She continued.

“In other words, ‘despite numerous attempts over the past hundreds of years, La Mancha has never been discovered.’ Even if La Mancha is a star’s grave, isn’t it strange that countless transcendent beings have desperately searched for it but failed to find it?”

Juel Lazian narrowed her eyes.

“A place that can only be entered through specific methods and stages. That seems reasonable. Therefore, I think your conjecture is correct.”

“…Honestly, I don’t understand a word you’re saying, but I think you’re right too.”

The Sacred Host, who had been quietly listening, nodded. She slapped her knee with a satisfied expression, as if her questions had finally been answered.

“Something felt off. There’s no way I would scream and writhe so disgracefully, right? The wicked domain of the Star of Contempt has been subtly influencing my mind.”

Hmm, she smiled.

“I am The Sacred Host. Always dignified, elegant, and perfect—an ideal object of worship…”

“Ah, excuse me for interrupting, but Sacred Host, you were always like this.”

“…”

“When you dueled with me, you rolled on the ground screaming. With tears and snot running down your face. You were always prone to exaggeration.”

The Sacred Host’s expression crumpled. She looked like she wanted to grab Juel by the collar and shake her, but she seemed to be suppressing her anger inwardly, fearing her arm might get cut off again. Seeing this, Najin smiled wryly and spoke.

“But as the Sacred Host said, certain aspects do seem to be exaggerated. Even I wasn’t originally this playful or prone to teasing others.”

-No, you were always like that. You do it to me all the time.

He neatly ignored Merlin’s disgruntled voice.

“As for Juel…”

“Ah, I’m less affected. My perception seems slightly influenced, but my personality remains unchanged. I didn’t have much of a personality to begin with.”

Juel pointed at herself with an expressionless face.

“I am completely immune to all types of domains, powers, and stages that interfere with the mind. A grand magician who specializes in this field once said, ‘Whether it’s interference or brainwashing, it’s ultimately about painting colors on the canvas of your mind, but your canvas is so red that it’s impossible to paint on.'”

It sounded like she was saying she was already so crazy that she couldn’t be driven mad. Najin nodded with a curious expression.

“Anyway,” Najin summarized.

“As long as we’re aware of this fact, I don’t think it will be a major problem. If anything, it seems like evidence that we’re heading in the right direction.”

Merlin probably didn’t point it out because we’re on the correct path. And given the circumstances, the path we’re currently walking seems to be the right one. We were getting closer to La Mancha.

But…

‘This doesn’t seem to be the whole story.’

There was no basis. No evidence. Just intuition. Intuitively, Najin felt something more was needed. He couldn’t yet tell what it was.

“Let’s continue.”

For now, all they could do was move forward.

2.

“What kind of being is the Star of Contempt?”

Juel tilted her head.

“That’s a difficult question.”

On their way to La Mancha, Najin asked Juel about Quixote, the Star of Contempt. He thought she might know something since she had fought against Quixote. Her answer was straightforward.

“An opponent I don’t want to face.”

Coming from a battle-loving warrior who enjoyed challenging those stronger than herself, it was an unbelievable response.

“Don’t you enjoy combat?”

“Fighting the Star of Contempt isn’t combat. It feels like a kind of theater, like being an actor performing on stage.”

Juel frowned.

“You hear laughter. The pain, grimacing expressions, blood, and screams that should accompany a fight don’t exist. There’s only laughter.”

She raised her arm.

The arm she had said was cut off after being pierced by Quixote’s spear.

“When the Star of Contempt’s donkey performs a tourniquet, when that donkey’s hoof stamps the ground, that place becomes the Star of Contempt’s stage. Windmills help. Tens of thousands of sheep make strange bleating sounds. The severed heads of giants lie scattered about.”

And, she continued.

“The spear with a human taxidermied on it bleeds. And you realize that all those things were sacred relics.”

“…Pardon?”

“The Star of Contempt’s donkey, spear, armor—they’re all sacred relics. And those sacred relics support and reinforce the Star of Contempt’s domain.”

Najin unconsciously touched the ribbon tying his hair. It was a sacred relic he possessed, left behind by Viola.

“When pierced by the spear, your arm rots and crumbles. The donkey’s braying confuses your sense of direction. The stained armor disrupts sword energy. And all these effects are amplified on Quixote’s stage.”

Juel touched her arm.

“The domain created by the Star of Contempt is dangerous.”

She declared.

“If you cannot break the stage he creates, you cannot defeat the Star of Contempt. On stage, the Star of Contempt is the protagonist of the comedy, and the protagonist of a comedy doesn’t die. Even death is wrapped in laughter.”

Only laughter fills the air.

And as long as laughter exists…

“The Empress of Bliss can revive the Star of Contempt as many times as needed. Death is not the end, and as long as laughter echoes, the story doesn’t end—that’s how the Empress of Bliss defined it.”

“That’s troublesome.”

“Yes, it’s troublesome. And this is also troublesome. I think we need to tie this part tighter, what do you think?”

“Ah, I was thinking the same thing.”

While talking, Najin tightly bound The Sacred Host with rope. Now accustomed to it, The Sacred Host offered advice like, “Ah, it would be good to tie here too. It almost flew off earlier.”

“I’m going to throw you, Sacred Host.”

“Please be gentle.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Oh, and you, little one? When you use that technique, whatever it’s called, try to hit me on the back if possible. It hurts less when I’m hit on the back.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The Sacred Host flew through the air again.

She made excellent bait.

Using The Sacred Host as bait to fish for giants, Juel and Najin continued their conversation.

“Above all, be careful of the spear when facing the Star of Contempt. The most dangerous thing he possesses is that spear.”

“You mean the spear with a human taxidermied on it?”

Najin had seen it too.

The spear said to be forged by melting down its own kind. As Najin was listening to the explanation about the spear…

Hee hee hee.

From somewhere.

Aha, ahahaha!

Laughter rang out.

Hee hee hee, ahah, hahahaha!

Najin frowned at the loudly echoing laughter. The laughter of a clown. Najin’s senses heightened. With his hand on the sword hilt, Najin whipped his head around, trying to locate the source of the laughter.

But no clown was visible anywhere.

Yet, the laughter continued to echo.

In this strange situation, Najin looked at Juel. Juel was also looking at him, her eyes narrowed. She said something, but it was drowned out by the laughter.

-Najin.

There was one voice he could hear. Merlin’s voice pierced through the laughter and reached Najin. She looked at Najin with calm eyes and extended her hand. Her finger pointed at Najin himself. Only then did Najin realize.

“Ah.”

That he himself was the one laughing.

3.

Upon this realization, Najin moved immediately.

Crack.

Najin struck his jaw with his palm. With a crunch, his jaw dislocated. Even with a dislocated jaw, his tongue tried to create laughter somehow, but Najin made that impossible by shoving his fingers into his mouth.

One, two, three.

Najin counted inwardly and composed his mental image.

He recalled the day the Helm Knight was humiliated. The moment his mental image filled with the hatred and rage he felt then, his blood boiled and flames rose. The flames burned away the laughter that had infiltrated Najin’s mind.

“Kuh, cough. Kup…”

Najin exhaled.

He reset his dislocated jaw and drew upon his regenerative power.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine now.”

Najin exhaled deeply. As they got closer to La Mancha, the story was becoming more ridiculous, but what just happened felt different. It was different from the laughter that La Mancha had been pursuing so far.

What was different? Najin questioned himself.

The laughter of La Mancha’s knights, from that fairy tale, is laughter that makes a difficult journey enjoyable. It’s like sweet sugar added to the bitter coffee of life. But the recent laughter was far from that.

Laughter solely for mockery.

There was no context. No meaning. The purpose itself was laughter for mockery. Najin’s expression hardened. He knew such laughter all too well.

“It seems…”

“Yes, I’m thinking the same thing.”

Juel slowly rose from her seat.

She yanked the fishing rod (borrowed from Najin’s cross-star spear). The Sacred Host, who had been dangling at the end of the line, was reeled in like a fish.

“Uha, heeheeheehee! Hee hee hee!”

She was laughing too, but Juel and Najin communicated with their eyes.

Would you like to do it, Najin?

She’s the representative of an entire order, so it feels inappropriate for me.

Hmm, that’s a fair point.

Nodding, Juel punched The Sacred Host in the jaw. The Sacred Host, who had suddenly been hit in the jaw, looked at Juel with an extremely wronged expression. But soon realizing that her mind had been corrupted, she rubbed her jaw.

“Well,” The Sacred Host sighed.

“What fool wouldn’t prepare for my weakness? If I were such a fool, I would have been eradicated hundreds of years ago.”

She twirled her arm.

“Hiding laughter within comedy. Hiding mockery within laughter. A method befitting the Empress of Bliss.”

Juel drew her sword.

“…”

The three silently looked down at the giants lined up below. Perhaps noticing their gaze, the stopped giants stared back at the three.

Then, snicker.

Their mouths split wide. After grinning with their mouths torn to the edges, they began turning their heads. Dozens of giants simultaneously burst into laughter and turned their heads.

Turning, turning, turning more.

The giants’ heads spin. One rotation, two rotations, three rotations, endlessly spinning. Even as they spin, they laugh. Even as their necks twist and flesh tears, they laugh incessantly.

Laughter echoed.

Through the echoing laughter, severed heads flew into the air. Blood shot like fountains from the necks of the headless giants, but their blood wasn’t red. Yellow, green, sky blue, blue—blood of various colors stained like paint.

The ground stained with various colors.

Giants dancing comically despite losing their heads.

Heads that continue laughing even as they roll on the ground.

A space stained with laughter.

The clowns who hide in Comedy, who abuse laughter solely for mockery, revealed themselves.