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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 270: Extra 10 – In the Sky I Observed

Chapter 270: Extra 10 – In the Sky I Observed

“This‍​‍ mansion is haunted.”‍⁠‍

It⁠‌ was early morning,‌​ a time when‍ the sun had​‍‍ not yet risen‌‍ and everything was⁠ shrouded in a dim twilight.

Vlad,⁠‍‍ barely able to​ keep his eyes​‍‌ open, was awakened‌ by Zemina’s voice⁠​⁠ from beside him.‍⁠‍

“What?”⁠‍‌

“I’m⁠‌ telling you, this‌⁠⁠ place has ghosts.⁠‍ I saw them⁠‍⁠ last night.”

As‌​ his vision gradually‍ came into focus,‌​‍ Zemina appeared in⁠ front of him,​‌ hands clawed like‌ a cat, trying‍ to convey something‌​‍ eerie.

To​‌ Vlad, who didn’t‍ understand the context,⁠ it was just​‍​ another of her‌ peculiar antics.

“What‍ on earth did⁠⁠​ you eat?”

“I⁠⁠ knew you’d say‍‌​ that.”

Breaking‍⁠ into his room‍⁠​ so early in‌​​ the morning to‍ talk about ghosts‌ seemed absurd to‌ Vlad, who sighed⁠​‌ and laid back⁠‌‍ down.

But⁠​‍ Zemina pulled the‌⁠ blankets away with‌​ determination.

“…What’s​⁠‍ wrong with you‍ this early?”

“Look‍‌ at this! I have proof!”

While⁠​‍ Vlad, still groggy,​⁠‍ tried to ignore‌​ her, Zemina waved⁠​⁠ a piece of​ paper in front‍ of his face.​

It⁠ was the drawing​ the World Tree⁠‍​ Priestess had handed⁠ her the night‍‍⁠ before.

“The‌ ghost I saw‌​ left me this‍‍⁠ drawing. What do‌ you think? Don’t‍‍ you feel a chill just looking⁠ at it?”

“…”​​⁠

“Look‌ at this messy​‍ stroke! It’s obviously‍​​ cursed.”

As⁠⁠ Zemina claimed, the​​ drawing was utterly⁠​ chaotic.

However,‍ its vibrant colors‍‍‍ made it hard‍‍ to determine the⁠‌ artist’s age or⁠‍⁠ intent.

“A‌⁠ ghost gave you⁠​ this?”

“I​⁠⁠ swear it did.”​‌⁠

“…Did‍ this ghost have‌ platinum blonde hair⁠ and wear a white dress?”

“Oh,​‌​ for heaven’s sake!”⁠‌

Hearing‍ Vlad describe the​​‍ supposed ghost exactly,‍⁠ Zemina gasped, covering‌ her mouth in⁠​​ astonishment. Her wide‌ eyes grew even‍​ rounder as she‌ stared at Vlad.​​‍

“I’ve⁠​ got goosebumps!”

Her​​​ large eyes, now‍‍ even more rounded,‍‌‌ seemed to confirm​​ Vlad’s accuracy.

Vlad‍‌ scratched his head⁠‍⁠ as he began⁠‍ to study the​ drawing she had‍ given him.

“…Hmm?”​⁠⁠

As⁠ dawn broke over‍ Sturma, the faint​ light filtering through​ the windows slowly⁠‍‍ illuminated the room.‍

Vlad​⁠‌ furrowed his brows⁠⁠ as he tried‍ to decipher the‌ drawing’s message.

***​⁠‍

At​‍⁠ the same time,​ the Bayezid mansion​ was bustling with​‍‍ guests, transformed into​ a social hub.‌

Nobles⁠​ and envoys from‌‌‌ across the continent‌‍ had gathered.

For‌​ many, this rare‌‌​ chance to mingle⁠ was the perfect⁠ opportunity to form​ new connections.

“Oh,​​​ Lord Vlad Aureo…”‍⁠

Among‌ all the guests,⁠⁠‍ the one they‍‌ most sought to⁠ meet was Vlad,⁠⁠ the new Swordmaster.‌

However,​ Vlad paid no‍ attention to the‌ countless individuals approaching‍‍⁠ him and instead‌​ strode confidently up‍​‌ the stairs.

‘You‌​⁠ should visit our‍‍ mother. I’m sure‌⁠ it would make​​​ her happy to⁠ see you.’

“…”‍‍

He‌ passed the noise​ of the first​‌ and second floors,‌⁠ heading to the⁠​‍ third—a quieter area‍ closed to guests.⁠‍‍

Reaching‍‍⁠ the hushed hallway,‌ Vlad paused and‌ glanced around.

“The⁠​‌ sun shines just‍ as brightly as‍‍‌ ever.”

When​⁠ he had been‍ a squire, this‍ hallway was always‍ alive with the​‍‌ bustle of servants‍‌​ and activity.

Now,⁠ the stillness was⁠‌ so profound that‌ he could hear‌ the birds singing‍ outside.

Sniff,​⁠‌ sniff.

Before⁠⁠‌ stepping further, Vlad‌ sniffed at his‍ clothes discreetly, checking⁠ if he smelled‍‍‌ unpleasant.

It⁠‌ was an old⁠ habit from his‌‍⁠ days in the⁠⁠ slums, one he‌‌‍ still hadn’t shaken.‍⁠‌

But‍⁠​ even in winter,⁠‌ when he wore⁠​ heavy layers, the‌‍ lady of this⁠⁠ house had always⁠‌ greeted him with​ a warm smile.⁠

“…Lord⁠ Vlad?”

“It’s‍ a pleasure to⁠‍ see you again‌ after so long.”‍​​

Outside⁠ Oksana’s room, Vlad⁠ greeted the maid⁠ stationed there with⁠ a polite nod.‌ She was a middle-aged woman who‌ had come to‌⁠⁠ the household from‌⁠ Oksana’s family.

“I’ve⁠ come to visit​ Lady Oksana.”

“Oh,‌ of course.”

The​ maid immediately recognized‍​⁠ Vlad and smiled⁠ warmly.

“It’s​‌ hard to believe‌‍‍ how elegant you’ve⁠​‍ become!”

“Thank‌⁠‌ you.”

Though‍ her smile was‍‌​ bright, the somber⁠⁠⁠ atmosphere of the‌ room seemed to​‌​ weigh even on‍ the maid, whose​‍‌ tone was more⁠‌ subdued than usual.⁠‍​

Perhaps,‍⁠ after so long‍‌‍ without laughter, she⁠‍⁠ had forgotten how⁠‍​ to truly smile.‌‍

“Please​⁠​ wait a moment.⁠​ I’ll let her‍ know you’re here.”​⁠​

Even‍ though Vlad had‍‍‌ announced his visit⁠‌ beforehand, he understood‌​ that ladies always‌ needed time to​⁠​ prepare.

Waiting‌ in the reception​ room, he sat⁠​ quietly, taking in‍ his surroundings.

“…”​‍​

They​‍‍ say a room‌​‌ reflects its owner.‍​

Although‌⁠⁠ the room was⁠ spacious, the furnishings⁠‍ and decorations were⁠⁠‌ modest.

It‌ didn’t feel empty,⁠‌ though, as warm‌‍ orange sunlight filled‌​​ the space.

“Vlad?”‌‍

“Ah…‌ yes.”

In‍​⁠ that sunlight was‌‍ someone who had‌⁠ always smiled at⁠ him. Seeing that​‌ smile made the‌‍ damp, moldy corners‍‍‌ of his heart‍ feel just a little warmer.

“You‌​‍ must be tired‌⁠⁠ from your journey,‌​‍ Vlad.”

“…”⁠

But​ today, the smile⁠‌ Oksana offered him⁠​​ was heavy with‌‌ sorrow, like a storm cloud ready​​‍ to burst.

“…Forgive​​ me. I should‍⁠​ have come sooner.”​‌

“It’s‌​⁠ alright, don’t worry.‍⁠‌ Come closer.”

Sitting‌​ on the bed,⁠ Oksana gestured for‌​⁠ him to approach.‌

Her‌‍⁠ outstretched hands were‍ dry and frail,‌‍‍ like brittle twigs.​⁠‌

She​‌⁠ hadn’t been eating⁠​ well; she was​‌​ ill, worn down…⁠​‍ Like the last⁠​ time Vlad had⁠⁠ seen his own​ birth mother. Seeing⁠‍ her state, Vlad⁠‍‌ couldn’t help but‍ nervously wet his​ lips.

“I‌⁠⁠ know how busy⁠‍‌ you’ve been.”

“…”‌‌

“I​ know you’ve worked‍ hard to accomplish‍ what my son‍ could not.”

It⁠​ had been two​⁠ years since Joseph’s⁠⁠ death, but Oksana‍‌ spoke of him‍​ as if it‍‌ had happened just‍‌ yesterday.

“Have‌‍​ you taken care​⁠ of the rogue⁠‍ dark mages?”

“…In⁠​ the north, most⁠​‌ of them.”

“And​⁠⁠ those who sowed⁠ discord under the​​⁠ Blood Dragon?”

“There’s​‍‍ a meeting in​​ Brigantes. I plan⁠‌ to close the‌⁠‍ divisions there.”

Every⁠ era bears its⁠ burdens, and the‌‍ living must endure⁠‌⁠ them.

A man had once​‌⁠ said that this‍ generation must drink‌​ the poison that⁠ had seeped across‍ the world to​ cleanse it.

“You’ve⁠⁠ done so much,​‍‍ Vlad.”

Joseph,‌​⁠ who had sacrificed⁠‍ the last of​⁠ his days trying⁠ to burn away‌⁠⁠ that poison, had‌ left the task‌ to Vlad.

And‌‍ as Oksana watched‍‍ his efforts, she‍‌ gave him a faint, weary smile.⁠

“It’s‌ a relief. Maybe‌ the next generation‌‍ won’t have to‌‍ endure what you⁠‍ have.”

Though​ Vlad didn’t physically‍ resemble Joseph, Oksana‍ looked at him‍​‌ with the same⁠‌⁠ warmth she had⁠⁠ shown her own‌‍ son.

“As‌‍​ expected, it’s good‌​‌ to see you⁠ well-fed. Those broad​ shoulders… you’re every‌‍⁠ bit a man⁠ now.”

“…Thank⁠‌ you.”

But‌⁠​ Vlad, sitting beside‌​‍ the bed, couldn’t⁠ meet her gaze.‍

Because‌‌‌ he knew that​⁠ while she might‌⁠ have been like​ a mother to⁠​ him, he could‍ never truly be‌​ her son.

The‍ only one who⁠‌​ could comfort this‍​ woman, fading a little more each⁠​​ day, was Joseph,⁠‍‌ who now lay⁠‌ beneath the gravestone‌‍​ visible through the‍‍ window. And Vlad⁠ was all too⁠⁠ aware of that‍ fact.

***‍

“…At⁠⁠ times like this,​⁠‌ it feels so⁠‌ unfair.”

Beneath‌‍​ a sky blanketed‌ in clouds, Vlad‌​‌ quietly uncorked a bottle of whiskey.⁠​⁠

Behind‍ him, the mansion‌⁠ bustled with the‍‌ sounds of celebration,​ but in the‌‍ small garden, it⁠⁠‌ seemed like another​⁠‍ world—serene and removed‌‍⁠ from the commotion.‍

Standing​ before Joseph’s gravestone,‍ Vlad poured out‌ a portion of‍⁠ the liquor in​⁠ silence, sighing as​ his gaze drifted⁠⁠ toward the commemorative‌ tower for fallen⁠ knights visible in‍⁠‌ the distance.

“It​‍ seems like those‌​‍ who left first⁠‌ have it easy.⁠ The ones left‍ behind are the‍‍ ones still carrying‍​​ the weight of​​‍ it all.”

Gregory,‍ Ragmus, Agge… and⁠‌ many others, knights⁠ whose names he‌​ hadn’t even known,​​‌ who had fought​‌ alongside him against‍‍ Sarnus on that‌‌‌ day.

Vlad​​​ raised his glass‌⁠‍ of whiskey in‍ tribute to the​​‍ freshly engraved names⁠ on the tower.‌‍ But then he‌‌‌ felt the presence‍⁠‍ of someone behind⁠⁠ him and turned‌ his head.

“Still,‌‍‍ finishing what they⁠⁠ couldn’t is the‍ duty of those‍ who remain.”

“Marcus.”‌​

From​‌⁠ a spot that​‍ had seemed empty⁠‍ a moment ago,​⁠‌ a man stepped‍ forward.

His‌ face was marred‍⁠ with deep scars,‌⁠​ a testament to‍​ the trials he‍ must have endured⁠‌ in the past.‌⁠‍

“At‌ least the knights​‍ who rest here⁠⁠​ are fortunate. There‌‌ are those in⁠​​ this world who⁠ vanish without even‍⁠‌ leaving their name‌‌‌ behind.”

Vlad​⁠ nodded silently in⁠ agreement with Marcus’s⁠ words.

No⁠‌ one is born‌ without purpose, but​​‌ that doesn’t guarantee‌⁠‌ their purpose will‍‌⁠ endure to the​ end.

“The⁠ Pope, Andreas, wanted​​ me to relay‍ his gratitude. It​ seems the ones​‌‍ you dealt with‍‌ this time caused‍ him quite a bit of trouble.”⁠

“Did‌‍ they?”

Over‌ the past two‌‍​ years, Vlad had​ traversed the continent,⁠⁠ stamping out the​‍‌ remnants of lingering‍ threats.

Sometimes,⁠​ he faced dark​ mages who manipulated⁠ others; other times,‌ he hunted down‍‌‍ the last of​ Dragulia’s followers.

His⁠‍⁠ relentless pursuit was​‌‍ his way of​‌ ensuring that the⁠ names now etched⁠‌​ before him had‌​ not been sacrificed‍ in vain.

“Is‍​ there anyone else‍ left? Once this​​ ceremony is over,‍ I could head‍‌ out again.”

“…”‌

But​⁠ Marcus didn’t answer‍‍ Vlad’s question about‍‌‍ his next target.⁠​

Instead,‍‌‌ he uncorked a bottle of liquor‍ and poured it⁠ silently onto the‍‌​ grass nearby.

“You’re⁠ still young, and⁠ I think you’ve​ done more than‌​​ enough.”

“Marcus?”⁠

Marcus,​‍‍ who had been⁠‍‌ pouring out the‍‍⁠ liquor for the​ nameless dead like​‍⁠ himself, raised his⁠​ head and nodded⁠ toward Vlad, who‌⁠‍ now wore a puzzled expression.

“By‍ the last order​​ of Count Peter,⁠ the Ravens will‍​ no longer provide⁠‍ you with information.”‌‌‌

“…”⁠‌⁠

“The⁠‍ Count wanted you⁠‌⁠ to stop living‍ for others and‌‌ start living for⁠⁠​ yourself. That was​‌⁠ his final request.”⁠‌

There‌ are stars that‍‍‍ shine brightly because​​ they have a dream, a goal⁠ they wish to​ achieve.

But​‌‍ now, that star‍⁠ was losing its​‍ light, unable to​‍ release the bonds​ it should have‍ left behind. It⁠‍ was time to‍‍ raise its gaze​ to a new‌⁠‌ sky.

“It‍‍‍ seems we won’t​​ see each other‌​ for a while.”​‍⁠

“It​‌ appears so.”

“Then​ let me ask‌ you just one‌⁠ thing.”

As‍​ Marcus turned to‍ leave after delivering‌‍​ his message, Vlad‍⁠ stopped him with‍ a single question.‌​⁠

“What​ is your real‍ name?”

“…”​​

The​ nameless Raven, the​‌ man who introduced‌ himself differently each⁠‌ time they met.‍

Vlad​‌ had always been‍​ curious about the⁠​ true identity of‌ this enigmatic figure.‌

But‍​ Marcus, without looking‍‍ back, simply gestured‌‌​ toward the commemorative‌‌ tower.

“I‍‍ don’t know. I buried my old​⁠ name there.”

A man who had​​ laid to rest‍ the name that‍​​ defined him, to​‍ meld seamlessly into⁠ the shadows.

And‌⁠‌ with that, Marcus⁠⁠‌ disappeared without a trace, just as‍​ he had when⁠​​ Vlad first met​ him.

“…Looks​​‍ like I’m unemployed​​​ now.”

Standing⁠‍‌ alone in the‍‍​ garden, Vlad muttered⁠‍ a dry reflection‍‌ after Marcus’s departure.‌‌

Adrift​​ and unsure of​ what path to​⁠‍ follow, he pulled​⁠ a piece of​⁠ paper from his​‌⁠ pocket and stared⁠​ at it intently.⁠‌

“What⁠‌ am I supposed​⁠ to do now,‌ Joseph?”

It‌‌​ was the drawing‍ the World Tree‌‍ Priestess had given​‍ Zemina.

Vlad⁠ studied the drawing​⁠ for a long‌ time. But beside‌​⁠ him, Joseph remained‍​ silent, unable to​‍ respond.

Swaaahhhh—⁠

From⁠ the overcast sky,‌ rain finally began‌‍ to fall.

Looking⁠⁠‌ up toward the⁠‍‌ heavens, Vlad felt‍ the rain drench⁠ him, as if‌‌⁠ it were urging​⁠‌ him forward, leaving​‍ a bitter weight‍​‌ in his heart.​​

Chapteer​‍‍ 271: Extra 11‍ – Continuation
With the sunset⁠ behind him, Vlad​⁠ stood alone in‍​ a wheat field,‍ striking the frozen​ ground with a hoe.

Going‍ back in time‌‍⁠ a bit, to​⁠ the spring days,‌​​ Vlad had been‍⁠‌ learning to work​‍⁠ on Ramund’s farm.‌

“This​ is truly a curious sight.”

It‌ was an empty‌​⁠ field, without even⁠‍‍ seeds planted, just‌⁠ freshly tilled earth.‍‍​

The⁠‌ only sound was‍ that of Vlad’s‌‍⁠ hoe striking the‌⁠‍ soil.

Despite​⁠ the persistent noise,‍‌ Vlad displayed absolute‌​ clumsiness—a novice struggling‌​⁠ with farmwork.

“You⁠⁠‍ traded your sword‍‌ for a simple‍​‌ hoe, and you⁠‌ still manage to‍‍ look this stupid?”​‍⁠

“…Am‍ I really that‌ bad?”

Vlad‌ scratched his cheek⁠ awkwardly, glancing at‍​‌ Ramund, who stood‍​ nearby making caustic‍‍ remarks. Vlad already⁠ suspected as much.‌‌​

It‌‍ was clear he‌‌ had no aptitude​ for farming.

“No‍ matter how hard‍⁠​ you try, you​​ weren’t born for​‍ this. It’s not‌⁠ about adapting or⁠⁠⁠ learning; you simply​ lack the talent.”‍

Born​ and raised in‍‍ the city, Vlad‌‌​ had never been‍⁠⁠ close to the​ earth.

Even​ taking that into⁠ account, his natural⁠ inclination for agriculture​ was nonexistent.

“Why‌​ the hell are​‍ you doing this?”​​

With‍‌⁠ a sword, Vlad‌​‍ was the Swordmaster,‌⁠​ admired across the‍ continent.

But​​ with a hoe,⁠⁠⁠ he was a fumbling beginner. To‌⁠ Ramund, the disparity​‍ was so stark​ he couldn’t help‌​ but let out​‌ a deep sigh.‌‍⁠

“What​‌‍ made you suddenly​ want to take‌ up farming?”

A strong smell of​ alcohol wafted from​‌ the wineskin Ramund​‌ held. There was​⁠⁠ no need to‌ ask what it⁠⁠‍ contained—it was obvious.​

“…Are‌‍​ you exhausted? Want‌‍⁠ to take a break?”

“It’s​⁠ not that.”

Vlad⁠​ noticed Ramund’s growing‌⁠‍ frustration. He set‌⁠‍ the hoe aside,‌‍⁠ sat down on​ the ground, and⁠ began to speak.‍

“I’ve​ just been thinking.”‍‌

“Thinking⁠ about what?”

“That‍ the only things‌ I know how⁠‍‍ to do are‌⁠‌ steal, pickpocket, or‍⁠‍ wield a sword.”‌​

Ramund‍‌ flinched slightly at‌⁠​ Vlad’s words.

As⁠ a child, Vlad​‍⁠ had roamed dark​⁠ alleyways, parentless and‌‍​ homeless.

His⁠ path had been‌‍ filled with cold,‍ sharp things—a reflection‍‍ of the life‌ he had led​‌⁠ just to survive.​​

“Isn’t‌​​ it a little‍⁠⁠ shameful to live​ a life that‍‍‍ only knows those​⁠‌ things?”

Vlad‌ felt ashamed to‍‍ be someone who⁠ only knew how⁠‌​ to harm others.⁠⁠

Even​⁠ if the world‍​‌ hailed him as‍ a glorious Swordmaster,​ he knew better.​​

Kihano,⁠‌ the previous Swordmaster,​‍ had not guided‍ him solely with​⁠ swordsmanship.

“What’s‌‌​ so shameful about‌ a Swordmaster only⁠⁠ knowing how to⁠‍ wield a sword?”​‌⁠

“That’s‍⁠⁠ exactly the problem.”‌

Ramund’s‌​ mildly chiding tone⁠​​ made Vlad smile​‍ faintly.

“I‍‍ don’t want to​‌​ always be the​‌⁠ Swordmaster.”

Though‍‌ the world saw‍‌​ him as a shining figure, to⁠⁠⁠ others, Vlad was‍​ something entirely different.⁠

To‌‍⁠ some, he was​‌‌ an irreplaceable friend.​ To others, a savior in desperate‍‌‍ times.

And⁠⁠ to Ramund, at‍‍ this moment, he⁠‍‍ was merely a clumsy farmer.

“Who​‌​ knows? Maybe one​‌‍ day, someone will‍⁠‍ ask me about⁠‍​ something other than‍⁠ my sword.”

Kihano,‍‌⁠ the Swordmaster, had‍ been more than⁠‌‍ just that. Vlad​⁠‌ remembered most vividly⁠​ the nameless voice‍​ that had guided‌ him onto the‍‍‍ right path.

Perhaps⁠​ the most valuable⁠‌ thing Vlad had‍‌ learned from Kihano‌ wasn’t his flawless​‍‍ swordsmanship, but his​⁠ approach to life.‌‍

“That’s‍ why I’m learning.​⁠⁠ So I’ll have‌​ something to say‍‌ if someone asks‍‌ me in the⁠​ future.”

Vlad‍⁠‍ also wanted to‌​ emulate that side‌‌ of Kihano. Not‌ as an emperor‌⁠‍ or knight, but⁠​‍ as the adult‍ who had guided​ him.

That’s‌‌​ why Vlad was⁠‍ now trying to​ gather the experiences‍‌​ he had overlooked,​ broadening his understanding⁠​⁠ of the world.‌

***​​⁠

The⁠ succession ceremony was​⁠ grand.

Knights‍ clad in gleaming‍ armor stood in‌‌ formation, and dignitaries‌‌ from across the‍ continent offered their​​⁠ congratulations.

It‌‌ was perhaps the⁠‍‍ most magnificent event‌​ ever held in​​​ the North. Observing⁠ it, Vlad felt⁠​ a strange sense‌ of euphoria he‌ couldn’t quite put‍ into words.

“I’ve​‌⁠ never seen so‌⁠‍ many nobles gathered‍‍⁠ in one place‌​‍ before.”

“…Oh,‌​⁠ yes?”

“This⁠⁠⁠ is only my‍‌‍ second time. The‌‍ first was when​‌‌ I received my⁠⁠⁠ knighthood, and now​ this.”

Seeing‌​‌ Vlad slightly excited,‍‍​ Jager began to​‌⁠ tense up.

Vlad’s⁠ behavior was a warning sign to​⁠ someone who knew⁠‍ him well.

Jager,⁠⁠ recalling the trouble‌ Vlad had caused‌​⁠ as a squire,⁠‌ knew this was‍‍ the time to⁠​​ be most vigilant.⁠‌‍

“…But⁠‌ why is Baroness​ Alicia seated over​​ there?”

The‌⁠ event, meticulously planned‌⁠ by the Bayezid‍​ family, was drawing‌‍ attention from across‌‌‍ the continent.

The‌‌‍ seating arrangement was⁠‌ carefully organized by‌ rank and title.‍ Yet Vlad couldn’t‍ help but feel​⁠ curious seeing Alicia⁠​‌ seated so close⁠ to Zemina.

“You‍ seem anxious.”

“I’m‍⁠​ not.”

“Please,​‍⁠ try to stay​ calm.”

“I’ve‍​‍ never felt better.”⁠

“…”‌⁠

But‍‍‍ that wasn’t true.‍ Even his breathing​⁠‌ carried a trace⁠ of tension.

Each⁠ time the two⁠‍ women in front⁠‌ of him whispered​​ to each other,​​ the rapid beating​‌​ of his heart‌⁠ seemed to echo‌⁠‌ loudly in Jager’s⁠‌‌ ears.

“Now​‍‍ entering, Lord Rutiger‌‌ Bayezid!”

At​⁠‍ the sound of‌⁠‌ the steward’s announcement,‍⁠ the hall doors⁠ began to open.‌⁠‌

The⁠⁠ doors, designed to⁠ resemble Sturma’s fortified‍ walls, were massive​​ and imposing.

As‍⁠ they swung open,​‍‍ the chatter in‍​ the hall died⁠‌‍ down into absolute⁠​ silence.

“…”‍​⁠

A tall man with⁠ broad shoulders, clad​ in an ornate‌‌ ceremonial armor, entered‍ with steady steps.⁠​⁠

It‍‍ was Rutiger, looking⁠ far more solemn⁠ than usual.

“He​ looks different.”

“It’s‍​ natural.”

At​⁠⁠ the highest point‍​​ of the hall,​‌ Peter Bayezid, the‌ current head of‍⁠ the family, made​ a gesture with‍⁠ his hand.

It⁠ was the signal​ to commence the‌ succession ceremony.

“He’s‍​​ no longer the​ Rutiger you knew.‌‍ From now on,⁠‌ he will be​⁠ Count Bayezid.”

Bearing‍‌ the weight of‍ his family’s name‍‍ on his shoulders‌ and the burden‍ of their lands⁠ on his back,⁠‍​ Rutiger could no‌​ longer be who‌‌ he once was.‌

With‍​ every step forward,‍‌⁠ carrying the responsibilities​​ of his new‍‍ role, Vlad’s gaze‌⁠‌ grew more complex.‌⁠​

—Please,‌⁠ come forward, son⁠ of Bayezid.

With⁠‍‍ each step Rutiger‍ took ascending the‌​ stairs, he drew‌‌⁠ closer to Peter.⁠‍​ At the same‍‌​ time, Peter Bayezid‌‍ slowly rose from⁠​ his seat.

Holding‌‌ the lord’s mantle‍​​ in his left‌⁠⁠ hand and the‍​ ceremonial sword in‌ his right, Peter⁠‍ opened his arms⁠⁠ as if to​ say, “Come.” His‍ gaze remained fixed‌‍ on his son​ as he ascended⁠‍​ toward him.

When‌ Rutiger reached the‌‌ highest point, Peter,‌​ holding both the‌ mantle and sword,‍‍‌ extended them toward​‌ him.

—Wear⁠ this mantle.

Finally,​‍ Rutiger reached the‍⁠‍ pinnacle of Bayezid,‍‍​ and in front⁠‍ of him, Peter⁠ carefully draped the‍‍ mantle over his‌ shoulders.

—This​‍‍ mantle symbolizes duty.‍​‌ Do not forget‍‍‌ that you now‌⁠ bear the responsibility‌⁠ for countless lives​⁠ who depend on‍​ you.

A lord is not​‌​ just someone who⁠ rules over land,‌⁠ but one who‍ protects their people.​‍ That immense responsibility‌​​ now weighed heavily‌​​ on Rutiger’s shoulders.​​

—Raise‍ your sword.

Solemnly,⁠ Rutiger reached for​​‌ the object Peter‍ offered him: the​⁠‍ sword of the⁠‌‍ Bayezid family.

The​⁠‌ sword, passed down‍‍​ through generations, was​ a reminder that‍‌‌ Rutiger must now⁠​‍ wield it not⁠ for his personal‌ honor, but for⁠ that of his‌⁠ family.

—This‌‌ sword symbolizes your‍ responsibility as the​​ head of the⁠‍​ family. From this⁠ moment on, you⁠ will not wield⁠​​ this blade for‌​⁠ your own honor⁠ but for the‌‍ honor of the‌‍⁠ Bayezid name.

He‌‌‍ was no longer​‍⁠ merely Rutiger the⁠‍⁠ knight. From this‍ moment, he would‌⁠​ live as the​ heir and representative‍‍ of the Bayezid‍ family.

As⁠⁠ the ceremony concluded,‍‍ Peter Bayezid addressed​⁠ those gathered with‌⁠⁠ a powerful voice.‍

—I,‌‍‍ Peter Bayezid, declare⁠ before all present​‍⁠ that Rutiger Bayezid‌​ is the new​ head of the⁠ family.

Having‍⁠​ handed over everything‌‌‌ he needed to,⁠‌ Peter raised his‌⁠‍ voice, addressing the‍‍ hall filled with‍⁠‍ guests.

—Rutiger‌ Bayezid has assumed‌​​ the title of‍ head of the​⁠ family!

Until‌‍‌ then, the only‍​ sound in the‌‍⁠ vast hall had‍⁠ been Peter’s voice​‍‌ speaking to his‍ son. But as‌ soon as he​ finished, thunderous applause​ erupted, threatening to‌‍​ shake the very​​‌ walls.

Clap,‌​ clap, clap, clap—!⁠⁠

The⁠‍‍ cheers and applause⁠​‍ of those present⁠ filled the space,‍⁠ showing no sign⁠ of abating anytime‍ soon.

It‌‍⁠ was a sound‍‌ of celebration, a tribute to the​⁠ Bayezid dynasty, which‌ had endured even‍​​ in the darkest‍ times when the‌‌ mightiest and oldest⁠⁠⁠ dragon had brought​ chaos.

Yet‌‍ amid the deafening‍ ovation, Vlad caught‍ a faint voice⁠⁠⁠ that seemed to‌​​ come from above.⁠​‌

“…You’ve​​ done well.”

It‌​ was a barely⁠​⁠ audible whisper, perceptible⁠⁠‍ only to someone⁠​​ like Vlad, whose‌​‌ dragon blood granted​⁠⁠ him acute senses.​

The‍​‌ voice came from⁠‌ Peter, who embraced‌​‌ his son with‌ a blend of‍ solemnity and warmth.‍⁠

“Truly,⁠ you’ve done well‍‌ to make it‌⁠‌ this far.”

Having​​ relinquished the mantle​​​ of leadership and⁠‍ the family sword,‌ Peter was no⁠ longer a leader‍ but fully a father. As he‍‌⁠ held Rutiger close,​ he whispered with‍ genuine affection:

“Thank‌ you for all⁠‍​ your effort to‌‍ reach this place.”‍‌

***‍

“That‌ was truly a moving spectacle.”

The​​‍ night following the‌‍ succession ceremony, an⁠​​ elegant banquet was‍‌ being held at‌​‍ the Bayezid mansion.‌⁠​

However,⁠‍ while the guests⁠​ laughed and mingled,‍ Vlad walked through​​ a dark, empty‍‍‍ hallway, far removed‌ from the nobles‌​⁠ and their revelry.​‌

“What‌ does it feel​​‌ like to inherit​‍‍ something? I can’t‍​ even imagine.”

He⁠‌⁠ was accompanied by⁠⁠ Jager, who walked⁠‍‌ ahead of him.‌‌

Both​⁠​ carried bottles of‌‌‌ liquor in their​ hands as they⁠‌‍ made their way​‌ to what had‍⁠ once been Joseph’s‍​ office.

“Well,​ I suppose inheriting‌ something from Dragulia​⁠ would have been⁠‌‌ impressive. Too bad⁠​ you missed out⁠ on that.”

“That’s​‍‍ not what I mean.”

Jager’s‍ sudden mention of⁠ Dragulia caused Vlad’s⁠⁠‍ expression to stiffen‌ awkwardly.

“I‌ mean something like…​‌‌ what a father‍‌ passes down to‌​ his son.”

It⁠​​ was difficult to‌ put into words,‌‌‍ and Vlad gestured‍⁠ clumsily in an​ attempt to explain.‍⁠​ Jager, however, didn’t‍‌ even glance back.⁠‌

“That’s⁠ not something everyone‌ gets to experience,‌​‌ even if their‌ parents are alive.‍‌ In this world,​ if you don’t⁠⁠ inherit debts, you’re⁠ already lucky.”

“Really?”​‍

“And‌‌​ if you want‍​⁠ to know how‌⁠⁠ it feels, just⁠ make sure someone⁠ inherits something from‍‌‌ you.”

Creak—‌‍

The‌⁠​ door handle emitted⁠⁠​ a harsh, grating‍⁠ sound as it‌⁠⁠ turned, rusty from​ years of disuse.⁠‍

“You​​ can’t inherit something,‌‍‍ but you can‍⁠⁠ leave something behind‍ for others to⁠‍‌ inherit.”

Creeeeak—‌

Though⁠​⁠ he expected the‌​​ office to be​​⁠ shrouded in darkness,​ the room was‌ bathed in the‍​‌ soft, bluish glow‌‌ of moonlight.

Yet‌‍‍ despite the light,‌​ the space felt⁠ entirely different from‌‍ how Vlad remembered‌ it.

“…Nothing‌‌‍ here has changed.”⁠​‍

“Nothing‌ has changed, you​​ say, but all‌ the furniture is⁠‌ covered with cloth.”‍​​

The‌ office, now devoid‍‍ of its owner,‌​ had become a cold, dust-laden space.⁠‍

However,​‌ with these two‌‌ unexpected visitors, the‌ room seemed to‍‍ regain a faint​ warmth from the⁠‌​ past.

“Are​ we going to​ drink here?”

“…Yes.‌ Originally, I planned⁠⁠ to do it​‌‍ alone.”

Though‌ it wasn’t planned,‌‍‍ Vlad and Jager​​‌ naturally took up‍‍‍ the positions they⁠‍ used to occupy.‌

Vlad‌ sat across from‌​‍ the guest table,‌⁠ and Jager stood‌ by Joseph’s desk,‌‌ just as he​ always had.

Jager​ couldn’t help but⁠‍ chuckle, watching Vlad​‍‍ behave as if‍‍ it were the‍⁠​ old days.

“A⁠​‌ boy who didn’t‌⁠‌ even know how‌ to ride a horse.”

“It’s​ because I didn’t⁠​ know I was‌‌ a dragon.”

“A⁠ brat who only‌‍ knew how to​⁠‍ brawl with the​⁠‍ other squires and‍ get into trouble.”​

“Well,‌‌ that was because…”‌‍​

Reminiscing⁠ about the past,⁠⁠​ Jager shook his​ head in amusement‍‍​ while Vlad fumbled‌‍ to justify himself.⁠‌

Perhaps​ because he had⁠‌ known Vlad since⁠ he was a boy, Jager still‍‍‍ found it hard‌‌‌ to believe how​ much he had‌‍ grown.

“From‌‌​ that troublesome kid⁠​ to becoming a Swordmaster, and yet‍​‌ you still have​​‌ so much to‌​ envy?”

“…”​

“Here,⁠ take this.”

“Liquor?”⁠‌

“It’s​‍​ expensive. Over fifty⁠‍​ years old.”

The‍‍‌ bottle Jager handed‌⁠‍ to Vlad was⁠​‌ one he had⁠ been saving for⁠‌ years.

It⁠‍⁠ was a special‍⁠ bottle that had‍‍‍ belonged to his‌ father, back when‍ Jager had first⁠‍ come to Bayezid⁠⁠ from the Oskar‌‍ family.

“Are⁠⁠‍ you sure it’s⁠ alright to give⁠ me something so​​ valuable?”

“You​⁠‍ said you wanted‌​ to inherit something,‍‌ didn’t you?”

“Even⁠⁠ so…”

“Enough​ already. Just open‍ the bottle.”

Jager⁠ pulled a cloth​⁠‌ off a piece⁠ of furniture and‌‌ retrieved some glasses,‌​ holding them out‍⁠‌ to Vlad.

It⁠‍​ was a clear‌ invitation to pour⁠⁠‌ the liquor, but‍‍ Vlad, with a sly smile, tucked‌​‍ the bottle behind‌‌ his back.

“…This​⁠‍ liquor is too‌‍ valuable to drink‍⁠‍ right now.”

“Then⁠‍‍ give the bottle‍‍‌ back.”

“How‍‍⁠ about we start⁠​‌ with the one‌ I brought?”

“…I’ve‍​​ been waiting twenty‍ years to drink​‍ that.”

Jager⁠ sighed in defeat‍ as Vlad poured‍​ a different liquor⁠ he had brought‍‍ along.

“By⁠⁠​ the way, Jager,‌ do you know‌ how to fish?”‌⁠

“Fish?​‌ Why are you​⁠​ asking that out‌‍ of nowhere?”

“I‌ thought it might⁠‌ be nice to​ learn.”

Jager,​​⁠ gazing at the‌ moonlight streaming through‌ the window, let​ out a small​‍‍ sigh.

“If​‌ you want to‍​ learn something basic,⁠ come back in‌⁠ winter.”

Vlad⁠ smiled as he​ watched Jager’s back.‌‌‌ He had spoken​⁠ about inheritance, but‌ what he truly⁠ desired was to‍ continue the connections‌‍ forged in his‍ life.

Chapteer‍ 272: Extra 12‌ – The child​ and the woman‍
The red carpet⁠​‌ that adorned the⁠⁠​ hallways had been‍ removed.

Only‌‌​ a few withered‌‍​ flower petals remained​⁠ on the decorations,‍‍​ along with an​‍⁠ empty pitcher.

The⁠ Bayezid mansion, which‌ had been the‌‌ setting for a splendid celebration, was⁠‌ now calm.

The⁠‌⁠ guests had left,‍ and the only‍‌​ thing breaking the‍⁠‍ silence was the‍​ singing of the‌ birds.

Vlad​⁠‍ walked alone through⁠ that tranquil space.⁠

“…”‌⁠

He‍‌ wore a light​ cloak, as if⁠‌ he were already‌‍‌ prepared to leave.‍‌​

Early​‍ that morning, as‍‍ the bluish colors​ of dawn stretched​ across the sky,‍ Vlad made his‌⁠ way to the‍⁠ room where the‍​‍ lady of the‌‌‍ house, Oksana Bayezid,‍‍ was.

“Are‌​ you feeling better?”⁠​

Though​‍‌ the sun had‌​​ yet to rise,​ Oksana was already‍ awake.

Or‌‌⁠ perhaps, due to‍ her persistent cough,​​ she hadn’t been​ able to sleep​⁠​ all night. Nevertheless,⁠‍ she greeted Vlad‌‌‌ with the same‍​ warm smile as‍ always.

“…Are‌​ you leaving already?”‌

Although⁠⁠‌ she could have⁠​​ remained lying down,​ Oksana made an​⁠ effort to sit‍ up with the‍ help of a few cushions.

She‍ didn’t want Vlad,‌‍ who was about‍‌⁠ to leave, to‍ worry unnecessarily.

“Yes.​ I think it’s⁠​‌ time to return.”​‌​

However,​‌⁠ she couldn’t entirely‌‌ hide the illness‌‍‍ that afflicted her.‍‍

Oksana’s​ lips, pale as⁠ if covered in‍​ wax, left Vlad⁠​ with a strained⁠ smile.

“That’s‍ the right choice.‍ If you’re going‍‌ to leave, it’s‌⁠​ best to do‌⁠ it early. You​⁠‌ know how unpredictable‍‍ the northern weather‍ is.”

The‍‌ rays of the‌‍ morning sun began‌ to filter through⁠‍ the window, bathing​‌ Oksana’s bed in⁠‍ a warm orange‌‍​ glow, similar to‌‌​ the one Vlad‍‌​ had seen the‌​ day he met⁠‍ her.

“…”⁠‌

Under⁠​⁠ that light, Oksana’s⁠‌‌ figure resembled a painting.

It⁠ wasn’t ostentatious or‍​‍ dazzling, but it‍‌‌ offered the serenity‌⁠​ of a picture⁠​⁠ one would want‌⁠ to gaze upon‌‌ every day.

“It​⁠ looks like the⁠‌⁠ sun is rising.‍‍‌ You’d better hurry.”​⁠‍

That⁠ painting, which he⁠‍ had always wanted​ to keep, was​⁠ now telling him​ it was time‍‌ to leave.

Oksana⁠ caressed the small​ package she had‌ placed beside her​⁠​ bed.

“Are⁠ you wearing clothes​ suited for the‍‍ season now?”

Vlad​‌‍ had been a child who wore⁠‌ winter clothes even⁠‍‌ in the height‌‍​ of summer.

Huddled‍​ up as if‍‍ he still felt​⁠ cold beneath the‍ warm summer breezes.‍‌

“The​⁠ clothes that aren’t​⁠ seen are the‌​⁠ most important. True‌‌ elegance is shown‌​ in the least‌​‍ visible details.”

“…”​

Inside⁠ the package that⁠​ Oksana held, there‍ were surely undergarments​ and socks for​ Vlad.

A seemingly trivial gift,‌‌⁠ but one that‍​​ only a mother‍⁠ could prepare with⁠ such attention to​⁠⁠ detail.

“That‌⁠ girl is very⁠​ pretty. What was‌​⁠ her name? Zemina?​‌‍ When you were​⁠‌ together, you looked​ very good.”

“Thank⁠ you.”

“…”​​⁠

They​ had already said‍‌‍ everything they needed‍‍⁠ to say.

It‍​‍ was time to‍​ go.

Oksana‍‌ nodded silently to⁠⁠ her last guest,⁠ but Vlad still‍ couldn’t take the​‌ first step toward‌ the door.

“…I‌​‍ plan to come⁠ back in winter.”‍‍

“Huh?”​

He​‌ turned back toward‍ Oksana, speaking somewhat​‌‌ awkwardly, as if​ it were difficult‍⁠ to reopen a closed conversation.

“I‍​ want to learn‌‌​ how to fish.‌ I’ve heard that‍‍ ice fishing can‍​ only be done⁠‌⁠ in winter.”

“Fishing?”⁠⁠​

Though‌​ the topic had‍⁠ nothing to do​‍ with what they‌ had just been‌ discussing, Vlad was​⁠ trying to keep⁠‍‍ it going.

Because‌‌ he wanted to​​ see Oksana move,​⁠‌ smile.

Because​‍ he knew he​‌⁠ would miss her⁠​ more if she‍‍ remained still, like​‌ a lifeless painting.‌‌

“It’s⁠ something that, if​ one had a father, they would‌‌ learn naturally. I don’t know anything⁠ about those things,‍ so lately, I’ve‍‌ been trying to‍ learn.”

“…”‍

“Last‌​ time, Lord Ramund⁠‌‌ taught me how‍ to farm the‌ land, and well…”⁠‍

Vlad’s​​‍ world was diverse.‌⁠

The​‌‍ boy who once⁠ dreamed of becoming‍‍‌ the perfect dragon‌​ now sought to⁠ become a star‍​ that radiated light.⁠‌‍

A young man who‌‌​ didn’t want to⁠‍ be defined solely‌ by a title.​⁠

“Even‌⁠⁠ so, there are‌‌⁠ many things I don’t understand.”

To⁠ some, he was⁠​‍ the dragon born⁠​‌ of perfection.

To‌​​ others, the master‍‌ swordsman who wielded‌‌‌ a brilliant blade.‌

But‍ before Oksana, he‌ was just an‌⁠ uncertain child, without​​ answers.

And‍ that child, with​ a shy gaze,‌‍​ now looked at‌⁠‌ Oksana.

“So,‍⁠ if I have‌ more questions, can​⁠ I come to⁠ ask you?”

Vlad​ held the package‍​⁠ against his chest,‌ shrinking slightly, without⁠ looking out of‌ place at all.‌​

At‌‍ least, not to‍⁠ Oksana.

A child who had​ grown up wild,​​​ like an orchid​ left uncared for.⁠‌⁠

Looking‍⁠ at him, Oksana,​ whose world was‍​ painted in muted‍​‌ tones, felt a faint hint of‍ color.

“…Of⁠ course.”

A child without a mother and a mother who had‍ lost her son‌⁠⁠ looked at each⁠ other.

Though‍ the broken pieces‌​ of their hearts⁠ didn’t fit perfectly,‍ together they could​‌⁠ withstand the blowing‍ wind.

“Come‍‌ back whenever you‍⁠ want. I’ll be​ waiting for you.”⁠⁠

At‌‍⁠ those words, the‍ young man before‌​ her began to‍‍ smile.

He​⁠ no longer wore‌⁠​ the old winter​‍‌ coat he once‍‌‍ had, but the‍ summer clothes Oksana‍​ had given him.⁠‍‌

***⁠‌

“Thank⁠‌‍ you for staying‌​⁠ until the end.”‍

Although⁠ it was the​⁠⁠ host’s duty to​‍⁠ see off the​‌ guests, reaching the​ main door was⁠ unusual.

However,⁠​⁠ behind Vlad, who‌​‌ was about to⁠​ leave, stood Rutiger,‌‍ now the head‍ of the Bayezid‍⁠ family, and his‍‍ knights, all ready‍ to bid him​ farewell.

“Thanks‍‌ to you, my⁠ succession ceremony was⁠ splendid. It will‍​ likely go down⁠⁠​ as the most⁠​ magnificent in our‌ family’s history.”

“Thank‌ you for saying⁠‌‍ that.”

Behind‍​ Rutiger, some of⁠​⁠ Vlad’s familiar knights​ waved to him:⁠ Cade, Maxim, and‍⁠‌ those who had‍​‌ fought alongside him‌ against the Deathsworm‍‌​ and Lindworm.

“So,‍⁠​ you’re returning to​‍‌ Soara.”

“That’s​ right.”

“And​‌‌ what will you‌‍ do afterward? Will‌ you let yourself⁠ get dragged from⁠ place to place‌⁠ again, like before?”​​

Prestige‌ always demands a price.

And‍​‌ that price was⁠‍ something that Vlad,‌‌ as a master‍ swordsman, had to‌​⁠ pay.

But⁠ now Vlad shook​⁠ his head in⁠‍⁠ silent denial in​⁠ response to Rutiger’s​ question.

“No,⁠​‍ this time I plan to rest‍ a bit.”

With​ those words, Vlad​ looked at the​‌​ carriage beside him.‌⁠

Inside,‍​​ Zemina was quietly⁠‍‍ hiding, afraid someone‍‌​ might speak to​‌ her.

“…I‍‌ suppose it’s time​​‍ for you to​‌ take a break.”‍​

Rutiger⁠​‌ smiled broadly, understanding‍​ perfectly what Vlad​‍‍ was saying.

“I​‌ think it’s better​‍ if I leave‍‍‌ now.”

“Yes,‍‍‍ go.”

Rutiger​ nodded as he‍⁠ watched Vlad mount⁠ Noir’s back with‌⁠​ a brief salute.‍

The​ squire of the⁠‌ Master of the⁠⁠ Sword, who shrugged‌ his shoulders while⁠ bidding farewell to⁠⁠ the knights, pulled‍‌ the reins, and​ soon the gates‌ of Sturma began​ to open.

“…Today,‌‍⁠ the weather is‌ beautiful.”

As‌ the gates opened,‍​ Rutiger watched the‍​ morning light fill​ the horizon.

Vlad’s⁠‍ shadow followed the⁠‌ rising east toward​‌⁠ the green meadows.⁠‌

“Come‌‌ back whenever you​⁠ want, Vlad. You‍‍ will always be‍‍​ welcome as Bayezid’s‍ greatest dragon slayer.”‍

Though‍​ he didn’t say​⁠​ it to be⁠⁠ heard, Vlad raised​ a hand in​‌‍ farewell.

He‍⁠ didn’t look back,‌‌⁠ but in that‌​​ gesture, one could‍‍‌ feel both gratitude‍ and the promise​‌ of return.

***‍‌​

From‌ Sturma to Soara.⁠

The‌⁠⁠ carriage headed toward‍‌ Soara, leaving Sturma​⁠ behind. As it‌‌‍ traversed the summer‍⁠​ meadows, the sunset‌ began to color‌‍​ the horizon around‍‍ them.

“Captain,​‍​ it looks like⁠‍⁠ we’ll have to‌‌‌ camp outdoors.”

“That’s⁠ fine.”

Crossing⁠‍‌ the vast northern‌​​ plains in a single day to​‍​ reach a village⁠ was an impossible‌ task.

That’s⁠‌⁠ why both Vlad⁠‌‍ and Zemina nodded‍⁠‍ at Goethe’s words,⁠​ as if it‍‌‌ were the most​ natural thing in​‍ the world.

“The‌​⁠ sun sets quickly​‍ on the prairie.‌‍ It seems to​‍⁠ get dark faster⁠‌​ than in Soara,”⁠‌‍ Zemina said as​ she gathered some‌‍ nearby dry branches.⁠​

“The‌​‍ stars will come​ out soon.”

In‌​⁠ the narrow alleys​‌​ of Soara, the⁠‍‌ modest buildings always‌⁠​ blocked the sky.‍⁠

The⁠‌ glow of the‍⁠​ lamps meant to⁠⁠ attract customers devoured‌ the stars, and⁠‍‍ the night sky​​ always appeared fragmented‍‌‍ and weak.

Finding⁠ stars in that‌ broken sky was​‌ a difficult task.‌⁠

“Wow.”‌​‌

But‌​ now, the night‍ sky of the‍​​ prairie stretched out‍​‍ before Zemina’s eyes,‍‍ filled with so‌‌ many twinkling stars‍⁠ that it was⁠ hard to believe‍‍ they had always​​​ been there.

Fascinated​⁠⁠ by their radiance,⁠ she couldn’t bring⁠ herself to lower​ her gaze.

“Zemina.”⁠‍‌

“Huh?”‍‍

“Come⁠⁠ here for a moment.”

Lost‍​ in her own​​⁠ world, Zemina turned​⁠​ her head when‌ she heard Vlad’s‌ voice.

“Why?”⁠‍

The⁠ campfire that Goethe‌​ had lit crackled​‌​ softly.

Following‍ the sound, Zemina‍ saw Vlad holding⁠​ Noir’s reins.

“He​‍‌ wants to say​‍ goodbye.”

“Huh?”‍‍‌

“Noir​‍​ wants to say​​ goodbye before he⁠⁠ leaves.”

He‍ was a black⁠‌‍ horse that blended⁠ perfectly with the⁠​ starry sky that‌⁠‌ night.

So‌‌⁠ much so that‍‍‌ it seemed he​‌‍ might dissolve into‌‍ the distant stars‍‌‍ as he approached​‌​ Zemina.

“Say​‌ goodbye? What does‍ that mean?”

Zemina‍ asked as she‍ stroked Noir, who​​‌ was nuzzling her‌ gently.

But‍‍‌ Vlad didn’t answer.​ Instead, he nodded‍​ toward a distant​ hill.

“It‌⁠​ means it’s time​ for Noir to‌⁠ return.”

On‍​‌ the hill illuminated⁠‌ by the stars,‍ a herd of‍‍‌ wild horses could⁠‍⁠ be seen, as‌ if they were​ waiting for his⁠‌ return.

“You’re​‌ letting him go?⁠‍ Just like that?”‍

“Now‌​⁠ is the right‌ time.”

Zemina⁠​‌ felt confused by⁠​​ the sudden farewell,‌‌ but Vlad, without​ hesitation, began to‍ remove Noir’s harness.⁠‍

He‌‌ took off the‍‌⁠ saddle, the bridle⁠⁠⁠ around his face,‌‌⁠ and unloaded the⁠ luggage he had‌⁠ been carrying.

“Thank‍‍ you for everything.”‌‍⁠

And‍ so, Vlad said​⁠ goodbye to the​ child of the‍ prairies, who had​⁠‍ now returned to​ his original form.​​‍

“Are​‌‌ you done saying‍​ goodbye?”

“Huh?​‌ Yes…”

“Then,‌‍⁠ go now.”

At‌​‍ the edge of⁠‍‍ the world where‌‍​ their paths had​ briefly intersected, they‍‌‌ had extended a little further.

However,‌ Noir’s world was‍ on the prairie,‌⁠ while Vlad’s was‍⁠​ in the city.‍‌ It was time‍‍⁠ to part ways.‌​‌

“Don’t​‍⁠ look back.”

Noir⁠ seemed to want‍‍⁠ to turn around‌ again and again,‌​ but Vlad just​‌⁠ crossed his arms‍⁠ and watched him.​⁠

Goodbyes⁠‌⁠ are better when​⁠‍ they are simple.‌‍

Seeing‌ Vlad apply that‌ philosophy, Noir neighed‌‌‍ softly, as if⁠ bidding farewell.

“…There‍‌‌ he goes.”

At‌ first, his steps‍ were hesitant, but​ the closer he​‌ got to the⁠‌ hill, the longer‍‌ his strides became.⁠‍​

Watching‌⁠‍ the black horse‌⁠‌ run toward the‍⁠ starry sky, Zemina‍‍​ began to shed​​‍ tears.

“Is‌​ it because he‍ resembles his owner?‍‍ He doesn’t look⁠‍ back even once.”‍‌

Feeling⁠ the emptiness of​‌ the farewell, Zemina‍‍‌ instinctively moved closer​ to Vlad.

“Don’t‍ be so sad.”‍⁠

Together,‌⁠ they watched Noir​​⁠ disappear into the‌ distance. The image‌‌‍ of the two‍ of them, side⁠ by side, was‍​ identical to that‌⁠‌ of the children‍ who used to‍ stand in front‌ of the smithy.‍

“It’s‌‌ not like we’ll​ be apart forever.”‍⁠‌

Vlad‍‌​ took a piece⁠​ of paper from⁠⁠ his coat as‌ he watched Noir‍⁠⁠ leave.

It​⁠ was the drawing​‍‌ the Priestess of‍ the World Tree‌‍‌ had given them,‍ one that Zemina‌ immediately recognized.

“Now‌ that I look​ at it, this​‍‌ sunflower… Its color⁠​ resembles your hair.”‍⁠

“Really?”⁠​‍

In‍⁠‍ the childish drawing,​‌ there was a blond man and⁠‌‍ a red-haired girl.‌⁠ Between them was⁠​ a small, smiling⁠‍‌ flower. Why would‌‌ someone draw a smiling face on‌‌ that flower?

“Thank‌​‌ you, Zemina.”

“Huh?”‍⁠

Vlad⁠‍ wrapped an arm‍‍‌ around Zemina’s shoulders,‍‌ as if the‍ night wind felt‌ cold.

Surprised‍‌‌ by the sudden⁠ gesture, Zemina looked‍​⁠ at him, but‌ Vlad continued watching⁠ the sky where‍‌ Noir had vanished.⁠‌

Just‌‍ like that time,⁠​⁠ when he looked‍‌​ at the undecorated‌ sword hanging in‌​ the smithy.

“For⁠⁠ believing in me⁠​ back then.”

The‌ winter in which​​‍ he was born,⁠ the spring in⁠ which he said⁠‍ goodbye… And now,‌‍ the summer in⁠ which he awaited‍⁠‌ new encounters.

The‌‌‍ journey of that‍‍ boy began with‌‌⁠ the sword the⁠‍‌ red-haired girl had‌ given him.

“Let’s‍ go back to​⁠‌ Soara together.”

Their​‌‍ feet were still⁠⁠ in the mud,‌‍​ but they gazed⁠‌ at the stars‍ together.

Now,​ they looked at​⁠​ each other as‌​‌ a shooting star​‌ streaked across the‍⁠ prairie sky.

Even‌​‍ if we are⁠⁠‌ not in the​ highest sky.

Even‍ if we fall⁠ to a place​‍‌ where no one⁠‌ sees us, If⁠⁠​ we wish to​‍‌ shine, we can‌⁠ recognize each other.⁠

Because⁠‌ we are stars.‍‍​

Because⁠ we can all‌‌ shine like stars.‍

So​⁠ until we meet⁠ again, goodbye.

Star-Embracing​‍ Swordmaster (Complete).

***‌

Early‌ in the morning​ when everyone was‌‌ deeply asleep.

In⁠​ the depths of‍ the night, when‌ even the stars​⁠‌ in the sky​ were slumbering,

Under‍‌‌ that night sky,‌ a voice tried​ to wake a man who slept‍‌ without a care‍‌ in the world.‍​

“…Sir…‍‌ Sir.”

It​ was the voice‍ of a child,​‌‍ a young voice‍ that had not⁠ yet reached puberty.​‌‍

For​‌ that reason, it​ didn’t have enough⁠​‌ strength to wake⁠ the man from​‍ his deep sleep.‍⁠‍

“Ow!‍⁠ That hurt!”

“I​ said, wake up!”⁠

Was‍ this what a bee sting felt‍ like? A sharp‌ pain jolted the⁠⁠‌ man awake, and‍ with his eyes‍​ still unfocused, he‌‍ looked around.

“What’s‍ going on? What’s​ happening?”

“Shhh!”‍‌‌

The​⁠‌ child motioned for​​ him to be‍​ quiet and glanced‍‍ outside the stable,‌‍‌ holding a small​ frog in his​‌ hands.

“I’ve‌ been looking everywhere​ for you! Why‌‍‍ are you sleeping​‍‍ in a stable​‍ when there are‍ decent rooms?”

“…This⁠⁠ is a stable?”‍

The‌ man, having no‌ idea where he​‌ had been sleeping,‌ looked utterly confused.⁠‌

If‍​ not for his‍​⁠ good looks, his‌ expression would have​‌‍ been sigh-worthy.

“That’s‌ why it felt‍‌‌ so comfortable.”

Unlike​‌​ the worried child,‌​ the still-drowsy man‍⁠​ began to gather​ the straw around​ him to lie​ down again, hunching‍ his shoulders as‍​‌ if he were‍ cold.

Even⁠‍‍ the frog in‌‌‌ the child’s hands⁠‍ puffed out its‌‌‍ cheeks as if​​‍ it couldn’t believe‌ what it was‍⁠‌ seeing.

“This‌‌‌ is no time​ for sleeping! We‍‍‌ have to escape​ right now!”

“…What​ are you saying?‍‍⁠ Can’t we talk‍ about this later?”⁠‌

The‌⁠ smell of alcohol​ still lingered around​⁠ him as he‍⁠​ lay down again.​⁠

Frustrated,​‌ the child pounded​ his chest desperately‍‌‍ but soon held‌⁠‌ his breath upon⁠‌⁠ noticing the commotion‌ around them.

“We‌ know you’re hiding‌‍⁠ here!”

“Come⁠ out now!”

“Hmm?”‌‍‌

The‌​⁠ voices were clearly​ aggressive, and the⁠​⁠ sound of doors‍​ being kicked down‌⁠ signaled their determination​ to find someone.​

Unlike‍​ the child, the‌‍ man only blinked,‌‌​ confused by the⁠‍‌ hostile tone.

“Kihano​​‌ Frausen! You damned​⁠ libertine!”

“Huh?”​‌⁠

The⁠ smell of oil-soaked‌⁠ torches filled the⁠‍ air, and the‍ furious barking of⁠‌ hunting dogs echoed‌ around them.

But‍​ what truly confused​​ the man was‌​⁠ hearing the word​⁠⁠ “libertine” alongside his‌ name.

Crash!‌

Finally‌​ understanding the gravity‍⁠‌ of the situation,‍⁠ the man hurriedly‌‌⁠ stood up, but⁠​ it was already​ too late to‍⁠ prepare.

“There⁠‍ you are.”

A bald man with​ a malicious grin‌​ and yellowed teeth⁠​ found him just​‍ as he was⁠‍‍ getting up and​‍⁠ adjusting his clothes.⁠‌

“I‍‍​ found you, Kihano‍⁠ Frausen.”

The⁠⁠ man, still bewildered,​‍‌ looked wide-eyed, while‌⁠ the child at‍​ his side seemed​⁠ on the verge⁠​​ of tears. Even‌‍‌ the frog with‌⁠ the hat let⁠ out a resigned‍ sigh.

“…May‍⁠⁠ I ask why⁠​ you’re looking for‌⁠ me?”

This⁠‌‍ is a story⁠ from long ago.​‌⁠

A story that is⁠⁠ neither legendary nor‍‌⁠ grand.

Yet​ this story, the‍⁠ beginning of it​ all, started here,‌‌‍ in the stable‍⁠‌ of a nameless,‍‍ signless inn.

T/N:⁠‌‌

This⁠⁠ chapter was peak​​ from here will​‌​ come the story⁠‌‌ of Kihano Frausen.​‌‍

Chapteer‌⁠‍ 273: Extra 13​‍​ – The Bastard⁠‌‌ of the Frausen⁠‌ Family (1)
In a cell‌‌⁠ within a mansion⁠ surrounded by somber‍‍​ gray bricks.

On‍​ the damp floor​‌ of that place,‍ Kihano was sitting,​⁠ tied up with⁠⁠‍ ropes, his gaze‌‍⁠ vacant.

“K-Kihano,‍‍‌ sir.”

“Yes.”‍

The‍ treatment he had‍​‌ received while being‌‌‌ dragged there had‌‌ been rough enough‍‌‍ that his appearance​ was disheveled.

But⁠ that disheveled appearance‍ was preferable compared‌⁠ to the situation​‍⁠ of the boy‌⁠‍ who called to​‌​ him with a weak voice.

“But⁠⁠​ why am I the only one⁠‌⁠ hanging upside down?”‍

“Well…‍⁠‌ that’s because it’s​ a tradition of​​ the Turrek family,‌​⁠ isn’t it?”

“Then‌‍ why are you‍⁠ perfectly fine?”

“That’s…‍‍⁠ because I’m a noble.”

The‍ boy was wrapped​ in ropes as‌⁠ if he were​‍‌ a cocoon.

Even⁠‌ so, despite the⁠ boy’s voice, Kihano​​ only stared at‍ the ground in‌ worry, biting his​ nails.

“C-Could‍‌⁠ you at least⁠‍⁠ lift me up​ for a moment?‌‌ The blood is​ rushing to my⁠ head.”

“Oh​ no, this is​​ a problem. This​​​ time, I don’t⁠ think I’ll get​‍​ out of this​ unscathed.”

“Just⁠ for a moment.⁠⁠ Really, I’m going‌‌⁠ to faint.”

“If‌​ my brothers find​‍⁠ out about this,‍‍ I doubt they’ll​ let me die‌⁠‌ peacefully.”

“Sir​⁠ Kihano! Sir Kihano?”‌⁠‌

Despite⁠‍ the boy’s desperate⁠⁠ calls, Kihano did⁠ not raise his‌ head easily.

In⁠⁠⁠ fact, his anxiety​⁠ was so intense⁠​​ that he was⁠ now standing, pacing​ back and forth.⁠⁠

“Old​ man, don’t you⁠ have a solution?‌⁠​ You’re a mage,‍ right?”

“…”​‌

Although‌ there were only‌⁠ two people in​‌ the cell, Kihano‍‌ began to speak​‌ as if there‌​‍ were someone else‍ there.

“Haven’t‌‌​ you recharged yet?‌​⁠ If you have,‍​⁠ let’s break the⁠ cell wall and⁠‌‍ get out of​​ here.”

He⁠​​ spoke toward an‌‍ empty corner of‌ the cell.

He‍ seemed to be‍ completely out of​‍​ his mind, but​​ fortunately, there was⁠‌ a voice that⁠⁠ responded to Kihano.​⁠

“Tsk!‍ That’s why knights‌‌‌ are such a problem. Do you‍ think magic is‌⁠‍ as easy to⁠‌ use as drawing‍‍ a sword?”

An‍​‌ old voice emerged⁠ from the empty⁠⁠ corner of the‍⁠ cell.

Along⁠ with it, a small figure leapt‍‍⁠ out from the​ shadows with tiny‌ hops.

“Why​​ the hell did​‍ you get involved⁠​ with the baron’s‍‍ daughter? I told‍ you not to⁠ do it!”

It‍⁠‌ was a frog.‍

A frog smaller than‌​ the palm of‍​ a child’s hand.​‌

Green‍‌‌ on its back‍ and white on​⁠‍ its belly, it⁠‍​ wore a tiny‌ wizard’s hat and​⁠​ hopped toward them‍​ while clicking its​​ tongue.

“No‌⁠ wonder they say‌‍⁠ the Frausen lose‌‌ their heads over​ women.”

“This‍‍⁠ is really unfair.⁠‍ It was a mutual agreement!”

“…Um,⁠‍‍ could either of‍​‌ you please lower⁠‌ me down?”

A tall man with​⁠​ brown hair.

A freckled boy tied⁠‍​ up with ropes,⁠ begging to be‌​ lowered.

And‍ a small frog‌⁠‍ with a wizard’s‌ hat and a pipe in its‍ mouth.

“In‍‍ any case, we‍ need to get‍ out of here​ before my brothers⁠⁠‍ find out.”

“Sir⁠ K-Kihano.”

“Hurry​ up and recharge!​‍‍ Let’s get out​‍ of here with⁠ a *boom*!”

“…What’s⁠​⁠ that boom?”

“That‍⁠‌ thing you showed​​ me last time,‍ that swoosh followed‌​ by a slash.”​

“Sorry,‌‍ but I have‍‌​ no idea what‌‌ you’re talking about.‍ You’re definitely a Frausen, explaining everything⁠‌⁠ so badly.”

Though‍⁠ there were three⁠‍ in the cell,​‌ none seemed to⁠​‍ understand the others.‌‌

Each‍​ one said whatever‌​ came to mind.‍​

However,⁠⁠ the boy, seeing​ this absurd situation,​‌‌ finally couldn’t hold‍​ back and shouted​ with all his‌ strength.

“They’re‍‍‌ here! I don’t⁠ know who, but‍ someone’s here!”

“Huh?”​‌⁠

Hearing​ the boy’s screams,⁠ Kihano finally turned‌⁠‌ around.

And‍⁠‍ there, outside the‍ bars, stood a man he didn’t‌‌ recognize, looking at​ him with a stern expression as​⁠​ he slowly removed‍ his hood.

“…Brother?”⁠⁠⁠

The‌​‌ man was tall,‌ with his hair‌⁠⁠ slicked back and‌‍ glistening from the​​ oil he wore.‌‌

He‍‍​ was the epitome‍‌​ of noble elegance.​​‌

But‍ what stood out⁠‌​ the most was⁠‍ his sharp, penetrating‌ gaze.

“…Damn⁠‍ libertine.”

It​​ was the fifth​‌ son of the‍ Frausen family, Perez⁠⁠‍ Frausen.

Now,‌ with his left‌‍ eye narrowed, he‍​​ looked at his​‌ younger brother, known​ as the greatest‌‍‌ libertine in the‍‍⁠ family’s history.

“Brother,⁠‍ brother! Don’t use‌‍‌ that! I can‌ explain everything!”

With⁠ one eye closed,‍‍ he saw his⁠​ own world; with⁠⁠⁠ the other, he‍⁠ saw the world‍‍‌ where he stood.⁠

A skill available only‌‌‍ to knights who‍⁠⁠ had reached a high level.

“Don’t​⁠‌ bother explaining. Just‌⁠‍ prepare to die.”‍

“There’s​⁠‌ no need to‍​‌ use aura! Don’t⁠‍‍ you feel sorry‍‍‌ for your little‌‌‌ brother who can’t⁠‌‌ even use aura?”⁠⁠⁠

“I​ feel more sorry‍‌ for myself for‌ having a brother​ like you.”

Creak—‍​

Perez⁠‌‌ turned the key‍ handed to him‌ by the jailer‍​ and slowly opened‍‍​ the cell door.‍‍​

Perez’s‍‌ presence filled the⁠ space, making Kihano‌​​ prepare nervously.

But​ Perez Frausen only‌​ looked coldly at‍ his brother’s desperate⁠ attempts.

“Should​‍‍ I leave you‌ half-dead first?”

Crash!​⁠

Before‍‍ he finished smiling,⁠‍‌ a deafening sound⁠‍⁠ shook the entire⁠​‌ cell, as if‌‌‌ a wall were‌‌‍ collapsing.

The​ man’s scream echoed⁠⁠ alongside the crash.‌​

Even‌‌⁠ the jailers froze,‍‌‌ confused by the‌‍⁠ dust falling from⁠‍ the ceiling, but‍⁠ they remembered their⁠ orders and held‌ their positions.

“Huh…⁠‌ Gentlemen? Are you​ really going to‌⁠‍ leave me hanging‌ here?”

The‌‌ cell trembled with‌⁠ each of Perez’s‌ blows.

The‌ boy, dangling like‌‌ a cocoon, flailed​​‍ wildly.

But‍ in the middle‌​ of all that,‌‍⁠ no one had⁠⁠ the time to⁠ respond to his‌ plea.

***‌⁠

“Ughhh…”‍‍

If‌ you took rice⁠⁠‍ cakes and threw​ them, would they‍⁠ look like this?​‌‌

Kihano,⁠ hunched and stuck‌​⁠ to the floor‍‍‌ of the cell,​‍‌ looked exactly like​⁠​ that.

Perez,​ seeing him, exhaled⁠‍ a sigh of​‌ resignation.

“Remember​‌ what our father​ told you when‌​ you left.”

Chiiik—‍‍‍

The‍⁠ match struck by⁠​‍ Perez produced a flame that lit​ his cigarette, and‍‍‍ the scent of‍ tobacco began to‌‌ spread through the‌‍ air.

“…”​‌

“He⁠ told you to‍ keep quiet, to⁠‌ stay as unnoticed‌ as possible.”

As‍ he inhaled deeply,‌ the tip of‌​​ the cigarette glowed​‌⁠ red.

In‍‍ the dark cell,‌ it was the⁠⁠‍ only light visible⁠ in the deep‌‍ night.

“You’re‌ twenty years old​‌ now. You should⁠​ understand why our​ father sent you​‍‍ away from the​‌​ family.”

“I‍⁠‍ don’t know… damn⁠ it.”

Perez‌​ frowned slightly at‌⁠‌ seeing his younger‌⁠ brother still lying⁠⁠ on the floor,‍​‍ unmoving from resentment.​‌‍

But‍​⁠ he understood his‍‍ defiance.

For​‍ as cold as​​ he seemed, even​ he could imagine‍⁠ how his brother⁠ felt crashing into⁠‌ an impossible wall.‌⁠‍

“I‍​‍ understand you want‌‍ to vent, but‌⁠ don’t forget that​ the Dragulia family’s‌ anger hasn’t subsided.”​

“…”‍

At‌‌ the mention of‌​ Dragulia, Kihano began‌‍ to stir slightly.​‌‍

But​‍‍ Perez pretended not‍​‌ to notice and‍​‍ continued speaking.

“So⁠ go farther away.⁠ Until they forget‌‌⁠ you.”

Thud—​

With​ those words, Perez​​‌ stood up and‌‌ tossed a small‍⁠ bag toward Kihano,⁠‍‌ who was still‌ lying on the⁠ floor.

The⁠‍​ bag fell with⁠​​ a familiar clinking‌ sound.

It‌‍‌ was unmistakably the‍⁠‌ sound of coins.‍⁠‍

“I‌‍‍ don’t need this…”⁠‍

“Take​⁠ it. It’s from​‌ our mother.”

After⁠ throwing the bag​​ of gold, Perez‍ tucked a small‌ piece of paper‌ into the ropes‌‍ binding the boy‌ hanging from the‍ ceiling.

“Agreement‌‍‌ or not, you‍​ caused trouble for​‍‌ the Turrek family.​‍​ So handle this.”‌⁠‍

The‍‍ boy, exhausted, had‍ fallen asleep and‍​​ didn’t even wake​‌ when Perez untied​‌‍ him and gently​​‍ laid him on​ the floor.

Without⁠ another word, Perez‍ left the cell.⁠‌‍

Kihano,⁠​​ still lying powerless​ on the floor,⁠​‍ slowly began to‌‍ rise as he‌ watched his brother’s⁠​‌ back disappear.

***‌⁠

“It‍​ must be difficult​‌‍ for you, Sir‍‍‌ Perez Frausen.”

“…”‍‍

Perez,‌​‌ who had planned​‍​ to leave silently,⁠‍‍ was stopped by⁠​‌ an unexpected voice.​

“Clearly,‌⁠ as a member⁠‍‍ of the Frausen​‌ family, the problems‌⁠ he causes are​ of great magnitude.”‍

The‌ man’s bald head⁠‌‌ gleamed under the‍ moonlight.

Smiling⁠‌ maliciously, the man‌⁠⁠ approached. He was‌ the knight of‌ the Turrek family‌‍ who had brought⁠‌ Kihano here.

“What‌ do you want?”⁠⁠

“Nothing⁠⁠‌ in particular… There‌ is just an​⁠ outstanding debt with‍ Señor Kihano.”

Feigning​​ politeness, the man‌⁠ extended his hand​ toward Perez.

“As‌⁠ I said before,‌‌ it must be​ the Frausen blood⁠‌⁠ that makes the‌‌ problems they cause⁠⁠‌ so large. Your​ brother owes me⁠⁠ a considerable amount‌ of money.”

Upon​​ hearing this, Perez’s‍ brow furrowed slightly.‌

“How‍ much?”

“About‌ 20 gold coins.”⁠‍

“…20‌​‌ gold coins?”

His‌ brother’s reputation as⁠ the libertine of⁠ the Frausen family​⁠ was well known.​‍

But​‌ Perez, who had‍​‍ watched him for‌‌ a long time,‌​ knew that Kihano⁠ would not borrow‌⁠ 20 gold coins‌‍​ without a good‌ reason.

“Well…⁠⁠ The boy who⁠ accompanies your brother,‍⁠ right? His name‌ is Yan.”

The‌ man was embellishing⁠⁠ his story, but​ the situation was​ simple.

There⁠‍​ was a boy‌ who worked alone​​ on a farm.‌​

His‌‌ parents had left‌‍​ him with a huge debt before​‍‌ they died.

And​⁠⁠ coincidentally, the owner⁠​​ of the farm‌ was the creditor‌ of that debt.‍​

It​‍‌ was a situation‍ that, by coincidence‌‍‌ or not, often‍‍‍ occurred in this​​‍ world.

“So​ my brother paid​‌ 20 gold coins‌‌‌ to buy the‍‌ boy’s freedom?”

“Exactly.‌‌⁠ And I lent‍‍‌ him that money.”‍​

Perez​​ smiled slightly, understanding‍​​ why there was‍ a boy hanging⁠‍⁠ in the cell.​‍‌

He⁠ calmly approached the⁠⁠‍ man.

“Then,⁠‍ the 20 gold⁠‍‌ coins must be​‍‍ paid.”

The‍ Frausen family always‍‍​ paid their debts​ justly.

Rewarding⁠​⁠ kindness and repaying‌​ grudges was an⁠​ unbreakable rule of‍‍​ their family.

“Sir⁠ Perez?”

However,​ instead of handing‌‍‌ over coins, Perez‍⁠ grabbed the man’s‌⁠⁠ outstretched hand.

He‌​ squeezed it so‍ tightly that the​ bald knight’s eyes‌ widened, unable to‍ utter a sound.​‌​

“From⁠⁠ what I saw⁠⁠ on the way‌​‍ here, it seems⁠‌ you treated my⁠ younger brother quite‌‍ harshly.”

“…!!”‌⁠⁠

Instead​ of coins, the​ man now felt​ the crushing grip⁠‍ of Perez on‍ his hand.

The‍​ bald knight’s eyes⁠⁠ were wide open,‍‌⁠ unable to scream,⁠ while Perez’s grip‌‍⁠ threatened to crush​‍ his bones.

“Let’s⁠ see how much​‍ your life is⁠‌ worth.”

“Aghhh…⁠​​ Ughh.”

Even​​‌ though Kihano was‌​ considered a libertine,⁠‍ he was still⁠​‍ a Frausen.

Not⁠‌‌ even the Turrek⁠‍​ family could touch‌‍ a family that‍​ shone among humans,​‍‌ even in the⁠ world of dragons.​

“Surely,‍⁠‍ it’s worth more​‍ than 20 gold​‍​ coins.”

“Gwaaaah!”‌‍⁠

To​‍ defend the honor​‌​ of his younger​​‍ brother, whom no‌ one acknowledged, Perez⁠ squeezed the man’s⁠ hand forcefully.

Meanwhile,​‌ his younger brother‍‌‌ had been beaten⁠‍ mercilessly.

***⁠​‌

“…Consuegra.”​​‌ (1)

Even‌ in the dark​‌ cell, the moon⁠‍ shone brightly that​ night.

On​⁠⁠ the white paper‌ illuminated by the​⁠‍ moonlight, the name‍ of a city⁠ was written.

A city at the‌​‌ edge of Baron‌​⁠ Turrek’s territory. Consuegra.‍‌

From⁠ Kihano’s cracked lips,⁠‍⁠ the name of​​⁠ his next destination‌‌ slipped out softly.​‌⁠

T/N:⁠

The⁠‌ translation to this⁠‌​ is literally in‌​ Spanish in case‍‍‌ you think it⁠⁠⁠ was mistranslated.

Chapteer⁠ 274: Extra 14⁠⁠ – The Bastard‍⁠ of the Frausen‌ Family (2)
Consuegra.

An⁠‌ ordinary town within⁠​​ the baron of‍​ Turrek’s territory. However,‌ although it was‍​​ a common place,‍‌ even this town​‍ had a special⁠‌ landscape: windmills lined‍​ up on top‍ of a hill.‌

“Uuugh…”‌⁠⁠

On‍​ the hill, where‌ spring had arrived,‌‍⁠ sheep wandered around⁠⁠ grazing, spreading out​‍ like white clouds.⁠‌

Additionally,‍​ flowers of various⁠⁠ colors were beginning⁠‌ to bloom. Seen‌ from afar, it‌⁠ was a peaceful​ scene, as though⁠‍​ it were part‍‌ of a painting.‌ But on the‌ face of the‌‍ young woman standing⁠ there, there was​ only an expression​ of displeasure.

“Why‍‍​ has the wind‍‍ been so strong‌⁠​ lately?”

The‍ fact that there‍⁠ were windmills in‍‍ the town meant‍‌‌ that it was‍‍ a windy area.​​⁠

However,‌⁠ compared to previous‍​⁠ years, the wind⁠‍​ was so sharp‌⁠‍ that the young‌ woman had to⁠‌ hold her hat‌‌‌ tightly so it​‌⁠ wouldn’t blow away.‌⁠

“Huh?”‌‌

After​⁠‌ the strong wind‌​ subsided and Consuegra‌‍ calmed down again,​⁠‌ the young woman⁠ opened her eyes​ and stared intently​⁠​ at one of‍ the windmills, as‌‌ if she had‍ discovered something.

“What​‍‌ is that?”

There‌ was a flickering⁠ light like a candle glowing faintly​​ from a small⁠ window in the‍ tall windmill.

A light that seemed‍ to be calling‍ for attention with‍ its intermittent flashes.‌‌⁠

But‍ by the time⁠‍ the girl noticed⁠‍‍ that light, the‌​‌ strong wind was‍‍⁠ once again whipping‌ the hill.

***‍

“Is‍‌ this supposed to⁠​‍ be a path​‍ for walking?”

A group of travelers​‌ was making their‍​ way along a trail that wound⁠​‌ through the forest.​

They‌ were holding the‌ reins of an‌ old horse and‍​ a small donkey,‍ struggling to move‌ forward.

One​‍ of them was⁠‍‍ Kihano Frausen. His‌​​ face covered with​​​ bruises, as if‌⁠ he had been‍‍ beaten, Kihano struggled​‌ to pull his‍ horse out of​ the mud it‍ was stuck in.​

“Honestly!⁠‌ I don’t get‌ it! How is‌ it possible to​⁠‌ charge a toll‌ for something that‍ doesn’t even look‌ like a road?”⁠

Perhaps⁠⁠ because it was‍⁠⁠ spring, the wind‌‍⁠ carried a warm⁠‍ scent.

But⁠‌ on the other‌‌‌ hand, that same⁠ weather had turned‌​ the path into‍ pure mud. In‍ other words, it‌ was a difficult‌ road for any‌ traveler.

“Damn⁠‍ dragons. They only‌​‌ care about their‍ own matters up‍⁠‌ there and never⁠ bother to check‍ these things.”

“Sir⁠⁠ Kihano, what if​⁠‍ someone hears you?”‍⁠

Alarmed⁠​ by Kihano’s words,‌‌‌ Yan looked around‌​ nervously.

“In​‌ my town, in‍ the past, someone⁠ was arrested for‍⁠‍ saying things like‌ that.”

“…”‍

“It’s​ true!”

Yan​⁠‍ waved his hands,‍⁠ visibly scared, while‌‍ Kihano frowned.

Indeed,‌​ that was how‍⁠ this world worked.‌⁠ Even if they‌⁠ were on a lonely forest path,‍ it wasn’t wise⁠ to speak ill‍​⁠ of the dragons.​‍ In this era​​ ruled by them,‍ survival meant submitting‌⁠ and continuing to​⁠ pull the reins,​‍‌ step by step.‍​

“All⁠⁠‌ I’m saying is​‌​ that it would⁠ be great if‍​​ the roads were‌‌ well built. If‍⁠‍ it were up​⁠‌ to me, I’d⁠‍‌ build great roads‍ from the capital‌ going north, south,‍ east, and west.”⁠

The⁠ dragons ruled this​ perfect world. Complaining​​ meant rebelling against​ them. However, for⁠​ a young man‌ like Kihano, imagining⁠​ a better future‍‌⁠ was inevitable.

“Idiot!⁠‍⁠ Saying nonsense like‍ that is why‌‍​ you got kicked‌⁠ out of the‌​ family!”

But‌‍ imagining a better​ future was a right reserved only‍⁠⁠ for the dragons.‍‌ So Kihano’s dreams‍‌​ were nothing more​ than an unrealizable‌‌​ fantasy.

“If⁠​ you still have‍ the energy to​​​ talk nonsense, focus‌‍⁠ on getting to​‌​ the town. Young⁠ people these days.​ Tsk, tsk.”

The​ frog sitting on​‍​ Yan’s head waved‌‍ a paw as⁠⁠ it spoke. Kihano‍⁠ sighed deeply.

His‌⁠ dreams were big,‍ but his reality‌​ was being stuck‌⁠‌ in the mud,‍​ pulling the reins‍‌‍ of an old​ horse. If he​⁠ didn’t want to‍‍ sink like the​ animal, he would⁠ have to adapt‍ to the world‍ the dragons had​​ created.

“…Well,⁠​⁠ at least the‍⁠‌ scenery isn’t bad.”⁠

As​‍‍ they climbed the​ hill with effort,‍⁠‍ a green open⁠ meadow of Consuegra⁠ stretched out before‌‌‌ them. A wave⁠ of green that​​ seemed to soothe‌⁠ Kihano’s burning chest.‌⁠‍ He took a deep breath as​‌⁠ he admired the‌‌ view.

***‍

“Name.”​‌

“…Kihano.”​‌⁠

“Age.”⁠​

“Twenty.”​‌

“Why‍‌​ have you come⁠⁠ here?”

Although⁠‍ it seemed like⁠ an insignificant town,‍ the strict attitude⁠​ of the guards‌ watching over it‍​ was quite irritating.​

“It‍‌‍ says right there.‍‌ I’ve been sent⁠ by your feudal‍ lord; don’t you‍⁠ see?”

Even‍ after showing them‌ the order with‍‌ the lord’s seal,‍⁠⁠ the guards’ attitude‌ didn’t change. Kihano’s⁠⁠⁠ frustration grew as⁠ he found no‍ solution.

“They​‌‌ say there’s been⁠​⁠ a witch around⁠‌⁠ here lately. I’ve​ come to capture⁠‍​ her.”

Although⁠‍ his appearance, covered‍‍ in mud, didn’t⁠‍ inspire much confidence,‍​ the feudal lord’s⁠ order was authentic.​‌⁠

Moreover,‍ since he had‌ a squire with‍⁠ him, he fulfilled‍ the appearance of‍​ a knight. There‌ was no reason‌​ to hold him‌ any longer, though‌‍ the frog he‌‌‌ carried as a pet aroused suspicion.‌​

“…Welcome‍‍​ to Consuegra, Sir​⁠ Kihano.”

“So,‌ can I go‍ in now, gentlemen?”⁠

“Yes,​⁠⁠ go ahead.”

When‍⁠​ the spear blocking​ his way was​‌‌ lifted, the palisade​​​ granting access to⁠ Consuegra appeared. However,⁠‌​ as he was‍⁠⁠ about to enter,‌ a voice from​​ the guards made⁠ him stop.

“Once​‍‌ inside the town,‌​‌ please report immediately‍​ to the tax⁠‍ collector.”

“…The‍‍ tax collector? Isn’t‍‌⁠ that usually the⁠​ mayor?”

In‍ small towns like‌ this, it was‍‌ usually the mayor‌ who handled everything.‍⁠ The presence of‍ a tax collector‌ sent directly by⁠ the lord piqued⁠⁠ Kihano’s curiosity.

“Yes.‌⁠​ And if possible,​⁠‍ please maintain discretion…”⁠‌

“Well,​‍‌ what an expensive‍⁠⁠ town. Hard to‌ enter and complicated‍⁠‌ to move around‌‍‍ in.”

With‍ an enigmatic smile,‌⁠‌ Kihano turned toward⁠‍​ the guards.

“It⁠​‍ really seems like‌‍‍ there’s a witch⁠ here, doesn’t it?”‌‌⁠

Witch.‍​

Unlike‌‍​ mages, who used‌⁠‌ magic through mysteries,​⁠​ witches performed all‍‌​ sorts of illicit⁠​ acts by dark‍​ means.

The⁠ possibility that one‍‍⁠ was here sparked‌ a glimmer of‌‌ interest on Kihano’s⁠ face.

***​

“Kihano,‍​ sir, this is​​‍ not the right⁠​⁠ way.”

Yan’s⁠‍​ voice sounded desperate‍ from behind, but​​⁠ he didn’t dare​​​ stop him.

“The‍ guards said we​‌‍ should go directly‌ to the tax‌ collector…”

“I⁠​ know.”

Because⁠‍ the place they⁠⁠ were standing in⁠ front of was‍​​ not the tax⁠‌​ collector’s office, but,‌ inexplicably, a tavern.⁠

Yan⁠⁠ could only hop⁠ anxiously while Kihano,⁠⁠ with complete ease,​‌ entered the place.​‌

“Yan,​‌ don’t you know?⁠⁠ Before meeting someone‌‍ important, it’s good‍⁠ manners to shake‍ off the dust‍‍​ and freshen up⁠ with a bit‍ of liquor.”

“…Really?”⁠

“What‍‍​ other choice do​ you have? Just⁠ follow me.”

Although​ Yan frowned in‍​ doubt, Kihano had‍​ already opened the‌​ tavern door and‍‌ entered.

“Hmm,‍​ not bad.”

It‌ was the typical⁠‌⁠ tavern of a small town. The​ ground floor served​‍ food and drinks,‌ and the upper‌‍​ floor functioned as​ an inn. The‌ smell of food​‌⁠ was enough for‍⁠‍ Kihano to decide⁠‌⁠ that it wasn’t⁠ a bad place.‌‍‌

“I’d⁠ like to order⁠ something.”

“What’s​​​ the most popular‌ thing here?”

“We⁠‌ only sell one‌‌ thing.”

“Then‍⁠ bring me that‍ and a beer.”‍‍‍

“Kihano,‌ sir…”

“Better​ make it two‌⁠​ of those and​​ a beer.”

After​​ placing the order‌ with the tavern​​⁠ owner, Kihano looked​‌​ around and spoke‍​​ to Yan.

“There‍‌‌ are a lot​​ of people.”

“Yes,​ it seems the‍‍‌ food is really​‌ good. In the‍​ tavern in our⁠ village, there was‍‌ never this many‌​ people.”

For‍ a large city,⁠‍ this was normal,⁠‌​ but this was⁠​ a small town⁠ on the outskirts‍ of the territory.⁠‍ It was odd‌‌⁠ that so many⁠ people were gathered⁠‍ in the tavern.‌⁠‍

“How‍⁠ good can it‌‍ be for them‌⁠ to leave their‌‍ work and come​‌⁠ here?”

He‌ estimated there were‌⁠ about thirty people,​‌‌ all men of⁠‌​ working age.

“Here‍‍ you go.”

“Oh,⁠​ that was quick.”⁠​

“The‌⁠ stew is always‌ ready.”

The‌⁠‌ stew came out​⁠​ shortly after ordering.​​ It was a thick mixture of‌⁠​ meat and vegetables.​ Yan, seeing the‌‍ hot food, smiled‌‍ from ear to⁠ ear.

“Thank‍ you, Sir Kihano!”⁠‍

“Yes,​ eat up. This⁠ will be added⁠⁠‌ to the 20‍⁠ gold you owe.”‍‌‌

“…Understood.”‍

Yan⁠​ hung his head,‍ dejected, while Kihano⁠⁠ took a spoonful​​​ of stew to⁠⁠ his mouth.

“Mmm,‍‍ it’s good.”

The‍‍‍ stew, cooked for⁠⁠‍ a long time,⁠‌ had a thick‌⁠ and comforting flavor,‌⁠ typical of rural⁠‍ towns.

“…But​ I don’t think‍‍ it’s so good‍ that people would‍⁠ crowd in like‌⁠ this.”

It‌ wasn’t delicious enough​ to abandon work⁠‍ and pack the​ tavern.

“…On​‌‍ my farm, the​ sheep were torn⁠ apart. At first,​ I didn’t even⁠‍ know what it⁠ was.”

“At‍ night, the children‍‍ get so scared​⁠ they have fits.”​

“This​ is the work‍​‍ of a witch.‌⁠ What else could‌ it be?”

“…”​

Kihano‍‍‌ chewed slowly as⁠​⁠ he listened to‍‌ the conversations in‌​ the tavern.

He​‍​ had gone there⁠‌ on purpose to‌‍‍ hear the town’s⁠ rumors before carrying‍​‌ out the feudal⁠⁠ lord’s mission.

***​‌​

“W-What‍ an honor to‍​ have such a distinguished person in⁠ such a humble‌ place…”

In‌⁠ the city of‌⁠⁠ Enares, near Consuegra,⁠​​ tension filled the⁠​ mayor’s office as‍ the sun set.⁠‍

“If‍‍ you had informed​‍ us, we would​ have come to​ greet you.”**

“…”​⁠⁠

The​ mayor bowed deeply,‍ with a pathetic⁠‍‌ expression. He could⁠‌‍ barely breathe from⁠‌‍ the effort of​⁠ holding in his‌ belly.

“I​‌​ received the report⁠ from the mages.​ They say the‍​​ investigation is about​ to conclude.”

“That’s⁠‌‍ right! They told⁠ me so themselves!”‌‌⁠

The​‍ mayor, ignoring his​‌ shortness of breath,​⁠ rubbed his hands⁠ as he spoke‌ to the man‌ before him.

“I‍⁠​ made sure to‌⁠‌ assist them in⁠ everything and gave⁠ them the best‍⁠​ possible treatment… I did everything I could to contribute⁠‌⁠ to their goal.”‌‍​

In‌​ a way, he⁠⁠​ seemed servile.

It‍‍‌ wasn’t a look‌​ befitting a mayor‌ responsible for a city, but the‌⁠‍ reason he did⁠ his utmost to‌‌ bow his head​​ was because the‌‍⁠ man in front‌ of him was⁠ naturally in a position to demand‍‌‍ it.

“…Good‌‌ work.”

The⁠‌⁠ man’s golden hair‌‌‌ gleamed in the‍‍ light of the​‍ setting sun. Even‌ in twilight, his‌ hair maintained its​​ golden luster.

“If​‍‌ this succeeds, I will remember your‍‍‌ name.”

The‍​‍ man’s eyes, a cold blue, reflected⁠‍ pure perfection. The‌‍​ mayor bowed even⁠ deeper.

“T-Thank‌⁠ you, Lord Sarnus!”‍‌‌

Sarnus​‍ Dragulia. A young⁠ dragon who was​ beginning to stand‌⁠ out in his‍​‍ family. He smiled‍ as he looked​ at the mayor​‍ bowed before him.‍‌‍

Chapteer‍⁠​ 275: Extra 15‌⁠​ – The Suspicious⁠‌ Town (1)
The child’s round‌ cheeks were adorable.‌

His‌​​ eyes moved from⁠​ side to side,​‍‌ following the movements‍ of Kihano’s hand.​⁠‍

Even‌ Kihano, who was‍‌​ trying to attract⁠‍⁠ the boy’s attention‌ by waving a candy, couldn’t help‌‍​ but laugh at‍ that innocent expression.⁠

“So,⁠​ you say that‌‍ lately, you’ve been​‍ hearing strange noises⁠​ at night?”

“…Yes.”‍‍‍

“Noises‌‌‍ that the adults‌‌​ can’t hear, but​‌ you and your​‌⁠ friends can?”

“Uh-huh.”‍‌

The⁠⁠ boy’s eyes remained‌​​ fixed on the⁠ candy Kihano was‌‍ holding, but his​⁠​ outstretched fingers pointed‍​ toward the hill.⁠

With‍​ his arm extended,⁠ he indicated the⁠‍ windmills that stood​‌ on the town’s⁠ hill.

“That⁠ windmill. Someone cries‌​​ from there.”

“…Cries?”​‌⁠

“Yes.‍⁠‍ Cries. The windmill​​ cries every night.”‍

When⁠⁠​ the boy said‍‌ that the windmills‌‍ cried, Yan, standing​⁠ beside him, began​‍⁠ tilting his head⁠ as if he‍​⁠ couldn’t understand.

However,‍ Kihano’s eyes remained‌‌ calm and serious.​

“I’ve​⁠ told you everything…​⁠‌ Can I have‍ the candy now?”‍

After‌​ finishing his story,‍‍ the boy held‌ out both hands‍ toward Kihano, as‌⁠ if asking for​​‍ a reward.

Moved⁠‍⁠ by the endearing‌‌‌ gesture, Kihano gave‌‌ him the candy.‌‌

The‌​‍ boy smiled broadly⁠ upon seeing the‌​‍ sweet in his‍​⁠ hand, while Kihano‍‌‌ slowly stood up.​​​

“A‌⁠⁠ windmill that cries.”‍‌

The⁠‌ rumor that a windmill cried at⁠⁠ night.

Only⁠​ the children had⁠​ heard it, so​ the adults dismissed​ it as nonsense.⁠⁠

But​ now, Kihano’s eyes​ reflected a different​‍‍ kind of seriousness.​​‌

“…Five⁠‌ children have said​‍ the same thing.”‍

It⁠‍‍ was strange for⁠​ five children to‌ give the exact‍ same testimony.

Even‌ coming from children,​‌‍ hearing the same‌‍ account five times‌‍‌ deserved to be​⁠ taken seriously.

‘And‍​⁠ that mage told​ me not to‍‌​ go near the​ windmill.’

Yesterday,‍ the grim-looking mage‌ had warned him​ not to go‍‍ near the windmill.‌​

It‍‌⁠ wasn’t clear whether‍⁠‍ it was a warning or a threat.

Recalling‌​​ that moment, Kihano⁠‌ chewed the last‍ candy with a thoughtful expression.

***‌

“In‍⁠​ any case, I would prefer you​ not to go‌ near the windmill.”​

For​‌ a quiet town,⁠‌⁠ the mayor’s house‌​​ was surprisingly luxurious.‌‍

Building⁠ a house of⁠ that size could‍​ only mean the‌​​ mayor had a good reputation or‍ had embezzled a lot of money.​

“Investigating⁠ the witch is‌‍ fine, but it⁠ would be better‌⁠ to avoid that‌‌⁠ place.”

However,‍ the one receiving​‍​ him wasn’t the‌​ mayor, but a completely different man.⁠‍

A middle-aged man in⁠ an embroidered robe⁠ with a stern‍‌ expression.

His‍ refined demeanor and‌‍‌ expensive robe made‍​ it clear that​‌‍ he was a mage.

“I‌ am conducting experiments‍‍ that require a certain degree of‍‍ privacy. I hope​ you understand.”

His⁠​ tone reflected a distinguished education.

And‌‌ with that robe‍‌⁠ that looked so‍‍ expensive, no one​ would doubt his⁠ position.

If‍ it weren’t for‍⁠ his feet on​⁠‌ the table, Kihano​ would have thought‌‍ he was a respectable person.

“Well…⁠​ As long as‌‌ you let me‍ investigate without interference,​⁠‌ I don’t mind.”‍⁠

Although‍ the man’s behavior​‌ was disrespectful, the​​ tax collector beside⁠‍​ him seemed too‍‌ nervous to say⁠​ anything.

The⁠ man, who had‌ introduced himself as‍ Samonte, acted as‍ if the place​​​ belonged to him.‌​

“It’s‍‍‌ an experiment supervised‍​‌ directly by the⁠​⁠ Dragulia family. It⁠‍ can’t be helped.”​⁠‍

“A​⁠​ very understanding young‌‍​ man.”

No⁠⁠​ matter how disrespectful⁠‍⁠ Samonte was, the‍​ name Dragulia demanded‍ respect.

Even‍ if he wasn’t‍​ a dragon, no‍⁠⁠ one dared challenge‌ someone who represented​‌​ that family.

“I‌⁠ wonder what kind‍‌⁠ of experiment is‍‍ being conducted in​‍ this small town,‍​ but that’s all​‌ I need to‌ cooperate with.”

“Yes.”‍⁠

However,‌‌‍ the man now‍​​ standing in front‍ of Samonte was​ the infamous bastard‌‍⁠ of the Frausen‍ family.

Perhaps,‌ if he had⁠ been careful with​ his actions until⁠​ now, the word⁠​ “bastard” wouldn’t have⁠‍ been attached to‍⁠ Kihano’s name.

“It’s⁠​ curious, isn’t it?​‍ That in a town supervised by‌‌ the Dragulia family,​ a witch appears⁠‍⁠ — something so⁠ rare to see.”​

“…”‌‌

“If‌ this is all‌​⁠ just a coincidence,​ it would truly‌ be something curious.”‍​

Kihano‌‍‌ was smiling, but⁠ his eyes showed⁠ no joy.

Samonte⁠⁠ maintained his serious‌​ expression.

The⁠‌​ tension between them‌‍ made Yan feel‌​ suffocated.

***‌

“I‌ think I shouldn’t‍‌‍ have followed Kihano…”‌​⁠

On⁠ the way back‌‍ to the inn‌​ from the mayor’s‌⁠‌ house, Yan was​ pulling a small⁠ donkey while speaking​‍ with a worried⁠⁠ voice.

“Won’t‌ I end up‌ being marked too?⁠ After all, he’s‍‌ someone from the‍‍ Dragulia family.”

Yan​‍​ seemed quite nervous‍ about what had⁠ happened recently.

For‌ a boy who‌ had lived his​‍⁠ whole life in‍ a rural village,​‍​ what he had⁠​ seen was something‌ completely out of​‍‌ the ordinary.

“…Yes,​⁠ the Dragulia family.”‍⁠

“Huh?”⁠‌‌

“But‌‌ why would the​‍ Dragulia family use‌‍ an expelled mage?”​​

However,‍​ Kihano, walking ahead,‍‍ didn’t seem to⁠‍⁠ hear Yan’s voice.​‌ He was lost⁠​⁠ in his own​​​ thoughts.

“And​‌ besides, a mage‌​​ from a fallen​⁠ family in the​‍ south. Were they⁠ that desperate for‍‍​ someone?”

“…Kihano,‌‍ what are you​ saying now?”

Kihano’s​‍ tone was unusual,⁠​ murmuring non-stop as⁠‍ if trapped in‌‌ another world.

Yan​​ found his behavior‌ strange; he had‍‍⁠ never seen Kihano​ like this.

“From⁠⁠‌ the south and​⁠ from a fallen‌ family? What does⁠‌ all that mean?”⁠

“What?”‍

“I‌ mean what you⁠ just mentioned. You‌ said something about​‌ someone being expelled.”‌⁠‌

Kihano,‍ who was absorbed‌‍ in his thoughts,​​⁠ seemed to snap‌​ back to reality⁠ when he saw‌‍​ Yan’s wide eyes.​‌

His‌‍ expression finally regained‍‌‌ some vitality.

“It​ was Samonte who‍‌​ was expelled.”

“…Huh?”⁠‌‍

Yan⁠ was visibly confused‍ by Kihano’s unexpected‌⁠​ words.

“That‌​ guy was expelled?​​ Did someone mention‌‍‍ that before?”

“Does​ it need to‍​ be said? Just‌‍ looking at him,‍ you can tell.”​

Yan⁠‍ was perplexed. How⁠ could Kihano gather‌ all that information‍‌ just by looking?‌⁠​ That Samonte was‍​ from the south,‌‌ from a fallen‍​​ family, and expelled⁠ seemed impossible to‍​ deduce without being​​ told.

“…I⁠‍​ don’t understand anything⁠​ you’re saying, Kihano.”‍

“You⁠ saw it too.​​​ The robe Samonte⁠ was wearing.”

“What‍‍​ about his robe?”‌⁠

Yan‌‌ still didn’t understand,⁠⁠​ which made Kihano​​ frown, as if​ wondering why he⁠ couldn’t see something​​‍ so obvious.

“It‌⁠ had elaborate embroidery.‍ Those patterns are​ typical of the‌ south.”

“Ah.”⁠‍

“Also,‌​‍ did you see‍​‌ his shiny boots?⁠ That means they⁠‍ were treated to‌ be waterproof. Only‍​⁠ people from the⁠​⁠ swampy regions of‌ the south care‍‍​ that much about‍ their boots.”

“Oh…”⁠

Although‍​​ they had been‌ in the same​​‍ place and seen‍​⁠ the same person,​ the information they‍ gathered was very​‍​ different. That was⁠‌ the difference made‌‌‍ by Kihano’s sharp​‌‍ powers of observation.‌

“So,‌ it seems he’s⁠​ from the south.‌ But what does‌‌ it mean that‍‌ he’s from a fallen family?”

“He‌ was wearing a ring with a noble family’s seal.‌⁠‌ But the emblem‍‌ was unknown to​ me, so it‍​ must be from⁠‌⁠ a family that‌‌​ fell at least⁠⁠⁠ a generation ago.”‌

Yan⁠​ was amazed. When​​ had Kihano found​‍ time to notice‍ the ring during‍‌ that brief meeting?​ Yan only remembered‍‌ cowering before Samonte’s​​⁠ intimidating presence.

“And‌⁠⁠ besides, his clothes‌ were worn. It​ looks like he⁠ takes care of‍‌​ his clothing carefully,⁠​‍ but even so,​​‌ it was worn⁠​ out. That means​‌‌ he doesn’t have‍​ much money.”

“…Then⁠‍⁠ why do you​ say he’s an‌‍⁠ expelled mage?”

Each‌⁠​ of Kihano’s deductions‍ seemed to fit‌​ perfectly, and Yan’s‌‍ eyes shone with‍ admiration.

Now‍⁠‍ he was curious‌⁠​ to know how⁠‌​ Kihano had concluded⁠‌ that Samonte was‌ expelled. Kihano shrugged,​ as if he⁠ didn’t have a clear answer.

“…I‌‍⁠ didn’t know that.”⁠

“Huh?”​

Even​‍ though he had⁠​ claimed Samonte was‍‌​ an expelled mage,​‍‍ he now admitted‌ he didn’t know​⁠ the reason.

Yan​‌⁠ looked at him‍​ confused, but the⁠ answer came from‍ another source.

“He‌​ smelled horrible.”

A coarse, old voice⁠​‍ came from inside​‌‌ Kihano’s coat.

It⁠⁠ was a frog‌⁠ blinking impatiently, as​ if it felt⁠ uncomfortable after being‌‍​ hidden.

“There⁠‍​ were many forbidden‌​ energies clustered around​ him. The stench‌⁠ was so strong⁠ it made me​ dizzy.”

The‌‍‌ small frog, which‌‍ wore a pointed⁠‍​ hat, climbed onto​​‌ Kihano’s shoulder. When⁠​‌ he was still‌ human, he had‌⁠‌ been named Andrew.‌ Now, he scratched‌⁠‌ his head with‍ a hind leg,‌​ clearly disgusted.

“It‌⁠‍ must be black‌⁠⁠ magic, the kind‍ spreading among mages‍ lately. If his‍‌​ powers are that​​ rotten, he was‍‌ surely expelled a long time ago.”⁠‌

Yan‍​​ had never heard⁠⁠⁠ of black magic,​ but the term‍‍ gave him chills.​ The word “black”⁠‌⁠ alone was enough‌‌ to convey something‍ sinister.

“What’s⁠​⁠ going on in⁠​‌ this town…? I hope I haven’t‌ gotten into something​ dangerous.”

At⁠ first, the journey’s⁠‍‌ goal had only‍ been to atone​ for a mistake.​‍

But‍‍ now, they were​‌‌ in a town⁠‍ where witches appeared‌‌ and suspicious mages‌‌‍ roamed.

As⁠‌​ he walked through‍⁠ the town, Kihano‌​ looked at the⁠‌​ darkening sky of⁠⁠‍ Consuegra and clicked​⁠ his tongue softly.​⁠

***‌‍‍

Night‍ had fallen completely,​‍ and the hill‍ where the windmill​ stood was shrouded⁠‍‌ in shadows.

In​‍ the newest windmill,‌‍‌ a faint light​ filtered through the​‌ window while more‍⁠‌ than a dozen‍‍ mages worked hurriedly.​‌​

“…It‍‍ seems Baron Turrek⁠ made a mistake‌⁠ in selecting the​‌ staff.”

In⁠‍‍ the highest level​​ of the windmill,‌​ in the room‌​⁠ just below the‌ blades, Samonte reflected‍​​ on what had​​ happened while frowning.‍‌ The insolent attitude‍​⁠ of that young‌ man called Kihano⁠⁠ still bothered him.‌‍‍

“Or‍⁠‍ maybe the Frausen⁠ family sent him‍ here by force?”‌​​

The​ situation was frustrating.⁠‌ An unknown woman​​ was constantly interfering,‍⁠ delaying the experiment.⁠‍​ They had requested‌‌ a competent knight‍ to capture her,⁠‍‌ but instead, an​ irresponsible brat from​​ the Frausen family​ had arrived.

“This‌⁠​ is a headache.‍ There’s still so‍‍​ much work to‌⁠ do.”

Pressing⁠⁠ his temples with⁠⁠​ his fingers, Samonte​ let out a small groan. He​ had received support‍‌‌ from the Dragulia‌‌ family to restore‌ his fallen family‌‍ and complete his‌ experiment. But the⁠ moment to show​⁠‌ results was approaching,‌ and anxiety was⁠ starting to weigh‌‌ on him.

“…Come‌⁠ on, cry already,⁠ you cursed creature.”​

His‍​​ only hope left‍ was the small⁠‌ snake in the‌‌‌ jar he was‍ holding.

-······!,​‍‌ ······!

Inside‌​‌ the jar Samonte⁠‌ held, a tiny‍​​ snake hissed incessantly,⁠​‍ showing its small,⁠‌⁠ sharp fangs.

A snake so small⁠⁠ it wouldn’t even‍‍ fit in the​​ palm of an​ adult’s hand.

The‌⁠ snake kept hissing‍ as if telling‍ Samonte to release‌‌ it, while staring‍⁠ at him.

The‌‍‍ young snake, which‌​ had not yet​‌ grown and had​​ sharp teeth, was‍⁠​ entirely white like⁠ the moon rising‍​⁠ in the night​ sky.

Chapteer​ 276: Extra 16‍ – The Suspicious⁠ Town (2)
Under the glow⁠‍ of the white‍⁠‍ moonlight, at the​ point where the⁠‍ green meadow ended,‌‍ a shadow emerged‌ silently from the‍ forest. Beyond the⁠ pastures, the dense‍‌ foliage turned into‌‌ a thick grove.‌

“…”‍

Even‌ under the moonlight,⁠‍ the darkness surrounding⁠‌ the shadow did‍‌‌ not dissipate.

It‌‍ was as if⁠ the surrounding trees⁠‌⁠ were deliberately concealing‌ it, leaving no‌‌‌ gaps. The only​ part that shone‍ was a pair‌⁠ of fierce eyes,⁠ like those of​‌‌ a predator.

“Damn‌⁠ humans.”

The‍‌ voice that came‍ out softly carried​‍‌ a rage that⁠​​ could not be​‍ hidden, like water‍‍ in a kettle​ that had begun‍ to boil.

The⁠‍ anger in that⁠‌⁠ voice was directed⁠ toward the windmill⁠‌ that the humans​⁠ had built below.‌

“…I⁠‍‍ will definitely save‍⁠ you.”

With​ those words, an‌‌ unknown figure faded‌‌​ back into the‌​ shadows.

That​​ presence watched the⁠⁠ town from the‍​‌ darkness created by‌ the trees in‌‌ the forest. The‍ moon, which had⁠‍ finally revealed that‌⁠‍ figure, illuminated its⁠‌⁠ bright platinum-blond hair.​

***⁠

“Hmm.”​

Kihano,⁠‍⁠ who had entered​⁠ the windmill, opened⁠ his eyes in‌⁠ astonishment. Unlike the‌‌​ gloomy atmosphere outside,‍ the inside of‌ Samonte’s workshop was⁠ perfectly organized, which‍ surprised him.

Crackle-!‍‌​ Crackle-!

Furthermore,​ a lightning bolt⁠ suddenly appeared inside‌⁠⁠ an empty glass‍ tube. It was⁠ impossible not to⁠​ open his eyes‍ wide at such​‌ a phenomenon. On‍⁠ the top floor⁠ of the windmill,‌ where Samonte was,⁠‍⁠ the lightning that⁠‍ appeared out of​ nowhere made Kihano​⁠‍ flinch without realizing⁠‌‌ it.

“…Is‍​ that also magic?”⁠‍​

Samonte’s⁠​ workshop was filled‌‌‌ with strangely shaped‍ gears and pipes​​ tangled like spiderwebs.‍ As he wandered‌⁠​ around, Kihano noticed​⁠​ several glass tubes‌ similar to the‌‍ one that had‍⁠‌ produced the lightning.‌

“I⁠⁠‍ don’t know what‌ kind of experiment‍⁠‌ they’re conducting, but⁠ it’s quite noisy.”‍

They‌ were apparently empty‌‌‌ glass tubes. However,⁠‌ in some, cold⁠ dew accumulated, while​‍‍ in others, red⁠‌⁠ flames burned. It​ was a sight​⁠‌ that could only‌​‌ be explained by⁠‍ magic.

“Have⁠⁠‌ you completed your‌⁠⁠ investigation, Sir Kihano?”‍‌‌

A young voice spoke‌ from behind Kihano.‍​‍ It was Samonte’s‍ apprentice, who had⁠ come out to‌ attend to him‍‍‌ while his master‌‌ remained busy with​‌ his experiments.

“Investigation?​⁠‌ Yes, I think‍‌‍ I’ve seen everything​⁠​ there is to⁠ see.”

Kihano⁠‌ discreetly touched the‍‌ inner pocket of‌⁠ his coat.

Tap-​

He‍​ felt a small​​ vibration in response.‌ That vibration seemed​‍ to tell him‌‍ that everything was‍⁠‌ ready. Kihano smiled⁠ as he looked‍ at Samonte’s apprentice.⁠

“It’s⁠​⁠ really fascinating. There’s​‌ nothing inside, yet​‌ things appear.”

“Ha,‌​ ha. Naturally, it‍‍ seems fascinating if⁠‍‌ you’re seeing it‌⁠‍ for the first⁠ time.”

Unlike‌​ Samonte, who had‌‌ a stern expression,‌‌‍ the young apprentice​ had a friendly​​ smile. However, Kihano⁠ could clearly see⁠​ the mockery hidden‍ in that smile.‌‍

“Perhaps‍‍ what you’re seeing​‌⁠ now is the‌‍‌ process of creating⁠⁠‍ something from nothing.”​​​

“…What?”⁠‍‌

In​ the windmill, the‍​⁠ mages continued moving‍‍ busily with their⁠‍‌ tasks. But between⁠⁠ Kihano and the‍‌‍ young mage, there‍ was only an‌​ awkward tension.

“In‌ fact, our experiments​⁠ are related to​‌‍ that — making‌ the useless useful.”⁠

After‍ saying that, Samonte’s‍ apprentice playfully waved⁠ his palm, as⁠ if explaining further​‍ would be a headache.

“Anyway,⁠⁠ it’s an experiment‌‌​ closely supervised by​⁠​ the Dragulia family.‍‍​ But there’s something‍‌ that’s been hindering‌⁠ it.”

With⁠ those words, Samonte’s‍‌ apprentice nodded, as‍​⁠ if encouraging Kihano‍‍ to look in‍‍ that direction.

“…”‌‍

Following‍ that gesture, Kihano‍⁠‌ approached the window‍‌‌ and observed the⁠ landscape. From there,⁠ the town, its‍⁠‌ pastures, and the‍ forest beyond were⁠‌ clearly visible.

“Lately,​ our barriers have‍‍ been damaged. At‍‌‌ first, we thought‌‌‌ it was wild‍ animals, but upon‌​ investigating, we discovered‌‍‌ there was human⁠​‍ interference.”

The‌ apprentice took a small stone out⁠‍​ of his pocket.⁠ Although it looked​‍​ like an ordinary‌‍⁠ rock, its surface​‍‌ was covered in⁠ intricate magical symbols.⁠

“It‍‍‌ definitely seems to‍⁠ have been broken‌⁠ with a sword.”‍​​

“That’s​ right. Someone is‌⁠​ trying to interfere‍⁠​ with us.”

The⁠​​ reason Kihano had‍‌​ come was to​​​ capture the witch‌‍ that was supposedly​‌⁠ appearing in the⁠⁠⁠ area.

And​‍‌ the broken stone‌ the apprentice showed⁠​ him had marks⁠‍​ suggesting dark magic.⁠‍

“Breaking‍‍‌ a barrier stone​ means that person​ knows how to‌‌ handle the supernatural.”‍​

Brutally‍‌⁠ slaughtered animals, sabotaged‍​⁠ dragon experiments, and⁠ now evidence of‍ forbidden magic. Perhaps‌⁠‍ it really was​​⁠ a witch, just‍‍ as they said.​​‍

“Please,⁠ we leave this‍‌‍ to you, Sir‍‍⁠ Kihano.”

“Yes,‍ I’ll do my‍‍ best…”

“Who⁠ knows, maybe if‌ you solve this​⁠‍ problem, the Dragulia’s​⁠ anger toward you⁠ will dissipate.”

Although‍‌ he didn’t care⁠ about the town’s​ fate, capturing the​ witch was his‌‌ job. However, those​‍⁠ last words made​‍​ Kihano tense for⁠‍⁠ a moment.

“Oh,‍ my! I think​⁠‍ I’ve gone too⁠‍ far. Forgive me.”‍‌

Although⁠​‍ he apologized, his‌‌‍ tone was insolent⁠​ and seemed to‍ enjoy it. It⁠‌⁠ was evident that‍‍‌ his words weren’t‍ a slip, but‍‌‍ a small revenge​‌‌ for Kihano’s attitude‌⁠ toward Samonte the​‍⁠ day before.

“Anyway,‌ we trust that‌‌‌ a member of‌‌ the Frausen family‌‍ like you will​ help us successfully.”‌

The⁠⁠⁠ apprentice smiled as⁠ he looked at​⁠ Kihano, the infamous​​ “bastard” of the⁠⁠ Frausen family, known‍​‍ for earning the⁠​ dragons’ disapproval.

“…Of​ course. I’ll do‍⁠ my best.”

However,​ Kihano also smiled‍‌ in response, despite⁠​ the mockery.

In⁠​ a world of​​​ perfection, the only‌​ thing he could‌ do was return​⁠​ the smiles. Yet,‍ he couldn’t help​​⁠ but let a bitter expression slip‍ onto his face.⁠‍⁠

***‍⁠

“Sir‌‌​ Kihano? Sir Kihano?”​‍​

“…”‌‍‌

“You‍‍​ should get up‌‌ now. The sun​‍ is setting.”

It⁠ was a hill‍⁠⁠ in the town,⁠ where the sun‌​‌ was slowly sinking.‌

From⁠ a distance, it‍​‌ looked like a scene worthy of​‌‍ a painting, but​‍ at that moment,‌‍‌ only Yan’s voice​‍⁠ echoed as he‌ tried to wake‌⁠‍ Kihano.

“…I‌⁠ told you to‍ wake me up​ at sunset.”

“Don’t‌‍ you see it’s⁠ sunset now? The‍‌​ sun will set‌​ completely soon.”

At‌​ Yan’s words, Kihano‍​​ began to look‌⁠ around as if‍‌‌ just realizing it.‌

Indeed,‍​‌ the green grass‍​‌ of the meadow‌​‌ was tinged with​‍ the reddish waves⁠‌ of the sunset.‌

“Where‌‌ are the sheep?”​

“Huh?”‍⁠

“The‍ sheep. They were‌‌‌ here a while⁠‌ ago.”

Maybe​‌​ he was still​⁠ a bit drowsy,⁠ as Kihano suddenly‍‌ asked about the‍‌‍ sheep.

However,⁠⁠ his eyes were⁠ scanning the surroundings‍ with an unusual​‍‍ seriousness.

“There⁠‍ they are. So,⁠​‍ they moved from​‍​ here to there?”‍​​

Saying‌ this, Kihano took​‌⁠ a piece of‌‌⁠ paper from his​​ pocket and began‌‌​ marking something on‌‌⁠ it.

It‍​ was a small⁠‍​ map that seemed‌⁠‌ to represent the‌​​ town’s surroundings.

But‍​ now, that map‍⁠ had unknown marks⁠ that Kihano had​‌‍ made previously.

“What‍​ is that, Sir​​ Kihano?”

“The‌⁠‍ path the shepherds⁠ follow.”

“Why​​​ are you marking‍‌ that?”

“To‍‌ figure something out.⁠‌ I want to‍⁠‌ know which pasture​‌⁠ the sheep are​‌⁠ taken to today.”‌​‌

Yan‍ watched Kihano with⁠ curiosity as he‌⁠‌ meticulously made his​​ marks.

It‌‌‍ was strange to⁠ see something so​⁠‌ detailed, considering how‍​ careless Kihano usually⁠‌‍ seemed.

“…Typically,‍⁠​ shepherds rotate the‌‌‌ pastures so they​​ don’t get depleted.‌ Otherwise, the grass‍‍ withers quickly.”

“I‍‌​ didn’t say anything.”​

“I’m‌ telling you before⁠ you ask.”

Looking⁠‌ at Yan, whose⁠​‍ eyes trembled as​‍ if wondering why​‌‌ he was doing‌ this, Kihano scratched‌‌‍ his head as​‌ if it hurt.‍‍

“Anyway,‌⁠ if the shepherds‌⁠‍ rotate the pastures,​​‌ there will be‌ one where they‌‍‍ take a break.”‌‌

The⁠‌⁠ shepherd’s job was⁠‌ to care for​ the sheep.

But‌ they also served​‌‌ as the town’s​ watchmen. If there‌⁠‍ were intruders or‌‍ monsters nearby, the​ shepherds would be‌‍‍ the first to‍​​ notice.

“And‌ today, that place‍​ is empty.”

Therefore,‍ the unknown intruder⁠ lurking in the⁠‍⁠ forest would try⁠​ to avoid the‍⁠​ shepherds’ watchful eyes.‍⁠​

So,‌‌⁠ by studying the​⁠​ flock’s movements, Kihano⁠ deduced that tonight‌ would be the‌ ideal time for‌ the being called⁠​​ the “witch” to‍ move.

“…It’s​​ toward the windmill,‌ right? The one‌‍ we went to‍ before.”

“Yes.”​‍​

The‍‌ only pasture without‌‌‍ shepherds or sheep‌‍⁠ that could raise⁠‌‍ the alarm.

Thus,‌⁠ Kihano’s finger pointed‌‌ to the most​‌ direct path to​⁠⁠ Samonte’s windmill.

“That’s‌⁠​ why I asked‍ you to wake⁠ me up at‌‍ sunset. It seems⁠ we won’t sleep‍‍ well tonight.”

“…”‌

Kihano⁠‍⁠ finished speaking and‍​ clicked his tongue,‌‌‍ as if still⁠‌‍ sleepy.

Yan,⁠ however, couldn’t find‌‍​ words to reply‍⁠ as he watched⁠⁠‌ Kihano yawn calmly.‍‌​

“Do​ you want dinner?‌ I brought a lunchbox from the⁠​ inn.”

“Oh,⁠⁠​ that sounds good.‍‌‍ Get it out‌ quickly.”

A scoundrel of the‍​ Frausen family, always⁠⁠‍ flirting with women‌‍ and getting beaten​ by his older​​ brother.

Although​​‌ everyone considered him​ a lost cause,‍⁠⁠ Yan felt there​​ was something more​​​ to Kihano that⁠⁠ no one else​​ saw.

“What’s​‌ this? Lemon?”

“Yes.”‍‍‌

“…Why​ did you bring⁠​ this? You don’t​​ eat lemon like​ this.”

“It’s‌⁠‍ for squeezing over‌‍‍ the meat. In‌‍ my village, everyone​​ eats it that​‍⁠ way.”

The‍ night was falling​‍ deeply.

There⁠‍ would be no‍‍ moon that night.‌​

Yet⁠‌‍ as they waited,‍‌⁠ Yan’s heart pounded​‌ heavily.

Because‌ more than the⁠‌‍ mysterious witch, he​ was intrigued to‍⁠ see an unknown‍⁠​ side of Kihano.⁠

***‍

In‌ the darkness where‍ the moon did​ not shine, a shadow moved stealthily.​

From‍ the distant forest⁠⁠ to the wide‌​ meadow, the shadow​​ ran with a speed that could​⁠ be described as‍‌‍ “shot out.” It⁠​‍ did not make‌‍​ even the slightest‌‍‍ sound.

“…”‍

It‌⁠​ had been worth​⁠​ watching carefully from‌‌ the forest.

In‌‌‍ the direction it⁠‌ was moving, there‍ were no sharp-eyed‍‌ shepherds or alert​‍ sheep.

Only‍ the sinister windmill‍‍ that the humans⁠⁠ had built was‍‍ visible. The shadow’s​ golden eyes shone⁠‍⁠ fiercely.

— Grrr…

“…!”⁠​‍

But⁠​ a faint cry​ in the wind​‌⁠ made the shadow​ stop.

— It hurts! It‍‌ hurts!

— Stop! Wheeeh!

It​​‍ was the cry​⁠⁠ of little spirits​ born from the​‌‍ World Tree.

Little​⁠‌ ones who had‍ once left with‌⁠ smiles, but now‍⁠​ their cries were‌ too painful to‌‌​ ignore.

“Damn⁠‌​ humans!”

The⁠ cries were more⁠⁠ vivid than ever.‍‍

They‌ were close enough​ to hear those‌‌ heartbreaking screams.

The​‌⁠ shadow began to⁠‌ feel anxious due‌‌⁠ to the spirits’‍⁠ pleas.

‘…I‌‌ have to hurry!’‍

So,‌ with more hurried‍ steps, the unknown‌‍ entity lunged forward.‌

Now⁠‌ its movements were​‍​ no longer careful​‌‍ but desperate.

— Ribbit.

— Ribbit, ribbit.

‘Frogs?’‍‌‍

That’s‌⁠‌ why it didn’t​ realize that the​⁠ meadow had turned⁠ into a mist-covered⁠ pond.

“By⁠ the build, it‍‌‌ seems like a woman.”

“…!”‍​

— Swish!

A blade appeared suddenly,⁠‍⁠ and the shadow‍‌‍ retreated urgently.

But​ it was no‌⁠ longer a meadow,‌‌ but a damp‍⁠‌ mire.

The‍‍⁠ muddy ground trapped​‍ its feet.

“Who⁠​⁠ are you?”

It​ had managed to​⁠ dodge the attack‌‌‌ just barely, but⁠⁠ it was a lethal blow.

If​⁠ it hadn’t heard​‍ that voice, its‍ neck would have​ been cut.

“If‍ I tell you​‍ who I am,‍ will you tell​​‌ me your name⁠‍ too?”

Beyond‍ the mist it⁠ was staring into,‍‌ a man emerged.‌​‌

Tall‌⁠ and with reddish-brown‌‍ hair.

However,⁠‍ what stood out‌​ most was his⁠‌ relaxed, smiling expression.​​

“My‍ name is Kihano.‌​ Kihano Frausen.”

One⁠ of his teachers⁠‌⁠ had once told‌ him:

Controlling​ the battlefield is⁠ the fastest path​⁠ to victory.

And‌ now they were​ in the pond⁠ that the old‌ toad had created‌⁠ for Kihano.

“Now‌​ that I’ve said⁠‌⁠ my name, tell‌​ me yours.”

His‌‍ stance, crouched and‌⁠ ready to strike,‌‌ was like a sharp sword.

As‌‍‍ if he were‌‌ ready to cut​‍ her down in‍‍ one blow.

“Tell​​ me your name‌ before my sword​⁠ touches your neck.”​​​

The‌ bastard of the​ Frausen family: Kihano‍ Frausen.

However,⁠​ once, the name‍‍ used to refer‌⁠ to him in⁠⁠ the past was…‌​⁠

The‌ prodigious genius of​⁠ the Frausen family,‍‍ Kihano Frausen.

Chapteer‍‍‍ 277: Extra 17​⁠⁠ – Kihano – For the Young⁠ Possibilities (1)
It was a deep night in‌‍​ which everyone in‌ the village slept.‌

In‍⁠‌ the quiet Consuegra,​⁠‍ where only the‌ sounds of insects‌ could be heard,‌ a soft sob‌​ echoed.

“…I’m‍​ sorry.”

A ray of moonlight​⁠‍ filtered through the‍ coarse wooden planks.‌‍⁠

The‌ priestess of the⁠‌⁠ World Tree was‍​ locked in some‍‌ storage shed, as⁠‍‍ there wasn’t even⁠⁠‍ a proper prison‍‍‌ in the village.⁠​

Sitting‌​ with her knees‌ together and her‍‍ head bowed, the⁠‍ gentle blue moonlight​‍‍ enveloped her as​⁠ if trying to‍​​ console her.

“I⁠​ tried to save‍​ them, truly.”

She⁠‍⁠ had traveled a long way from⁠​ the elven forest,​‍ Alfheim, to reach​​⁠ Consuegra.

However,‌ now she was‌ trapped in a cage built by‌‌ the mages.

Tomorrow,‌‌⁠ Sarnus would arrive,​ and she would​ be taken to​​‍ the capital. But⁠ she wasn’t crying‍ because of the‌ uncertain future that‌‌ awaited her.

—It⁠ hurts so much!‍ Please, stop already!​

—I’m‌ sorry! Please, get‍ me out of​⁠⁠ here!

What‌ truly tormented her‌‌‍ were the cries⁠‌‍ of the young⁠​ spirits that still⁠​‌ echoed in her‌⁠‍ ears.

From​ Samonte’s mill, which‌⁠⁠ still gleamed with‍‍ lights, the heart-wrenching‌⁠‍ screams of the‌‌⁠ little spirits could⁠ be heard without‌ end.

“…Why⁠ do you abandon​⁠ those children, Mother?”‌

Those⁠ fragile and pitiful‍‌ sounds made her⁠​​ doubt the message​ of the World‍⁠‍ Tree, which had​‍⁠ sent her here⁠ alone.

But​​ unable to do​​ anything, the priestess‌ could only hide‍ her tear-soaked face‌‌‌ between her knees.‌

Her‍‌⁠ shoulders trembled helplessly.‍

The⁠‌ young spirits suffered‌ and cried out‍ because of the‌​​ mages’ cruel experiments.​‍‍

However,​⁠‍ there was no‌‌ one there to​ hear those sobs.‍‌​

“…”‍‍‍

Except⁠‍ for one person.‌⁠‌

It​‌‌ was a night​ when only the‌ wounded remained awake.‌⁠

That’s⁠ why the knight⁠‌ who was alone​​​ in his room‍​ at the inn​⁠⁠ touched his left⁠‍ eye silently while‍ glaring furiously at‍⁠ Samonte’s mill.

***‍​

Although‍⁠⁠ normally in Consuegra‌ only the bleating‍⁠ of sheep could‌​​ be heard, today,⁠‍‌ for some reason,​⁠ it felt more‌‍​ bustling.

The​ children wore clean‍ clothes, and the‌ adults were sweeping‌​‍ with brooms here​ and there.

“Today,‌ someone very important⁠‍⁠ from the Dragulia‍‍‍ family is coming.”‍

“They‍​ say it’s a dragon. And one‌⁠ of pure blood,⁠⁠ no less.”

“They‍‍‌ say he has⁠​‌ golden hair and‍⁠ blue eyes. I can’t believe I’ll‍‍‍ see a dragon‌‌ before I die!”​

The‌‌⁠ villagers were excited‌​ about the news‌ that a dragon​​ would arrive in​⁠ Consuegra.

Born‌ in perfection, as​‌⁠ beautiful as jewels.‌‍⁠

Just‌ seeing a dragon​‍ was an honor,‍⁠‌ and everyone was‌‌ hurriedly preparing to⁠‍​ welcome him.

“They’re⁠‌​ coming! They’ve already‌⁠ reached the entrance‍‌ to the village!”⁠‌

“Form​​ a line! Make‌​ sure the children​‌ don’t run ahead!”‌

With⁠‌ the firm shout⁠⁠ of the mayor,​‍ the villagers quickly​⁠ stepped aside from⁠‌‍ the path.

Although‍‍ they seemed nervous‌‍ about seeing a dragon for the‌​ first time, they‍ couldn’t hide the‌​ excitement coursing through​⁠ their bodies.

“….”‍

Soon,⁠​​ a luxurious golden‌‌​ carriage approached from​‌​ the distance.

That‌​⁠ immutable gold was‍⁠⁠ a color reserved‌‍ solely for dragons‌⁠‌ born in perfection.‍‌

Upon‍ recognizing that color,‍‌​ the villagers began‍​ bowing their heads​ one by one.⁠⁠

“Welcome,‍ Sarnus Dragulia!”

The⁠‌‌ carriage passed through‍ the crowd and‍ came to a stop. Samonte, the​ mage, hurriedly approached‍ with an extremely​‌‍ respectful posture, very‍​​ different from his‍‌​ usual demeanor in​‍ the village.

“It‌‍ is an honor‌‍‍ to have you​ in this humble⁠ place…”

Finally,​​⁠ a noble dragon‌ began to step⁠‍⁠ out through the​​ open door.

His⁠ golden hair shone‌⁠ under the sunlight,⁠‍⁠ and his blue‍ eyes observed everything‍‌ coldly.

However,​‌ what was most‍ imposing about his​​ presence was the⁠⁠ perfection he had‌ borne since birth.‌⁠

“Well​ done, Samonte. You’ve‍‍⁠ finally found a useful energy source,​ haven’t you?”

“Y-yes,‌‍‌ Sarnus.”

Everyone​‌⁠ present bowed their‌​ heads before him.⁠

Therefore,​⁠ Sarnus’s eyes, which‍ could freely look‍ down on others,​ began to slowly​ scan the surroundings.​‍

“Good⁠ thing I didn’t‌ arrive too late.”​‌‍

The‌ reason a noble​‍ dragon had come⁠‌⁠ to this remote⁠‍ village was to‌‍‍ oversee Samonte’s experiment.‌​⁠

But‌ beyond that, Sarnus‌ wanted to see​⁠‌ something in particular:‌ Kihano Frausen, the‌‌ young possibility they‌‌ had crushed in‌ the past.

“But⁠‌‍ I don’t see‍‍ him.”

“What?”⁠‍⁠

He​⁠ looked around, but‌​‍ he didn’t see​‍‌ the brown hair​‌​ he was searching‌​ for.

The‌ youngest son of‌ the Frausen family,⁠​ who had shown‌‍ such a brilliant‍ potential that he‍‌⁠ had surprised even⁠‍ the dragons.

A spark of potential‍⁠ that needed to⁠ be verified. However,‌⁠​ Kihano was not‍ where he was‍ supposed to be.⁠

***​‌

“Kkuuuuung!”‌‌‌

In⁠‍ Samonte’s mill, which‍ had been left‌ empty to receive‌‍‍ the noble dragon,‌⁠ someone was carefully‍ climbing up.

“Why​​‌ did they build‍‍ this so high?”‌‌‌

The⁠‌ mill that Kihano⁠ was scaling was⁠ the tallest and‌‍ largest in Consuegra.‍⁠

Therefore,​​​ it was difficult⁠ for anyone to⁠‍ climb. However, for‌⁠‌ some reason, Kihano​⁠ ascended with ease,‍⁠​ without even using​ a rope.

“…Will⁠‍‌ I really get​⁠⁠ my normal hands⁠ back after this?”​‌‍

“I’m​​‌ telling you, yes!​‌ Do you think​⁠​ they’ve been fooling‌‍⁠ me my whole​​ life?”

Andrew,‌​ on his shoulder,⁠ kicked his hind⁠‍ legs as if​‍​ trying to dispel‌‌ any doubts.

Even‍​ so, it was​‌ hard not to‌ feel uneasy.

If⁠ a swordsman’s hands‍ turned into those​ of a frog,⁠‌‌ anyone would react⁠‍⁠ like Kihano.

“Why‍‍ are you climbing‍ up the wall‌⁠⁠ instead of using‌​ the normal entrance?‌‍‌ Are you crazy?”​​‌

“I​‍ want to see​ Samonte’s workshop.”

“And‍ why?”

“Ah…​ I told you⁠‍ before!”

It⁠​ wasn’t a very‍‍ dignified image to​​‍ see Kihano climbing​‌ like a frog.‍‌

Yan,⁠ who was below,​‍​ watched him with​ concern. But the‌ knight had already‌‌ passed the mill‌‍ blades and was‌‍ near the window​‌ of Samonte’s workshop.‍

“I’ve⁠ been hearing children​⁠‍ crying all night!”‍

Even‌‌ though he knew​⁠ no one was‌ there, Kihano spoke‌ in an urgent‌ whisper.

“This‌⁠ mill seemed suspicious‌‌⁠ to me from⁠⁠ the start.”

Kihano​​ peeked into the​​ workshop through the‌‌ window, and then​⁠ turned his head​⁠ to look back.​⁠

There‌‌⁠ were the mill‍ blades.

“Look.‍‌⁠ They don’t even⁠‌ have a weather​⁠‌ vane installed.”

The‌ rusty blades didn’t‌ have the vane​‌ that any mill​ should have to​‍ catch the wind.‌

The‌‍ main function of​ a mill was​⁠ to turn with​ the wind, but​‌ this one didn’t​‌⁠ even have that‌ intention.

Crraaack!⁠​‍

“That’s‍‍‍ why I need‌ to see it⁠⁠‌ up close.”

Gently‍‍‌ tapping the window⁠⁠ with his elbow‍‌ to avoid making​​ noise, Kihano carefully​ removed the cracked​‍⁠ glass.

It⁠‍ was a technique‌​⁠ he had learned⁠​ for secret meetings‌ with ladies, but‌‌⁠ it proved useful​⁠‍ in other situations.‍‍

“…”‌

Kihano‌ unlatched the window‌‍⁠ and slipped silently‌ into Samonte’s workshop.​⁠​

Although​ Andrew had said‌ there were no‍ other security measures,‍⁠ it never hurt​‌ to be cautious.⁠‌

“What​​ a messy place.‌​⁠ Are all mages‌‌​ like this?”

“I​​ wasn’t, you brat!”‍‌​

“You‌‌​ have papers scattered‌ everywhere. Mages are‍​ a disaster.”

“…”‌‌

This​ workshop was not‌​​ accessible during official⁠ visits.

That’s‍​‌ why the workshop‍ Kihano was seeing⁠ for the first⁠‍⁠ time was messy,‌​‌ with papers strewn‍ across the floor.‍

“…What’s​⁠ this? A blueprint?”‍‍

Among‍⁠‍ the papers filled​‍‌ with difficult-to-read letters,‌ there was one​‍⁠ that caught Kihano’s‍⁠​ attention.

A sheet with a simple drawing instead⁠‍ of complicated letters​‌ and formulas.

It​ was a sectional‍‍ blueprint of the​‍ mill they were​ currently in.

“Why‌​ does it have‌ so many gears?”​​

Upon‌​ examining the blueprint,‌ he saw an‌‌​ excessive number of​ gears and pipes⁠​ in Samonte’s mill.⁠‍

He⁠‌‍ didn’t know what‌ they were for,‌ but it was​⁠ evident they weren’t​⁠ typical components of‌ a regular mill.⁠‌⁠

“…Kihano.”‍

“What⁠‌​ is it? I’m​⁠‌ busy.”

While⁠ Kihano quickly lost‍​‌ interest in the‍ blueprint and looked⁠ around, Andrew, on‍⁠ his shoulder, blinked‌ in surprise.

“This…⁠ Where we are​​ now doesn’t seem‌‌ to be just‌⁠​ a mill.”

“That’s⁠‍ what I’m saying.⁠‌⁠ I told you‌ this was suspicious.”​⁠

Andrew’s​⁠ voice trembled with‌ nervousness, but Kihano⁠ was focused on⁠‌‍ finding the source⁠‍⁠ of the children’s​‍ cries he had⁠​ heard last night.⁠

As​ he looked around,‍ he saw something‌‍‍ shining.

“I’m​‌ telling you, this⁠ isn’t an ordinary‌ windmill. This…”

“Shhh.‌ Be quiet for⁠ a moment.”

Looking‍‍‌ up, he saw‌‍ that there were‍⁠​ glass tubes hanging​ from the ceiling⁠‌ of the workshop.​⁠

They‍‌⁠ seemed to be‌ firmly attached as​‌ if they were⁠​ part of some⁠‍ machinery.

Kihano​⁠⁠ felt the pain​⁠ in his injured‌‌ left eye intensify​‌ when he saw‌⁠ them.

“Can’t⁠‍ you hear it?”⁠‌​

“Hear‌​ what?”

“It‌​ sounds like crying.”‌​​

Kihano⁠⁠ really didn’t care‍ what the mage‍ Samonte was doing.⁠

After​​ all, the experiment​‍ was supervised by⁠​ Dragulia, and it‌‍ wasn’t something he‍⁠ could interfere with.‌‌‌

“…Is⁠ it coming from‍ above?”

But​​⁠ if children were⁠‌ involved, the situation‍‍ was different.

Especially⁠ if the children​​ were suffering so⁠ much they cried‌ all night.

“¡Kngh!”​

The​⁠ higher he climbed,​​ the more his‍ wounded left eye‌‌‍ hurt.

The⁠ bandage he wore​‍‍ was stained with​‌ blood, but his​​ determination did not​‌ waver.

“Kihano!‌‌⁠ Your wound is‌‍​ bleeding!”

“I​ know!”

The​ closer he got​⁠ to the empty‍⁠ glass tubes, the‌ clearer the children’s‌​​ cries became.

Finally,⁠ he reached the⁠‌ top of the‍​‍ workshop.

There​‌ was a large⁠‌ gear and many​ glass tubes embedded‌ around it.

“Where‌‍ are they?”

Kihano‌ looked around urgently,‍ blood dripping from‌‍​ his eye.

However,​⁠ he only saw‍ empty glass tubes.⁠‌‍ There was no‍​ sign of the‌‌‍ crying children.

“There’s‌‍ nothing. We should‍‍ go down.”

“But…”‍‌​

“Idiot,‍ I just told⁠​‍ you! This isn’t‌​ an ordinary windmill!”‌‍‍

-······!‌​

Andrew⁠‌ urged Kihano to​‌‍ go down, but‍ he turned his‍​​ head when he⁠‍ heard something.

It‍​ wasn’t a sound⁠‌ heard with his⁠⁠‍ ears but something‍​​ perceived with his⁠‌ sight.

Looking‌‍ in that direction‌​​ with his injured‌ left eye, he⁠‍⁠ saw a white​‌ figure.

“Stop‌⁠ torturing them!”

A white spark crackled​ inside a large‍ glass tube at⁠ the center of‍ the gear.

It‍⁠ was a much‍⁠ larger tube than​ the others, and⁠ it was vibrating.⁠

As‍‌ he approached, Kihano‌​​ opened his eyes‍⁠ in shock.

“Leave​⁠ my friends alone,​‍‌ you damned humans!”‍⁠

He​ couldn’t see it​‍‍ with his right⁠‍​ eye, but he⁠‌⁠ could with his⁠‌‍ injured left eye.‍‌

In‌⁠‍ a place where​ the colors were‌ all dark, like‌ a scene from‌​⁠ an oil painting,​⁠⁠ a young and​ severely injured snake⁠‌‍ was screaming at⁠ Kihano.

***‌⁠‍

A boy cried in‌⁠​ an empty dueling​‌‌ arena where everyone‍ had left.

The‌ tears the boy‍‌ was shedding now‌​ were not from⁠ resentment or anger.​​

“…Father.”‍

These⁠ were tears that‌‍ flowed from helpless⁠ fear.

The⁠ dragons of Dragulia‍‍ had raged when​‍ they saw the‌‌ world he had⁠​​ created.

That​​​ was because those⁠‌ blue eyes desperately‌​ sought the boy’s‍‍ world, recognizing Kihano’s​ potential, forged by⁠​ sacrificing his own‍ young dragon.

“Did‍ I do something‌⁠⁠ wrong?”

However,⁠‍ no one made‌​⁠ eye contact with​‍⁠ Kihano, who was⁠ now crying.

Neither⁠‌⁠ his father, whom‌⁠ he respected, nor‍⁠ his mother, whom‌⁠ he loved, had⁠ the time to​‌ look at young⁠‌⁠ Kihano because they‌​ were busy appeasing‍‌ the angry dragons.‍‍

—Don’t‍‍ look away anymore,‍ Kihano.

A world of children‌ that no one​⁠ could protect.

Therefore,‌⁠ the cries of​​ the little one​​ he had ignored‍‌ continued to echo​⁠ within Kihano.

—If⁠‍‍ you keep doing‍‌ this, the star‍‍ inside you will⁠​ die.

Perhaps‌ the cries Kihano⁠‌⁠ heard last night⁠‍‍ weren’t from the⁠‍ young spirits in⁠ front of him,‍ but from the​‌‍ child he had⁠⁠‍ been ignoring until​⁠ now.

That’s‍‍ why Kihano decided​‌ not to look‍ away and took​ a step toward⁠‌​ the glass tube‌ before him.

Chapteer‍​ 278: Extra 18​‌ – Kihano – For the Young⁠ Possibilities (2)
Clang! Clang!

A sound echoed through‍ the dark interior‌‍ of the mill.​‌

It‌‍​ started from the‌​ top and spread​​‌ downward.

Even‍‍ the spirits, who​‌⁠ lay weakened, lifted‍‍​ their heads at‍‍ the sudden noise.​‍​

Crackle!‌⁠⁠

The⁠‌ sword slashed with‌‌ such force that‌‌ it even crackled⁠‍‌ with flames.

However,‍⁠‌ Samonte’s glass tubes‌‍ didn’t show a single scratch. Kihano‍​ realized it.

“…It’s​‍​ magic.”

The⁠ tubes trapping the‍‍‍ little spirits were⁠​‍ transparent, but they​‍‍ were filled with⁠ the mystery Samonte‌ had embedded in⁠‍⁠ them.

That​‍‌ power deceived the⁠‌ world and deflected‍​‍ the tip of‍​⁠ his sword.

“Andrew,‌‌ is there no‌ way to break‌⁠⁠ this?”

“…Not⁠‌​ right now. Maybe‍⁠​ if you give​‍‌ me some time.”‌​

“Time‍ is the last⁠‍‍ thing we have.”​⁠⁠

Andrew​ had been a great wizard, but‌ that was when‍​ he had a human form.

Asking‍⁠‌ him for a solution now was​ useless.

“Damn⁠‍ it.”

Kihano‌‌ swallowed, his throat‍‌ burning with urgency.⁠‌

He⁠⁠ felt cornered.

But⁠‌‌ while his hands​‌​ remained still, his‍‍ eyes continued to‌⁠ move sharply.

“Couldn’t‌⁠‌ they have enchanted⁠⁠‌ all these things⁠ with magic?”

Above‍ the little snake,​⁠ who was staring‌​‍ wide-eyed, there were‍ numerous mechanical devices.​‍​

He‌‍‍ didn’t know what​​‍ they were for,‍​​ but surely one⁠‍​ of them was​​ keeping the spirits​ trapped.

“…I‌ remember seeing a diagram somewhere.”

Recalling‍​‍ the diagram he‍​ had seen, Kihano‍ licked his lips.‌

As‍⁠‌ complicated as the⁠‌ machinery was, disassembling⁠ it was the‍ opposite of assembling⁠‍‍ it.

Or‍ at least he‍ might find a weak point.

Rumble!​‌

“Urgh!”​‍‍

Kihano​‌ had come up‍‌⁠ with a plan,‍⁠‍ but it was​ too late.

“What‍⁠ is this?”

The‍‌ ground suddenly shook⁠ as if an‍‌​ earthquake was happening.​‌ Kihano quickly crouched‌​ down.

But‌⁠​ the tremor didn’t‌‌ stop.

“An​ earthquake?”

“No!​‌ This isn’t an‌⁠ earthquake!”

Clank,⁠ clank!

A deafening noise came⁠‌ from below. Kihano‌ looked down and‍‍ saw it.

“…!”‍‍​

The‌​⁠ gears of the‌⁠ mill began to‌​ move.

Dozens,‌‍ hundreds, thousands of⁠‍ gears turned like‌ a spreading wave,⁠ locking into each​‌‌ other and roaring⁠‌ in unison.

Kihano​‍ felt the hairs‍ on the back​⁠ of his neck‍⁠ stand on end.⁠‌⁠

Uwaaaa!​

Stop‌ it already!

“…!”‌

At‍ the same time,​⁠ he heard the⁠​ screams of the‍ spirits behind him.⁠

Trapped‌ in the glass‌ capsules, they glowed​‌ like burning candles‌‌ and screamed in‌‌‌ pain.

“This​⁠⁠ isn’t a mill!”​

Rumble!⁠⁠

With​​ a roar like‌​ thunder, Samonte’s mill​‍ was rising.

It‍‌ was the mill​‌ a fallen mage‌⁠ had built to‌⁠ fulfill the wish​‍ of a perfect⁠ dragon.

“This⁠ is a golem!”⁠⁠

It⁠ was finally showing​‌‌ its true form—a⁠‌‍ masterpiece of magic⁠‍ and engineering.

Perhaps‍⁠‌ the largest golem‌​‍ in the world‌ was rising, devouring‍​ the cries of‌⁠⁠ the little spirits.​​‍

Roooaaar!​‌

***​

Rumble!​

A deafening sound rumbled‍ through the peaceful⁠‌​ hills of Consuegra.⁠‍

That⁠ noise came from‌‌⁠ the mill, which‌‌ was slowly standing​⁠​ up.

The‍ villagers, who had‍⁠ been watching the‌ event in honor‍ of the noble‍‍ dragon, screamed in‍ horror at the​ sight.

“My⁠ God, what is⁠​ that?”

“The…‌‌‌ the mill is⁠⁠ rising!”

It​ was such a terrifying sight that‍ they even forgot‌ about the dragon’s⁠ presence.

Samonte’s⁠‍‌ mill, with its‌​​ rusted structure and‌ sharp spear-like head⁠‌‍ aimed at the⁠⁠‍ sky, was slowly‍ standing up.

The‍​ sight was so‌ grotesque and monstrous​⁠​ that the villagers​​ could only hold‌ their breath.

“What⁠​ do you think,​ Lord Sarnus?”

While⁠ everyone was silent,​‍‌ the only one‌ who couldn’t hide⁠⁠ his excitement was‌ the mage Samonte,‍ who raised his‍ arms in triumph.‌​​

He⁠⁠ had been rejected​⁠⁠ by his fallen⁠‌​ lineage and expelled⁠ from his order‍​ of wizards.

But‍⁠ now, no one​‌⁠ there could dare⁠ to despise him,‌‌‌ because the roar‍ of the golem⁠⁠ above was Samonte’s‌ triumphant cry.

“Look!‍‌ Look at that​ imposing figure!”

Roar!​

Finally,⁠‌ the giant that‍⁠​ had stood up​‍ roared in fury,​​‍ as if announcing‍‍⁠ its arrival to‍⁠ the world.

Samonte​ laughed like a madman, his face‍⁠‌ a mask of‌​ lunacy.

But⁠​ the dragon’s blue‍‌​ eyes only showed‌ a cold smile.​

“Excellent,‍​ Samonte.”

The‌​ mill, disguised until​ that moment, was‌‌ actually a giant‌ golem born of​​​ the mage’s madness.‍​

Even​‌ Sarnus, always composed,​⁠‌ allowed a smile⁠‌ to slip as​​ he admired the‌ monstrous creation.

“…My​ God.”

It​‌ was large enough‍‌⁠ to destroy the‍ hill.

The‍​ villagers, frozen in‌ awe, began to⁠‍‌ awaken from their​​ trance when they⁠ saw the golem​ moving closer.

Thud!‌‍‍ Thud!

“Huh?”​‍

Thud!⁠ Thud! Thud!

“Huh,‌​ huh?”

Each⁠ step of the‍‍‌ golem was a crashing boom that‌​ brought it closer‌‍‍ and closer.

But‍ as it advanced⁠⁠ toward Consuegra, fear​‌ replaced any reverence​ the villagers felt.‍​

“Where‍‌‍ is it going?”⁠

“It’s‍‌⁠ heading toward the‌ village!”

Because‍ the golem was⁠⁠ heading for the⁠⁠ village, an unstoppable‍ mass of machinery⁠ and magic.

Even‍‍‌ Samonte, the golem’s‍‍⁠ creator, was stunned.​​

“Th-this‍ can’t be!”

He​⁠​ frantically turned the‌‌ control levers, but‍‍‌ the golem wouldn’t​ respond.

It‍ kept moving forward,‌ its massive steps‍⁠ closing in on‍‌​ the gathered humans.​‍

Panic​ drained the color⁠​ from Samonte’s face.‍​

“Lord‍‍ Sarnus.”

“What’s‌‌ happening?”

“Th-this…”‍

Roar!‍

The⁠⁠ golem picked up‌ speed, venting steam​‌​ as it advanced‍​ like an enraged‌⁠ beast.

Now‌ Sarnus also understood​ the gravity of​ the situation.

“I’ll⁠ kill them all!”‌

Accompanying‍​ the golem’s roar,‍ a childlike voice⁠​ screamed.

No‍⁠ one else could⁠ hear it, but​‌⁠ it was the⁠ spirits trapped in​‍‍ the mill who⁠ cried out in​ rage.

“Now​‌​ you’ll suffer like‌ we did!”

A young world that‍​ was wounded because​‍‍ no one stepped‍⁠⁠ forward.

Now,‍ those worlds were‍‍ crying out to⁠ the humans, pouring⁠​‌ out their fury​ with no place‍⁠​ left to go.⁠‍​

***​

“Aghh!”⁠‌

Clang!‍ Clang!

Kihano‍ struggled against the⁠​ scorching heat emanating​‌ from behind him.​‍‌

The‍ hot air made⁠‌ him squeeze his‍​ eyes shut tightly;​‌ it was as⁠ if all that‌‌ heat was coming⁠​ from the trapped‍‍‍ spirits.

But⁠ what truly tormented‍⁠⁠ him wasn’t that⁠​‍ heat…

“This‌‌ is way too​​ high!”

“Try‍⁠ to stay quiet,⁠​ for a bit!”‍⁠⁠

There​ was Kihano, hanging‍​ precariously from the‌ tip of the⁠​ windmill blade, which‍‍ was finally starting​‍ to turn.

It‌⁠ had always been‌ a tall structure,‌⁠ but now that⁠ it was moving,​​⁠ it seemed even⁠‍​ higher.

He‌‌‍ had managed to‍‍​ escape the heat,‍​​ but now he‍‌‍ was trapped on​ the gigantic, rusted‍⁠ blades of the‌‌ windmill.

“I‌‍⁠ should have turned‍ into a sparrow‌ instead of a frog!”

“That⁠‍ really would’ve been‍​‍ adorable!”

Andrew⁠‌ kicked his legs‍‌ in fear, but⁠‌⁠ Kihano was no‌‍‌ less terrified.

“…Don’t​‌ you think my‌⁠ head just brushed​​‍ against a cloud?”‍

Being‍‌‍ so high up,⁠ he felt the⁠‌‌ cold air and‍⁠​ laughed nervously.

“It’s​‌‍ time to get‌​ down!”

“Aaaahhh!”​‌​

What​ goes up must‍⁠ come down.

When‍ the blade reached​‍‍ its lowest point,​ Kihano clenched his‍​ teeth and prepared⁠​​ himself.

“Not‌ even when I was born did​‍ I feel this!”​⁠

The⁠ ridiculous sensation of​ floating made the​‍‍ area below his​​‌ navel tingle as​‌ if it were‌⁠​ going to burst,‌​‍ but this was‍⁠ not a moment⁠⁠ when he could⁠​‌ simply squeeze his⁠ eyes shut like‌⁠‍ he had before.⁠

Thud!‌ Thud! Thud!

The​​‍ golem’s footsteps grew‍ closer and closer,‌​⁠ signaling that the​ ground was near.‌‌​

Kihano,⁠‌ who had already‍​ failed three times​‌‌ at landing and​⁠​ was feeling the‍​‌ dizzying slide, didn’t​ want to taste‌​⁠ the clouds with‍ his tongue any‌ longer.

“Hold‍ on tight!”

Kihano’s​ eyes glowed, concentrating⁠ on the precise​‍‍ moment.

When⁠ the windmill blade⁠​‍ passed near the⁠ golem’s knee, he‌‌ leaped.

“…!”​

At​‍ the moment the‌⁠ rotating blade came⁠ close to the⁠‌ golem’s knees, Kihano,​ aiming for that⁠‌‍ instant, jumped like‌‍⁠ a flying squirrel.‌​‍

There‌‌⁠ was a frog’s​‌‌ scream along with‍‍​ him, but Kihano’s⁠​ body was already⁠‌⁠ flying toward the‍ next landing point.⁠‌‍

“Waaah!”​​

You‌‌‍ couldn’t jump from‌​ a moving golem‌⁠ unless you had‌​​ the courage to‌‌ do it.

The‍⁠ difficulty level was​‍​ equivalent to stepping⁠‌ on the debris‍‍‌ of a collapsing​ building.

“Aren’t‍‍‍ we on the‌ ground yet?”

“You’ll⁠ see for yourself!”​⁠

“I‍⁠‌ have my eyes‌ closed!”

However,‍ Kihano descended with‍⁠ precision, landing on‍ each point he‍‍ had planned.

Even‌⁠⁠ Yan, who was⁠​ following him on⁠⁠‍ his donkey, watched​ with his mouth​⁠​ agape.

“Last​⁠‍ jump!”

Perfectly​‍ understanding the golem’s​⁠‍ movements, Kihano executed‌‍ his final maneuver.⁠‌‍

Kihano,‌ who had flown‌​‌ by following the​​​ motion, was now‌​ attempting the final⁠​ leap toward the​‍⁠ meadow.

“Aaaah!”⁠​

“Ribbit!”⁠

Although⁠⁠‍ the landing wasn’t⁠‌ perfect, at least‍‌ he was back‌⁠​ on solid ground.⁠⁠​

“Sir​ Kihano! Are you⁠⁠ all right?”

“….”​⁠‌

Kihano’s‍​ expression was so⁠‌ twisted that it​⁠‍ was hard to​ ask him what‌‌‌ had happened. His‍​⁠ brown hair was‍ mercilessly tousled by‍ the strong wind,‌‌ which did not​ help his appearance.‌‍

However,​ confirming that his​ feet had finally‌‌ touched the ground,⁠‍ Kihano tried to⁠​‌ steady his trembling​ legs and pointed⁠ at Yan.

“Take​ a potion out‌‌ of your backpack.‍​‌ It’s the one‌​‍ glowing green.”

“This‍ one?”

“Yes,⁠‍​ that one.”

The⁠‌ glass bottle Yan‍ pulled out glowed‍‌⁠ with an ominous‌‍ green light. However,‍⁠⁠ Kihano didn’t hesitate‍⁠​ to open it‍ and pour the‌⁠⁠ contents into his‌‌ mouth.

“Ugh!⁠​ Cough, cough!”

The​⁠ thick, concentrated taste​⁠⁠ of pine needles‍‌ tortured his tongue.​‌ The smell was​​‌ so strong that‌⁠ even Andrew, who‍ was lying face‍ down as if‌⁠‌ dead, opened his​​ eyes.

“…Where⁠​​ is it going​ now?”

Kihano,‌‌​ who had regained‍‍ his senses thanks‌‌ to the potion,‌ saw the golem‌‌ heading toward Consuegra.⁠‌​

The‍​‌ cries of the‌ spirits trapped inside‌‌‌ the golem, running‌‍​ as if ready‌​ to destroy the‍​‍ village, still echoed.⁠⁠‌

“It⁠​ looks like the‍⁠‍ giant is furious‌ about something. Also,‍‌‍ its eyes look‌⁠ red.”

“They’re​⁠‌ probably not eyes,⁠⁠ but windows.”

Understanding​⁠ what was happening⁠​ from the cries‌‌ of the spirits,‍‌​ Kihano quickly called‍ to Andrew.

“Wake‍‍ up already!”

“Ugh…‌‍ Where am I?”​​‌

“Quick,⁠‌​ come to your​⁠​ senses and get​ ready as I told you!”

Kihano⁠⁠ shook Andrew hard‌‍ to wake him⁠ up. Then, he‌‌​ adjusted his sword⁠ and began looking​ down the slope‍‌⁠ leading to the⁠​ village.

The​⁠ hills of Consuegra‌ were marked with‍ enormous footprints. Before,‍⁠⁠ the place had⁠‌ been full of​‍​ green grass, but​​ where the golem​‌ had passed, only​⁠​ dark earth remained.‍‌‍

“…Sir‌⁠‌ Kihano? Don’t tell‍‌⁠ me you’re going​​‌ to face the‌ golem again.”

Yan’s⁠ eyes widened in⁠‌‌ disbelief at the​ sight of Kihano‍‌‍ preparing his gear.‍ However, Kihano’s gaze​‍ was firm and⁠‌ determined, as if‍​ he had already​​ made up his‌‌ mind.

“But​ someone has to​‌​ do something.”

“What?”‍​​

Yan‌‍ couldn’t hear the‌⁠ spirits’ cries, but​‍‌ Kihano’s ears were‌‍ still filled with‌ those laments. The⁠‍​ child who had⁠‍ been hiding inside‍ Kihano began to‍‍​ awaken with that‌‍⁠ sound.

The⁠​ world of the‍‍‍ spirits, connected through⁠‍ his wounds, was‌‌ no different from‍ his own world​​​ now.

“Someone​‌ has to step‌ up for them.”​

Remembering‌⁠‌ the time when‌⁠⁠ no one had,⁠ Kihano decided that‍​ this time, he‌ would.

“Take‍⁠​ this.”

“Kihano?‍ Sir Kihano!”

Kihano⁠‍ handed Yan a bundle of white⁠ papers and ran‌‍ toward the massive⁠​ golem-windmill. Yan’s anxious‍ voice was left⁠ behind, but Kihano‌ was already charging⁠ toward the village.​⁠

“…What‍ is this?”

Now​‌​ alone on the​‍ hill, Yan looked‍​​ at the papers‌ Kihano had given⁠ him. They were​‌‍ the blueprints showing⁠‌‍ how Samonte’s windmill‍​ was constructed, filled⁠ with various diagrams.​‍⁠ Yan focused on⁠⁠‍ a note written​ in red letters⁠‌⁠ at the bottom.‍⁠​

“Emergency‍⁠‍ braking device?”

Samonte’s⁠‌ golem continued advancing​⁠⁠ toward the village.​ Kihano ran down​​ the hill to​‍ stop it.

His‌​ sword was small,‍⁠ and the enemy‍ gigantic, but what​⁠​ now shone in‍​ Kihano’s left eye​‌ was the world‌ he had forgotten.‌‍

The‌ child crying within‍‌⁠ him slowly raised‍​‌ his head, guided⁠⁠⁠ by the starlight‍‍ filtering through his‌ connected world.

Biography‌‍ of Kihano.

***​

Thud!⁠ Thud! Thud!

Each⁠‍ footstep made the‌​ earth tremble, as‌‍‍ if the very‌ ground was about​⁠‌ to crack. The‍⁠ vibrations could be‍‍ felt even from‌​⁠ a distance, but⁠‌ as the golem‍‍ approached, fear reflected‌ on the faces‌‌‌ of the villagers.⁠​‌

“It’s⁠​ headed for the‌ village!”

“There​ are children in⁠‍‍ the village!”

Consuegra,‍​⁠ a quiet place‌‌​ on a remote⁠⁠ corner of the⁠⁠ Barony of Turrek,⁠‌ had never faced⁠​‌ a crisis like​​ this.

The​​‌ people, finally aware⁠‌‌ of the danger,​ ran toward the⁠ village. However, their‍ movements were far‌ too slow compared‌​‌ to the strides‌ of the golem.‍

“Lord‍‌ Sarnus! Help us!”‍⁠

“Stop⁠‌​ the golem! That​ giant is heading‍ straight for the‌ village!”

The​ only being they‍ could trust was​ a dragon born‌ of perfection. Without​ hesitation, the villagers‍‌ fell to their⁠ knees and desperately⁠ pleaded with Sarnus.⁠‍​ Yet the cold​​ blue eyes of‍ the dragon didn’t‌⁠ turn toward the⁠​⁠ people begging him.​

“Is⁠​ it impossible to⁠⁠‍ control it?”

“Uh?⁠⁠⁠ No, technically not…”‌‌​

“Be‍‍⁠ honest.”

Samonte‌ tried to stammer​‍⁠ an excuse, but⁠​​ for some reason,‌‌ he couldn’t open​ his mouth easily​ in front of​ Sarnus. The world‍⁠ of Sarnus grew‌‌‍ larger the longer​ you looked at⁠ him. As a rightful ruler, his‌⁠⁠ gaze emitted a force impossible to​ defy.

“…I’m‌‍​ sorry.”

The⁠‌‍ last chance vanished‌ in a powerless⁠‍ failure. Samonte, consumed⁠​ by despair, bowed⁠ his head. However,‌​ a subtle smile⁠⁠‍ appeared on Sarnus’s‌​ face.

“This⁠ is even better.”⁠​

“What?”​⁠

The⁠‌ gigantic golem advanced⁠‌ toward Consuegra. The‌⁠ destruction was no‌ accident; it was‌​​ the purpose of​⁠ Sarnus’s experiment. What⁠‍‍ mattered wasn’t controlling‌⁠‌ the golem but‌ how much it​⁠​ could crush.

“Wasn’t⁠⁠ this golem created​​‌ to face the⁠‍ southern beast tribes?⁠‍ Testing it here‌‌ wouldn’t be so​‌ bad.”

“….”⁠

The‍ golem, born for​‍​ destruction, had absorbed‌ the cries of‍‌⁠ the young spirits.⁠‍ Sarnus did not⁠‌ hear the villagers’‍ laments or the​⁠‌ spirits’ screams. He⁠​‍ only saw the‍⁠⁠ target in front⁠⁠​ of him.

“Hmm?”⁠

But⁠‌⁠ there was one‍ person who could​‍⁠ reach into Sarnus’s‌⁠​ world.

“Hold‍ on just a little longer!”

A man whose potential⁠⁠⁠ was so brilliant⁠‍‍ that even dragons‌​⁠ feared it. Kihano‌‍​ ran downhill, charging‍ straight toward the‌ golem.

“I’ll‍‍⁠ stop it immediately!”​

“Kihano…‌ Frausen.”

A man who hadn’t⁠‌⁠ been there when​‍ he was needed.​‍ Kihano Frausen. But⁠‍‍ as he ran​⁠ toward where he​‍ should be, he⁠‍‌ shone like that⁠ boy of the‍⁠ past.

***⁠‍‌

Thud!‌ Thud! Thud!

The‌ vibrations traveling through⁠‍⁠ the air seemed⁠ to shake his‌⁠ insides.

But‌‌ Kihano, sliding down​​​ the hill, didn’t⁠‌‌ have a second‍ to hesitate.

‘If‍‍‍ it keeps going,⁠‌ it’ll reach the⁠ village!’

He​⁠⁠ didn’t need to⁠‌‍ hear the spirits’⁠‍​ screams to know.‍⁠

Samonte’s‍⁠ mill was heading​‌ straight for the​⁠ village.

He⁠​‍ didn’t even need⁠​​ to imagine what‌‍ would happen if​⁠ the enraged golem​ reached the village.​‍‌

“I​ can’t let that‌ happen!”

Kihano⁠ drew his sword‍ and ran toward‌​ the golem’s feet.⁠⁠

The‍ distance was so​‍ dangerous that it⁠⁠ seemed he could‌ be crushed at⁠‌‍ any moment, but‌ his shining eyes‍‌ calmly focused on​⁠​ the golem’s descending‌ feet.

Thud!⁠

“One!”​

Thud!‌‌

“Two!”⁠​‍

There‌‌ was a time⁠ when he believed​‍​ he could achieve‍​ any goal, no‍ matter how impossible‌‍⁠ it seemed.

In​‍‌ those days, he⁠​ feared no opponent.​⁠

Thud!‍

“…Three!”⁠⁠‌

But‍⁠ now, reality had​ caught up to‍​ him. He was​ just Kihano, a pathetic version of​​​ his childhood self⁠ who had dreamed‌⁠⁠ of being great.​

To​‌‌ redeem himself, Kihano⁠ leaped toward the​ golem’s foot.

Crash!‍

“Ugh!”‍​‌

The⁠⁠ dust that splashed‌‌⁠ his face was‌​ rough, and the​ violently blowing wind​‍‍ was cutting.

Conditions⁠‌‍ impossible to endure⁠​ for an ordinary‌ person.

But‍ Kihano didn’t let‌​⁠ go, climbing up​ with the golem’s‌‍⁠ foot.

The‍​ eyes of the‌‌ child watching from‌‍ his inner world​‌ drew closer and‌ closer to the‍​​ sky.

“Emergency‌⁠ brake!”

Samonte’s‍ emergency brake had⁠ three parts.

The‌⁠ first on the‌⁠ left knee.

The​‌ second at the⁠‌ center of the‍‌‌ waist.

And⁠‍‍ the third at‍ the axle of‍‍ the still-furiously spinning⁠‍⁠ blades.

“First,⁠​‌ the knee!”

When​ the golem’s foot‌‍ reached its highest‍​ point, Kihano climbed‍ up quickly.

It⁠⁠​ was just a fleeting moment when​ the foot briefly‌‍ paused before taking⁠⁠⁠ the next step.⁠⁠​

But​‌‌ that brief instant⁠​ was all he‌ needed to move‌⁠ freely.

“Grrr!”​‌

He​⁠ regretted his past⁠​⁠ self.

He’d​ had time, but‌‌‌ he froze.

But‍ now, the time‌‍ left to him‌⁠‍ offered a last​⁠ chance he didn’t‍ intend to waste.‌⁠

“Haaaa!”​​‍

Kihano‌‌ jumped from the‌‌⁠ left foot of⁠⁠ the golem, which‍ was quickly descending.​

A risky jump, with‌‌‌ no support.

It⁠⁠‌ seemed insane, but‌‍ his decision was‌​‍ correct. In front⁠‍ of him, the‌ golem’s knee descended.⁠‌

Crash!​​‍

“Ugh!”‍⁠‍

Metal‍‍ fragments grazed his‍ cheek.

But​ Kihano smiled despite‍⁠ the blood running⁠​ down his face.‍⁠‌

He‌​ had found what‍​ he was looking​ for.

“…I​‌⁠ found it.”

A small, barely visible⁠​‍ red mark.

Clinging⁠‍‍ to the golem’s‍​ knee, he saw​ the emergency brake‌ marked in red.‌

“Why⁠‍ don’t we stop⁠​ and have a little chat?”

His​ sword gleamed with⁠‌ a light so‌​‌ intense that even‌‍ Sarnus, from afar,‌⁠‌ could see it.‍

“Haa!”‌‌⁠

Crash!‍⁠⁠

A small gear hidden⁠​‍ in the dark‍ interior.

The​‌‍ piece that controlled​ the knee’s movement​‍‍ shattered into pieces​ with Kihano’s sword.​‌‌

Roar!‌‍⁠

***‌​‍

Rumble!‍

A corner of the​‌ hill collapsed due‌⁠ to the sudden‌‌‌ lurch of the‌‍​ golem.

The‍ heavy structure couldn’t‌​ support its own‍ weight, leaving heaps⁠‌​ of dark earth​ in its wake.‍⁠‍

The⁠ villagers, watching from‌ a nearby hill,‌ covered their mouths⁠ in astonishment.

Some⁠​⁠ noticed a bright⁠​​ light on the‍​⁠ golem.

“What’s​ that?”

Even‌​ through the dust,‌ an unusual light⁠ shone.

That‍⁠‌ light climbed quickly⁠‍ from the golem’s‍⁠ knee to its‌‌ waist.

-Now‍‌ stop!

“…It’s…⁠‍ it’s a person.”‍⁠⁠

“How‌​ can there be⁠​ a person there?”‌⁠

Roar!​‍

The​‌⁠ golem, whose left⁠‍ leg wouldn’t move‌​‌ at all, was⁠⁠⁠ caught by the⁠‍‌ ankle and roared​ loudly.

But‌‍​ everyone’s eyes fixed‍ on Kihano, who‍ kept striking with⁠‍ his sword.

“…It’s⁠‍​ Kihano! Sir Kihano!”⁠​

“Kihano⁠ of Frausen! He’s‌‍ the guest from⁠‌ our inn!”

Destruction​⁠ continued approaching the​‍ village, but the​ guards didn’t move,‍⁠‍ and Sarnus’s eyes‌‌ remained cold.

People​​​ who were in‌​ the right place⁠ but didn’t do‌​‌ what they should.​‌⁠

Yet,⁠⁠‌ even in that‌ moment of despair,⁠ there remained a knight willing to⁠‌‍ do what was‌‌ necessary for them.‌‌‍

“Sir‌‌​ Kihano is destroying​ the golem!”

“Oh⁠‌ heavens!”

An‌ enemy far too​ big for a mere human.

Stopping⁠‍‌ the golem was​​ an impossible dream,​​⁠ but in front⁠ of the villagers,‌‌‍ a man was​⁠ making it reality.‍‍‍

“…This‍ is the second​⁠ one!”

Sweat‍⁠ ran down his‌ chin and dripped‌‌ onto the red‍​‍ mark.

He​‌ was exhausted, and​‍ his sword trembled.‍‌​

But⁠‍‌ his eyes remained‍ fixed on his‌​‍ goal.

Crash!‍⁠

Roar!​

The⁠​ second brake, at‌⁠ the waist, broke.‌⁠⁠

The⁠‍ lower half of‍‍⁠ the golem froze​ completely.

-Sir‌ Kihano is destroying‍​​ the mill!

-Kihano​ of Frausen!

-The‌ pride of the⁠‌ town of La⁠ Mancha stands before‌ us!

“….”‌

The​‌‌ cries of joy​​ resounded around him.‌​

It​⁠ was the respect‍⁠ and admiration deserved‍‌ by a knight⁠ who protected a world that couldn’t‍⁠ defend itself.

But⁠‌​ behind those cheers,‌​⁠ the eyes of​⁠ a dragon remained​‍ cold.

“It’s‍​ done, Lord Sarnus!”‍​

The‌ villagers were thanking‌ the knight instead⁠ of the dragon.​‌

Sarnus’s‌‍ heart burned with⁠​ rage, but Samonte‌ didn’t notice.

“I​‌⁠ don’t know what‌ happened, but Kihano⁠⁠ disabled the brake…!​‍ The legs are‌‍​ useless, but the‌⁠‍ arms still work!”⁠​‌

“Can‍​ it still move?”​​

The‍‌​ world of Kihano,​‍‍ seen through Sarnus’s⁠‍ closed left eye,‍ was like a wounded flower.

But‌‌ even a wounded‌​⁠ flower can reach‌​​ the stars if⁠‍‍ it keeps dreaming.⁠‍

“In‍‌⁠ that case, let’s‌‌​ test it now.”​

Sarnus⁠‌ smiled as he​‍ made a slicing‍ gesture.

At​​‍ the same time,‌⁠ Sarnus’s fingers traced‍​‌ a line across​ the back of‌​ his neck.

“How⁠​ about it? If⁠‌⁠ I can, I promise to offer​‌‌ you my full​‌ support in the​ future.”

“….”‍​​

But⁠ only perfect dragons‍ can reach the‌ sky above.

Sarnus⁠‌‍ whispered softly as⁠‍ he watched how⁠‌ the trampled possibilities​ regained their color.‍‍

“Kill‌‍​ him.”

***⁠‍‌

“Hahh!‌⁠ Hahh!”

Kihano​​‍ was climbing the‍ mill, dragging his‌‌‌ already exhausted body.⁠⁠‍

Even‌​‌ though the golem‍​ was now still‍ and only emitted‌‌​ wails toward the‍⁠⁠ village, Kihano still​ had a task‌⁠⁠ to complete.

“It‌‌⁠ hurts! It hurts⁠⁠ so much!”

“Please,⁠‌ someone get us⁠‍ out of here!”​

“…Hold​‍ on a little‌ longer.”

The⁠​‌ cries kept coming‌ from the top‍ of the mill.‌⁠

Though​​ the people behind⁠‌​ him were celebrating,‍​‍ they couldn’t hear‍‍‌ the wails of⁠⁠‌ the young spirits.​

Only​⁠‌ Kihano could perceive​​ those cries as⁠⁠​ he climbed toward‍​⁠ the final emergency‍‌ brake.

“Kihano!”‍⁠‍

“…!!”‍⁠

Suddenly,​⁠⁠ a sound rumbled⁠⁠⁠ like thunder in⁠​ his mind. It⁠‍ was a warning‌⁠ from the mage⁠⁠‌ connected through their​‌ bond.

“Look‌ up!”

Perhaps⁠ because he was‌ so exhausted, he⁠ hadn’t noticed the​⁠⁠ lethal presence in‌‍ time.

A sharp threat bared⁠ its fangs above⁠ his head.

“What‌⁠ the hell is‍⁠ that now?!”

The​‌ golem’s right arm,‌​ as tall as‌‍⁠ a mountain, was‌ descending upon him.​​​

It‍‌ looked like a meteor falling from‌​ the sky. But⁠‍‍ Kihano noticed too‌⁠​ late; there was​⁠ no way to​ escape.

“Jump!”⁠⁠

Suddenly,‍ a strange sensation​ coursed through his​​‍ legs.

It​‍‍ was the mage’s⁠​​ power transmitted through‌ their connection.

“Jump​‍ like a frog!”⁠‌‍

“…!”⁠

The​‍⁠ contact with Andrew⁠‍ had expanded Kihano’s​‍ world. Thus, his​⁠ body adopted the‍ agility of Andrew’s‌ legs.

Crash!​

A devastating blow struck,⁠‍‌ with no concern⁠⁠ for whether his​ body would shatter.‍ As debris flew‍ everywhere, Samonte raised⁠‍​ his hand to⁠ control the golem,‌ but a silhouette⁠ emerged even higher.⁠

“I⁠​​ told you to⁠ be a sparrow,‍​ not a frog!”​

Hop!⁠

The‌⁠‍ jumping power of⁠​‍ a frog can​​ reach up to‍ twenty times its⁠⁠ size.

Therefore,‍⁠ Kihano soared into‌ the sky, so​‌ high that he⁠‌​ could look over‍‌ the mill.

“…And​⁠ how am I going to get⁠ down now?!”

For​ a moment, Kihano​⁠ ascended to the‍​ highest point in​ the world.

Seeing⁠ the sky he​⁠ had dreamed of‍ as a child,‍⁠⁠ the small boy⁠​ inside him smiled​‍​ brightly.

***‌‌

“Good​ positioning!”

Seeing​ Kihano in the⁠ air, Andrew began​‌ to chant a spell quickly.

“Good‌⁠‍ positioning? At this​⁠‌ rate, Kihano is⁠‌ going to die!”​

From‌⁠‌ within the old​‍⁠ brass basin, Andrew‍‍ closed his eyes.​ Yan called to⁠​‌ him desperately, but⁠‍‍ Andrew’s magical gesture‍ had already transcended​​‌ the skies.

“…Clouds‌​ of Mambrino, I summon you now.”⁠‍⁠

The‌‌‍ Clouds of Mambrino,‍‌⁠ more powerful than‍‍ any other force‍‌‌ Andrew could invoke.‍​‍

It⁠‍⁠ was an impossible​⁠​ spell without the‌ enchanted golden helmet,​‍ but with its‍⁠‌ aid, he could‍ achieve it for‍​​ a brief moment.‍⁠⁠

“The‍​‌ nobility of ideals‍​ deserves a blue⁠‌⁠ sky.”

Rumble!⁠

Blue​ clouds gathered above‌⁠​ the sky where​ Kihano was ascending.‌

“Impossible⁠‌ dreams deserve white‍​ lightning.”

Crack!⁠‌

White⁠‍ lightning began to⁠ form. The sudden‍‍ storm painted the‍​⁠ hills of Consuegra⁠ white.

“Let​ the colors I summon deceive the‌​ world!”

Even‍‍⁠ though his current⁠​ form was that‍ of a humble‍‌‌ frog.

Nevertheless,‍​‌ the name he‌​⁠ was given when‌​⁠ he was human‌‍ was the Great‍‍ Mage of Mambrino.⁠‌​ Andrew, the summoner‍ of lightning.

“Ahhhh!”⁠​

A heavy rain began‌‌​ to fall over​ the hill where‍⁠ the spirits wept.⁠‍​

Amid‍⁠ the flashes of‍​‌ white lightning, Kihano​ descended with a celestial light.

“This‌‍ is the final‍‍⁠ blow!”

A white bolt fell⁠‌​ for the young‌‍ spirits who had‍ called to him.⁠⁠​

The‌‍ white lightning that⁠‍ the boy had‌‌⁠ embraced descended with‌ Kihano, burning his‌ left eye and‍‍​ striking the Samonte​ mill.

Boom!​

A flower was blooming.​‌⁠

His‌‍ faith in himself‍ had carried him​ to the stars.‍​

The‍‍ hill of Consuegra⁠⁠ shone with a brilliance so intense‍ that even the‌⁠ dragon could not‌‌‌ ignore it, and⁠‌ the blades of​⁠​ the mill shattered.‍

***⁠

To‌‍ dream the impossible.​‌

To⁠ defeat invincible enemies,‍

to​ endure unbearable pain,‍⁠

to‌ die for noble‍‌ ideals.

To​ right wrongs,

to​​‌ love with purity‌​ and kindness.

To‌⁠​ fall in love​‍​ with impossible dreams,‍

and⁠‌​ thus, with faith,⁠ reach for the‍⁠ stars.

That​‌⁠ is the mission‌ and duty of‌ a true knight.​

From‌​ the novel Don‌⁠ Quixote.

Chapteer‍‌‌ 279: Extra 19⁠ – Kihano – For Another Encounter​‍ (End)
A tower stood‍‍‌ proudly, as if​ trying to pierce‍‍ the sky.

And​​‍ towards that tower,​⁠⁠ a bolt of‌‌⁠ lightning descended with​ fury.

“Huaaaaah!”‍‍

Crack-boom!‌‌‍

With‍ a deafening roar,‍​ the top of‌‌‍ the windmill began‍‌ to explode.

Seen‍‌‌ from a distance,‌⁠ it looked like‌​ a rain of‌‌‌ fireworks scattering into​​‌ countless fragments.

The⁠‌ villagers, upon seeing‌ the countless luminous​‍⁠ particles coloring the‌ hill, began to‍‍ cover their mouths‍‌‍ in astonishment.

“…One​​ device remains.”

However,⁠​‍ the lightning that​ had started in‍‌ the sky had‌‍‌ not yet lost⁠⁠​ its brilliance.

Kihano’s‍⁠ left eye, wide​‍ open, still glowed​‌ with a white‍​​ light.

The‌​⁠ knight Kihano, who​‍ had drawn his⁠ sword for the⁠ young spirits still‍ suffering, descended down⁠⁠‍ the golem’s shoulder‍​​ with the lightning​ he had borrowed‍ from the sky.​⁠​

Roooooar!‍⁠

The⁠ lightning, which had‍‌ started from the​‍ head, traveled down‌ the shoulder and‌‌ reached the blades.​⁠‌

Samonte,‌‌​ realizing where that‍ current was headed,‌ quickly manipulated his‍​ controller, but Kihano’s‍ sharp perception had⁠‍‌ already anticipated the​‍‍ golem’s movements.

—Kihano!​​ Strike again!

Andrew‍⁠‌ issued another warning⁠ upon seeing the​ golem’s fist descending​​‍ from above.

However,​‍ upon what happened‌ next, even he​‌⁠ could only watch​⁠ with his mouth‌⁠‍ agape.

“…What⁠ is that?”

The‍‍ golem’s arm was‌​ rising towards the​​‌ sky.

As⁠⁠⁠ if someone were‍​ pulling it with‍⁠ tremendous force.

Everyone⁠ present raised their‍ heads to witness​ such an absurd⁠ scene.

“Grrr!”⁠‍⁠

Beneath⁠ the golem’s arm,⁠ which was slowly⁠​ lifting, Kihano remained​ clinging to his​ sword, gritting his⁠ teeth.

Crack-crack-boom!⁠

A sensation as if‍‍‍ an entire mountain⁠ were being shifted.‍‌

Kihano’s⁠ sword, clashing against​ the golem’s fist,‍⁠​ sparked and emitted​ a metallic screech,‌ but his wrist‌⁠ did not stop⁠⁠⁠ moving, twisting the​​‍ golem’s strength.

“Huaaaaah!”⁠

A defensive dueling technique,‍ deflecting the opponent’s‌‌ strike with a circular motion.

A technique difficult to‍‍​ execute even in​‍‍ combat between humans​ was now being‌‌​ performed against Samonte’s​‍ windmill.

“Kihano…⁠‍ Frausen. So, in⁠‌ the end…”

Kihano’s‍‍‌ body, burning with​‌​ white light, looked​ like a star.⁠

Sarnus,‍ understanding the meaning​ of this sight,⁠​ began to tremble‍ visibly, as if‍​ struck by a storm.

“Just​ a little… more…”‍‍⁠

Crack!⁠ Crackle!

A sound of breaking​‌ so loud it⁠​‌ was heard even​​ from the hill.​‌​

The​ sound came from⁠ the golem’s shoulder⁠​‍ joint, which had‍‌⁠ exceeded its limit.​‍‍

Unable⁠ to withstand its‍⁠⁠ own force, the​​ golem’s arm twisted​ grotesquely, and the​‌⁠ windmill let out⁠⁠⁠ a cry of​​ agony.

Rooooar!‍

Beyond​⁠ the arm of​‍ the golem, which‌ Kihano had repelled,​⁠ something became visible.‌​​

The⁠ windmill blades, still‍‌ squeezing the young‍⁠ spirits.

“Now‌⁠ I see it.”‌

A picture he had‌ once imagined, wondering​​ if he could‍⁠ ever make it⁠‌⁠ real.

However,‌​ what he saw‍ now matched that​⁠ picture exactly.

“….”​

A beam of light‌ emanated from Kihano‌‌ as he discovered‌‍⁠ that final moment.‌

It‍​ was a light⁠‍ similar to that‍‍‌ of a star‌ borrowed from the‍ sky by a child.

With​‍ that light reflected⁠‌ in his left⁠​‌ eye, Kihano aimed‍‌ at the axis‍‌​ of the blades.‌‌

“Huaaaaaah!”​

For‍ the children who​‍ cried because no‌ one had stepped‍ forward.

A starlight thrown for​⁠⁠ them illuminated the‍‍⁠ hill of Consuegra​⁠⁠ as it rushed⁠​⁠ toward the golem’s‌ chest.

Crash!⁠​⁠

With‌‌ the sound of​‍‍ something shattering, Samonte’s‍ windmill began to‍​‌ harden like a stone statue.

With​‍‌ its left arm‌⁠⁠ still extended towards‍​⁠ the sky.

From‌​⁠ that immobile arm,​‍ lights of many‌ colors began to​ flow.

“I‌ did it.”

Kihano​‌ smiled with satisfaction‍ as he gazed​⁠⁠ at that light.⁠‍⁠

A star that had‌⁠ fulfilled its duty​ and was now‌⁠​ falling, while many‍ others began to​‌‌ rise towards the‍‍​ sky.

At‍⁠ the point where‍‌ they intersected, there‍⁠ was a glow‍​ never seen before.‍​‌

***‍​

“…Is‍‍ that an aurora?”‍​

From⁠ the top of​‍‍ a hill covered‍ in rubble, Kihano‍⁠ smiled weakly.

Although‌‍‌ his body lay‍‌⁠ exhausted, he could​‌​ afford to smile⁠​ thanks to the​‌ rippling waves of​​ light shining above⁠ his head.

“With​‍ a view like‍⁠ this, it wasn’t⁠‌⁠ a bad gamble.”⁠​‌

The⁠‍⁠ young spirits, freed⁠​ from human hands,⁠‌‌ fluttered happily, painting‌‍‌ the sky with‌ their own colors.‌⁠

It⁠‌ was a scene⁠​ that looked like‌ an immense silk⁠​ mantle covering the​​ heavens. Upon witnessing‌​⁠ this sky, visible‍ only because he‍‌ had decided not⁠⁠⁠ to look away,‍ Kihano slightly raised⁠ his hand and⁠ waved softly.

“Goodbye.”​⁠‍

A fire-breathing lizard, a shining butterfly, a tiny squid the‍⁠ size of a fingernail, and a small white snake‌⁠ that stared at‍ him with its‌ tiny eyes.

Although⁠​​ many of these‍​‌ small beings still‍​‍ hovered around him,​​ Kihano, already exhausted,​ could no longer⁠‍ understand their words.‍⁠⁠

“Yes,⁠⁠ I know. See‌​‍ you later.”

So​⁠‌ he could only​‍⁠ bid farewell with⁠​ a promise for‍ another time.

He‍‍‌ didn’t know when⁠‌ it would be,‌ but if fate​ allowed it, they⁠⁠ would meet again.​⁠​

As‍‌ if understanding his‌ words, the young‌​ spirits surrendered one‍ by one to​‌ the aurora dancing‌⁠ in the sky.‌​

“…It’s‍‍​ beautiful to see‌​⁠ it this way.”‍‍

Smiling​​ as he watched​ them depart, Kihano‌ admired the sky⁠ he could now‌‌⁠ see because he‍ had not turned​​​ away.

At​‍ last, the sky​⁠‌ he gazed upon‌​ was filled with⁠​ stars, twinkling endlessly‌ towards him.

***​⁠

At​⁠ some point in‌ the summer, in⁠ a small nameless⁠ village.

Not​ far from Consuegra,‌‌ the local tavern⁠​‌ buzzed with lively⁠‍ chatter due to‍​ the circulating rumors.‌‌⁠

“They​​ say he brought‍‌ down a giant‍‍​ golem.”

“A‍‍ golem controlled by‍​ an evil mage!⁠‌ And it wasn’t‌‍​ a dragon, but‍ a human knight!”⁠⁠‌

“What‍​‌ was his name‌ again? I think​‌ it was Kihano⁠‍ of La Mancha.”‍⁠‌

Kihano​‍​ of La Mancha.​‌

The‍ knight who defended‍ the village of⁠‍‍ Consuegra from the⁠​​ wicked golem.

The‌​ rumors, recounting that‍ grand and spectacular⁠‍ scene, continued to‌‍ spread from town‍⁠‍ to town, from‌‍ city to city,‍⁠ further glorifying Kihano’s‍‌ name.

“Ah,​‌ you’ve done something‍‍‌ huge this time.”⁠⁠⁠

However,​ Kihano himself, the‌ protagonist of the‌⁠​ rumor, couldn’t even‍‍ swallow the bread‍‌ stuffed in his‍ cheeks. With a comical expression, he​​‌ tilted his head.⁠‍

“What​ did I tell​​ you before you‍​ left?”

“….”⁠⁠‍

“I​‌ told you to‍‌ lay low. To‌​ avoid drawing as⁠ much attention as‍ possible.”

It⁠⁠ was a village‍‍ he had reached‌‌ after leaving Consuegra.‍​

There,​​⁠ Kihano was enjoying‍‍‌ warm bread after⁠⁠‌ a long time.​⁠

But⁠⁠⁠ because of Perez,‍ who sat across​⁠ from him, he​‌‌ couldn’t swallow it‍‌​ and only moved‌​ his eyes from‍ side to side.‌‌

“And⁠‍‍ you’re telling me‌​‌ you destroyed a golem? And not​​‌ just any golem,‍‍ but one funded‍⁠ by Dragulia!”

“Haaa.‍⁠‌ I did it⁠‌ because it was​ necessary….”

“And​‍ on top of​‍ that, you handed​⁠ the key to‍‍ the cell to‍‌ the imprisoned elf?”⁠‍‌

Gulp.​‍

In‍ the silent table,⁠‍ someone swallowed nervously.​​

It⁠‌ wasn’t Kihano, who‌ still had his‍ mouth full of⁠ bread, but the‌ young Yan, sitting⁠‍ beside him. Unlike⁠ Kihano, who was​‌ pretending to be‌‌⁠ clueless, Yan trembled​⁠⁠ like a leaf,​ unable to hide‌⁠ his anxiety.

“It’s⁠‌ strange. I’m sure​‍ I handed it⁠​ over discreetly.”

“….”‍‍

Seeing​‌ that Kihano didn’t​‍ even attempt to‍​⁠ make an excuse,‌‍⁠ Perez’s face began‌⁠ to harden.

Bringing⁠ down an out-of-control‌ golem could be‌ justified, so it⁠⁠ was a matter⁠ that could be‌‌ resolved.

However,‌ releasing an elf‍‌ who was under⁠‍⁠ Sarnus’s custody was⁠ a far more‍​⁠ complicated issue, even‌ for someone of‌ the Frausen lineage.‌‍

“…Don’t⁠​‌ go near the​ capital for a while.”

Clink.​⁠

With​⁠ those words, Perez⁠​‌ placed a rather⁠​⁠ heavy pouch on​ the table.

The​ weight of those‍​ gold coins seemed⁠ to tell him‌ to leave as​⁠‌ soon as possible​​ and stay far‍ away for a long time.

“Leave⁠​​ as soon as‌ you can. Word‍ is already spreading⁠ that Dragulia is⁠‌ taking action.”

The​​​ order to leave‌​‌ sounded cold, but‌​ the words he‍​ added afterward revealed​⁠ sincere concern for‌‌ his brother.

Kihano,‍⁠​ who had now⁠‍‍ humiliated Dragulia twice—a‍⁠‌ family that pursued‍​ perfection—was beginning to‍ shine brightly with​⁠​ potential.

The‌⁠ old reputation of‍‌ *”Frausen’s parasite”* was‌​‍ no longer enough‍​ to protect him.⁠

“I​ suppose we couldn’t‍ hide it forever.”‌‍⁠

Young‍​​ birds must leave⁠​ the nest at⁠ some point, whether‌ by choice or⁠‍ by external circumstances.⁠⁠

Looking⁠​​ at his brother,​⁠ who had taken‍‌‌ so long to​⁠‌ spread his wings,‌​ Perez stood up‌​​ from his seat.‌

“…Brother.”⁠

If⁠ he left now,‌​​ they didn’t know​ when they would⁠‌ see each other⁠ again. However, Perez⁠ showed no hesitation‌⁠​ as he exited​‌ the tavern.

It‌ was a determined‌‌‍ and firm farewell,‍​​ as if he‌‌ were showing Kihano‍‍​ what he also⁠ needed to do.​⁠​

But‌ for Kihano, who‌‍​ still wasn’t used‌​‌ to goodbyes, all‌‌ he could do⁠⁠ was murmur “brother”‌​ as he watched​​ Perez’s back moving‌‍ away.

***‌

After‌ winter came spring.‌‍ And now, summer​‍‍ was full of‌⁠‌ green leaves.

The‍​‍ knight, the boy,‍‍‌ and a frog​​ walked amidst that‌​‍ season and stopped​⁠ for a moment⁠⁠ when they reached​ a crossroads.

“Which⁠⁠ way do we‍‍​ go now?”

The​⁠⁠ road split into​​​ four directions: east,‌​​ west, south, and⁠​​ north.

Without‍​⁠ a clear destination,‌​​ Kihano couldn’t help‌‌​ but look thoughtful.​

Luckily,‍‍‌ he knew not​‌ to head north,‌‍​ where the capital‌‍⁠ lay, so at​​ least that option‍‍​ was ruled out.‌

“How⁠​ about heading east?​‍⁠ I know a wizard there, and​ we might get⁠‍ information about my⁠‌ body.”

“I’d​ prefer we head‌ south. Lord Perez​‍ said we should‌‍ be careful about‌⁠‌ dragons.”

“….”‍⁠

Should⁠ he go east‍‍⁠ for Andrew, or‌‌ should he follow‍‌​ Perez’s advice and‌⁠ head south?

Both​⁠⁠ suggestions had valid​ reasons, which made‌ choosing difficult.

But‌‍‍ suddenly, Kihano turned⁠​ his head upon‌​⁠ hearing the trill‍ of a bird⁠​ coming from a completely different direction.‍‍‌

“What’s​‍⁠ that?”

Flying‍ above his head,‌​ a bird seemed​ to demand that‍ he make a decision quickly.

It​‍ was a messenger‍⁠⁠ hawk, but unlike‌​‍ the usual ones,​ it had the‌ powerful wings of‌​‌ a falcon, a species only seen​⁠ in the far​ west.

“…A‌ drawing?”

The‌⁠ hawk descended lightly‍‌ onto his outstretched⁠ arm.

In‌‌‍ the messaging tube,‌⁠⁠ which was thicker⁠‌‌ than usual for‌ a bird of‍​‌ its size, there‌‌ wasn’t an ordinary​‌ letter, but an​‌⁠ anonymous illustration.

“What’s​ this, Lord Kihano?”⁠

“I‍⁠ don’t know.”

Kihano⁠ scratched his head​⁠ as the hawk⁠ adjusted its wings.‍⁠

“But⁠‍‌ this style feels‍ familiar.”

After⁠ observing the drawing⁠‍ for a while,‌‍ Kihano felt it‌​​ was both strange‌ and familiar at​ the same time.‌⁠

Every​⁠ meticulous brushstroke seemed⁠⁠ like the work‍​⁠ of a true⁠​ master.

It⁠‍⁠ was as if⁠ the landscape he‌‌‌ was seeing had⁠‌ been captured alive‌⁠​ on paper. This‍ illustration reminded him‌ clearly of one​‌‍ he had seen​ before.

“Consuegra…”‌⁠​

The​‍ same scene he‍⁠‍ had seen from​ a dark prison,⁠‍ but which now‌ seemed illuminated in​‍‍ his mind.

Remembering‌ the silver-haired elf​⁠ who had made⁠‍ that drawing, Kihano‌‌‌ finally realized who‍‍​ the author was.⁠

“Andrew.”‌‌

“Yes?”‍

“In⁠ which direction is‌‍ the city of⁠ the elves?”

“You​ mean Alfheim? It’s‍​‌ to the west.”‌⁠

A messenger hawk had‍‍⁠ arrived when he‍‌ had nowhere left‌ to go.

As‍​‍ he gazed at‌ the drawing, which‍‌‍ had come as⁠‌⁠ a sign in‍​‌ a moment of⁠ uncertainty, Kihano turned⁠ his head to‌​​ the west.

“Then⁠‍‍ let’s head west.”​⁠‍

“To‌ the west? Why‌​ suddenly to the​ west?”

Neither​‌‌ east nor south,‍ which they had‍ been discussing until⁠​ now.

Andrew‌⁠ and Yan looked‍ at him confused,‍‌⁠ but Kihano had‌ already made his‍‌ decision and began‍‌ walking.

“That’s‌⁠ good. Anyway, my​⁠‌ sword is broken,⁠⁠⁠ and I wanted​ to get a new one.”

The‍ fight with the‍​‌ golem had been‍⁠​ intense, and Kihano’s⁠ sword was now‌​⁠ chipped and worn.​​‍

It‍​ could be considered⁠​ an honorable scar,​‍ but for a knight, his sword‍ was an essential​⁠ companion.

“They‌ say dwarves are​‍‌ excellent blacksmiths. I’ve‍⁠​ always wanted to‍ have a sword‌‍⁠ made by them.”​‌​

Beyond‌‌ the elven forest⁠‍⁠ of Alfheim lay⁠⁠‍ Myrkheim, the home‌‍ of the dwarves.⁠‌‌

And‍ it was said‍ that every sword​‍‌ forged there was‍ a true masterpiece.⁠

“By​ the way, Lord​ Kihano.”

“Hmm?”‍

“This​⁠ drawing is very‌ strange. Look here.”‌​

While⁠‍‌ walking west, Yan⁠ studied the drawing‌⁠‌ closely and showed⁠⁠⁠ it to Kihano‍ with bright eyes.‌⁠‌

“At​‌⁠ first, I thought⁠ it was a night sky, but‌ it’s not.”

Looking‌‌⁠ carefully, there were​‌​ other hidden landscapes⁠​‌ in the drawing.​‌

“If⁠‌ you look here,‌‍‌ doesn’t it look‍‍ like a city?”‍

“Oh,⁠‍ you’re right.”

“It’s‌⁠‌ small, but it​‌​ looks like a maze of alleys​‍​ surrounding this star.”‌⁠

What‌‍‍ looked like a night sky was⁠‍ actually a drawing‌⁠⁠ of a dark​‍ city.

In‍ one corner, there‌‌‍ was a small⁠⁠ golden star emitting⁠‍‌ a faint glow.⁠‌​ Kihano couldn’t help‌‌ but feel drawn​ to it.

“…It’s​​​ an interesting drawing.‍‍ The star isn’t​‌ drawn in the‌⁠ sky, but on‌ the ground.”

Although‌​​ not in the‍​⁠ night sky, that‍ small star seemed⁠‍⁠ to declare itself​ a star nonetheless.‌‌

Though⁠‌‍ small, it was⁠‌ the golden star‍⁠⁠ that shone the‌ brightest.

Kihano,‌⁠ feeling pity for‍​ it, unconsciously traced‍‍​ it with his​⁠ finger.

“What⁠‌​ could this be?”​

Kihano‌⁠‌ didn’t know, but‌ what he was⁠‌ seeing was a scene he would⁠‍ encounter in a distant future.

Though​‍⁠ the time wasn’t‍‍⁠ right yet, Kihano​ began walking slowly‌‍‍ toward that uncertain⁠‍ destination.

Toward‍‍ that star which,​⁠​ though not in⁠ the lofty night⁠ sky, knew how‌⁠ to shine on‌ its own.

For‌‍​ that reason, every​‌ step he took‌ was a step‌​ toward an encounter.‍

Epilogue‌ of Kihano (End).⁠

Chapteer​ 280: Note from​‌‌ the author and⁠‌ translator
Author’s Note:

Dear⁠‌⁠ readers, I am​‍ Q10.

With​⁠​ today’s manuscript, Star-Embracing​ Swordmaster has reached‍⁠‍ its conclusion.

I want to sincerely‍‌​ thank everyone who‌‍‍ has been with⁠‍ me up to⁠‌‍ this point.

Thinking⁠​​ that this is‌​ farewell to both​⁠‌ Vlad and Kihano​ leaves an emptiness​⁠‍ in my heart,‌ but our story⁠ has come to⁠ an end, and​ it’s time to‍‌‍ let it go.​⁠⁠

At​​ first, I thought​ this work would‌ never become a paid story. Its‌‍‍ growth was slow,​ and honestly, I was on the⁠‍⁠ verge of abandoning​⁠ it.

But⁠‍⁠ today, I’ve successfully‍ completed it, and‍ I’m here writing​‍ you a message‍ of gratitude. All‌​ of this was‌‌ possible thanks to‌ you, the readers.​‍

That’s​​ why I gave‍ my utmost effort⁠ to deliver a worthy ending. I hope this conclusion,⁠‌ which is not‌‌⁠ a final farewell‍​⁠ but rather a promise of future​ reunions, is the‍ ending you wished‍ for.

There‌⁠‍ are many things‌⁠⁠ I’d like to‌‍‍ say, but I believe goodbyes are​​⁠ better when they‌​ are simple and⁠​⁠ sincere.

Just‍‍​ as Kihano set‌⁠‌ off once more‍‍‌ in search of‍⁠⁠ Vlad, I, Q10,⁠ will also say​⁠ goodbye for now,‌ so that we‍​⁠ may meet again⁠⁠ in the future.‌‌

Thank‍ you all.

Until‍ we meet again,⁠‌‌ farewell.

Translator’s‍‍​ Note:

Hello,‌⁠ this is Hayze.‍

This​‌ is the first‌‌ time I’ve finished‍ translating a novel,‌⁠ so I won’t​ leave a long⁠ message. I can‌ only say thank⁠‌ you to everyone⁠⁠‌ who supported my​ translation, despite some‍‌ mistakes along the‍ way.

Throughout⁠‍ this time, this‍‌‍ novel has been⁠‌‍ perfect. Finishing it⁠‍ makes me both‍⁠​ happy and sad,‍ but nothing lasts‍‍⁠ forever. I can​ only express my‌ gratitude.

See‌ you around. You‌‍‍ can enjoy other​ series I’m working‍​‍ on. Thank you,‍‌ and farewell!

Chapteer‍‌ 281: Side Story​‌ – The Boy‍ with Blue Eyes‌‍ (1)
A Note From​‍ the Author

Hello⁠​ everyone, this is⁠ Q10.

It’s⁠⁠ been a long⁠‍⁠ time since we’ve‌​ seen each other.‍‌‍

I will begin serializing‌ the side stories⁠⁠ of Star-Embracing Swordmaster.‌⁠⁠

Through‍‌ this series, I want to explore‌⁠‍ parts of the‍‌ world I wasn’t​ able to fully⁠​ develop, the relationships‍​ between characters, and​​ other stories many‌ readers wanted to⁠⁠ see.

I’m⁠‍ truly sorry it‌​ took me so⁠ long to return.‌​

I will work hard.‍ Thank you.

Updates‍ will be released⁠ every Monday, Wednesday,‍ and Friday at​‍​ 6:00 PM.

The⁠ sky, where the⁠ glow of the‌‌ sunset had faded⁠‍​ away, was already⁠‍‍ tinged with a pale blue.

It‍ was the hour​‌⁠ when darkness began‌​‌ to seep in‍​​ little by little‍ beneath a moon‌ that had not​​⁠ yet fully matured.‌

At‌​ that boundary between⁠‍ day and night,⁠ where everything became⁠​ blurred, a lone​‍​ figure stood in⁠‍⁠ solitude.

“…Do‍⁠‍ you really have‌​‌ to leave today?”⁠⁠‍

It‍ was a child.‌

And⁠⁠⁠ one so small‍⁠⁠ that he barely​‌ seemed old enough​ to be turning⁠‌ four.

“Can’t‌⁠ you stay one​⁠ more day? Just‌‍⁠ one more day.”​

Not‍‍ fully understanding what⁠ it was that​‍⁠ made him so‍ sad, the boy‍‌ kept his head​ lowered as he⁠‍ kicked the ground⁠⁠ for no reason.‍

Then,​​ at the end⁠​ of his gaze,⁠ a small green⁠‌​ chrysalis appeared.

It‌‍ was hidden beneath‍​ a foxtail plant,‌‍‍ barely poking out‌ its head.

The⁠⁠​ man had told‍⁠ him that tonight,​‍‌ that little friend​ would become a beautiful butterfly and⁠⁠⁠ fly away.

[Farewells‍‍‌ are best when‌ they are simple.]‍​‍

The⁠​⁠ boy liked that​​ little green caterpillar‍‌ very much.

He‌‍ liked it even⁠‌ when it became‍ a chrysalis.

And‍ he would surely‍‌ have liked it‍‍​ when it transformed​ into a butterfly‌​​ as well.

But⁠‍ what he truly⁠‌​ did not understand⁠‍ was that, just‌‍ as wings would​ grow on his⁠ little friend, his⁠​​ friend also had‌‌ to leave today.​

“But⁠‍ even so…”

The‌​ boy looked at​ him with tear-filled⁠⁠‍ eyes.

However,‍​‌ the man merely​‌ smiled faintly without⁠‌‍ saying a word.‍

He‌ was someone who⁠ knew exactly when​ it was time‍ to say goodbye.​

[It’s‍‌​ getting late. Your‍ mother will worry.‌‌ Right?]

At​ those words telling​‌‍ him it was‍​​ time to go​​ home, the boy‌ let his shoulders‍⁠‌ droop and turned‍ around.

He‌‍ could have insisted​‍ a little longer.​⁠

But,⁠‌‍ in a manner⁠‌ unbefitting someone his‌⁠ age, he immediately‍ began walking down⁠ the hill.

Sniff…​⁠‌

Because⁠⁠‍ the boy cared‌ deeply for that⁠​​ man.

For‍ some reason, he‍ reminded him of‌ his father.

And⁠ when he smiled,‍‍​ he made him​ think of his⁠‍​ mother’s smile.

Just⁠‌‌ as he loved​‍ his parents, he⁠‍‌ could not help‌ but love and​​ follow that man‍ as well.

[Be‍⁠​ careful on your‌​ way back.]

As‌ the boy descended‌ the hill between​‌⁠ sobs, an enormous⁠ white snake wagged‍​‍ its tail at‍​‌ him.

[And⁠⁠ always watch where​‍ you step.]

A yellow mole constantly‌ inspected the ground‍ to make sure⁠ the boy would‍ not hurt himself‍⁠​ as he walked​ along wiping away​‍⁠ his tears.

[Then‍ we’ll see each⁠⁠ other next time,‌‌​ Emil.]

The⁠‍ boy had firmly‌‍‌ decided not to​ look back.

But‍‌‌ he could not​​ resist the man’s​ final farewell.

Because‍‍ for a small​​ child, a goodbye‍‌ was a wound​​ too painful to​ bear.

“Ah…”⁠⁠‌

When​⁠ he finally turned⁠ around, he saw‌‍ butterflies flying above‌ the hill.

The​ night sky growing​‍ darker and darker.‍

The‍⁠‍ man who seemed⁠‌ to be made​​ of that very⁠⁠ night.

And​‍ between them, my⁠‍⁠ little butterfly flying‌⁠ as though it‌​ were swimming through‌ the air.

The⁠ man never told⁠ the boy his‌‌⁠ name.

He‍​ only told him‍​⁠ that he came​ from that black⁠‌⁠ moon visible up‌‍ above.

That​‍ small black moon‌‍ peeking shyly beside⁠​​ the white moon.​‌‍

Beneath‍‍‍ the moonlight, the​‍‍ black-haired man waved‍‌ his hand toward⁠‌⁠ the boy.

***‌‌‍

Haa…⁠

Summer​​‌ sunlight passed through‌‍ the window and‍‌‌ fell across the‌‍ man’s shoulders.

With​‌ his back to‌‍​ that blinding radiance,⁠‍ the man tilted‌ his head back‍ as he felt⁠ the warmth slowly‌‍‍ spread across his‍ back.

Outside‍ was a brilliant‌⁠ blue sky.

But⁠‍ in front of‌​ him was a crying boy.

Without‍‌ realizing it, he⁠ let out a resigned sigh.

“…So,​‍ who the hell‌⁠ did something this​⁠⁠ stupid?”

He‍‌​ was a one-eyed⁠‍‌ man.

Although​‍ half of his⁠ hair had already‌ turned gray, his‍ right eye still​ retained all of‌ its strength.

And‍‌​ beside it, the​ eyepatch covering his‌‌⁠ left eye possessed​ such a distinctive⁠⁠‌ presence that it‍ was impossible to‍ forget after seeing⁠​‍ it only once.‌⁠

“Tell‍ me, Maksim. Who‍‍​ was it that​ stuck a spoon‌​‌ into his head?”‌

It‍ was Jager the⁠ One-Eyed.

The‍‍‍ current commander of‍ the Bayezid family’s‍ knights.

One⁠ of the most‍‍⁠ representative knights of‌⁠​ the North and‍‌​ the great knight‍​ who had raised‌ the Swordmaster of⁠‌ this era.

And⁠‌ now, as he‍ looked at the‍ boy standing before⁠‍ him, he rubbed‍​​ his temples with‌⁠‍ an obvious headache.⁠‍

“…They‍ say it was​‍ Squire Emil.”

Perhaps‍‌‍ around thirteen years‌⁠ old?

A squire standing right​⁠‍ at the boundary​​‌ between childhood and‌‍ adolescence held back⁠⁠ his tears while⁠ a spoon was‍​ embedded in his‌‍ head.

It​‌ was lodged so​‍ neatly that at​‌ first Jager had⁠​⁠ thought it was‌⁠​ one of those​‌‍ accessories that had‌​​ become fashionable lately.‌

“L-Lord‍ Jager! This is​‌​ completely unfair! I was only eating‍​​ in the dining‌‍​ hall…!”

“It​‌‌ seems there was​‌ a fight between‍‌ squires. It happens​‍​ from time to‍‌ time around this⁠‍ period.”

The​ veteran knight Maksim‍ replied as he​⁠‍ scratched his nearly‌⁠‌ bald head.

It‌ had all begun​ with an argument⁠ between young squires‍‌⁠ in the dining‌ hall.

After⁠⁠ exchanging words, they⁠​​ ended up fighting.​⁠

And‌⁠⁠ apparently, a squire‍‍⁠ named Emil lost‍ his temper and‍​​ stuck a spoon⁠⁠ into the head​‌‌ of the boy⁠ who was now‍​ crying.

But​ was it really‌ something that needed‍⁠ to reach the‌⁠ commander of the‍‍​ knights?

“Such‍‌‍ barbaric behavior! Sniff…!‌ I cannot tolerate‌‌ such injustice! Send‌⁠ a magical telegram‍​ to my family‍​‍ immediately! No, send‍‌ it right now!”‌

Of⁠⁠ course it was‌ something he needed​⁠ to know about.​

Because‌​⁠ the squire standing​​ before him was⁠⁠ the eldest legitimate‍‍​ son of the⁠⁠⁠ influential Valthof family​⁠‍ from the center‍ of the continent.⁠

In​​‌ other words, the‌‍​ Valthof family might​ even mobilize an⁠‌ army for the​ sake of this​⁠ child, their sole‍‍ heir.

“A‌​ magical telegram? Don’t​​⁠ be ridiculous. Take​⁠⁠ this.”

However,​ the one-eyed knight‌‌ did not seem⁠​ concerned about such​​​ a thing in​ the slightest.

The‍⁠ boy, who had⁠​‍ tried to rely‌ on his family’s‌ influence, automatically caught‍​ the small teaspoon‌⁠⁠ Jager tossed at​ him and stared‌ at it with‌‌ a bewildered expression.‍‍‌

“What​ is this…?”

At‍ home, he might​​‌ be a valuable​ young master.

But‌⁠‌ here, he was‍‌ just another squire.‍

Bayezid’s⁠‍‌ squire training program‍⁠ was an inviolable​ domain that even‍​​ the most influential‌‍ families of the‍ center could not​‍‌ question.

Because​⁠ that place was‌ the cradle where‌ a Swordmaster had​⁠​ been raised.

“Have‌‍ our young master​ do exactly the‌​‍ same thing.”

“Excuse​‍ me?”

Jager‍‌ brought his teacup⁠ to his lips‍ and grinned broadly‌ as he scrunched‌‍‌ up his face.⁠⁠

“Go‍⁠ on. Find that‌⁠‍ bastard Emil. And‌ stick it into‍‍ his head exactly‍‌ the same way.”‌​‌

If⁠⁠ you get hit,⁠ you hit back.​

The‍ North was a place that had‍​ to be protected.⁠⁠

And​ one’s own honor⁠​ had to be‍ learned and defended​‌ with one’s own‌‌‍ hands as well.​​

He‌⁠ could have explained​ it step by‌ step.

But‍ Jager was not​⁠ such a kind⁠⁠‌ person.

“If‍​ you understand, then‌‍⁠ get out.”

“Uwaaaah!”⁠​

A man who taught‍​ the spirit of⁠‍‌ the North with‌​ a simple wave‌⁠ of his hand.⁠

He‌​‌ truly possessed the‍ presence of a great knight who​​ had raised a Swordmaster.

Moved‍ by such profound‌ instruction, the young⁠ squire had no‌⁠⁠ choice but to⁠⁠ leave the office‍​ in tears.

Clutching‌‍ a small teaspoon​‍ tightly in his‍ hand.

“…This‍⁠ is why I said I didn’t⁠​ want to become‌‍‍ the commander of‍‌ the knights.”

Watching⁠⁠ the young squire’s⁠⁠ back as he⁠ left in tears,⁠‍ Jager let out‍⁠ a deep sigh.‍⁠

He​‌⁠ truly had never‍ wanted to hold⁠​ a position like⁠⁠​ this.

He⁠ had always hated‍ being part of‍‍‌ the main group.‌

But‍​ he had not​ been given a choice.

He⁠ had somehow managed​‍ to refuse the‍‌ request of Count‍‌‍ Rutiger, the current⁠​​ Count Bayezid.

However,​​ when even the‍‌‌ great lady Oksana,‍ the widow of​‍ the previous count,⁠‌‌ personally intervened, there‌‍ was no longer​​​ any escape.

“By‌⁠ the way, why⁠​‍ are so many⁠ of them coming‌ here crying this‍‍ year? Is there‌​ something wrong with⁠ this class?”

At‌​‍ Jager’s question, Maksim‌‍‍ shrugged.

That‌​ gesture seemed to‍‌⁠ say that he​⁠ already knew the‍⁠ answer himself.

Jager’s‌⁠ brow furrowed.

“Is‌⁠‍ that Emil really⁠ that troublesome? Nothing​ like this happened⁠⁠ with his sister.”​

“…To‌⁠​ begin with, his‍‍⁠ personality is rather‌‍‌ peculiar.”

Emil,‍‌ the son of‌⁠ Vlad Aureo.

As‌ if inheriting his‍⁠⁠ father’s face exactly⁠​ were not enough,​‌ it seemed he⁠‌‍ had inherited his‌ temperament as well.‍‍⁠

Despite​‍ having grown up​‍​ surrounded by care​⁠ and affection, the‍​‍ boy gave off‌‍ a strangely rough‌⁠‍ impression.

Really,‌⁠ if you took‌‌‌ the Vlad of⁠‍⁠ those days, removed​ some of his​ height, and added⁠‍​ a little baby⁠​‍ fat to his⁠ cheeks, he would‍ look exactly like‌ Emil did now.‍‌

“Besides,‌⁠ since they’re still​‌‌ children, they all‍ want to try‍‍‍ picking a fight​‍ with Emil. Something​ like challenging the⁠​ strength of the‍ Swordmaster.”

“So‍ they have someone‍ who looks like⁠ easy prey right‍ beside them.”

And​⁠⁠ there was also⁠⁠‍ the problem of‍ having a father‍‌ who was far‍⁠‌ too extraordinary.

Every‍‌⁠ squire in this‍⁠ class had grown⁠‍ up hearing stories​‍ about the Swordmaster.⁠

The​​ knight.

The‌‍‌ elf.

The⁠ Empire’s Sword.

The‍​ Swordmaster’s Rules.

And⁠ even the title‍‌ of Dragonslayer.

For​‍⁠ children who had‌‌ only just entered‌ adolescence, it was‍ hard to imagine‌ anything more exciting⁠‍‍ than that.

And‍‍ on top of‌‌​ that, they had⁠‍‌ a living example​‌ of it all​ right beside them.⁠​​

It‍⁠​ was only natural⁠‌ that anyone would⁠ feel tempted to⁠‌‍ provoke him a little.

“But​ it seems it‌ wasn’t as easy⁠⁠‌ as they thought.”⁠

Taking​‌​ a sip of⁠‌ tea, Jager thought‍‌⁠ to himself.

I like this.

Of‍‍​ course it should​ be this way.‍‍⁠

Your​‍‍ father did exactly⁠​ the same thing.‌

“Even‌⁠ so, he’ll have‍‌ to be properly‌​​ reprimanded. He’s only​​‌ a squire, and⁠⁠‍ he’s already using‍‌ weapons.”

“Weapons?‍‌ It was a spoon.”

“What​⁠ are you talking‌⁠​ about? Maksim, have​ you never killed‌ someone with a spoon?”

“What?”‍‍

“Huh?”⁠‌

For⁠⁠‌ a brief moment,‌‍ a strange silence‌‍ settled between the​‍ two men, whose‌ life experiences seemed​ vastly different.

“In​ any case, we​⁠‌ need to keep⁠‌⁠ an eye on‌​ him. He’s a child who inherited​​ dragon blood.”

Dragon‍ blood possessed limitless‌ possibilities.

Depending‌⁠​ on the life‌ he lived, he​‌‍ could become an‍⁠​ honorable Swordmaster or​ the oldest dragon,​‌ capable of devouring‌ everything.

Jager‍⁠ was one of‍​‌ the few people​ who had observed​ that process from‌‍​ very close up.⁠

‘Perhaps‌‌ this is my⁠‌‍ final duty.’

Protecting‌‍ the possibilities of​ the young.

Especially​​⁠ when those possibilities‌⁠‌ were just beginning⁠‍ to bloom.

He‍​ did not know‌ what kind of⁠ flower it would‍​​ become, but Jager‌‍ thought the current‌⁠ situation fit perfectly​‌ with the Swordmaster’s⁠ First Rule.

“Hey!‍​‌ What’s wrong with​ you, idiot?!”

“Emil!⁠‌‌ I told you‍‍ no! I told‍‌‌ you we shouldn’t⁠ do it!”

“Uwaaaah!”‌

Jager‍‌‍ had been lost‍‌⁠ in thought for‍​ a few moments⁠⁠ while enjoying a cup of tea.​‍

However,‍‌ the voices of‍ children coming from‌⁠ outside the window​ made him lower‌‍‍ his head in⁠ resignation.

“…Now⁠ what?”

At‌⁠ Jager’s lament, Maksim⁠​ walked over to​⁠‌ the window and​‌ looked outside.

Then​‌ he involuntarily clicked‌​‍ his tongue.

“It’s​‌ Emil.”

“And​​‌ what did he⁠⁠ do this time?”⁠

“He’s⁠​ riding a horse.”​⁠‍

“Then​‍ why are they‍ making so much‍‌​ noise?”

Maksim‍⁠‌ shook his head‍‍​ as if to⁠ say he would‍ have to see‌‍​ it for himself.​

Jager‍‌‌ stood up with​​​ his teacup in‍ hand.

“Haa…”‌

It​ was a splendid‌ afternoon.

The⁠⁠‌ pleasant weather of‌​‍ early summer, still⁠ free from oppressive‍‍ heat.

A cool breeze blew⁠‌ gently.

And‍⁠ there was a blond boy desperately⁠‍​ clinging to the‌​ saddle, while behind⁠‌ him a chubby‌ boy ran after​‌‍ him, panting.

“No!​​ I thought it‌‍ would work if⁠ the commander said‌ it!”

“So‍‌ that brat doesn’t‍ know how to⁠‍ ride either.”

It‌ was a very​‍ peaceful summer scene.‌​

At​‌ least, it would‌​ have been if‍ the horse leaping​ around everywhere had⁠ not happened to​⁠ be Jager’s horse.​

“My‍‌​ father said that‍ if it was‍ an expensive horse,‍ it would work!”‌​‍

“It⁠ seems I didn’t​‍ die early enough⁠‌ to avoid seeing⁠ this again.”

Shaking‌⁠ his head as⁠ though witnessing something‍‌⁠ unbearable, Jager gestured​‌ toward Maksim.

Catch⁠‌⁠ those brats.

And‌ cook them properly.‍‍​

“Understood,​ Commander.”

After‌‍ Maksim left, Jager⁠ remained alone in‍‌‍ the office and​​‍ gently swirled his‍​‍ teacup.

“…”‌

As⁠‌ he watched the​​ small glimmers of​ light shimmering across‍​‌ the disturbed surface‌ of the tea,⁠ a feeling of‍‍ emptiness suddenly came​​‍ over him.

The‍ feeling that no​ one was there.‍

The​‍ reality that he‌⁠⁠ was now completely⁠ alone in that‍ office.

“…Without‍ a doubt, elven⁠ tea clears the‌‍​ mind.”

Back‍ then, there had​‌‍ always been two⁠ people in Sturma’s‌ quiet office.

That‌ black-haired man who​⁠⁠ was always seated,⁠‍ drafting documents in‍‌ the same posture.⁠

If‌​ he closed his​ eyes and listened⁠⁠ carefully, he felt‍‍‌ as though he‍⁠​ could still hear‍ the soft scratching​‍​ of a pen‌‍ across paper.

“It⁠‌ would be perfect⁠‌ if the aftertaste⁠​ weren’t so bitter.”‌⁠

Jager⁠‍ closed his remaining​ eye and smiled⁠⁠ silently as he‍‌ remembered what always‍⁠⁠ came next.

It‌‍ was an ordinary‌ and unchanging scene.⁠​‍

But​ ever since that​⁠‍ young master had‌ arrived, it felt‌ as though a ray of light​⁠​ had pierced through‍ the heavy curtains.‍‍

“How‌ does it feel​ to have the‌‍⁠ knight you serve​‍‌ riding a horse‌ while you travel‌ comfortably in a carriage despite being⁠​‍ only a squire?”‍‍​

“…I⁠ suppose I’ll get‌ to ride expensive⁠‍ horses. Probably.”

“Expensive‌​ horses should be⁠​ carrying you. You’re⁠​‌ more valuable than⁠‌‍ they are.”

“Hahaha.​⁠ That’s enough, Jager.”‍‌

What‍‌ would the young‌​ master have said⁠​‍ if he had​ seen today’s scene?​‌​

He‍‍ probably would have⁠‌⁠ laughed just like‌ he did back​‍ then.

Because‌‌ he was the‍ kind of person‌ who could let⁠ such insignificant mistakes‍⁠ pass with a smile.

“Though‌‍​ I doubt he⁠ would have liked‌ this tea.”

Looks⁠‌⁠ like the sun‍‍ has gotten to‍‍ me.

Thinking​ that, Jager drained​⁠‍ the last sip‍ of tea remaining⁠​⁠ in his cup⁠ and frowned.

As‌ expected, it was‌‍‌ still bitter.

Chapteer​​ 282: Side Story⁠ – The Boy​ with Blue Eyes​ (2)
Ribbit, ribbit.

When⁠ the sun set​​ and the sky‌‌ began to turn​⁠‍ dark blue, the‍‍ croaking of frogs‌ echoed softly near‌ the well.

It⁠‍​ was the hour‌​ when the small⁠ creatures that had‍‍ remained hidden all‌⁠‍ day began to‌ stir along with​‍ the cool evening‌ air.

And​ in the stable‌⁠​ beside the well,‌​ some little ones​‍‍ were whispering as​‌​ well.

“That’s‍‌ why I told⁠‌ you we shouldn’t‌⁠ have done it…”‌‌

said‍ a chubby boy‌ in a voice​⁠ that was almost‍‌​ tearful.

“It’s⁠‌ Sir Jager. The‌​ scariest person in‍‍‌ the entire Bayezid⁠​‌ family! Do you​‍⁠ even know why​‌‍ the Commander lost​ an eye?”

“No.”‌

the‍ blond boy answered‌‍ flatly.

And‍‍ he did so​ while hanging upside‍‍ down from the‍ stable ceiling.

“What‍ do you mean​‍‍ you don’t know?!‍​‌ It was your​⁠ father’s Master!”

“Precisely⁠‍ because he was⁠‍​ my father’s Master,‌‌ I don’t know!​​​ If he had⁠‌​ been my Master,‍⁠​ then I’d know!”‌⁠

Two‌ boys hung from⁠⁠⁠ the ceiling completely‍ wrapped in ropes.‌‌​

Since​ the ropes were⁠‌ brown, they looked​‌‍ like enormous chrysalises.​

On​ top of that,‍‍ they had small‌ wooden boards hanging‌​ around their necks‌‌⁠ as though they​‌ were criminals.

The​ blond boy’s board⁠⁠ read.

“Horse⁠ Thief!”

And‌‍​ the chubby boy’s‍‍‍ read.

“Idiot⁠ Who Got Dragged‍​​ Along by the​ Horse Thief!”

The‍‌ words had been⁠‍ written in visibly⁠⁠ irritated handwriting.

“My‌⁠ grandfather told me‌ that when the​‌ Commander was young,​⁠​ he was terrifying.⁠‌ He said there‌ was a time​​ when he killed⁠​ more than a hundred assassins all‍ by himself.”

“A​ hundred?”

“Yes,⁠ completely alone. And​⁠ they were very‌⁠ famous guys!”

They‍ had plenty of⁠ time.

Nothing‌​ to do.

And​ they were tied⁠‌​ up from head‌ to toe.

Naturally,​⁠ Emil began paying‌‍​ attention to Hampton’s‌‍‍ story.

“The⁠ great Lady Oksana‍​ was on her⁠​‍ way to visit‍ her family when‌‌ the assassins appeared.⁠ And he killed⁠‌‍ all of them.​ But the most​⁠⁠ incredible part was​‌ how he did‍‍⁠ it.”

The‌​ chubby chrysalis swayed⁠​⁠ slowly as he⁠‍​ whispered to the‌​‍ blond chrysalis.

“He⁠‍ said it was​​‍ only fair payment.‌‌‍ The one carrying​ poison was killed⁠⁠ with poison. The​​‌ one carrying a sword was stabbed.‍ The one carrying‌⁠ a spear was‍ run through with‌ a spear.”

“Wow.”‍

“Anyway,‍ that was where‌⁠ he lost his‍ eye. But when‌​ my grandfather went⁠​⁠ there afterward, it​ turned out that‍‌ none of the‌ corpses had eyes.‌⁠ Sir Jager had‌‌​ torn them all‍‌⁠ out.”

It‍ was a story‌ difficult to know⁠‌‍ for those unfamiliar‌​‍ with the internal⁠‌⁠ affairs of the⁠ Bayezid family.

Because​ at that time,⁠ fierce political struggles‌​​ still surrounded the‍‍‍ two young heirs.‍

Although‌ Jager had already‌‌ built a legend‌⁠‍ in his youth‍ as a warrior⁠‌‌ capable of facing⁠‌ a hundred men‌​‌ alone, his fame⁠‍‍ did not truly⁠ spread throughout the⁠​‌ North until much‌ later because of⁠ those circumstances.

“…Really?”‌‍⁠

The​⁠ blond chrysalis’s face‍‌ began to pale.​‌

Considering​ he was hanging‍​ upside down, his⁠ face should have⁠​‍ been red as⁠ a tomato.

But‍‍​ it seemed the⁠‍ story had affected​​ him quite a bit.

“Then‍‍​ what did he⁠​ do to the‍‌‍ thieves? Because technically⁠​ I’m not a thief. I only‌ borrowed it for​‍​ a little while.”​‍

“I​⁠ don’t know. Though⁠​⁠ maybe one of‍ your family’s mounts⁠ would be enough‌ to settle it.”​⁠‍

“Really?​ Then I wish​‍ I’d taken my‍‍ sister’s horse.”

After⁠‌⁠ saying that, the‍‌​ blond chrysalis began⁠‌ untying himself with‍​ surprising ease.

A moment later, he‌​⁠ dropped to the​ ground.

“Hey,‌ Emil! What the‌ hell? How did​‌‌ you get loose?”‌​

“I‌ learned.”

The​ blond boy rubbed‌‍ his ankles.

The‍⁠‍ ropes had been‌⁠ tied so tightly⁠​ that they hurt.⁠​‌

“Wow.​‍ They really intend​‍‌ to leave me‌‍‍ hanging here all‍⁠​ day.”

Emil​ clicked his tongue​ in annoyance.

He​‌‌ had assumed they‌ would scold him⁠ a little and‌‌ that would be​‍‌ the end of‍‌​ it.

He‍ never imagined they​‌‍ would leave him⁠ hanging there until‍​‌ nightfall.

It⁠‍ made him realize⁠‌ once again that‍⁠‌ he was not‌⁠ at home.

“Emil!⁠ Let me down​‍⁠ too!”

The⁠‍‍ chubby chrysalis began‍⁠‌ shouting desperately.

But​⁠‌ Emil did not‍ even turn around.​⁠‍

“And​ if I let‌‌‍ you down, will​‍​ you be able⁠‍‍ to climb back‍ up?”

“Why⁠⁠ would I need‍⁠ to climb back‍ up?”

“Ah,‌‌ you really are‍​‍ an idiot.”

They‌‍ were both being‍​⁠ punished.

And‍‍⁠ sooner or later,​ someone would come‌‍‌ to untie them.‌

If​‍ at that moment‍‍​ they were found​‍ casually wandering around‌ after freeing themselves.⁠​​

And⁠ if the person‌​​ who showed up‍⁠ happened to be‌​ the one-eyed demon​‌​ who had killed‍‍‍ a hundred assassins‌⁠ all by himself.​

“…I’d‍‌ better stay hanging.”⁠‌

“Good‌⁠​ idea.”

While​‌ the chubby chrysalis‌‌ continued curing and⁠ drying like a ham hanging from⁠‌ the ceiling, the‍ blond boy began​ slowly walking around‍‍ the stable to⁠​​ stretch his body.‌‌​

“It’s​​ definitely different from⁠‌ the one at​ my house.”

It⁠⁠ truly was a stable worthy of‍‍ Bayezid.

As‌ befitted one of​⁠​ the most important⁠⁠ families in the​‌⁠ North, all the​ horses were enormous⁠‌⁠ and radiated health.​

And‍ it made sense.​

After‌⁠ all, these were⁠ the mounts used‍‍​ by the Bayezid‌‌⁠ knights.

Anything​ less would have‌‌ been unacceptable.

“No‍‍⁠ matter how I look at it,⁠‍ you’re the boss​‌ around here. Right?”​⁠

As⁠‍‌ he wandered through​‌‍ the stable, the‌⁠⁠ boy stopped in‍ front of a massive black horse​‌​ that occupied a large space all‌⁠‌ to himself.

It‍‌ was a mount​ anyone would consider‍ special.

The​ horse ridden by⁠‌​ Sir Jager.

“So⁠⁠ what am I supposed to do‌‌​ if even you⁠​ refuse to carry‍‌‌ me? In fact,‌‍⁠ one of the​ reasons I came‌ here was because⁠‍​ of you.”

Neigh.‌​

As‌ if it had⁠‍ understood his words,⁠​⁠ the enormous black​​ horse snorted.

But​​‍ at the same‍‌‌ time, it slowly​ began backing away.‌

It​ was clearly frightened.‌⁠

“Tsk.”​⁠

The‍‍​ difference in size‍‌ between them was⁠​ like the distance‌​‍ between heaven and‍‌⁠ earth.

If​ anyone had seen⁠‌‌ the scene, they‌ would probably have⁠​‍ pulled the boy​​‍ away, considering it‌⁠‌ dangerous.

Yet⁠ the enormous horse‍ was backing away‌ with its tail‌ tucked.

And⁠‌ the small boy⁠​ was watching him​ with a disapproving‌ expression.

It​ was such a strange sight that‍‍⁠ it felt unsettling.‌⁠

“Why‍ does everyone hate‍‌ me? Huh? I’m‍ honestly a good‌ person.”

Despite⁠​‌ the harshness of‌ his gaze, he‌ seemed genuinely hurt‌‌ that the horse‍‌ was avoiding him.‍​

He‌​ roughly ran a hand through his‌ hair and then​‍‌ jumped up to‍ sit on the‌⁠​ fence.

“…I‌⁠ should have gotten‍ that horse no‍ matter what.”

It​‍ had not always‍ been this way.​‍⁠

When‍‍ he was very⁠‌ young, he got​‌ along perfectly well‍ with the dogs​ and cats at‍ home.

But​ everything began to​‌ change the day‌⁠‍ the dragon’s wild⁠​ nature awakened in‌⁠⁠ his blue eyes.‍

“Maybe‌ I should have​‌ tried dyeing my​‍ hair red like​‍ my sister…”

And⁠​​ the truth was‍​ that there was‌ another person who‍ shared exactly the⁠⁠ same problem.

His​‌ older sister.

Two‍⁠ years older than⁠ him.

As​​ long as she‍ had the same​ problem, he had‌​​ never cared too‌ much about being​ unable to ride‍‌ a horse.

But​⁠⁠ that was already‍​‌ in the past.‌‌

“That​⁠‌ was an incredible⁠ horse.”

When‌ his sister turned​ sixteen, his father‌ took both of‍ them to the⁠ blue grasslands that⁠⁠‍ connected Varna and⁠ Sturma.

And‍ there he showed‍ them an old‍​ friend of his.‍‌‌

A magnificent black horse.‍‍

His​⁠ name was Noir.‍‍

“My‌‌‍ sister is lucky.⁠‍​ She has her‍​‍ own horse.”

It‌‍ was a majestic‍ mount, worthy of‍ the man who‍⁠‍ had once ridden‍ him.

But‌ the horse that‍‌‌ truly caught the​‍‍ boy’s attention was​​ another one.

A foal shyly peeking‌ its head out​​‍ beside Noir.

It‌‌​ was completely black​ like his father.​

But‍⁠ it had a white diamond-shaped mark‍​​ on its forehead.​

“Ha.‌‌​ Blond hair is⁠‍ useless. I can’t‍⁠ even win over​​ a single horse.⁠⁠⁠ Red hair is​​ the best.”

They​ said the children‌ of the grasslands⁠‍⁠ adored the color‌⁠ red.

And‍​​ that foal had​‍ stopped in front​ of red as‌‍ well.

His⁠ sister had been​​ enchanted when she⁠ touched such a small and soft​ animal for the‍⁠ first time in‍ a long while.⁠‍‍

She​ carefully stroked him.⁠‍

She⁠‌⁠ rode him.

And‌ she crossed the‌‌ blue grasslands with‍⁠‍ him.

As‌ he watched the​‌⁠ red-haired young woman​ and the young‌⁠ black horse running‌⁠ beneath the moonlight,‍⁠ the boy became​‍⁠ so jealous that⁠ he almost cried‍ like a little‌‍ child.

“Damn⁠‍⁠ it, why did​‍‍ Noir have only​​‍ one foal? Mares‍‍​ go around with‌‍ several at a time!”

“If​ you have several⁠​‍ wives, then it’s‍⁠ normal to have​ several children.

Even‌‍ my father had‍‌ two, including me.⁠

They⁠‌ could have had‍⁠‌ several foals and​‌​ left at least‌​⁠ one by my‍ side!”

“Huh?”‍

Emil‍​ was immersed in⁠‍‍ his own indignation.​‌​

Then,​ suddenly, his ears⁠‌ perked up.

He⁠‍ had sensed someone‌‍ approaching from far​ away.

“…Emil,⁠‍ I’m starting to‍ see double.”

“Hang​​ in there a little longer. Someone’s‍ coming.”

Grabbing‍​⁠ the end of⁠ the rope, Emil‍ spun rapidly like​ a top and​ wrapped the rope‌​⁠ around his body‍ again.

Then⁠ he used his‌‌ little finger to⁠ tie a knot‌ from the inside.‌‌

It‌ was so perfect⁠‍‌ that, when he⁠ finished, the blond‍‌⁠ chrysalis was there⁠ once again as​‌ if he had‍⁠ never moved.

“…That’s‌‌ why I said⁠⁠ we could have​​‍ sent a telegram⁠​ before coming…”

“…I​​​ told you I did send one,‍‍​ brat! Stop treating⁠‌ me like some‌⁠ senile old man!”‍⁠

The​ voices began to‍ carry from the​​ distance.

Only‍ then did the​⁠‍ horses notice the‌‌ presence of visitors​​ and begin to⁠‌ grow restless.

“Even​​ if you’re that‌‌​ eager to see⁠‌‌ Emil, shouldn’t you⁠ greet the Count​‍ first? I think‍‍‌ that would be‍‌⁠ proper, Senior.”

“Open⁠​ the door first!‌ I’m tired!”

Creeeak.‌⁠⁠

Upon⁠ hearing the door‍‌‍ open, Emil smiled⁠⁠ discreetly.

Because‌‍⁠ he already knew‍ who was on‍⁠ the other side.​

Tap.‍ Tap. Tap.

The‍⁠⁠ sound of dragging⁠⁠‍ footsteps.

And⁠ the tapping of‌‌⁠ a cane.

It⁠‍ was a familiar‌ sound he had‌ heard ever since‌​​ he was very‍‍ small.

Hearing​​​ it, Emil opened​ his eyes with⁠ apparent difficulty.

“Gran…‌‌ dpa… Ramund…”

In⁠‍‌ his upside-down vision⁠ appeared a bald‌ knight with an⁠ awkward expression.

And​ beside him, an‌​ old man whose⁠⁠ face was completely⁠‍⁠ wrinkled with anger.‍​

“Oh,​​⁠ dear heavens! Oh,​‍‍ dear heavens, Emil!”​​

At​ the sight of‍ the children hanging​‍ upside down, the‌⁠‌ old man seemed​​⁠ to completely lose⁠‌ his composure.

He‌‍‍ even dropped the‍⁠‌ cane he was⁠ holding and began​ clapping his hands⁠​‍ one after another.​‌‍

It‍ was exactly the‌⁠ reaction one would‍⁠​ expect from an‍‌ elderly person.

Maksim,⁠ already accustomed to‌ it, spoke with​ obvious weariness.

“They‍⁠​ haven’t been hanging‌‌⁠ there that long.‍​ Just today.”

“Oh,⁠ dear heavens! Oh,‍ dear heavens!”

“Normally⁠‍‍ we leave them⁠​​ hanging for three‍​ or four days.⁠‌ Besides, this custom‍‍ was your idea‍⁠ when you were‍‍⁠ still here, Senior.”‍‌‌

“Shut⁠‌​ up, you damned‌​​ bald man! Get​​‌ the children down‍ at once!”

He‌ was an old⁠ man capable of‍​ making even the‌ knight known as‍⁠⁠ Bayezid’s disciplinarian nervous.​​‍

And⁠‍ he was also‍⁠ someone whom the⁠​ Swordmaster’s son naturally⁠‍ called Grandpa.

“Honestly,​⁠‌ please stop calling⁠‌⁠ me bald in‍⁠ front of the⁠‍ children, Lord Ramund.‍ I have my‍​⁠ dignity too.”

The‌ Beacon of the⁠‌‍ North.

Bayezid’s​‌ living legend.

The​ leader of the‌ unforgettable Golden Generation.​‌

Knight⁠​​ Ramund.

“If⁠‍ I can’t call‍‍ a bald man​⁠⁠ bald, then what‌‌ am I supposed​‍‍ to call him?!‍‌ You have less‍‌‍ hair than I do!”

Watching⁠ that man, who‌​‍ now looked like‍ nothing more than‌⁠⁠ an ordinary grandfather,‌ Emil smiled to​ himself.

Then,‍‌⁠ feeling that enough‍‍ was enough, he‌‍ stuck out his‌‍ tongue, let his‍‍ head loll to⁠‍ one side, and‍ muttered a single​‍⁠ word.

“Bleh.”⁠

And​‌ immediately afterward, he​​ let his body⁠​‍ go completely limp.‌⁠

“Aaaah!‌‍ My boy!”

Emil‍‍ was pretending to‌ have fainted.

Ramund‍‍‍ was shouting as⁠​⁠ though the world‌⁠ were coming to​​‌ an end.

And⁠ Maksim, seeing the​‍ old man on‍‍ the verge of​​​ a fit, hurriedly‍⁠​ lowered the blond⁠‍​ chrysalis.

“…I‌‍⁠ honestly think I’m⁠​ going to die.‌‍‍ Couldn’t you lower⁠‌‌ me first?”

Unlike‌ Emil, the chubby‌​‍ chrysalis had been‌​ hanging there all⁠‌‌ day.

With‌‌‍ unfocused eyes, he⁠​ spoke in a weak voice.

But‍‍ no one paid‌​ him any attention.‌

“Why‌ did you hang​ this good boy‌‍​ up?! Where is‍ that grumpy Jager?!”​⁠

“Please,‌​ Senior, don’t do​ this. We have‍​ our rules too.”⁠‌‌

“Excuse‌‌ me…”

“To‍​ hell with the‍ rules! Why are‍ you punishing a child?! Damn that​‌ one-eyed man and‌ damn that bald‍​ man too!”

“…”‌

The‍ chubby chrysalis was‍‍ left hanging there​‍ alone.

Completely⁠ alone.

He‌⁠ tried swaying gently,‍‍ as if to‌‍ say, ‘I’m here.’‌

But,‍⁠‍ incredibly enough…

No⁠‌​ one paid him‍‍ the slightest bit‌ of attention.

Chapteer‍‌‍ 283: Side Story‍⁠ – The Boy‍ with Blue Eyes​⁠⁠ (3)
Rutiger silently stared⁠​‌ at the tea‍‌ from which hot⁠ steam was still‌​‌ rising.

Then⁠‍ he lifted the⁠‌⁠ cup and took‌‌ a long sip.‍

And‌‍ he thought to‌ himself.

Ah…​⁠

This‌ is awkward.

Did‌⁠ my father feel⁠‌ this way too?‌

“I​​⁠ apologize for troubling‍‍ you at this‍‍⁠ hour of the‌ night, Count.”

Rutiger⁠ had gained a few moments to​⁠⁠ organize his thoughts‍‌ thanks to the​​ tea.

But‍ Ramund seemed to⁠ read them immediately‌​​ and spoke first.‌⁠‌

“This‌​‌ old man failed⁠ to separate public​ matters from private⁠‌‍ ones and ended⁠ up making a fool of himself⁠‍‍ in front of‌‍⁠ the young ones.‌ Please accept my⁠‍‌ apologies, Count.”

“…There‍ is no need,‌​​ Lord Ramund.”

No​​ matter how distinguished‍ a knight Ramund‍‌ had been in‌‌​ previous generations, it​‍​ was still late‍‍​ at night.

Not⁠‌ only had he⁠‌ interfered in a disciplinary process, but⁠‍​ he had also⁠‍ awakened the master‍⁠⁠ of the house‌​ while being a guest.

Even⁠​‌ Ramund felt embarrassed‍​‌ about it.

“That’s‍‌⁠ why I said‍⁠ you could have⁠‌ sent a telegram‍⁠‍ before coming. It⁠ wasn’t that difficult.”​

“I⁠ already told you⁠​ I sent one.”​

Upon​⁠‍ hearing Jager’s reproach,​‍ Ramund struck his⁠⁠‍ chest several times‌‍ with an expression‌⁠‍ of complete indignation.​‌‍

“I’m⁠ not senile yet.‍‍ I’m telling you,‌ I sent a telegram from Varna‍ during the journey.”‍

“…”​⁠

“Really?”​

Jager‍‍⁠ had been complaining​⁠ about having to‍‍‍ receive visitors at⁠‍‍ such an hour.⁠⁠

But‍‌‍ when he saw​‍ Ramund’s face, he‌‍ ended up falling‍ silent.

Because‍⁠​ the sight of​ Ramund speaking in⁠⁠⁠ a subdued voice,⁠ so different from⁠​ the energy with‌⁠ which he had‌ been raging moments​⁠‌ earlier, filled him​‌ with a sadness‌ that was difficult​​‌ to explain.

“I​⁠‍ have prepared a room for you,​‌⁠ Lord Ramund. I hope that this​ time as well,‍ you will stay‍‍ with us for‍‌⁠ a long while​​‌ and continue guiding‌ our squires.”

“Haha.⁠⁠ Guiding them, you‌‌​ say…?”

Upon‍​⁠ hearing Rutiger’s words,⁠ Ramund gave a bitter smile.

The⁠ truth was that⁠ Rutiger knew it⁠‌‍ too.

He‌‍ knew perfectly well‌​‌ that the old⁠⁠⁠ man sitting before‌ him no longer‍‌ had the strength⁠​⁠ to teach or‌ guide anyone.

“I⁠‍ think it is‍‌ time for me‍‌ to retire. Thank‍ you for your‍‍ hospitality, Count.”

Even⁠⁠ so, he had⁠ come all the​​ way to Sturma​‌ for a single​⁠ reason.

Because‌‌ he thought this​​⁠ might be the⁠ last chance he‍​‌ would have to⁠​‍ see it again.​

He⁠‌​ wanted to visit‌ once more the​ place that had‌‍‍ practically been the‌⁠​ starting point of‍​ his entire life​‍​ while he was⁠⁠​ still capable of‌ moving under his‌⁠ own power.

“…Your⁠⁠ health has weakened‌⁠‌ considerably. The journey⁠ must have been‌ difficult.”

When‌ Ramund left the⁠‌⁠ room leaning on⁠ his cane, Rutiger‌⁠ sank into his‌‌ chair and spoke‍‍‌ quietly.

“At‌‌⁠ this age, even‌​ a single illness‌‍‍ leaves its mark.‌‌⁠ That’s also why​⁠‌ he couldn’t come​‍‌ last year.”

Ramund‌​ was already over‌​‌ eighty years old.​‍

When‍ he met Vlad,⁠ he had already⁠ completed the Lower‍ Path.

No‍⁠‍ matter how indomitable⁠​ Knight Ramund had​ once been, time​​‌ had reached an‌ age that even​ he found difficult​‌ to overcome.

“…Even⁠⁠‍ so, I’m grateful​ that he made‍⁠​ the effort to​ come.”

Time‌‍‌ flowed onward.

And​‍‍ farewells arrived sooner‌ or later.

But⁠‌ although he could​ feel that moment⁠ drawing near, Rutiger‌ discovered that he⁠‌‌ was surprisingly calm.‍‍‍

He‌‌ was old enough‍​​ now to be​‌ accustomed to goodbyes.⁠​​

***​‍​

After‌ leaving the room,​​‌ Ramund began looking⁠⁠ around the dark‌‍ hallway for the​​ servant who was‍⁠⁠ supposed to accompany‍ him.

However,‍‍​ the person waiting⁠ there was not‍‌ a servant at​​⁠ all.

“Grand…‌ no, Lord Ramund.⁠ I’ll escort you.”‌‌⁠

It‌ was a boy‌⁠​ whose eyes were​⁠ half-closed, as though‌ he were fighting‍‍‌ against sleep.

Silver​ moonlight streamed through​⁠⁠ the windows and​‌ softly illuminated his‍​⁠ blond hair.

It⁠⁠ looked as though‍ a lunar halo⁠‍ rested among his‍‍‍ locks.

Ramund‌‍‌ reached out and⁠⁠ patted his hair.⁠

“Haha.‍ It’s late. You‍​ should be resting.”‌‍⁠

“Even‍⁠​ so, I wanted‍​⁠ to accompany you.​ Besides, thank you‍ for helping me‍‌ earlier.”

The​‌‌ boy’s words, saying⁠‍ that he had‌ waited for him,‌ were especially pleasant⁠ to hear.

Waiting⁠‍ had always been‍⁠​ the task of‍​⁠ the elderly.

But⁠⁠‌ every now and‍ then, it was‌ not bad to​‌ reverse the roles.⁠‌

“Come.‌ The nights are​‍‌ still cold.”

Emil‍ removed the cover‍​ from the lantern​⁠ he was carrying.​‍

The​⁠ flame began to‌ sway and illuminate‍‍‍ the dark hallway.​

“Let’s‍⁠‌ go to the⁠ annex. They say‌ it’s the warmest⁠​‍ place. It gets⁠‌​ plenty of sunlight⁠​‌ too.”

Most‌ people feared Ramund‌ and found him⁠‌ difficult to deal⁠⁠ with.

But‍⁠​ Emil was different.‍

Because​‍‌ ever since he​​‍ was little, he⁠⁠ had always called​‍‌ him Grandpa.

“How​‌⁠ long do you​ plan to stay⁠​ this time? You’ll‌‍ stay until autumn,‍​ right?”

Emil⁠‌‌ had never had‍​‌ grandparents.

It‌ was inevitable.

Both​⁠‌ of his parents‌​ had been orphans.‌

That‌ was why, at‌​ first, Ramund had⁠⁠ allowed him to‌‌ call him Grandpa‌ without giving it⁠ much thought.

But​ as time passed‍⁠‍ and the child⁠ grew, Ramund eventually‌‌ came to understand‍‌‍ something.

That​‌ he could no‌‍‍ longer remain merely⁠⁠​ a knight in​‍ front of this‌​‌ boy.

“Yes…‍‌​ yes. That’s right.⁠​ I’ll probably stay‍ until before winter.”‌​⁠

“That’s⁠​​ great! Stay for⁠‌ a long time!”​​

Seeing‌‌​ Emil speak with‌‍ shining eyes, asking​‍ him to remain‍ by his side‍ for a long‍ time, Ramund let‍‌ out a hearty⁠ laugh.

If⁠ someone had observed⁠​ them from afar,‍ they would have⁠​⁠ easily mistaken them‍ for a grandfather‌ and his grandson.​

“And‌ since you’re going​⁠ to stay for‍‌‍ so long, could‌ you teach me​‍ that?”

“Teach​‌ you what?”

Was‌ it because of‍ the brilliant white‍‍ moonlight that night?​

Or​‍‌ perhaps because of‍​ the dark black‍⁠⁠ light that lately‌​ seemed to be​​‌ growing stronger and⁠‍ stronger?

Because​‌ of those two‌‍ lunar lights, Ramund’s​‍⁠ vision became blurry,‌​ and he had‍‌​ to blink several‌‍‌ times.

“You‍ know. The body-strengthening​‌‍ technique. The one‌ that hardens the⁠​‌ body. I really‌‍‍ want to learn​ it.”

In​​‍ that blurred vision,​⁠‍ Emil’s face began​​‍ to overlap with⁠ someone else’s.

A blond boy with‍​‌ blue eyes.

Just‍‍​ like the child‍ before him, he‍ had always wanted‍‍ to learn something​‌ new.

In‍ the end, he​​​ had learned it⁠ on his own‍⁠⁠ and left before​​ Ramund had the⁠‌⁠ chance to teach​‍ him anything.

But‍‌ this time, Ramund‍‌‌ had no intention​⁠ of making the‌ same mistake.

“Absolutely‌​ not, brat! To‍​ learn the body-strengthening‍‌ technique, you first⁠ have to master‌‌‍ aura.”

“Ah,​​ seriously. Everyone tells⁠​ me the same​​⁠ thing. I’m already‌‌⁠ thirteen years old.⁠​‌ My father also‍‌‌ learned aura when​ he was sixteen.”⁠⁠‌

“I‌⁠‍ learned it when‍‌ I was thirty,‌ boy. Don’t be​​‍ in such a hurry.”

This​‌ time, he would​​⁠ teach him everything.‍‍​

He⁠ would hold nothing⁠​ back.

He‍‍ no longer wanted‍‌⁠ to leave behind‌‌⁠ any regrets.

“…By⁠ the way, while⁠ the boy keeps‌‌ growing up, where‌ the hell is‌‍‌ his father and‍‌​ what is he​ doing?”

Trying​ to focus his‍⁠‍ vision again, Ramund​‍‍ lifted his head‌⁠‌ and looked out​⁠‌ the window.

Two‌‍‌ moons shone in⁠‍ the night sky.​‍

And‍‍​ between them gleamed‍⁠ that black moon‌​‍ which, according to‌ legend, had been‌‌‍ raised into the‌‍⁠ heavens by the‍⁠​ Swordmaster of this‌ era.

***⁠⁠‍

The​‌⁠ two moonlights silently‍ illuminated the snowy‌ plain.

In​‌⁠ the middle of‍​⁠ that vast white‍ expanse, where there‍ was neither tree‍‌ nor beast and​​ where even the⁠ breathing of the​​ person beside you⁠‌ could be heard‌‌ clearly, several men⁠‍ glided across the⁠ snow.

“Damn⁠‌ it! Why does‌ this keep wobbling?‍​ It works fine‌⁠ for a while⁠‌ and then it​ starts happening again.”​

It‌‍​ was a man⁠​ who wore a prosthetic leg on⁠⁠ his left side.⁠​

“Hmm.”‍‍

The‌⁠ dark-skinned man responded‌⁠‌ briefly, indicating that​⁠​ the same thing⁠‌ was happening to‍ him.

“Couldn’t‍⁠ it simply be‌ because you’re missing⁠ a leg? You⁠ know, center of​⁠ gravity and all​‍ that.”

said‌​ the blond man⁠⁠⁠ while teasing the‌ man with the‍ prosthetic.

“That’s⁠‌​ not it. It’s​⁠ because we used‍‌ a grouch’s soap.⁠⁠ That’s why it‌​ goes well for​‌⁠ a while and‍‌ then starts slipping‌‍ again.”

explained⁠‌ the cat-eared man‌‌‍ who was traveling​​‌ beside the blond‍ man.

Four‍⁠ men crossed the‌⁠​ snow, stirring the‍​​ silent plain as⁠‌‍ they passed.

Each‌​​ wore long wooden​‍‌ boards strapped to​ their feet.

Though‌⁠ they looked crude,‌​ they moved at​‌ a speed comparable‌‍ to that of‍ a horse.

“And‍‍‍ how much did‌‍‌ someone have to‌‍‌ grumble for you​‌ to call it​ a grouch’s soap?”​‍

“Hmm,​‍ let’s say enough‌ to go out‍⁠ in winter and‍‌ spray soapy water​‌ on slopes so​‌‍ people would slip.”‌⁠​

Seeing​ Nibelun answer with​ a grin from⁠ ear to ear,​ Vlad spoke with‍​ an exhausted expression.⁠‌

“…That’s‍​ not being a grouch. That’s just⁠‍⁠ being a damned‌‍ villain.”

“That’s⁠ why it was⁠ difficult to get.‌‌ He used to⁠ do it at​​ dawn so nobody‌ would find out.”​⁠

“What?‌ He was a real person?”

“Yes.‍ He lives in‍⁠ the city of‌‍​ Timoa.”

As⁠ Nibelun explained that‍ sometimes you had‍ to beat him‍‍ up a little⁠ to make him​‍ cooperate, Vlad thought‍‍​ to himself.

I will never set​​ foot in that‍⁠ city called Timoa.⁠‍⁠

“Huh?‍ Really? Elder! Here?​‌ Is this truly‌ the North Pole?”​‍

Suddenly,​‍⁠ Nibelun placed something‌⁠ beside his ear​⁠⁠ and began speaking⁠‍‌ to someone.

It‍⁠​ was a seashell.​‍

But‍ not just any‍​⁠ seashell.

It‌ was an extremely‌‍⁠ ancient fossilized seashell.​​‍

“Vlad,⁠‍ I’ve known that⁠⁠ guy for a long time, but‍​ every time I see him, he⁠​⁠ seems crazier.”

“Hmm.”​

“You‌ know he once⁠ told me I should show respect​⁠​ to this seashell?‍​ According to him,‌⁠ it’s an elder‍ tens of millions‍‌ of years old.⁠‌‌ Do you understand‌​ any of that?”‍

“Harven,‌‌ what I don’t⁠‌⁠ understand is why‍‍‌ you still try⁠‌​ to understand mages.⁠ These things are​‍‌ simply accepted.”

If‍​‍ something could be⁠‍ understood, then it​‍​ was not magic.⁠​‌

Because⁠​ magic was, by⁠ its very nature,​‍​ the art of⁠‌ deceiving reality.

And⁠⁠ that was even‍‍ more true in⁠⁠​ the case of‌ the beastmen’s primitive‌​‍ magic.

“In⁠ any case, we’ve‍ arrived.”

After‍‍ Nibelun indicated with​ a gesture that⁠‍ this was the​‌​ correct place, Vlad⁠ took the lead​​‍ and began descending‌‌​ into a basin.‌

It​‍ was a depression​ so vast that⁠ it could have⁠‌⁠ contained a small‍ city.

Combined​‌ with the silent‍ atmosphere of the‌‍⁠ snowy plain, it‍‍ offered a majestic⁠ view.

But‍‍ Vlad was looking​ at the sky⁠⁠‍ more than at​‌ the landscape.

“It’s⁠ definitely a good‌‍ place for observing​ constellations.”

The‌​‌ North was also‌‍​ excellent for stargazing.‌

But​⁠ not as much​ as this place.‍‍

Because​ they were at‍‌ the North Pole.‌​​

A place where the⁠⁠ stars neither rose​‌ nor set.

Every⁠‍ constellation he had‍ seen throughout his​⁠ life in the⁠ northern hemisphere was​⁠​ etched across the‌ dark sky and‍ could be viewed‍‌ at a single⁠​ glance.

“Then​‌ I’ll begin the⁠ observations. Now, where​‍ are the granny⁠​ glasses my grandson⁠⁠‍ gave me?”

While‌ Nibelun rummaged through‌​​ a magical bag,​⁠​ the other three‌‍ men raised their‍‌‍ heads toward the‌‍ firmament.

“You‍ have to live‌⁠‍ a long time​⁠‌ to see things‌​⁠ like this. I never thought I’d‍​‌ end up coming​​​ to a place⁠​ like this.”

“That’s⁠‍ true.”

“Hmm.”⁠​

Men​‍⁠ who had been‍‌ born and raised⁠‍‌ in the alleys‍ of Soara now​ gazed at the⁠‍ night sky side‍​⁠ by side.

They⁠‌​ commented on how‍ different it was‍‌ from the one‌​ they had known​ during childhood.

Because‍‌‌ the sky of​​​ their youth had​‌ been a broken‌‌‌ and fragmented sky,​ hidden between makeshift‍‍⁠ rooftops and old⁠​⁠ alleyways.

“One‌ day I’d like⁠⁠ to bring my​​⁠ son here. By⁠⁠ the way, how⁠‍ is Emil? I heard he entered​⁠‍ Bayezid as a squire this year.”⁠⁠​

“Don’t‌ remind me. His‍​ mother cried a lot. As if‍​‌ he had gone‌ to the end​ of the world.”⁠

And⁠​ the men, now‌ fully grown adults,​⁠ spoke about their‌‌‍ children beneath that⁠​‌ sky.

“Every‍ time I see‌ Emil, I’m reminded⁠‌ of you when‌‍​ you were little.‌​‌ Even though he’s‍‍‌ your son, how‍‌‍ can he resemble‍​ you so much?‌ Does his mother​⁠​ never complain about‌‌‌ it?”

Harven⁠‍ uncorked a bottle⁠ of whisky, took‍‍ a drink, and‍‌⁠ then passed it‍‍ to Vlad.

Vlad‍ accepted the bottle‍ and let out‍ a brief laugh.​‍

“Even‌⁠⁠ so, he’s not​ like me.”

Above‍⁠ the vast sky,​​⁠ the black moon‌⁠ could be seen.‍‍

The‌​ moon that the‍ mad Lamashut had‌⁠ created.

That⁠⁠‍ the dying Joseph‌‌‍ had prepared.

And‍ that he himself‌‍ had raised into‌ the heavens.

“…Naturally,‍​​ he must walk​‌ a different path⁠⁠⁠ from mine.”

It⁠ was a moon​‌‌ that symbolized a new era.

Children‌⁠ born in those‍‌ times would never⁠​⁠ know a sky​ with only one‍ moon.

Vlad​⁠⁠ believed that his‌⁠​ son would grow​​ up beneath a different sky from⁠⁠ the one he⁠ had known in​ his own childhood.‍‍

“Sorry‌⁠‌ to interrupt, but‌​ I have the‍‍‌ observation results.”

Nibelun,‍ wearing the granny⁠⁠‌ glasses, approached while​​ rubbing his hands‌ as though he​‍‍ were cold.

Vlad‍ offered him the‌⁠‌ bottle of whisky‍​ and asked,

“Well?​‍​ Were you right?”‌

Nibelun‍ stared at the‍ bottle for a few moments.

The‍​‍ apologetic expression never‍ left his face.‌

He‍‍‍ seemed even more⁠ distressed by having​⁠ to give that‍ answer.

“Yes.‌ I was definitely‌⁠‌ right.”

Slowly‍⁠⁠ swirling the bottle‌‍ of whisky, he⁠⁠ continued speaking.

His‌‍ voice was heavy,⁠ very different from⁠​ his usual cheerful​ demeanor.

“The‌ black moon has‍ drifted from its⁠​​ orbit. It keeps‍​ moving closer and‌ closer to our⁠​‌ continent.”

A deep sigh sounded⁠​‌ from behind Vlad.​‍

It‌ was the reaction​ of someone who‍⁠⁠ desperately wished those‌​‍ words were not‌‍​ true.

“I⁠​‍ don’t know how​‍ close it will⁠ get…”

Nibelun⁠‌ did not continue.⁠​‍

Because​ even for him,⁠​ it was far‍‍ too difficult to‍⁠⁠ imagine what would‍​‍ happen afterward.

“…Life‍⁠‌ isn’t simple.”

Vlad‍‌ took the bottle‍‍ of whisky back‍​ from Nibelun’s hands.​‍​

Then,​ accompanied by a long sigh, he​​ gazed at the‍‌ black moon suspended‍‍‍ in the sky.‌‍​

Then…‌​‍

What‌​‍ should they do⁠‌​ now?

In⁠‍⁠ the middle of‌ the silent North‍​​ Pole, the man’s​⁠‌ breath spread thickly​ through the air‌‍‌ as he sank​‌⁠ into deep thought.‌⁠

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