Star-Embracing Swordmaster — Chapter 256: This Time, Our Way (2)

Chapter 256: This Time, Our Way (2)

Arriving⁠‌⁠ Alongside the Fading‍ Twilight

It⁠⁠ came along with⁠ the fading twilight.‍

Silent‍ and stealthy, hidden⁠ within the reddening⁠ sky.

“That‌‍ is…”

By the time the⁠‌ guards stationed at‍⁠ Bastopol noticed the small dot rising⁠ against the sun,‌ it was already‌‌ too late.

Because‍ that small flutter,‍‍⁠ which began as‍ a dot, had‍ suddenly grown into‍⁠ an enormous shadow,⁠ casting itself over⁠ the Iron City.

“What‍ is that?”

Roaaar-!‍

It‌ approached at such‍‍ an astonishing speed‌‍⁠ that it was‌‍ almost impossible to⁠‍ follow with the⁠⁠‍ eye.

As‌ fast as light,‍‌⁠ it was already‌‍ hovering above the‌‍‌ castle walls, its⁠ red breath looming.⁠‍

“It’s⁠‌⁠ an attack! Sound‌ the alarm!”

“Damn it! It’s too⁠‌‌ fast!”

“The ballistas can’t reach‌ it!”

The‍ Iron City, Bastopol,‌ awoke abruptly under‍ the golden radiance descending from the‍‌ sky.

However,‌‌ the city’s aerial‌ defense system, designed‍ to combat wyverns,⁠ was no match⁠⁠ for a dragon.⁠

“…By‌‍‌ the heavens.”

A massive world against⁠ which a city’s‌ walls, now without their ruler, could‌‌‍ not stand alone.⁠

Yet,‍‍‍ by the time⁠‌ the soldiers realized‌⁠ the enormity of⁠ what they faced, the dragon’s breath⁠‍ had already been‍‍⁠ unleashed violently.

“It’s‍ its breath!”

“Run⁠⁠ for your lives!”‌‌

Kraaaash-!⁠⁠‍

The breath released was‍‍ so powerful it‍ seemed capable of‍‍‍ toppling the city‍‍‍ walls with sheer‍‍ force.

The‍‌ heat accompanying it‍ was even hotter than the twilight⁠ descending on the‍‌ horizon.

– Aaaah!

– It’s burning! Save‍‍‍ me!

The⁠‌‌ sun was setting⁠ alongside the soldiers’⁠ screams.

But‍‌ today, the setting⁠‍‌ sun didn’t descend in the west,‌⁠ but in the‍‍ north, along the⁠‍ city’s walls.

¡Roooaaar!‍

The terrifying sight of molten red-hot steel,⁠ melting along with‌‍ all manner of‍‌ corpses.

It‍ was a scene‌‍ reminiscent of countless‌‌‍ worlds long ago,‍‌ trampled by the‍ most perfect dragon.‍‌

– Bastopol! I will‌ finally burn this‌⁠⁠ city to the‌⁠ ground!

Bastopol,⁠⁠ the city that‌ had held out⁠ until the end‌ alongside the first⁠ Emperor of the‌‌‍ Empire.

But⁠‌ now, this rusted‌‌ city could no‍ longer be the‌ last hope of‌‌ humanity.

***‍

“…We’ve⁠ just received a report that Bastopol‍‍‌ has fallen.”

At‍ Peter’s softly spoken‌‌⁠ words, a heavy‌ silence began to⁠⁠ fill the hall⁠‍‍ in Deirmar.

It‍‌⁠ was a place‍ where numerous knights‌⁠ had gathered, not only from the‌‍‌ North but from⁠‌ all regions and⁠ races, but the‌⁠ silence was so‍ thick that none⁠‍ could find the‍⁠‍ words to speak.‍⁠

“It⁠⁠ has only been⁠⁠ five days. Five‍‌ days since Sarnus‌ left the battlefield‍ at Achiuk.”

It‌ had taken only‍‍ five days to⁠ travel from the⁠‍ central city of‍‌‌ Achiuk to Bastopol,‍⁠‍ the northernmost city‍⁠‌ of the empire.⁠⁠

Some‍ of the knights⁠⁠ let out barely-contained gasps of astonishment⁠‍ at the news⁠⁠ that the distance,⁠ which should have⁠⁠ taken more than‌ a month, even‍⁠ for winged beings,‌‌⁠ had been crossed⁠‌ in just five‌‌ days.

“Such‍‌ speed defies all⁠ logic. Perhaps we⁠ have gravely underestimated⁠ the remnants of‌‍ the fallen dragon.”‌‌

The‍ most perfect remnants‍⁠ of the dragon‍‍ that the Master⁠ of the Sword,‍‌ the Emperor of the Empire, and‌‌ the pinnacle of⁠ swordsmanship had personally‌⁠‍ divided.

However,‌‍‍ the dragon that⁠ had survived the⁠ longest among the⁠ broken pieces was‌⁠ now attempting to‍‌⁠ recreate the nightmare‍ by piecing together‌ perfection.

“With‍⁠‍ this, three of‍ the five fragments‌ the Emperor divided⁠ have fallen into‍‌ Sarnus’s hands.”

One‍ piece belonging to⁠⁠⁠ the imperial family.⁠‌‍

One⁠‌ piece Frausen had⁠⁠ hidden from the‌‌ world, along with‌ his retired self.‍

And‍ the fragment of⁠⁠ the Lord of‍‍ Iron that had‌ just been seized.‍

“So‌‌‌ now only one⁠ remains in this⁠ land, the fragment‍ of Bayezid that‍ I possess.”

Excluding‌‌‍ the fragment of‍‌‍ the black moon⁠ floating in the⁠ sky, there was⁠‌ now only one⁠ fragment left that‌ Sarnus could target.‌‍

It⁠‌‍ once belonged to‌ Ravnoma, but now⁠‍ it was the‍⁠ only piece held‌‍ by Bayezid.

“Then,‍‍‌ where is the‍ fragment the Count⁠ guards now?”

A tense silence began‍ to form among‍ the knights at the question someone⁠⁠‍ asked.

This⁠ fragment was humanity’s⁠‍ last hope, and‌ its fate would⁠‍‍ determine the outcome⁠‍ of the battle.⁠

“The⁠ fragment has left‌⁠ Sturma.”

Peter’s‍‌‌ command baton, which‌ had pointed at‌ Bastopol, slowly slid⁠ toward another city.⁠

Passing⁠‍ through the snowy⁠ plains, crossing the‍‌ Lindworm Nest, and‌ traversing the eastern⁠ North until it‍‌ reached a city⁠ known as the‌ Lighthouse of the‍⁠‍ North.

“It⁠ is currently passing through Soara.”

Soara,‍‍‍ the city of‌⁠ Bayezid’s county.

A trade hub in the northwest and⁠‍‌ a place of‍ dark alleys that‌ never sleep.

And‌‍ the city where‌‌⁠ the boy was⁠‌⁠ born.

A quiet tension began‍‌ to form in‍ Vlad’s blue eyes⁠‌⁠ as he gazed‍⁠ at Peter’s baton⁠ pointing toward the⁠ city of his‍ birth.

“The‌ problem is that‌ Sarnus is closer⁠‌ to that fragment⁠ than we are.”⁠

However,‌ there wasn’t enough‌ time for the⁠ piece to fully‍‌⁠ descend and reach‌‌ Deirmar, where the‌‌ knights were gathered.

Because‍‍ the distance between‌⁠‌ Bastopol and Soara⁠ was much shorter‍⁠ than that between‍ Bastopol and Achiuk.

“…So‍‌ someone here will⁠‌ have to meet‍‌ it.”

To‌ secure the fragment,⁠‌‍ someone had to⁠ go and meet‌‍‍ it.

Only‌‍ then could we⁠‌‍ obtain it faster‍ than the speed‌ of the oldest‍‍⁠ dragon’s flight.

The knights’ eyes all⁠‌‍ began to focus on one spot‍ as they heard⁠⁠ that someone would‍⁠ need to meet‌ the descending fragment.‍

“…”‍

Vlad‌‌ of Soara.

A name now known‍ across the entire continent.

All⁠‍ the representatives of‍‍‌ the continent focused‌⁠⁠ their attention on‍ the knight who‌‌‌ carried such illustrious‍‌ names on his⁠ small banner.

***‌

A man was walking‍ alone through a long, narrow corridor.⁠‍‌

He⁠ had walked that‍‍ path so many times now that he knew his‍⁠ way without needing‍‍ guidance in the‍⁠ Deirmar mansion.

However,‌ Vlad hadn’t forgotten‌ that the first‌ time he entered‍‌⁠ this mansion, he‍‌ had been accompanied‍ by a young man with somber⁠ eyes.

[Count⁠ Peter’s judgment is⁠ correct. The Allied‍‌ Northern Forces should‌‌ not move from‍ here right now.]⁠‍

Although‌‌ the threat of⁠ the dragon loomed⁠ dangerously close, no‌ one could stop⁠‍ the war that‌ had already begun.‍⁠⁠

Since⁠⁠ it was no‍‌ longer easy to‍ trust them, their‌ worlds were so divided that it was safer to eliminate each other.‌

[A‌‌ true dead-end. It‍⁠ seems this had⁠⁠ been planned all‍ along.]

As‍⁠ Kihano had said,‌ someone was laughing between the cracks.‍

Seeing⁠ how the divided‍‍ worlds clashed and‌ yelled at one⁠‍ another, an old‌ knight could not‌‌ help but feel⁠‍ disheartened by the⁠⁠ current era’s inability‍ to stop the⁠⁠ dragon.

“What can I do?”‌

A golden army was‌ advancing northward.

And an ancient dragon⁠‍ was heading for‍ Soara.

However,‍‌ the Allied Northern‍⁠ Forces, unable to‍⁠‍ abandon either of‌‌ them, had no⁠ choice but to⁠ accept the flying‍ swords as they⁠‍‍ offered themselves to‍‌⁠ all sides.

“We⁠ can only do our best.”

A small light shone‍ before Vlad as⁠‍ he exited the‌ narrow corridor.

The‌ exit to the low hill of‌‌⁠ Deirmar now felt⁠ like a familiar⁠ alley to Vlad.‍‍

“Are‌ you here now?”‌‍

But‍⁠ there, waiting for⁠‍ him, was someone⁠ who had arrived before him.

The⁠ man leaning casually⁠‌ against the entrance⁠⁠ to the outside‌ was someone with‍‍⁠ a color that‌ felt both familiar‍‍ and nostalgic to‍ Vlad.

“Sir‍⁠ Rutiger?”

“Yes,⁠‍‌ it’s me.”

A man with the⁠ same hair color‍ as Joseph, the one he missed⁠‍‍ dearly.

Though‌ his appearance was different, the person‍ smiling from afar⁠‍⁠ bore a striking⁠⁠‍ resemblance to Joseph’s⁠⁠ smile, the one⁠ Vlad had longed‍⁠ for.

“Do you really plan‌ to come with‌ me?”

“Who‍⁠‌ else would go‍‌ if not a dragon hunter to⁠ hunt a dragon?”‌⁠

A northern knight who⁠‍ felled the toughest‌ of dragons.

The⁠⁠ name Rutiger, also‌‍ inscribed on the⁠⁠ list of Dragon‌⁠⁠ Slayer Knights, was⁠ probably enough to‌⁠ represent the North.‌⁠

“We⁠ made a good‌‌ team, or was‌ that just my imagination?”

“But.”⁠

Vlad⁠ hesitated for a moment, seeing Rutiger‍‌ shrug as if‍‌⁠ nothing had happened,‍ but Rutiger wasn’t⁠‌ the only one‌⁠ waiting for Vlad‌ on Deirmar’s hill.

“We‌⁠ meet again in a familiar place.”‌

“…Lord‌ Pablo.”

“Count‍ Arnstein sent me‍ ahead. Luckily, I’m‍ not too late.”

The‌⁠ man who first‌ awakened the world⁠‍⁠ of the children.‍ Pablo of Arnstein.‌⁠

Seeing‌‌‌ his imposing figure,⁠‍ Vlad’s face softened⁠⁠⁠ with a smile.

“I’m⁠ glad to see⁠‌‌ you well.”

“Lord‌‍ Rodrigo.”

“Ah,‌‌ I’d prefer to‍ be called Captain of the Imperial⁠⁠‌ Guard now. I’ve⁠⁠ been promoted, you⁠⁠⁠ know?”

The⁠‍ men who extended their hands to‍ Vlad were all‌⁠ knights sent by‌ Count Arnstein.

“We‌⁠ saw each other⁠‍ in Bastopol. I’m‌⁠‌ Ralph of Maringen.”⁠⁠‍

“I’m‍ Ernst of Podmills.”⁠

And⁠‍ the knights representing⁠‌ the North, those‍ he had fought‌ with in the‍ Iron City, were‍⁠ also there.

“Land⁠ sickness is terrible after so long‌⁠⁠ at sea.”

“Soara‍ holds a special meaning for me,‍‍ too. What was‌ that drink called?”‍⁠

Even⁠‌ the dwarves from‌⁠ the Nidavellir Liberation Front, whom Vlad‍⁠‍ had helped, had⁠⁠ joined.

“It‍ is our custom‌ as elves to⁠ extend our hand⁠‍‍ first before asking‍ for help.”

Even⁠ the elves of⁠‌⁠ Ausurin, born in‍ the same place‍‌ as the sword⁠ he wielded.

“…With‍‌ so many knights‍ leaving this place,⁠‌‍ who will protect‍ Deirmar?”

Waiting‌ for Vlad as‌ he exited the‍‍ long, narrow corridor‌ were so many‌ knights that they‍ filled the hills⁠ of Deirmar.

All⁠‍ those he had‍ seen, helped, and‍‍⁠ fought were knights⁠⁠‌ who volunteered to⁠ join Vlad against⁠ the legendary golden⁠ dragon.

“My‌‍‍ father has summoned‌ the old riders.”‌

“Old‌ riders?”

“Retired‍‍ knights.”

Deirmar,‍‍ where the elites‌‌ of the allied‌‍ forces were escaping,‍ would literally be⁠ like a wall‍ with holes.

However,‍‌ despite Vlad’s concerns, Rutiger simply opened⁠ his mouth and⁠ crossed his arms‍‌ as if there‌‍‌ were no problem.⁠⁠

“We’re‌ relying on the‍‍ strength of the‍‍‌ previous generation. I’m‌ sure that if they have working‍ arms and legs,⁠‌‍ they’re rushing here⁠ as we speak.”‌‌

But‍‍‍ that post was‌ reserved for knights⁠‍ who had already⁠⁠ retired.

The⁠ knights of the‌ previous generation, thirsty‍ for forgotten glory, gathered under Bayezid’s⁠‍ banner to prove‌‍ they were still useful.

“Lord‌⁠ Ramund will likely‌ come as well.”‌⁠

“Yes.‍⁠‍ That old man⁠ will probably be⁠‍ the first to‍ arrive.”

It‌‌ was a corridor‌‌ Vlad had walked‌ alone, but in⁠⁠ the end, there were countless knights‌‌‌ waiting for him.‌

The‌ young spirits in‌ the tree, who‌ had been watching⁠‌ this, waved their small hands at⁠‍ Vlad, asking him⁠ to look their⁠ way.

“It’s‌‍‍ snowing.”

“…That’s‍ not snow.”

The‍ hills of Deirmar‍ had always been⁠⁠‌ filled with loneliness.⁠

But seeing the countless‌ worlds gathered there,‌‌ only then could‍‍‌ Vlad smile.

“Where‍‍ in the world‌‍ does snow fall⁠‍‌ in spring?”

The‍‌ white serpent singing and the crackling‍‌ roots of the⁠⁠ World Tree.

And‌ the blessings of‌⁠ the young spirits,⁠‍‌ dancing to the‌⁠ rhythm, fell like white snowflakes and⁠⁠‌ seeped into the‍‌ knights’ armor.

– Why does it‍⁠⁠ snow in spring?*‍‌‍

– It’s a good‍ omen. They say⁠ snow during a departure brings luck.*⁠

However,‍‌ only Vlad, with‌ his left eye, could see the‍ small spirits and⁠ the tree bowing‍⁠ toward him.

“Let’s⁠ go to Soara.”⁠⁠‌

That’s why Vlad waved⁠‌ his arms as⁠ hard as he‌ could toward the‍ tree above.

The⁠‌‌ gesture of Vlad’s⁠⁠ arm, which made⁠‍ the knights around‌‌‌ him seem puzzled,‍ was an expression‍‌⁠ of gratitude on⁠‌⁠ behalf of all the knights here.‌

***‍‍⁠

“The⁠ expedition has departed,‌‌ Count.”

“…I‍ understand.”

Behind‌ Peter, who kept‌‌‍ his hands behind his back, a black crow landed.‍‍‍

A nameless crow with a face full‌ of scars silently‍‌ bowed its head‌‍ toward the small⁠ coffin that Peter⁠‍⁠ was gazing at‍‌ from above.

“Are‍‍ you really sure?‍‍ With only the retired knights and⁠‍ the walls of⁠⁠‍ Deirmar, it will‍‍ be difficult to‍ stop the Duke of Gold’s army.”‌

“Even‌ so, we must⁠ try.”

Inside⁠⁠‌ the coffin lay‌ a young man‍ with somber eyes.‍

Watching‌‍ over the coffin,⁠ Peter, with a trembling hand, gently⁠‍‌ stroked his son’s⁠‌ face.

“Someone‌⁠‍ has to watch⁠‌‍ our backs.”

Joseph⁠⁠ Bayezid had finally found a peaceful‌ rest.

A father who, despite⁠‍‍ knowing his son⁠‍ would die, had sent him to‌‍‌ the front. Now,‍‍ Peter tenderly caressed his son’s face,‍⁠ his body lying‌ cold.

“He‌⁠‍ had to fulfill⁠⁠‌ his duty in‌‍ his place. My son, who did‍⁠ what was right.”

The⁠⁠ blood of nobles‍‍ is blue.

Yet,‌‍ cold blood from‍‍‍ birth doesn’t exist⁠ in this world.‌

“…I’m‌ proud of you,⁠ my son.”

Joseph’s‍⁠ hands were carefully⁠⁠⁠ placed on his chest, holding a sword.

It‍ was the knight’s‍⁠‌ sword his son‍ had longed for‌⁠ since he was‍‍‍ young.

With‍⁠ the father’s tears,‍⁠ the knights departed in silence.

They‍‍ were seen off⁠⁠ by the lord⁠⁠ of Deirmar, the‌⁠⁠ sleeping knight, and‌‌ the young dancing⁠‌ spirits.

Gathered⁠ from across the⁠ continent, crossing regions and races, their‍‌ destination was the⁠ northern city of‌ Soara.

The⁠ golden hair of⁠⁠ the young man‍⁠ returning to his⁠⁠ hometown fluttered in‍‌‌ the wind as⁠‍‍ he ran.