Star-Embracing Swordmaster — Chapter 253: Children’s Song (3)

Chapter 253: Children’s Song (3)

Hands⁠‌ reached out to⁠ catch the falling‌‌‌ star.

They‍ were the small,‌ fragile hands of⁠‍ children who had‌ not yet had‌‌ the chance to‍⁠‍ fully bloom.

Those‌ hands in the‍‌ darkness, extended purely‌‍ by their own‌‌ will, not by‍‍ anyone’s orders or‍‍‍ coercion, held onto‌ Vlad alongside Joseph.‌⁠

-It’s‍‌ been a while.

“…I‌ suppose it has.”‍

Joseph’s‌‌ face, seen beyond⁠ their interlocked hands,‌ looked paler than⁠ ever, perhaps due‍‌ to the surrounding‌⁠ darkness.

However,⁠⁠ the smile he⁠‌ gave as he⁠ looked at Vlad‌‍‌ hadn’t changed at‍‌ all from the one he had‍ seen in the‍‍ sunlit office.

“Keugh!”‍

A world of trees⁠‍ turned upside down,⁠ seemingly never to⁠ fall.

Vlad, barely lifted by‌‍ the hands that⁠ held him, finally noticed the countless‌⁠‍ eyes watching him.⁠‍

“…It’s‍⁠ you, kids.”

In‍⁠ the total darkness‍ he had entered,⁠ there were children‌ holding their breath‍ as they watched‌‍⁠ Vlad.

Children⁠‌ whose eyes were painted completely black.⁠⁠

Yet‌ Vlad was left‍‍⁠ speechless as he⁠ gazed at the⁠‌ bowed heads, recognizing⁠ the person standing‍⁠ before them.

“I‌ have a lot‍‌ to say, but‌‍⁠ let’s leave it⁠⁠ for later.”

– Yes.

Joseph‍ flashed a faint‍ smile at Vlad’s⁠ words, suggesting they⁠ postpone explanations.

However,⁠ Vlad, focused on‍ the place where‍ he had fallen,⁠ didn’t notice the‌⁠ slightly sorrowful expression‌ on Joseph’s face.

[It’s⁠ starting to close.]‍

“…”‍

In‍ the dimmed eyes of the children⁠ shrouded by the‍‌ darkness, Vlad was‌‍ no longer visible.‌‌‍

There⁠‍ was only the⁠‍‍ bright light of‌‍ a star.

As⁠ the fallen star⁠‌‌ turned its gaze⁠ upward once more,‌‌⁠ the children around⁠ it looked up⁠ as well.

“There‍ was no other way, was there?”⁠

– It doesn’t seem‌ like it.

However,‍ the light shining‌ from where you‌‌ gaze only grows‌⁠ darker as time‍‍ passes.

Watching‌⁠‌ as the path‍ to the outside‍ world closed more⁠ and more, Vlad‍‌ realized that time⁠‌⁠ was running out.‍‍⁠

“Then⁠‌‌ I guess I’ll‌ have to find‍‍⁠ a way to‍ reach it.”

– Is there a way to get to the top?‌

Zum-zum-⁠

At‍‍ that moment, Vlad’s‍ sword began to‍ hum, as if it had been waiting.

A sword born of⁠ the stars and‌ engraved with the‍‍ inscription of the‌‍⁠ World Tree.

Realizing⁠ what the sword‌‍ he held was‌‌ telling him, Vlad‌‍⁠ looked at Joseph‌ with determination in⁠ his eyes.

“…I’m⁠‍ going to try‍ and make a path.”

He‍⁠ didn’t know if⁠‍ he could do‍ it again, but‌ it was something‌ he had to‌ try.

Listening‌‌ to the hum⁠ of his sword,⁠⁠ Vlad tightly shut‌⁠‍ his left eye.‌‍

“Hah…”⁠

To‌⁠⁠ rescue the children⁠‍ wandering in this‍ dreamlike world.

With‌ that goal in‌‌‍ mind, Vlad began‍ to recall the⁠⁠ emotions he had⁠ felt in Ausurin.‍⁠

“Alright,‌‍⁠ let’s try again.”⁠‍

Crash-!‍

With‍‌ a deep, tense‍ breath, a faint‍ light began to‌ seep from the‍ sword he gripped⁠‍ tightly.

The‌⁠⁠ same color as‌⁠‍ Vlad’s left eye.‍

The‌ light now seen‌‌ was the same⁠‌ color as the‍ young World Tree⁠‍⁠ that had been‍‌ lent to him⁠ back then.

– Huh? What’s that?‌

– Is it green?‍⁠‍

Crack-crack-crack‌

In⁠‌ the still world‍‍ of Ramashthu, cracks created by Vlad‌‍‍ began to appear.‌‌

– Is that a sprout?

The⁠ crack was also⁠ a sign of‌‌⁠ a powerful change‌‍ in this world‌‍⁠ that had remained‍ stagnant for so‍ long.

“Ah!”‌‌

What‍ is a Sword‍‍ Master?

It‍‌ means someone who‌ knows how to‍‌ draw their own⁠ world.

And‍ the knight standing‍⁠ here now was‌⁠ the only successor⁠‌ of the Sword⁠‍ Master. He was‍ Vlad of Soara.⁠

– Vlad!

A bright green light‌ began to radiate⁠‌‍ from the sword‍‍‍ Vlad had thrust‌⁠ into the ground.‍⁠‍

That‌⁠ color was the‌⁠ light of the‍ world that Vlad‍⁠ wished to create‍⁠‍ now.

The‍ bright light reached‍ not only the children nearby but‌‌ also those wandering‍ by the campfire.‍

“Kwoaaah!”⁠⁠⁠

In⁠ Ramashthu’s world, where⁠ no color existed,⁠ the image drawn‌ by Vlad began‌ to bloom little by little.

It⁠ started as a small sprout, but‌‌ before anyone realized,⁠‍ it had grown,‍‌ shooting upward toward‍ the sky.

– Is that…?

Born‍‍‍ a dragon, but‍ what he wanted to paint was⁠ a bright flower.

And‍ so, the Sword⁠ Master of this‌ era was now‍ painting a staircase⁠‍‌ for the children.⁠‌

Rumble-rumble-rumble‍⁠

The‌‌‌ blooming roots were‍‌ green, recognizing me.‌

The‍ ascending stem was white, growing with⁠⁠ me.

And‌ the flower petals⁠‍⁠ reaching toward the⁠ sky were the‌ blue of the‌ moon I had⁠ always dreamed of.‌

“Let’s‌ go for a walk!”

In⁠‌ this dark world,⁠ a flower was‍⁠ blooming toward the‍‌ sky.

It‍⁠ was a world of children, one⁠ that Joseph had⁠⁠‍ seen as well.‌

“Because⁠‌ I’ll support you!”⁠‍

The name of the⁠ flower that always‌ bloomed where it‍ needed to was‍ Vlad of Soara.⁠‍‌

The flower of this‍ generation, blooming for⁠ the young potential,‍‌⁠ was shouting at us to step⁠‍⁠ on it and‍ climb up.

***‌

“Kraaaaah!”‌⁠‌

The‍‌ trembling eyes of⁠ the dragon were now filled with⁠ red, angry veins.

“Frausen!”‌

Rage and pain—all reflected‌ in the dragon’s‍ blue eyes.

The‍ person those eyes‍⁠ were aimed at‍‌‌ was the resurrected⁠ emperor, **Frausen.**

“…Sarnus,⁠‌ you foolish dragon.”

Behind‍ Frausen, horrific roots⁠‌ began sprouting from‌ the ground.

Yet‌ those roots ignored‍⁠‍ him, heading toward‍‍ Sarnus, extending their black tongues.

“Curse you! Until the‍ bitter end!”

A drop of poison⁠ had spread through the world that‌ Sarnus dreamed of‌ being perfect.

A discolored world, hidden‍ within the fragments‌ of the empire,‌ now fiercely pierced⁠⁠‌ through Sarnus’s heart.

“You‍ will die with‌ me today.”

As‌⁠ the dragon roared‍⁠‌ in his direction,⁠⁠⁠ Frausen advanced.

He‌ walked over the‌‌ dying soldiers, and⁠ behind him, the‌ cursed tree swayed.‍⁠‌

The⁠‍ chants of the‍‌ children, heard faintly in the distance,‍‍ didn’t seem to⁠ matter to him‌‍ at all.

Frausen‌ continued his march‍‍‌ toward death.

“This‍ is all I have left, my‌ final duty.”

He was desperately clinging‌ to fulfilling that‌⁠‌ last duty.

And⁠ the silver sword‌ he now raised⁠‍ had taken on⁠ a discolored tone.

“Do‌⁠ you really think…‌ it will end‌ like this?”

Over‌ the head of‌‍ the ancient dragon,‌ filled with pain,‍ monstrous roots began⁠‍ to descend.

Roots‌‌⁠ sharper than a sword, heavier than⁠⁠⁠ a castle.

Looking⁠ at the roots,‌⁠ Sarnus was foaming‌ with angry blood.‌‍

“Do‌ you know how‌‌ much it cost⁠‌ me to get‍ here?”

“…!!”⁠‍

At⁠ that moment, sharp‍‌ fangs began to⁠ sprout from the‌‌⁠ corners of Sarnus’s‍‍ tightly shut mouth.‍‌

The‌‍ dragon’s blue eyes‌‌‌ rose with him.‌

The‍‍ remnants of perfection⁠ reflected in those‍ eyes made Frausen‍ take a step⁠‍ back without realizing it.

“I‍‍‌ am a dragon!‍⁠ A dragon that‍ can dream of⁠ perfection!”

Kraaaash-!‌

When‌‍ the massive roots,‍‍⁠ the size of‌‍ houses, finally crashed down on Sarnus, the piled-up corpses‌⁠⁠ on the ground‍⁠⁠ were flung in‌ all directions.

Along⁠‍‌ with the thick‌ dust that rose,‍ unable to overcome‍ the weight of‌ the roots.

“…Sarnus.”‍⁠‍

Creak!‌⁠ Crack!

There⁠ were glowing eyes‌ in the red‌‌⁠ mist, mixed with‍‌ blood.

Amid‌ the blood-filled mist,⁠ a pair of‍‍‌ bright eyes shone.‌

“This⁠⁠ will never end‌ like this.”

Sarnus’s‍ right arm, lifting‌ the enormous root‌‌ like the wall of a castle,⁠ was covered in‍ golden scales.

Frausen⁠ grew increasingly nervous‍ at the sight of the perfect‌‍ form that only⁠ a pure-blooded dragon could recreate.

“I⁠⁠‍ have not survived⁠ for hundreds of years just for⁠⁠‍ someone like you⁠ to stop me,‌ Frausen.”

The fierce gaze of‌‌‌ Sarnus grew sharper‌ as he looked⁠ at the sword‌ Frausen had raised‌‌ against him.

But⁠ the gaze of⁠‌ the ancient dragon‍ wasn’t fixed on‍ Frausen or the monstrous roots—it was⁠ directed at a distant, shimmering world,‌ gleaming like a jewel, watching from‍‌‍ afar.

“And‍‍ you weren’t the⁠ only one with⁠‍ a plan.”

Frausen‌ noticed where Sarnus⁠ was looking and‌‌ turned his head with a confused expression.

There,‍ before him, stood‍‌ a dragon of‌ this era.

“…!”‍‍

Frausen,‍ realizing Sarnus’s intent,‌ quickly gestured toward⁠⁠⁠ the roots, but⁠‍ Sarnus, who had⁠‌‌ already abandoned his⁠‌ human form, charged‍‍ faster than anyone⁠⁠ on the battlefield.‍‌

“…Father?”

Crack-!‍‌

With‌‌ a hungry smile‌‍‍ chasing perfection, droplets‌ of blood sprayed‍‍ through the air.‌

Bright⁠ red dragon blood⁠‌ splattered onto the⁠ flag of Dragulia.‍

Mirshea’s‌ blue eyes widened‍‍ in shock, almost‍ tearing, as he⁠‍ looked at the⁠‍‍ dragon of the‌⁠ previous generation, one‍‍‍ he could never‍‌‍ oppose.

***‌

Rumble-rumble-rumble!⁠‍

“Ugh!”⁠

Above‍⁠ the dark, black⁠‍⁠ space, fragments scattered everywhere like broken⁠ shells.

However, for Vlad, the‍ weight of the children walking on him felt heavier‌⁠ than the debris‌⁠ falling onto his⁠ head.

“What’s‍ so heavy about⁠ these children?”

Leaning‌‍ on the sword‍ he had driven‌‍ into the ground,‍ Vlad bent forward‌⁠‍ as the small hands of the‍ children climbed the‌‍ large flower.

Like⁠‌ ants, those small‍⁠‍ movements continued upwards,‌‍ heading toward the‌‌⁠ light above, following⁠ the children’s song‍ that echoed in‌‌ his ears.

[Hold‌⁠ on! Each one‍⁠‌ of these children‌‍ climbing is a world in itself!]⁠‍

Although‌‌ the physical weight‌ of the children was as light‌ as feathers, the weight of their⁠‍⁠ souls was not.⁠‍

Yet⁠‍‌ Vlad gritted his‌ teeth to the‍ very end for‌ the children trying‌‍⁠ to climb their‍⁠ way up.

“…This‍ is really going‌ to break my‍‍ back!”

He couldn’t give them⁠ wings to fly,‍⁠⁠ but at least‍‌ he was building⁠⁠‍ them a staircase⁠ to climb.

However,‌‌ the noble resolve‍ Vlad was displaying⁠ wasn’t born simply⁠‍⁠ from oaths or‌‌ promises.

“Do⁠ you think everyone’s‌‍‍ had such a hard time?”

[······.]‌‍

What⁠ drove him was‌‌⁠ the knowledge that he, too, had⁠ climbed on the⁠‍ shoulders of others.‌

Each⁠⁠ step the children‍⁠ took over him‍ brought to mind⁠‌‌ the faces of⁠‍ those who had⁠ helped him along‌ the way.

The‍‌ faces that began‌‌ in a small‌ forge in Soara—faces⁠‍ of people who⁠⁠ had willingly given⁠ him their backs,‌‍⁠ creating the Vlad⁠ who stood here⁠‌⁠ now.

“If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be doing all‍⁠ of this.”

From⁠‌ a child in⁠‍‍ the alleyways to‍‍ the successor of⁠ the Sword Master.

From‌⁠ an empty sword‍‍ to one that‍‍ could slay dragons.‌‍

All that growth was‍ made possible because there were people who believed in Vlad’s potential and‌ pushed him forward.‍

The‌‍ knights of this era, who had‍ blossomed thanks to‌‍ those sacrifices, were people who bore‌ the responsibility of‍ paying the price‍ fairly.

“And‍‍ why aren’t they‍⁠ climbing?”

– Wait a moment!‍

But‌‍ behind the children‌‍ climbing on his‌ shoulders, there were‌‍ still many more‌‌ huddling by the‍ fire.

Children⁠ too afraid to‌⁠ move forward, even‍‌‍ as they watched this world being‌‌ violently destroyed.

The⁠⁠⁠ children simply closed‍‍⁠ their eyes, as if this world‌ were the comforting embrace of a mother.

– If you don’t leave now, you’ll⁠⁠ be trapped in‌ this world forever.‌ Is that really‍⁠ what you want?‌

Joseph’s‍ calm voice tried‌⁠ to persuade them, but the children‌‌⁠ didn’t budge.

Even‌⁠⁠ with their eyes⁠ closed, they could‌‌‍ see the flickering‌‌ of the starlight.‌

But‍‌ instead of following‍‌ that light, the⁠⁠⁠ children huddled, as⁠ if waiting for‍⁠ someone else.

“Damn‌‌ it! Climb up‍ already!”

For‌ those whose hope⁠‍ had already shattered,⁠ a sword could do nothing.

Vlad‌ knew this all‍‍ too well, and⁠‌‍ with his head lowered, he exhaled‌‍ heavily.

“Please…”

At‌ that moment, a voice rose from the ground.

“What?”‌⁠

“Please…⁠‌‌ I beg of‍‌ you.”

It‍ was the woman‍‌‌ rising with black‍ tears.

But⁠‍ her body was‌ so broken and⁠⁠ distorted that she‌ no longer looked‌‌ like a living⁠⁠‌ person.

“…Ramashthu.”‍‌

The‍⁠ woman who had⁠‌ used up her‍‍ last strength to⁠‌ hold up the‌ black moon.

She‌ appeared before Vlad,‌ her body exhausted,‍‍ for the children⁠‌ who still awaited⁠ her.

“Please,‍ at least for‍ the sake of⁠ those children.”

For‍‍ the final chance‍ to hold up‌‍ the black moon.⁠

For⁠ the children that‍ neither the resurrected‌ emperor nor the‍⁠ ancient dragon would‍ protect, the woman⁠ shed black tears,‌‍ kneeling before the⁠ flower that had⁠‌ just bloomed.

“Please,⁠ share with me the fragments you⁠⁠ possess.”

Ramashthu,‌‌‍ the woman full⁠ of sin.

But‌⁠ the children she‌‌ protected bore no‍ guilt.

“I beg of you.”‍‌‌

“…”‍

The black moon was‍ descending.

It⁠‌ descended onto this‌ hellish battlefield.

But‍⁠ in this hell,‍‍ where everyone was⁠⁠ killing one another,‍ only one woman,‌⁠ shedding black tears, wept for the‍ children.