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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 195: Towards the Unfulfilled Duty (1)

Chapter 195: Towards the Unfulfilled Duty (1)

The​‌‌ previous night had​ been very difficult.⁠

The‌ ground trembled beneath​ their feet and‍‍⁠ wyverns roared in​‌​ the sky.

However,⁠‌ no matter how‍ much of a nightmare the night​​​ had been, today’s⁠ sun inevitably rose.‍

As‍‌ dawn broke over‌ the distant white‍⁠⁠ plains, the residents​ of Bastopol began‍ to poke their⁠ heads out into​​ the now quiet⁠​ city.

“…I​‌ definitely should have⁠⁠ killed him then.”​​

“Yes.”‍⁠

“It’s‍ your fault for‍ not guiding him⁠⁠‍ properly.”

“Yes,⁠​ fine, I accept⁠⁠ that.”

As​⁠⁠ the rising morning​​ sun cleared away‍ the darkness, the⁠​ first thing visible‍⁠ were the ruined⁠‍ castle walls and⁠‌‍ the city.

Among⁠​‍ them, Rutiger and‌ Vlad lay in​ the most disordered​​ place.

Today’s⁠‍ sun shone on‍⁠ the two of⁠ them, their heads⁠ lowered as if‍ they had exhausted‌ all their strength.‍‌‌

“Still,​‍​ hitting that guy​⁠‍ felt good.”

“…”​

Vlad,‌‍⁠ who was listening‍‍ to Rutiger, turned​ his head and​‌​ looked towards where‌‍ the castle wall‍‍ stood.

A deep and enormous​ crack.

The‍ crack starting from‍‌ the mansion extended‌​ exactly to Bastopol’s⁠ walls.

“Yes,⁠ it must have‌⁠​ felt good.”

Vlad​‌‌ nodded, observing the‌​ trajectory of Rutiger’s⁠⁠⁠ sword, thrown with‌ such fury.

Well,‍ if anger were‍ vented to that‌⁠‌ extent, anyone would​‍‌ have no choice​ but to feel⁠ satisfied.

“Are⁠​​ you going to‌‍ Sturma now?”

“Yes.”‍

“To​‌ see Joseph?”

“…Yes.”‌

A knight who now‌⁠ stood on his⁠​​ own name.

Vlad‍‌ was a free‍ man who no‍‍ longer belonged anywhere,⁠ but because of‌‌ this, he decided‌‍‌ to leave to​‌‌ do what he⁠⁠ wanted to do.‌

Because​​ he thought there‍​ was still something​​ he couldn’t do‍ for the person​ who first recognized‍⁠ him.

“We⁠‍ worked well together⁠ yesterday, didn’t we?”‍

“Just‌ a moment ago⁠ you said I didn’t guide him‌ properly.”

Vlad,‌‍ knowing what Rutiger‍‍‌ was trying to​ say, casually kicked‍‍‍ a nearby stone.‌

He​⁠⁠ couldn’t see it⁠‌​ because he had⁠ turned his head,‍ but Rutiger was⁠‍‌ probably making a disappointed face.

“Yes.​⁠‍ Take care.”

“Aren’t⁠ you coming with​⁠ me?”

When⁠​ Vlad asked if‌⁠ he would like​ to go to‌‍ Sturma with him,‌ Rutiger shrugged and‌ continued speaking as‍‍⁠ if it was‌‌ no big deal.‍

“The‌ mother there isn’t​⁠ my mother.”

“…”‌

“Neither​​ you nor I have family to‍⁠​ rely on.”

Rutiger⁠ got up as​ if it was‍‍ time to leave,‍​ playfully ruffled Vlad’s​ hair, and walked‌​‌ towards the mansion.‌‍

Rutiger’s⁠ world is like​‍‍ a volcano.

Watching​ his back as​ he walked away‌​‍ with difficulty, Vlad‌‌ seemed to understand‌​ a bit why⁠ the anger in​‌​ his soul was‌‌ so strong.

***‌

A cannon that can‍​ only be reached‌ by crossing a field of pure⁠ white snow.

The⁠​‍ crowd gathered there​⁠ hung their heads​⁠‌ low and remained‌‍ speechless.

“What’s‍​​ the damage?”

“A‍‍ total of four⁠​​ Wyverns were shot​ down during the​‍ operation.”

“What‍‌ about the knights?”​

“…”‍⁠

Mirshea,‍​ leaning against the‌​‍ cliff, understood the‍⁠⁠ assistant’s silence.

At​⁠ a glance, it​​ was evident that​‍ half of the‍‌‌ knights were missing.‍‌⁠

Swallowing⁠‍ bitterness at the‍‌ loss of those‌ chosen and carefully‍​ prepared, Mirshea could​ only lament.

“Perhaps‌​ I should have‍ brought the death‍‌ worm.”

Ten‌‌ wyverns and fifty‌ elite knights. The​‌ northern knights took‍ advantage of the‌‍ inaccessible sky for​​‌ a surprise attack,‌‍ and the plan⁠ was to use‌​⁠ the dragon, which‍ perfected itself as‌‌‌ it approached the‍‌ fragments.

However,⁠‌⁠ despite the full‍​⁠ support of the‌‍ Dragon Archduke and⁠​ the use of‌‍​ infiltrators within the​ city, the visible‍‌⁠ result was a resounding failure.

“You‍⁠​ said the young‌‍​ Ravnoma is still​⁠⁠ in Soara?”

“We‌‌‍ received a telegram​ saying he just​ left for Sturma…”‌‍

Although⁠ no plan can​‍‌ be perfect, Mirshea​ was not one⁠ to tolerate such‍⁠ unforeseen circumstances.

He‍​​ had been extremely​⁠‍ cautious, but the​ problem arose in‍ a completely different​ place.

“The‌⁠ pact was transferred‌​‌ even though the‍⁠ young Ravnoma wasn’t…”‌⁠​

The​ oldest dragon, Sarnus‍ Dragulia, had been‍ watching the scene‌‌ since the seal⁠‍‌ to contain the‌‌‌ pieces was created.⁠‍‌

He‍⁠​ knew very well‍‌ that the guardian⁠ of the oath‌​ could not be‍⁠‍ changed without the​⁠ Swordmaster’s permission, but‍​ in reality, the​ oath was transferred⁠ from Ravnoma to‍​ Bayezid, and it⁠ ended up failing⁠⁠ now.

If⁠​​ the Ravnoma’s chest​⁠⁠ had acted according‌ to the initial‍⁠⁠ plan, Mirshea and‍ the wyverns would​‍ not have withdrawn​‍‍ so easily.

‘…It‌‌ wasn’t the Swordmaster’s⁠⁠ sword.’

Reflecting‍⁠ on the failure,​‌​ Mirshea realized.

The​ energy of the‌​​ Swordmaster that my⁠‌⁠ father felt in​‌ the north was⁠‌⁠ not just a trace of the​‌⁠ sword.

It‍⁠⁠ meant that somewhere‍‌ in the north,‌⁠‌ someone carrying his​‍ blood or his​⁠‌ will existed.

“…That’s‍ impossible.”

Even‌‍ the Dragon Archduke⁠‍‌ had anxiously searched,⁠ but could not​​ find it.

It‍⁠⁠ couldn’t be from‍⁠ the same bloodline.‍ If so, it⁠⁠ would be a successor to his​‍‍ will. Coming to​ this conclusion, Mirshea​ smiled, imagining a possibility that couldn’t⁠ happen.

“What’s​​ impossible, commander?”

“Nothing.”‌

I suppose not.

A knight born as‍‍‍ a dragon and‌ fulfilling the will‌​​ of the Swordmaster.‍

There‌​ cannot be such​‍ a contradictory being​ in this world.⁠‍

“Bind⁠‍ the wounded. We’re‌ leaving.”

“Understood,​‍‍ commander.”

After‍​‍ giving the order,‍​‌ Mirshea looked at​ his charred palms.‍⁠

The​⁠​ black scars that​​⁠ remained over the⁠​‌ word “perfection.”

Mirshea,​ clenching both hands​‍‌ tightly, engraved a name that should⁠‍‌ not be forgotten‍‍ alongside the scar⁠ on his heart.​‌

***‍

Inside‍​ the mansion in‌ ruins, Timur and​​ Peter were having‍⁠ tea.

Although‍‍‍ it was a meeting between a noble duke and‌‍⁠ a count, the‌ atmosphere was very​ calm and felt​‌​ familiar.

“There’s‍‌⁠ no liquor left⁠ to offer because⁠‌​ everything is destroyed.​ I barely found‍‍​ some tea.”

“It’s‌ okay, this is‌ enough.”

Peter,​‌ holding the teacup,‍ shrugged as if‌ understanding Timur’s difficulties.‌

Perhaps‍⁠‍ it was because‍ he was facing‍ Old Iron, an‍ old acquaintance.

He⁠ seemed relaxed in‌‍‍ a way that‍‍ reminded one of‍‌ Rutiger when he⁠⁠‌ smiled and Joseph‍ when he drank‌‍ tea.

“Somehow,‍⁠ this turned out‍⁠​ well. Thanks to​ this event, we‌‌ can unite firmly.”‍⁠

Although‍‌​ there were unfortunate‌​ incidents, the northern‍ meeting was successfully‌ completed because of​‌⁠ them.

There’s​⁠ nothing more effective‌​‌ in uniting us⁠ than an external⁠‍‌ threat.

“Look‍ there.”

Timur‍​​ nodded with the‌​ tip of his​‍‌ chin as if⁠‌‌ gesturing to look‍ over there.

Peter,‍​⁠ sipping his tea,‍ observed the procession‌‌ leaving the castle​ gate through the​⁠ half-broken window.

It⁠​‍ was a group​‌ of lords returning‌​ to their respective⁠‍​ territories after a meeting.

“If‍‌ they have the​​⁠ same destination, why‌‍ don’t they leave⁠ together?”

“There’s‍⁠ no need to‌⁠⁠ stir up dragon’s​‌ blood.”

Peter⁠ recognized the blond⁠‍ knight riding away‍ among the group.‌⁠

The‍‍‍ knight departing on⁠⁠‍ the black horse​⁠​ was probably headed‌‌ to his territory,⁠‌ Sturma.

“From‌ now on, the‍ dragon fragment will​‌ be sealed in‌⁠ Sturma.”

A knight born as⁠​‍ a dragon but‍‍‌ decided to fight‌​‍ against the dragon.‌

Watching‌​‌ the small flag​ behind the horse‌ crossing the city​ gate, Peter smiled⁠​ faintly.

That⁠ flag hanging behind‍​ the black horse⁠⁠ was definitely made‍‌ by his wife.‍⁠‍

“By⁠ the way, how’s‌ your second son?⁠ I understand that‌⁠⁠ the next head‌‍ of the family⁠⁠ has already been‍ decided.”

Peter‍‍ didn’t immediately respond‌‍ to Timur’s question.‍

He⁠‌⁠ simply tilted his‌⁠ empty teacup and‌​‌ made a bitter​⁠ expression.

“…He⁠‌ has something he​⁠ wants to do⁠ to the end.”⁠‍

There⁠‌ may not be‌ a finger that‌‍‌ doesn’t hurt when‍‌‍ bitten, but there​⁠ are probably some⁠‍ that hurt especially.⁠‌

For‌ Peter, that finger‍⁠ was Joseph, so​​ he couldn’t refuse⁠​ his wish to‌‌ give his all‌‌⁠ to the end.​​‌

“You​​ should rest a bit now, even‌ if it’s just​ a little.”

Hoping​⁠ the blond knight⁠‍‍ leaving the city‍⁠⁠ and heading to⁠​​ him would offer⁠ comfort.

The⁠ last sip of‍​ tea Peter took​ was incredibly bitter.​‌⁠

***‍⁠‌

Long‌‌ ago, our ancestors​‌‍ made a promise​‌⁠ to a man.‌‌‍

Let‌​ us unite under​ the same banner⁠‍⁠ to drive out​‍⁠ the most perfect​⁠‍ dragon.

The⁠​ promise at that‍‌⁠ time was true​‍‌ and honorable, and⁠‍ we, the Lords​⁠​ of the North,‍⁠ have still tried‌ to fulfill that⁠‌ promise.

But​⁠‌ what about the‌ current empire?

Do‌ you remember the⁠​​ promise we made​‌ back then to⁠​‌ become one?

Do‌ you remember the‌⁠ city that protected​​‌ human pride to​⁠‍ the end?

Is​ the current emperor⁠‌ really qualified to​‌ fulfill the promise⁠ of the founding​​⁠ king?

That’s‌ why we decided⁠ here.

We‍‍‌ will no longer‍⁠‍ follow the orders‍‌‌ of the empire⁠‍​ that broke its‍ promise to the‍‍ North through discrimination‍⁠ and disdain.

From‌‍‌ now on, we‌‌‌ will not recognize‍​‍ the emperor born⁠​ of false blood.⁠

The⁠‍​ founding king and‍ grand master of⁠‍‍ the sword.

Until⁠⁠​ the legitimate successor‍​‍ of Kihano Frausen,⁠⁠ who killed the​⁠‌ most perfect dragon,‍ arises, the North‍ will remain solely​​‌ in his name.​​

This‌‍ is the resolution‌‍​ of the seven​‍​ lords of the​ North to the⁠​​ empire.

***⁠

A deep forest in⁠‍ the east.

There‍ was a deep‌​ and vast forest‌ that did not​‌ allow human access.‍‍

Ausurin,‌​ a forest with⁠⁠ a young World​ Tree and the‌⁠ young spirits that​‌ embrace the World⁠‌​ Tree.

However,‌​ the forest was‌‍ now frozen by‍‍ a cutting tension,​⁠‌ as if a sword had touched⁠ it.

“…Back‍⁠‌ off, back off!⁠​ Everyone back off‍​‍ now.”

All⁠⁠ the elves of⁠​ the village had‍ gathered in front‍​ of the young‍‍ World Tree.

The‍​ atmosphere was so‍ intense that it‍‌‍ seemed like something‌‍ could be cut‍⁠ by the murderous‌ energy emanating from​​⁠ the elves.

This⁠​ time, the determination⁠​ of the elves​‍⁠ to protect the​⁠​ World Tree, no​⁠ matter the cost,​⁠ was clear.

“But,‌‌‌ elder…”

“It’s⁠⁠​ a revelation.”

Now,‌​​ in front of​‍​ the World Tree,‍‌ there were strange⁠⁠ beings covered in​​ black.

Regardless​ of whether they​ were humans or​‍ monsters, they had​ no heads and​​ said nothing, but⁠​⁠ they were contaminating‌⁠​ the elves’ forest‍ with their mere⁠⁠⁠ presence.

“No‍ matter how much‍​‍ it’s a revelation‍‌‍ from a priestess,​‌ are you really⁠‍‌ going to hand⁠​ over the Sword‍​ of the Swordmaster?‌‌ To that sinister⁠ human?”

“That⁠‌⁠ cannot happen!”

The‍⁠ elves seemed ready​​ to pounce on‌⁠ the man in⁠ front of them⁠​​ at any moment,‌ but Elder Geronimo‌⁠‍ firmly restrained them.⁠‍‌

‘…Why‌⁠ have you returned​ like this?’

He‍ was a man⁠‍‌ whom Geronimo had‌‌ seen when he⁠‍‌ was a child​​‌ hundreds of years​‍ ago, but Geronimo⁠‌‌ remembered him clearly.⁠⁠‌

The​ clothes he wore⁠⁠⁠ were worn out,‌ and the color‌ of his hair​‌ was faded gray.⁠

Even​​ the look in‌⁠‍ his eyes was​ as old as⁠​‌ a corpse.

Seeing​ him, a great‍⁠ man but returning‌ in such a pitiful state, Geronimo‌ felt a sense⁠ of confusion that‌ couldn’t be described​​ in words.

“…Everyone,​⁠ please step aside.”‌⁠‌

At⁠⁠ that moment, a voice was heard​​ behind the murmuring‍‌‌ elves.

Although‍‍ the sound was‍‌ not loud, it​ resonated in everyone,⁠‌ following the will⁠⁠​ of the World​ Tree.

“Priestess!”‍‌

“It‌ can’t be, not‍⁠‌ that sword…”

Despite‌ it being winter,⁠‌ the priestess of⁠​⁠ the World Tree​‌ wore only a thin cloth.

Observing‍‍ the scene she‍‍ had seen in‍​ her dream, the​⁠ priestess’s eyes seemed⁠​‍ on the verge​‌⁠ of tears.

“Please‌ step aside. All⁠‍ of you.”

If‌ they didn’t step⁠ aside, they would‌‌​ all die.

That’s‍ what she had‍⁠⁠ seen in her​⁠ dream and what⁠ the World Tree‌ had warned.

The​​ sinister woman, still​ gazing at the‍ World Tree, smiled⁠ at the young​​⁠ spirits playing there.​

“Take‌​ it. Because you⁠​ are the rightful⁠‍ owner.”

“…”‌‍‌

Holding‍‌ the silver sword⁠ with both hands,⁠⁠ the priestess of‌ the World Tree​ looked at the⁠​‌ man in front​⁠ of her with‌‌ a pained expression,‍‌ as if she‍​ were about to⁠ cry.

For​ the priestess to​⁠​ cry meant that⁠⁠ the World Tree​ cried too.

Despite​‌ it being winter,‌‍‍ the green leaves‍‌‍ of the World‍​‍ Tree rustled in‌‌ the wind.

“Can⁠​ you hear it?​​ The sword is⁠​ crying for your‍⁠‌ current state.”

Despite⁠ the priestess’s choked‌‍ words, the man​⁠ simply took the​‍​ Sword of the‌⁠‍ Swordmaster with an​ indifferent expression.

His‍‍ creaking movement, like⁠‍⁠ an old mechanism,‌‍ seemed desolate.

“…It⁠⁠ doesn’t matter if‍​‌ you can’t hear‌‌ it.”

As‌ the priestess said,⁠⁠ the silver sword⁠​ cried sadly at‍⁠ seeing its master​ return in disheveled⁠​ appearance to fulfill⁠​⁠ the duty it​ could not fulfill.​⁠​

But‌​ the man holding‍⁠‌ the sword seemed​‍ to hear nothing,⁠ indifferent to everything.‍

“Because⁠ this time I must kill all‍‍‍ the dragons.”

There‌ was a great‌‍‍ dragon slayer who‍​ killed the most⁠ perfect dragon.

His​ name is Kihano​‍⁠ Frausen.

But‍⁠‌ now, completely exhausted​‌ and drained, he‌​⁠ had forgotten his‌ own name and​​‌ only remembered his‌ duty.

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