Ch.4Star Sword, and the Voice (2)

Who is the most famous constellation?

If someone asks that question, nine out of ten would answer: Obviously, it’s the Sword of Selection.

Then who is the constellation, the Sword of Selection?

To that question, most would answer that it’s King Arthur, the protagonist of the Arthurian legends, while educated scholars who’ve studied the Empire’s history would say it’s the former king who laid the foundation of the current Empire.

And those who walk the path of knights and swords would answer: The constellation Sword of Selection is the most prideful knight, the greatest swordsman, and a true hero.

Records of the constellation Sword of Selection can be found everywhere regardless of field. In the Empire’s history, in swordsmanship textbooks, in politics and kingship studies, on stone monuments recording wars against demons…

A name found everywhere.

The first constellation visible when looking up at the night sky.

There was an event that elevated the already exceptional fame of King Arthur among the constellations. It was a trial that the Sword of Selection brought upon this land hundreds of years ago.

The Star’s Trial, Selection.

A trial that occurs every 13 years and lasts for 13 days.

The subjects of the trial: all of humanity.

The content of the trial was excessively simple.

‘Pull the sword from the stone.’

There were no other conditions.

Countless challengers attempted the trial.

Swordsmen hailed as once-in-a-lifetime geniuses, seekers of the sword, heroes recorded in history books… Many, many people reached for the sword embedded in stone.

And so hundreds of years passed.

For centuries, the sword remained undrawn.

No one.

No one was Selected by the sword.

2.

My head feels particularly heavy today.

Najin pressed his temples with his thumbs and sighed. Well, it’s no wonder my head feels heavy after not sleeping well for days. Even though several days had passed since he saw the sword fall into the plaza, Najin was still having sleepless nights.

The image of the sacred sword lingering before his eyes.

The brilliant starlight emitted by the sacred sword.

And one sentence filling his mind.

‘Pull the sword.’

That sentence wouldn’t leave his mind.

Far from leaving, it was about to become two sentences. The ridiculous sentence that followed “Pull the sword” was “You can pull the sword.”

Pull what?

Even those impressive Sword Masters couldn’t pull it.

Though he knew it was a baseless delusion, the sentences refused to leave his mind. Two lines deeply rooted in his thoughts. It felt like someone had stirred up his mind.

“Haaah…”

Najin sighed deeply and leaned back on the bench.

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the plaza, Najin was looking toward the center. The plaza that should have been bustling with people was dead silent, and at its center stood those responsible for this silence.

Soldiers sent from the upper district.

Wearing armor gleaming with a cold light, they were guarding the sacred sword. Thanks to the cloth they had draped over the sword, not even a speck of starlight escaped from it.

‘It’s not like looking at it will wear it down…’

They’re being ridiculously stingy.

For Najin, who had been loitering around the plaza hoping to at least see the starlight leaking from the sacred sword, this was truly disappointing.

There’s no point in hanging around here if I can’t see the sacred sword. Just as he was about to leave the plaza, Najin paused. Something had caught his eye.

At the edge of the plaza, in a shaded area, sat two children. They had placed items on what could barely be called a stand—just a piece of board—and were looking around nervously. Suddenly, Najin’s eyes met one of the children’s.

Najin walked toward them.

“What are you selling?”

“Oh, well…”

Squatting in front of the stand, Najin looked at the items the children had placed there. Scraps of newspaper and miscellaneous junk. When Najin asked what they were selling, the children pointed toward the center of the plaza.

“We collected things those people threw away.”

“Don’t point at them.”

Najin covered the child’s extended finger with his palm. Of course, the soldiers probably wouldn’t be that sensitive, but there’s always a possibility. If they caught the attention of an ill-tempered soldier, the children might get beaten.

“I’ll buy one newspaper. How much?”

“Two coins, no, three coins.”

Najin placed three coins on the small boy’s outstretched palm. The boy carefully received the coins with both hands, exchanged glances with the child sitting beside him, and smiled.

A voice saying they’d met their quota.

Najin was about to take out a few more coins, but upon hearing that voice, he closed his coin pouch and stood up. Then he bought some simple food from a nearby stall and placed it in front of the children.

“Eat.”

“Th-thank you!”

The children devoured the food hastily.

They must have been starving. Najin smiled bitterly. It seemed they were living under “parents” who set quotas for them. Najin knew well that for children like these, giving food was better than giving money.

Money would only be extorted from them, but there was no way to make them regurgitate food that was already in their stomachs.

‘It reminds me of the old days.’

Before catching Ivan’s eye, he had lived just like these children. As Najin watched the children eat while reminiscing about his past, he suddenly frowned.

He heard mocking laughter.

Snickering, jeering laughter. It came from the soldiers standing at the center of the plaza. They were pointing at Najin and the children, talking loudly.

Look at what they’re doing, selling what we threw away… That’s how people living in this dump are.

Despite the soldiers openly pointing at them and talking loudly, the children didn’t dare meet their eyes. Pretending not to hear what they heard, pretending not to see what they saw, the children kept their gazes lowered.

Cowardice and humiliation are temporary.

But broken limbs from a beating can last a lifetime.

Najin wasn’t much different from the children. Clicking his tongue silently, he stood up.

“Be careful not to make eye contact with those people.”

“Yes, big brother Najin!”

“What? You know my name?”

“You’re really famous among us kids.”

The child smiled brightly.

“There are many kids saving money to buy swords because they want to be like you. And those who are fast runners, their dads gather them separately and train them to swing swords…”

I want to be like you too, but we’re slow runners so dad says we can’t. As the child mumbled this, Najin remained silent.

What’s the point of becoming like me? Drowning people doesn’t seem like a particularly wholesome life…

Najin couldn’t bring himself to say such things.

In his past, when he used to rummage through garbage and eat food others had discarded, Najin had also envied Ivan’s organization members just like these children did now.

‘Three meals a day and sleeping in a bed…’

That’s certainly enviable.

Najin smiled bitterly.

“I see.”

Najin tousled the child’s hair and walked away. As he walked, he unfolded the newspaper. The newspaper was filled with stories about the sacred swords that had landed in various cities and the challengers of the trial.

“Imperial Sword Master, Lord Gerd Izabalt.”

“Expresses intention to challenge this Star’s Trial as well.”

“This marks his fifth challenge in total.”

“Plans to attempt the trial on the 13th and final day in the imperial capital Camelot…”

The story of an aging Sword Master challenging the trial.

“Seeker of the Sword, Sword Saint Charon.”

“Made the sacred sword embedded in stone shake.”

“The sword shook more than it did 13 years ago, leading to speculation that he might pull the sword in the next trial.”

The story of the Sword Seeker, the Sword Saint.

“The Order’s executioner, Juel Lazian.”

“The moment he grasped the sacred sword, the hilt shook violently.”

“Though he failed to pull the sword, the hilt shaking as if rejecting its owner is an unusual case.”

“The Sacred Host Order has expressed dissatisfaction with Juel Lazian’s actions, strongly criticizing: ‘It is not a sword that should be touched by a mere bloodthirsty hound’…”

The story of the Order’s murderer.

Many other challengers’ stories were written in the newspaper. Reading the brief descriptions of their backgrounds and the depictions of their attempts to pull the sword, Najin unconsciously licked his lips.

…I want to try too.

A thought that suddenly arose.

Najin closed his eyes and pressed his brow firmly. He swallowed the thoughts that came with words like “if,” “perhaps,” and “maybe.”

Don’t cross the line.

Live as you’re meant to.

Don’t dream presumptuous dreams.

Don’t try to look at what you can’t reach.

Ivan’s warning and advice. Najin ruminated on the words Ivan had habitually uttered. Yes, reaching for something beyond your grasp only leads to misery. Aren’t the many who have fallen into this city evidence of that fact?

“……”

Najin folded the newspaper.

Najin’s eyes, which had briefly shone while reading the newspaper, had returned to their original state. Dim, hazy, unclear… murky eyes befitting the underground city of Attman.

Najin took one last look at the plaza.

Still, no star was visible.

3.

Still, the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Crunch.

Merlin crossed her arms and gritted her teeth. Her brow was deeply furrowed, and her fingers tapping against her arm moved irritably.

“Haaah…”

She exhaled with annoyance.

For the past few days, Merlin had been searching the surface world meticulously for the youngster who had insulted Arthur. With her clairvoyance that allowed her to see anywhere her starlight reached, Merlin was confident.

Finding one impudent youngster should be no trouble, and punishing him wouldn’t be difficult either, she had been certain.

That is, until a few days ago.

From the day she received that insult that made the back of her neck burn with anger until now, several days later, Merlin still hadn’t found the boy. She simply couldn’t understand how this was possible. How on earth?

‘Is another constellation hiding him?’

No, if that were the case, it would have been easier to find him. If someone tried to hide something with starlight, that area of space would appear distorted.

‘Then is he living somewhere starlight doesn’t reach?’

Camlann, The Abyss where stars fall.

After considering a few other territories, Merlin let out a hollow laugh. No one could possibly live in such places. Not where even the constellations in the night sky crumble.

Then why can’t I see him?

Is he hiding in some underground tunnel?

If he’s been hiding in a tunnel for a whole week without showing his face outside, that would be remarkable in its own way. Merlin sighed deeply and brushed back her flowing hair.

“…Tsk.”

Merlin clicked her tongue.

She felt like she was wasting mental energy on trivial matters when she had plenty of important things to attend to. Come to think of it, isn’t it ridiculous that she, a transcendent being who has lived for over a thousand years, is being so preoccupied with a mere youngster’s provocation?

Let it go, forget it…

Merlin closed her eyes and repeatedly took deep breaths in and out. She tried to calm her anger this way, but it wasn’t working as intended. The voice echoing in her ears saying “Arthur was just a man of fortune who rode the times well…” was the reason.

Words that could be dismissed.

An insult that could be ignored.

The reason Merlin couldn’t do so was because she knew a similar story to the casual insult the boy had thrown. Merlin ruminated on someone’s prophecy that had become her sore spot.

“Excalibur will choose a new master.”

“Without fail, even if it takes decades or centuries.”

“It will select a truly heroic figure.”

A prophecy left by the betrayer of the Round Table.

“A true hero unlike Arthur, who was merely created by the times. Someone who will become greater than Arthur.”

“Ah, that person will be Britain’s savior!”

“The true king and guide who will lead us beyond Camlann, to the end of the world we’ve dreamed of!”

“Merlin, you blind fool with open eyes! Can’t you see this brilliant future!”

Merlin’s expression soured as she recalled the prophecy.

There were parts that strangely overlapped with the boy’s words. Especially the part about Arthur riding the times well. Merlin frowned and clicked her tongue. Riding the times well, my foot! Do they have any idea how hard Arthur struggled to reach that position?

“Arthur didn’t ride the times well.”

Merlin muttered.

“He created the flow of the times, you idiots.”

For hundreds of years, no one has been able to pull the sword Arthur left behind. That alone proves how great Arthur was. Merlin snorted and looked down at the ground below.

The Star’s Trial taking place in various locations.

Merlin saw countless swordsmen challenging the trial. And she also saw how none of them could pull the sword and had to leave.

“See.”

Merlin snorted.

“Who could possibly pull that sword?”

No one can pull the sword.

Therefore, no one can become greater than Arthur. So both the betrayer’s prophecy and the unknown youngster’s mockery are nothing but nonsense.

Having organized her thoughts this way, Merlin exhaled.

She finally felt a bit more at ease.