Ch.294The Path Towards The Grave (5)

Stars with multiple stars diversify themselves.

With their core elements, what could be called their essence, as roots, they extend their branches high into the sky. The growth of a transcendent was like that of a tree.

Here is the Demon of Bliss.

Her essence is bliss (歡落). Her starting point is bliss, and she has expanded the word bliss over many years. What is bliss? Pleasure. What is pleasure? Laughter. There are many kinds of laughter, but among them, the Empress of Bliss chose mockery.

Mockery, ridicule, pleasure, delight, joy.

Where does ridicule echo? In a ridiculous jester’s play. The words bliss and jester were closely related. Those who live their entire lives in laughter! Those who live to be ridiculed by others—aren’t they jesters?

Jester, mask, mockery, comedy, fable.

And one step further from there.

Stage, dream, falsehood, hallucination, actor, performance……

The Empress of Bliss continuously expanded herself. The tree named bliss became a giant tree (巨木) rooted in the ground. All kinds of concepts hung from branches that spread wide enough to block the sky.

Where it began and where it ended.

How far, and in what ways it spread.

A giant tree whose extent was unknowable.

That was the essence of the constellation named the Empress of Bliss.

“A terrible power.”

With his back against Najin’s, Kirhov spoke.

“The initial contact is trivial. It starts with a slight blurriness at the corner of your vision. A blurriness that would disappear with a single blink. From such blurriness, the Empress of Bliss’s power begins its invasion.”

If she were to impose a powerful suggestion from the start, it would be broken. If you consider a person as a water container, her power was like dissolving paint in it. If you dissolved intense color, enough paint to color the entire container, wouldn’t you notice?

For ordinary people, noticing wouldn’t change anything.

Transcendents, especially powerful ones, had the strength to overturn the container entirely and immediately receive new water. Or to purify the water.

“At first, it’s something trivial.”

That’s why the Empress of Bliss used a different method.

“From the corner, slowly, very slowly it colors. It devours leisurely. If you put a frog in boiling water, it will jump out immediately, but if you slowly raise the temperature, the frog dies without realizing it’s being boiled.”

She gnaws from the corners. She expands her sphere of influence. It doesn’t matter if you feel something strange. Slowly, very slowly, as you’re consumed, even the sense of discomfort becomes familiar.

“That’s what happened to Rondinell.”

With their backs together, they swung their swords. While swinging his sword, Kirhov spoke. He smiled bitterly. The power of oblivion hanging in Kirhov’s mind is not perfect.

Led by the Blue Spear, Red Spear, and Golden Spear.

All the wishes of Rondinell’s citizens reside in Kirhov. It was impossible to completely erase the memories of an entity that was like a walking nation. There were clear cracks, and whenever he witnessed scenery similar to the past, Kirhov felt the fog in his mind clearing.

They come back. The memories.

Because of these memories, Kirhov was able to break through the Empress of Bliss’s power. Of course, it was thanks to this young man with whom he stood back-to-back creating an opening.

“It started with beggars in the alleyways. It began with vagrants. Then it was slaves, then merchants in the marketplace, and then commoners.”

Recalling past memories, Kirhov spoke.

“When I came to my senses.”

He looked ahead.

“Everything was colored with paint.”

“Like now?”

“Yes. She seems to have grown stronger since then. Even though I’ve experienced this power before, it took me a long time to escape.”

Kirhov smiled bitterly as if ashamed.

To him, Najin was the one who seemed strange.

Despite the Empress of Bliss wielding power capable of swallowing an entire nation and projecting her full strength against Najin alone, Najin was enduring.

‘Someone like him would be able to pull out Excalibur.’

Kirhov took a breath and said.

“There will be one.”

“……”

Najin didn’t ask what he meant.

Kirhov spoke while swinging his sword.

“No matter how powerful the Empress of Bliss is, she cannot project this much power without revealing her true form. Somewhere here, there must be her apostle.”

A being who can simultaneously activate the graves of stars.

One who can wield the power of the Empress of Bliss.

One who can maintain their sense of self above the paint.

“Star of Contempt.”

Najin murmured. Kirhov nodded. Of course, there was a possibility that the Empress of Bliss herself had descended here, but if that were the case, it wouldn’t have ended like this.

Above all else……

Kirhov’s eyes turned to Merlin hovering near Najin. The Empress of Bliss would fear that great magician.

“The Empress of Bliss won’t descend here.”

Merlin nodded as if sensing Kirhov’s gaze.

“Because she thinks if she moves carelessly, she might have to fight my true form. What that demon truly fears is me beyond you.”

Najin nodded. Of course, that was the last resort. But from the perspective of the Empress of Bliss facing Najin, she naturally had to consider the last resort.

The moment she tries to kill Najin.

Without fail, Merlin would appear there.

No matter how powerful the Empress of Bliss is, she has no chance of winning against Merlin outside her domain. She knew this fact.

“So she doesn’t leave her domain.”

Najin recalled what Merlin had once said.

If the Empress of Bliss were to come outside her sanctuary, he would win ten out of ten fights, but if she fought on her stage… he might lose once or twice out of ten.

“She thinks that by fighting in her sanctuary, even in the worst-case scenario, she can at least manage.”

Merlin snorted.

But, she also knows.

“……”

That was when the Empress of Bliss had 10 stars. And now, the Empress of Bliss has 11 stars, the same as Merlin. She had her own sanctuary where she had collected stars over hundreds of years.

But that wasn’t the issue to think about now.

First, they had to shatter this stage.

“Then let’s first clear these…”

“No. There’s no need.”

Just as Najin was about to suggest sweeping away the encroaching paint and the jesters rising from it, Kirhov interrupted him. He stepped forward, separating his back from Najin’s.

It was forward for him.

But backward for Najin.

Taking a step backward, Kirhov said.

“Unless we drop the star at the center of the stage, the stage will continue. We’ll be forced into a war of attrition. If that happens, the Empress of Bliss will win.”

That can’t happen.

That mustn’t happen.

“I’ll open the way.”

Kirhov raised his star.

“I will show the way to those buried in the graves. You find the Star of Contempt and drop it. And……”

Kirhov pushed Najin’s back.

As Najin looked back, Kirhov smiled.

“Become a lighthouse. Morning Star.”

Morning Star (黎明星).

The star that illuminates darkness.

“Tell them that the long night has ended, that it’s time to wake from the terrible nightmare, that dawn has come.”

Tell the stars wandering in the graves of stars, in nightmares, that morning has come. Shouting thus, Kirhov raised his sword. Blue sword energy swirled like flower petals scattered in the wind.

“And the one who opens the path is me.”

Kirhov shouted.

“The last knight of Rondinell, Kirhov.”

The Star of Collection shone.

2.

As Najin nodded and rushed forward, Kirhov advanced backward toward the wave surging toward Najin. Though they moved in opposite directions, their purpose was the same.

Kirhov raised his sword and smiled bitterly.

Memories return.

Things he had forgotten began to surface.

“Ah.”

Not everything comes back. Unless he defeats the constellation of oblivion, he cannot retrieve all his memories. But even so, there was something he could recall.

The scene of Rondinell’s destruction.

That day, he was running through Rondinell, which had been colored with paint. Though Kirhov was full of lies and busy inflating himself with empty boasts, there was one person to whom even he could not lie.

His lord.

The last king of Rondinell, Yuria.

The benefactor who made him, a mere vagrant who pretended to be a knight, into a real knight. The one who gave truth to a life full of lies. Even as the nation was falling, Kirhov rushed to the top of the royal castle, breaking through the paint to protect her.

“Have you come, Sir Kirhov?”

She was smiling at the top of the royal castle.

It was the same smile as always, but.

It was a smile he couldn’t accept as usual.

Gritting his teeth before that smile, Kirhov explained the situation. It can no longer be stopped. You must evacuate. I will help you. I will give my life to save you. He seemed to have said such things.

And his lord just kept smiling.

Kirhov knew. That his lord had already made her choice. She, who had ascended to the throne at a young age, made her final choice.

“Sir Kirhov.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Command me.”

“It’s not a command, but a request. You may refuse. Would you take charge of Rondinell’s end?”

It was a heavy burden. He would have to carry that burden for many years, and he didn’t even know if the day would come when he could put it down. That’s why it was a request.

“You often speak of yourself as a false knight, a knight full of empty boasts.”

She smiled.

“But no. Your boasts are not to elevate yourself, but to ensure your comrades don’t tremble in fear. Your lies are not to deceive others, but to deceive yourself.”

Shouting that impossible things were possible.

Smiling and saying that he could do it.

Having watched Kirhov confidently charging toward enemies, she tilted her head toward him. As her hair fell, her eyes were revealed.

Trembling with fear.

With quivering lips.

She accepted her life as a king with dignity until the end for her knight.

“My dear knight, Kirhov.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You are Rondinell. So live a life worthy of that. As the knights of Rondinell have done, wield your sword for humanity.”

“I will.”

“And… I’d prefer if it were impressive. Impressive and splendid. So that minstrels can sing about it.”

Saying so, with a touch.

Kirhov recalled his lord’s touch on his heart. Recalling, he opened his closed eyes.

His lord’s voice echoed in his ears.

As if answering that voice, Kirhov smiled bitterly.

“…How could I possibly refuse?”

The voice of his lord that he had forgotten, and the voice of his master, the Blue Spear, that he had forgotten, echoed in Kirhov’s ears. By now, Kirhov held the Blue Spear in his hand.

The Blue Spear that only the most noble knight of Rondinell could wield.

Though he had received that spear from Najin, Kirhov couldn’t grasp it. Because he thought himself unworthy. How could a knight who failed to protect his nation be worthy of wielding the Blue Spear?

But not now.

“Raise your head.”

“Straighten your shoulders.”

“You are already a knight, Kirhov.”

The voice of the Blue Spear echoed. Kirhov swung his sword widely and threw it high into the sky. While the thrown sword circled in the air, Kirhov grasped the spear.

Now he could remember.

The spear techniques he had learned from that person.

“I am.”

With a thud, Kirhov stamped the ground. Looking at the encroaching paint, waves, jesters, and the dead of the Empress of Bliss, Kirhov smiled.

For a knight must be impressive.

“The last knight of Rondinell, Kirhov.”

He swung the spear. Flower petals bloomed at the tip of the Blue Spear.

“As long as I breathe, the history of Rondinell does not end. Rondinell exists here.”

Stars dwelled in each petal. The stars forming the Star of Collection scattered, spreading in all directions along the petals.

Rondinell’s chrysanthemum scattered across the battlefield.

Swinging the spear, Kirhov recalled. The Blue Spear always said. Even if we meet a miserable death and don’t leave a proper story, we can all be stepping stones for someone. The value of our lives will be determined by future generations.

Kirhov looked.

There was a young man advancing forward. Looking at Najin’s back, Kirhov willingly chose to be a stepping stone.

“Come, Empress of Bliss.”

Tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of jesters surged from the paint. Sensing that the situation was turning strange, the Empress of Bliss began deploying her forces.

Even as he was stabbed, cut, and broken by them, Kirhov did not lose his smile.

With a splendid smile, he stamped the ground. Flower petals scattered more magnificently. The scattered petals settled on the graves of stars stained with paint. They were flowers offered to the graves, a floral tribute.

Fully bloomed blue flowers.

Blue flowers that would serve as markers for those wandering in the graves of stars. Kirhov gathered those flowers. Following the wind raised by the swinging spear, everything in the area was drawn toward Kirhov.

Blue hydrangea.

A technique left by the Blue Spear.

Amidst the scattering petals, Kirhov, having drawn in demons, the dead, and jesters, released the spear. Then he grasped his sword falling from the sky.

“I’ll show you that things have changed from 300 years ago.”

Kirhov swung his sword.

“That you did not break Rondinell.”

Blue sword energy swept across the battlefield.

The Star of Collection dyed the battlefield blue.