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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 251: Children’s Song (1)

Chapter 251: Children’s Song (1)

Doo-duh-duh—​⁠‌

Ramashthu’s​‌ world was rising‌‍ with a dizzying⁠⁠‍ sensation of floating.‌

Like‌​‍ a bubble trying​ to break the‌​ surface of the​‌ water.

Each⁠‍ time the bubble‍ rose, deep cracks⁠‌ were carved into⁠⁠⁠ Ramashthu’s purple sky,‌ and the false​ concentric circles beneath​‌‌ it collapsed helplessly⁠ from the outside.‌​‍

“…It’s‍‍‌ rising into reality!⁠‍ Soon this world‌ will completely fall‍​ apart!”

In‍⁠‍ the collapsing world‌ of Ramashthu, only‍⁠⁠ this island, where‌‌ the trees were‌‌ rooted, stood firmly.‍

Watching‍‍​ the concentric circles‌⁠ outside collapsing as‍ if they had⁠⁠‌ been waiting, Vlad⁠‌ could tell that‍‌ this entire scene‌‌ had been planned‍​ from the start.‌

“She​ planned to throw‌‍‌ it all away‌⁠ from the beginning.”‍‌​

It‍ seemed that Ramashthu‌⁠ only cared about​ the safety of‌ the children.

The​ warlocks who followed‌⁠​ her were also⁠‌‍ being cast aside⁠ with dark screams,‍⁠ as if they⁠‍ were nothing more‍​⁠ than tools for​‍‌ her to achieve⁠‍‌ her goal.

Thud!‌‌‌

“Watch‍‌​ out! Reality is‌‍‌ approaching!”

Vlad​ looked up in‌ response to Nibelun’s​‌​ loud warning, and​‌ his eyes widened⁠‍ as he saw‌‍ the scene above​ him.

“…What⁠⁠ is that?”

The⁠​‍ strange sight of‍‌‌ the sky crumbling⁠⁠‌ above me.

However,​ Vlad was even‌‌ more startled by​⁠ the enormous shadow‍‌ coming closer and‌ closer from beyond⁠​‌ the shattered sky.​

“A⁠​‍ bell tower?”

A completely dark church‍​ in Achiuk he‌ had seen before​‌ coming here.

The‍ bell tower of‌‍ the church that‌​ hung at the‌​ highest point was‍‍‌ approaching from beyond​ the purple sky.‍⁠⁠

Like​ a landscape beyond‌‍ a window, toward​⁠ this world that​​​ was collapsing.

“This​‌‌ is madness!”

Ding!⁠ Daaang—

Amidst​ the borders of​ colliding worlds, the‍‍ sky crumbles, and‌‍ the bell tower‍‌‍ falls.

In‌ this surreal situation,‍⁠ the only thing‌‌⁠ that made sense⁠‌​ was the loud​‍ ringing of the‌‌​ bell echoing in‌​ his ears.

In⁠​‍ the middle of‌⁠‍ the clash between​​ the two worlds,⁠‍‍ something over which​‍ Vlad had no​​‌ control, the only​ thing he could‌⁠‍ do was bow‍‌‍ his head.

Kwakwakwakang!‍

“Ahhhh!”‍‌

“Damn‌​ it! Why the​ hell did I come all this‍ way?”

A heavy sound emerged​ from the gap‌​⁠ between reality and‍‌ the world that⁠⁠ had crashed together​​ so violently.

It⁠‍​ was like a hard acknowledgment of‍ worlds that had⁠ no choice but​‍⁠ to move apart‌‍ because they couldn’t‌ exist together.

But‍‌ this time, what‌ was rejected wasn’t‍‌‌ the black tears​‍‍ that Ramashthu had‍ shed but the‍⁠‍ real world.

“…Ugh!‍ Cough, cough!”

Vlad⁠ lowered his head‌ as debris from‍⁠​ the church rained​‌‌ down on him.​‍‌

The‍‌ only things visible​‌ amidst the thick,⁠‌‌ suffocating dust were‌​ the church bells‌‍​ ringing here and​ there.

Seeing​ the bell from‍‍​ Achiuk lying helplessly,‌​​ having fulfilled its‌⁠​ duty, Vlad finally‌‌‌ realized that he⁠​ had escaped into‍ the real world.‌

[Vlad,⁠ snap out of⁠‍​ it!]

“Wake⁠‌‌ up, bastard!”

In‍​⁠ the thick dust‍ that hung in‍ the air, voices‍ were calling out‍⁠‍ to Vlad.

Vlad‌ regained his senses​‌⁠ when he heard⁠ a voice inside‌⁠⁠ him. Turning his⁠ head toward a voice behind him,‌‍ he could see⁠ the old priest​‌⁠ calling out to​‍ him.

“Look‌ over there! We⁠‌​ don’t have time!”‍​​

“…!”​‌‍

In⁠‍ front of the‌ group, who had⁠‌ risen in the​‍ midst of the⁠​​ battlefield, stood an⁠‌‍ army of dark-toned‍‍ undead, who had​‍ been battling the​​ Northern Allied Forces‍ just moments ago.‌

However,‌‌‍ Pedro wasn’t pointing‍ at an immediate‌⁠‍ threat but at‌ something writhing above.‍​‌

“…What‍‍‌ is that?”

The‍⁠ tree branches were‍​‍ rising, and the⁠ roots were floating.‍⁠‌

A woman, standing high‌⁠ above, raised both‍ hands, reciting something‍ aloud.

It⁠​​ was her last‌‌⁠ attempt to reject​‌​ this world, her‌​‌ great rebellion against⁠ God.

“It’s‌ the world-creation spell.​​‌ The worst kind‍ of magic, where⁠‍ she wants to‍‍​ become a god.”‌

An‌‌ apostate trying to⁠​ create her own‌ world, not the⁠‍⁠ one created by⁠ God. Ramashthu.

There⁠⁠ were black drops⁠⁠⁠ of water rising⁠ from the spell​⁠⁠ she was chanting.‌​

The⁠⁠ wolf-black colored drop​ of water, starting​‍ from a small​​ point, gradually grew‌‌⁠ as it consumed‌⁠‌ the black tears‌⁠‍ gathered by Ramashthu.​‌‌

“…I⁠ never imagined I’d​​‍ witness something like⁠ this in my​⁠⁠ life.”

The​ sight of the‍​⁠ black water drops​ made both the‍ living and the​‌‌ dead look up‍⁠ in silence.

However,​ even with this‍⁠‍ distant scene in‍‌ front of him,‍⁠ for some reason,​ only a strange⁠⁠ smile appeared on‍‍ the face of⁠‌ Bishop Pierre.

“Pedro?”‌

Even​​‌ in moments of​ despair, his smiling‌‌‍ face was like⁠⁠ that of a fanatic.

An‍⁠ exorcist priest and‌‍ heretic inquisitor who​⁠ had wandered through‍​ the darkness all‌⁠⁠ his life. Bishop‍‌ Pedro.

He​⁠​ smiled as if​‍‌ he had finally⁠ found the reason‌⁠ for his birth‌‍ amid a crisis‌ that felt like⁠‌‍ a revelation.

“…Standing​‍ here, under the‍ darkest sky. Isn’t⁠‍ this God’s true​ desire, the torch‌‍⁠ that lights up⁠​​ in moments like‍ this?”

Pedro’s‍⁠ face was twisted‌ in an indescribable‌ way, as if⁠ he were both⁠​‌ laughing and crying.‍‍

Why​ does the blind‌⁠⁠ joy on his​⁠ face overlap with‌⁠ the smile of‌​ Ramashthu that I just saw?

“Perhaps‌‍​ God prepared me‌⁠‌ as a person‍‌⁠ for this moment?‌​ Don’t you think,​ Vlad?”

With‍ those words, a white light began​ to emit from​⁠ Pedro’s staff.

That‍ was the faith‍‍ and will Pedro‌ had carried throughout​ his life.

Though⁠‌ it was bright​​​ and mixed with‌​ madness, the light‌ now visible was⁠​‍ also the will‌ of God reaching‌⁠ the darkest places.‌

“This‍ must be my​⁠ destiny, given by‌⁠ God. Let it​​ burn with the​⁠⁠ greatest intensity!”

Taaang!‌

Pedro’s‍ divinity remained unshaken,⁠⁠‌ even when he⁠⁠ had burned countless‌ unbelievers.

That‍⁠​ divinity was now⁠​ spreading through the​ sword the dragon⁠ currently held.

“So‍‌‌ go and cut‍​⁠ those damned things‍ down. Vlad Aureo!”‍‍‍

The​⁠ mystery and divinity​‌ were alive and‍ breathing between the⁠ swords that embraced⁠ my world.

However,‌ despite the brilliant‌​ sword he held,‍‌‍ Vlad’s face showed‌⁠ only deep annoyance.‍

“…You’re​‍‍ obsessed with God‍ until the end.”⁠‍‌

“What?”‍

A blond knight who​ somehow seemed unholy⁠ despite carrying the​‌ will of God.​

Vlad,‌‍ with his left⁠⁠​ eye closed, slowly​ stood up and‍‍‍ began to point⁠‌ in the direction​ of the tree‍⁠‍ in the sky.​‌

“Can‍‍ you only see​ God above and‍ not the people‍​⁠ dying around you?”⁠‍

The‌ places Vlad pointed‍ to were filled​ with black death.​‌⁠

Soldiers‍​ dying from the​ undead army, and⁠ ugly roots.

And‌​ from the lake⁠‌ where the trees​ were rooted, to​⁠​ the fragments of‌⁠ white bones from‌ the women emerging.⁠⁠​

All‌‌⁠ of these were​​ dull worlds that⁠ died in places‌‍​ where no one‍ cared.

“…If‍ this is truly​ God’s will, then‍⁠ both are the⁠‍​ same.”

All⁠ causes are justifiable.‌​⁠

But‍ in the end,⁠⁠ extreme ends did​​​ not discriminate between‍‍ means, and to‌​​ Vlad, both Ramashthu,‍​ who killed women⁠‌⁠ for her children,‍‌‍ and Pedro, who​ said Ramashthu was​‌​ an opportunity to​⁠‍ prove God’s will,‌ seemed the same.⁠⁠

“Nibelun,​‌ I think I have to go‍​ up there.”

So,‍⁠ if no one‌‍ else will, I will.

The​​⁠ black tears shed‍‍‍ by the women,‍ the images of​‌ the children playing‍‌​ by the bonfire.‍

“If‍‍ God wills it,‌⁠ then I’ll do‍⁠ it.”

Even​ now, Ramashthu’s black​ water drops continued‍​ to grow, blocking‌‌ out the sun.⁠

Vlad,‍‍ who knew very​‌ well the kind​‌​ of sadness from​‌​ which the drops⁠‍‍ came, silently raised⁠ his head and⁠⁠ gazed at the⁠​⁠ writhing evil roots‍​⁠ coming toward him.⁠‍​

※※※※‌‍‌

Boom!​‍‌ Boom! Boom!

“Duke!⁠⁠‌ The roots are‌​​ rising from beneath​⁠ the ground!”

“…”​

The‍ allied soldiers shouted‍ as suddenly wolf-black‍‌​ roots pierced through‍‌‍ the ground.

But‌⁠‌ instead of the‌‍‍ pain the soldiers⁠‍ emitted, Timur the‍⁠ Iron Duke merely⁠ looked up at​ the Dragulia banner⁠‍ above.

“Hold‍⁠ the formation.”

“But​ Duke!”

“I⁠‍‍ said don’t break‌‍ the formation!”

In‍⁠​ front of them​‍ was the undead​‌​ army, and behind‌​ them were the​ forces of the‍​ central army.

The‌ Iron Duke Timur,‌‍ trapped in the‌ middle, knew very⁠​ well that the⁠‍‌ current formation must‌​‍ not collapse under⁠ any circumstances.

“Don’t​​ leave any gaps.⁠‌‌ Fall back slowly,‍ very slowly.”

Even⁠‌ now, soldiers were​⁠ dying from the‍ rising roots, but⁠ Timur did not​‍‌ waver at all.​

Because​‌ the Iron Duke,‌ who represented the‍ North, had a great duty to​‍ fulfill.

“…A​ small loss is‍‌⁠ inevitable. If the​‌ army breaks here,⁠ the North is‌‌ finished.”

For​ my cause and​ not for the⁠⁠‌ screams of another.⁠

It​‍‌ was a very⁠​ reasonable decision, but‌​⁠ the price of‌ that decision had‍ to be paid‌⁠ by the soldiers⁠‍ still crying out.‌

Boom!​‍ Boom! Boom-boom!

-Ahhhhh!‍​‍

-Roots!‍‌‌ Roots!

-Save⁠‌​ me!

“…Frausen.”‍‍

The‌​⁠ tree roots swayed⁠‍‍ over the Dragullia‌⁠ banner.

The‌⁠‌ emperor and the⁠⁠ oldest dragon, who‍ had come back‌ to life after‌ leaving behind the⁠‍ deaths of soldiers⁠ devoured by the‌⁠⁠ roots, were now​ staring at each​ other.

“You’ve‌‍ lost your strength⁠‍ since last time.⁠‌‍ Where is the⁠ glory you displayed⁠‌​ when you split​‌​ the most perfect​ dragon?”

Frausen​⁠​ and Sarnus finally‍ locked eyes, with‌‌‍ countless roots still⁠ writhing behind their‌⁠ backs.

These‌ were the roots‍ of Ramashthu, hungry‌‍ for fragments to​‌ create a new⁠​ world.

“…You’ve​ finally consumed the⁠ fragments of the‍⁠‌ imperial family, Sarnus.”​⁠

“The⁠​ fragment of the​ most perfect dragon‍‍‌ also belongs to‌⁠ me, rightfully.”

With⁠ their swords crossed,‍ Sarnus smiled while‌‍⁠ Frausen stood firm.​

However,​⁠⁠ it seemed that​​‍ the resurrected emperor,‍‍⁠ despite having returned⁠​⁠ to life, was⁠‍ struggling to face‍​‌ the oldest dragon,​‌⁠ who only grew​​ stronger.

Little​⁠‌ by little, his‌‍‌ sword began to‍ be pushed back,‌ driven by Sarnus’s​‌ strength.

“I‍‍ knew you would‌‌ do this.”

But‌‍ Frausen remained calm,‍‍ even as the⁠⁠⁠ balance increasingly shifted‍ against him.

It‌‌ was because he⁠‌⁠ knew he still​‌ had one chance‌‍ left.

“That’s⁠‍​ why I left‌​ that fragment with‍‌ the imperial family.‌⁠‌ So you’d consume‍‌‍ it.”

“What?”‍⁠‍

The‍ mastery of a killing strike lies‍ in surprise.

However,​⁠ the unexpected did⁠‍ not necessarily start‍ with the sword⁠‍ he held.

“You‌⁠‍ must remember how‍​​ I killed the‍ most perfect dragon,‍ Sarnus.”

A drop of dark‌​ red blood began‍ to flow down​ the swords they‍⁠ had clashed.

It‌​ was the emperor’s‍‍ blood, one of⁠⁠⁠ the proofs of​ the alliance.

Sarnus’s​⁠ eyes widened as‍‍⁠ he saw Frausen’s​ blood gradually dripping‍ toward him.

“…Among⁠ the many memories‌⁠⁠ I lost, I still cling to‍‌⁠ that one.”

Already⁠ shattered, but the‌‌⁠ emperor’s pieces that⁠ had shattered once​‍ more flowed along‍‍ with the drops⁠​⁠ of blood.

As‍ if he couldn’t​​‍ hear the countless‌⁠ screams behind him,​ Frausen merely smiled⁠‌⁠ as he watched‌ the drops of‍ his own blood​​ seep into the⁠ dragon.

Watching‍⁠‌ as his world‌​‍ spread over the‍​​ dragon who dreamed‍ of perfection.

“Frausen—!”‌

***‌‍

A woman trying to‍ create a new‍ world for her‌‌ children.

A priest who only⁠⁠ sees the wicked‍⁠ beings for the⁠​ love of God.‍

A monarch willing to‍​ make sacrifices for​ his land.

A dragon striving to⁠ become the most‍‍​ perfect being, and‍‍​ even an emperor‍​​ revived to stop‌‍ the dragon.

“Run,​​ Nibelun! Run now!”⁠⁠​

They​‌⁠ all had just​⁠​ and noble causes,​‌ but to achieve⁠ them, they had‌ to accept inevitable​‍‍ sacrifices.

Like‌‍ the soldiers who‍ were dying at‍​ that very moment,‍ or the already‍​​ dead women—beings so‍⁠‍ unseen, shining so‍ dimly that everyone‍‌ ignored them.

“Run‍ faster!”

“I⁠‍⁠ can’t! This is​‌ my limit!”

But‍‍⁠ Vlad, as he​​ climbed the tree‌‌‍ riding the magic​‌ carpet, was the⁠‍⁠ only one who‍‍‍ saw their pain.‍⁠

The‍‌ boy from the‍⁠ alleyways, who had‍‍ once fallen into‌⁠ the mud, understood‍⁠​ the suffering of⁠​ those trapped in⁠ misery better than‍⁠‌ anyone.

“Everyone’s⁠ going to die!⁠ At this speed!”⁠

Neither⁠‍ a dragon, nor​ a servant of‍‍ God, nor a noble, nor a successor to the⁠‌‍ emperor—just a boy‍​ from the alley.​

Yet,‌⁠‍ at that moment,‌ it was the‍​ insignificant boy who​ rushed toward the‍​‍ sky to stop‌⁠ the pain that​ everyone else felt.​​‍

“This​‍ carpet was one​ of my grandmother’s‌ most precious things!”‌

Dodging‌‌⁠ the roots that‍ surged at him,⁠​ he climbed the⁠‌ enormous, terrifying tree,​‌​ so high that‌⁠ it was difficult‍‌ even to look‍​​ up at it.⁠‌

Thus,‌‌‍ riding his tattered‌⁠ carpet, a star​ ascended toward the‌‍ sky.

While‌‌​ continuing to slash‍‍ through the horrible​‍ roots attacking him,‌‍ that star pressed‍ on toward the‌ dark night sky‌‍ before him.

“…The‍‍ moon.”

“…”​​

There,​⁠​ waiting for him⁠ in the sky,⁠ was a black‍‌‌ moon, covering Vlad‌ like an ominous‌ eclipse that blocked‍‍ out the sun.‍‍⁠

That‍‍ moon, arrogant, cast⁠ its shadow over‍ the entire battlefield.‌‌⁠

“I‌ don’t like the​⁠​ moon.”

“What?”‍​

Like⁠‌​ the blue moon​ that once destroyed‍​ my home.

Though‍​ the color was‌⁠ different, Vlad recalled‌ that old scene​ as he looked⁠ at the moon​ still floating above‌⁠ him.

That​ place was the⁠​‌ smile of a rose.

The⁠⁠‍ guts were completely⁠ filled with blood.⁠‌‌

And‌‍ it was where‍‌ the boy’s world‍‌ had shattered.

“I‌⁠⁠ hate the moon.”​​‍

And‌ even now, as‌ he watched Ramashthu’s‌ world devour someone⁠ else’s world, the⁠‍‌ blue moon from​‌‍ back then surfaced​ in Vlad’s closed⁠ eyes.

The‍ blue moon he⁠​⁠ had promised to⁠ destroy but could⁠‍‍ never reach.

But⁠​ this time, sensing‌‌​ that he might​​ finally reach it,⁠‍⁠ Vlad raised his‌⁠‍ sword—imbued with his​‌‍ own world—toward that⁠​⁠ moon.

“So​ this time, I’ll​ destroy it.”

For‌ all the stars⁠ the heroes here‌ had ignored.

The⁠‌ name of the​‍ star rising in‍ their place was⁠ Vlad of Soara.⁠‌

Vlad’s⁠‌ world, shining alone‌​⁠ in the dark‍ night sky, suddenly‍‍ merged with the⁠ blue light of⁠ the moon he​‌ had been staring‌ at.

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