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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 291: Side Story – The Song of the Forgotten (3)

Chapter 291: Side Story – The Song of the Forgotten (3)

It‌​⁠ is coming.

Boy,​⁠‌ it is coming⁠ for you.

For⁠‌⁠ you, who shine.‌‍

That​‍ thing that crawled‍​ up from the⁠‌ depths of the⁠ earth is coming⁠⁠ for you.

***⁠⁠

ROOOOOOOAR—!‍‍

At⁠⁠‌ that colossal roar⁠‍ that echoed from‍ the edge of‍‍​ the sky, Emil⁠ covered his ears.⁠

‘Ughhh…’​‍

The‍⁠ only things leaving⁠​ his mouth were​⁠‌ screams, groans, and‌ cries of pain.‍

Even‍‌⁠ now, the boy’s‌‍ small heart was​‍‌ beating with such​‌‌ painful intensity that​‍ it felt ready​​⁠ to burst.

Run.‌‍

You‌‍ have to run.⁠

That⁠​ thing has come​​‍ to devour you.​‌‌

‘It’s⁠⁠​ looking at me!’‍

A gaze descended from‌​‌ an unimaginably distant​ sky.

Dragons⁠⁠ were beings born‌‌⁠ to attain perfection.‍

And‍ what they needed‌ to reach that‍ perfection was potential.‌‍​

Possibility.‍‌

In⁠⁠ the nonexistent eyes‍​ of the Deathworm,​​ a young dragon​ was reflected.

Bright.​‍​

Young.⁠​

Overflowing⁠⁠‍ with possibilities.

‘I…‌ have to run​‍ away.’

The​ gaze descending upon​ him was overwhelming.‌‌⁠

The‍‍​ Deathworm’s world mercilessly⁠⁠⁠ pressed down upon‌‍ the small dragon‌ struggling below.

And‌‍ beneath that unbearable​‌ weight, the world​⁠⁠ of a young‌‍‍ dragon that had⁠ not even been​ given the chance⁠ to bloom was‌ beginning to suffocate.‍‌

Flash!‍

Then​​ a red line‌ cut across the​​‍ horizon.

From‍⁠⁠ afar, it looked​ like nothing more‌ than a thread.‌

But‌⁠ as it approached,‌‍‍ it transformed into​​‍ a blazing wave,⁠​‌ as hot as​ molten magma.

“How⁠‍‌ dare you set‌‌ foot on my⁠ land?!”

BOOOOOOOOM—!‌⁠

A devastating slash.

Like‌​ a volcanic eruption​‌‌ exploding into existence.‌

Before​ that fierce and‍​ scorching strike, the⁠‍ most resilient dragon‌ in the world⁠‌ let out a cry of pain.‌‌​

ROOOOOOOAR—!​‍

Fragments‌‌ of shell and‌ enormous chunks of⁠‌ flesh began breaking​‌ away and falling.‍‌‍

Wounds.‌‌

A concept that should‌‌ never exist in⁠⁠‍ the world of‍ the most resilient⁠​⁠ dragon.

And‌⁠ all of it‌⁠ had been caused​ by the fury​ of a single‌​‍ man.

“This‌‍‍ is the land​‍ of Bayezid!”

“This​‌ place is Sturma!​‍​ The land of​‌‌ Rutiger Bayezid!”

The‍​ current Count Bayezid.‌

Rutiger‍‍ Bayezid.

His‌ aura-charged voice began​‍ pushing back the​‌‍ Deathworm’s world.

Grrrrrrrrr—‌

A world burning like‌‍‍ a volcano expelled⁠‍⁠ the most resilient​ world.

And‌‍‍ when Rutiger’s presence​‌ spread throughout Sturma,​​‍ Emil was finally‍‌ able to breathe‌​⁠ again.

“Capture‍​⁠ those bastards!”

But​⁠‍ Emil was not​ the only one‌‌ freed from the‍‌ Deathworm’s oppression.

“Kill‌​ Barbossa’s daughter!”

The‍ assassins, who had‌‍ remained motionless beneath‌‌‍ that crushing presence,​​ began moving again.​

They‌‌ rushed toward Emil‍‍ and Tarenian.

Telsa​ raised her sword‌‌‍ with determination to​ protect them.

But⁠​ her body was⁠‍​ already covered with​‍​ countless stab wounds.‍‌

“Milady!‌ You must run…!”‌

“Damn‌‌⁠ you!”

BOOM!‍⁠⁠

At‌⁠​ the most desperate‍⁠ moment.

Just‍‌ as Telsa closed​‌‌ her left eye​‍ in preparation for⁠​ death.

The‍ remains of a building slammed into​‍ the assassins.

“How‍‌​ dare you point‍‌ your swords at‍‌ them?!”

A hand emerged from‌⁠ the cloud of⁠​ dust and seized​‍‍ an assassin by​‌ the throat.

It⁠⁠ was an old‍ hand.

So‌​​ aged that it‌⁠ seemed as though‌​ the skin barely‍​​ clung to the⁠​‌ bones.

But​​‌ the principles of⁠ Body Reinforcement contained⁠ within those fingertips⁠‍⁠ still granted it‍‌‍ strength comparable to​‍ steel.

“Bastards!”​

Crack!‌

The‍‌⁠ assassin’s neck broke‌⁠‌ before he could‍‌⁠ even react.

But⁠‌ that was not‌​⁠ enough.

Ramund‍⁠ charged straight into​ the center of‍​ the enemy ranks.⁠

“In‍ front of me!”‌

Using⁠ a corpse as⁠‍‌ a shield, he⁠‍ plowed through the​ assassins.

The‍⁠ swords descending from‍ every direction were​​‍ incapable of stopping⁠​‍ the old knight’s‌⁠ charge.

“You​‌‍ laid your hands‍‌ on my child!”‍‌‌

He‌ caught a sword⁠​ in midair and​ tore it from‍‌ its owner’s grasp.‍​

He​‌‍ drove the broken⁠ blade into another‍ man’s throat.

He⁠⁠‌ trapped a sword⁠ beneath his armpit⁠‌‍ and struck his⁠⁠‌ enemy’s jaw with⁠​‍ the palm of‌⁠ his hand.

Boom!‍‍‍

The⁠​‍ head exploded.

Fragments‍ of brain and‍⁠ blood rained down.​‌

Everyone’s​​ vision was covered‍ by that sticky,​‌ nauseating shower.

But‍⁠‌ the demon named‍​ Ramund did not‌⁠⁠ stop.

“Die!⁠​‍ Die!”

On​​⁠ the battlefield, the‌‍‌ vanguard must never‌ stop.

Because‍ if I stop,⁠‌‌ those behind me‌‍ will die.

“How‍ dare you lay‍ your hands on‌‌​ children, you filthy‌​ vermin?!”

Ramund‌​​ crushed the assassins‍​ while maintaining the‍‌​ speed and fury​​ of his charge.​

It‍ was not elegant⁠​ swordsmanship.

Nor​ was it refined⁠ technique.

It⁠‍ was pure violence.‌‍

Brutal‍⁠‌ movements that could⁠⁠ only be born⁠⁠‍ on a battlefield.‌

And​ those movements awakened⁠ a primitive fear‌⁠​ in his enemies.⁠

“Die!‍‌‌ Die!”

He​​‍ looked like a human battering ram⁠ created solely for​​ killing.

Emil⁠​‍ watched the scene​‌ with eyes completely‌ captivated.

Until⁠​‍ a voice came‍ from the distance.⁠

“Emil!”‌​‌

“Uncle!”​​⁠

At‌⁠‌ the sight of​ that enormous figure‍ approaching, tears welled‍‌ in Emil’s eyes.​

Because‍ the person descending‍ through the rubble‍ of the building‍⁠⁠ was an adult‍ he could trust.​​

His‍‍ father’s friend.

Portly‌‌ Kannor.

“Are‍‍ you alright?! Are​ you alright?!”

Portly‌​‌ lifted Emil up⁠⁠⁠ like a doll⁠⁠‍ and began frantically⁠ inspecting him.

“Damn‌ bastards! They’ve torn⁠⁠ his clothes to​⁠‍ shreds!”

After⁠⁠⁠ quickly confirming that⁠ he had no‌​ serious injuries, he‍‍ understood the situation​‍‌ and shouted to‌ the men accompanying‌‍ him.

“Protect‌​ the children! Take⁠‌‍ care of the‍​ wounded!”

Armed‍⁠ men immediately spread​⁠ out.

They​‌ were mercenaries hired⁠‍‍ by the Kannor‌‌ Trading Company for⁠⁠ the festival’s security.​‍

Portly​ had gathered them‍​ in a hurry.⁠

“Emil!​‍ Are you alright?!”​

“Hampton…”‍

Seeing‌‌ a familiar face,⁠⁠ the tension finally⁠‍‌ began leaving Emil’s​‌‍ body.

“What‍‌‍ the hell is‍ happening?”

“I⁠‍‍ don’t know…”

Leaning⁠ against Hampton, Emil⁠​ blinked in confusion.‌

There⁠ was a blond⁠ boy standing behind⁠⁠ him.

“…That‌ fat old man‍⁠‍ dragged me here⁠​⁠ too.”

It⁠ was Renvar.

Although⁠‍ he spoke indifferently,​‌ it was obvious​‍⁠ that he felt⁠‌ uncomfortable.

He​ knew perfectly well⁠⁠ that in the‍⁠‌ middle of such​⁠‌ chaos, it could‍⁠‌ not have been⁠​⁠ easy to worry‌​⁠ about him as‍ well.

“Good.‌‌ Let’s return to‍‌‍ the manor first.‍​⁠ The knights will‍‍ be there, and—”‍

“No.”‌‍‍

Portly​‍ attempted to suggest‍‌⁠ a retreat.

But‍⁠‌ Ramund, who had‍⁠ just returned, was‌⁠‌ staring at something‍ in the distance.​

And​‌ he spoke in‍ a grave voice.‌

“Right‌‌ now, that is‌⁠⁠ the most dangerous‌ place.”

Strengthening⁠ his vision with​​ aura, Ramund looked​⁠‍ toward the Sturma⁠ manor in the‍⁠ distance.

Along​​​ the hill road‌ leading to the‌ manor, countless masked⁠‍​ men were advancing.‌‌‍

It‌⁠ seemed they had‌⁠ entered through the​ tunnel opened by‍ the Deathworm.

The​​ knights and Jager‌‍​ were holding back‌​⁠ that mass that‍‍‌ multiplied like a plague of cockroaches.‍‍

“They’re⁠ preparing a second​⁠⁠ strike.”

Behind​ the knights, Rutiger​ stood with his​ sword planted in‌​‌ the ground and‌​ his eyes closed,⁠​‌ immersed in deep⁠‍ meditation.

Rutiger’s​ secret technique for‍‍ drawing out a deeper world.

The⁠⁠‍ Deathworm seemed to⁠​ have sensed what​⁠‌ was coming and⁠‌ was thrashing wildly,‍‌​ but countless magic‌​ circles surrounded the​ most resilient dragon‌⁠ in the world,​‌‌ preventing it from‌⁠​ advancing.

It⁠ was the result‌ of the mage​⁠‌ Dorothea unleashing every​‌​ magical formation she‍​ had accumulated over​ the years.

“Right​​ now, the manor‍⁠‌ is the most⁠​‍ dangerous battlefield. We​⁠ cannot take the⁠​ children there.”

He‍ believed they would‌‍ win.

But​ that did not⁠ mean he could‌‌ take the children‌ into the heart‌​‍ of the battle.‍​‍

Ramund‍‍ wiped the blood​ running down his‌ chin and said​​‌ to Portly,

“Let’s‍ go to Soara.‌ We need to⁠⁠‌ leave Sturma for​⁠ now.”

Thanks‌⁠⁠ to the instincts⁠‌​ he had honed‌​⁠ over a lifetime⁠ on the battlefield,⁠⁠ Ramund made the‌ best decision possible.‍​

Storms‌ are not stopped.‍‌‍

They‌‌​ are avoided.

They‍ needed a place​ to take shelter‍ until the situation​ calmed down.

And‍ Soara was the‍⁠ most obvious choice.​​‌

“Of​​‍ the nearby cities,​‍ it’s the safest.”​‌⁠

Ramund⁠‍‌ wiped his sticky‌‌⁠ hand and patted⁠‌‍ Emil on the‍⁠ head.

The‌​ Rose of Soara.‌

The‍​‍ Scarlet Lady.

She​‍‌ would protect Emil⁠‍ and the other‍⁠ children even at‌‌ the cost of⁠‍‌ her own life.​​

“Then‍⁠ let’s head to⁠​‌ our trading company‍‍ first. We can‌⁠‌ get a carriage‌ there.”

Fortunately,‍ the Kannor Trading​‌ Company building was‍⁠ not far away.⁠

At⁠‍ Portly’s suggestion that​ they obtain horses‍​ and a carriage‌ there, Ramund nodded‍⁠‌ wearily.

“Good,​ let’s move!”

A dozen mercenaries surrounded‍‍ the children and⁠‌‌ began advancing toward‍⁠ the company.

Some⁠ carried the injured‌‍‌ Telsa.

Others‌ helped Ramund walk,‍​ as he had​ exhausted much of‌‌‌ his strength.

As​‌⁠ they cautiously made‍ their way through​‌ burning streets and⁠‌⁠ collapsed buildings, Emil‌‌ frowned when he⁠ heard that strange​ voice in his⁠​‍ ears once again.⁠‌‌

“What⁠‌⁠ is it, Emil?​ Are you hurt?”‌

Tarenian​‌​ looked at him⁠‌ with concern.

But​‍ Emil could not​ answer.

‘Again.’⁠‍

Accompanied⁠‌ by that stabbing⁠‌ sensation, the mysterious‌⁠ voice rang out​‌ once more.

He‍‌ knew he had‍‌‍ avoided danger thanks⁠‍ to it.

So‍‌‌ he focused all​⁠⁠ of his senses‍ on listening.

[……!]‌⁠‌

But​ all he could⁠​⁠ hear was indistinct‍⁠ noise.

Nothing‍‍‍ he could understand.⁠⁠‍

Because‌​‌ the city of‍‍ Sturma was completely​‌​ dominated by the​ presence of the‍‍​ Deathworm and Rutiger.⁠

There⁠‌​ was no room​​ for another world‌‌‌ to interfere.

“We’re‍​ here, sir! I can see the⁠​‍ sign!”

But​ if Emil had​ been able to​​‌ understand that voice.​

If‍ he had managed‍⁠​ to reach it.‌​

He​ would have heard.​

[Don’t‌⁠ go in there!]‌

“Let’s​ go inside.”

The‌⁠ door opened with‍‍ a creak.

The‍‌​ group entered the⁠​ trading company building.‌

But‍⁠⁠ perhaps it was‌⁠ because they finally⁠ felt safe.

Or‍⁠ perhaps because the​​ chaos surrounding them‍‍ had distracted them.⁠

No​ one noticed that‍​ the floor beneath​‌‍ their feet was⁠‌​ wet and sticky.​

Nor​​​ did they notice⁠​‌ the strange metallic⁠⁠‍ smell hanging in‍ the air.

“For​​⁠ now, here… Huh?⁠‍​ Father!”

One​‍​ side of the​‌ building had been​‍ destroyed and was⁠⁠ shrouded in darkness.⁠

From‌​⁠ that dark area,⁠‍ the head of​ the Kannor family‍⁠‌ emerged.

“Grandfather!”‌

Olson⁠‍‌ Kannor.

Patriarch‍ of the Kannor​ family and Portly’s‍⁠⁠ father.

The⁠‌‍ moment he recognized‍ that familiar face,‌ Hampton was about‍​ to run toward⁠ him.

But‌‍​ a hand immediately‍‍ stopped him.

“Don’t​​ go!”

Emil’s​ hand gripped the​‍ back of his‌​ clothes so tightly⁠ that the fabric‍‌ creaked.

Yet​⁠ Hampton could not⁠‌⁠ ask him to‍‌ let go.

Because‍‍⁠ Emil’s eyes, fixed​‌ on the darkness,‌ were trembling without​ end.

“That‌‍‌ bastard really is⁠​⁠ smart.”

Olson​‍ Kannor walked out⁠ from the shadows.​‌‍

Without​ a body.

Only‍⁠ a head being​ carried by someone.⁠

Swaying‍ weakly as it‍⁠‌ moved forward.

“He‌⁠​ said you’d all‌ end up coming‍​​ here.”

The⁠ man holding Olson’s‌​⁠ head stepped out‌⁠ of the darkness.‍​

“That’s‍ why I had‌ no choice but​‌‌ to listen to​​ him.”

Brown‍ hair.

Thick‌​‍ eyebrows.

A sturdy physique.

But‌‌ what stood out​ the most was​​ the gigantic sword‌‍ he carried.

As⁠​ enormous as he‍⁠‌ was.

“So‍ you’re Emil. Right?”‍‍​

Thud.​‌

Rolling‌⁠ across the floor,⁠⁠‍ Olson Kannor’s head​‌‌ came to a stop at Emil’s⁠ feet.

Everything​‍ felt unreal.

Emil​‍ silently stared at‌⁠⁠ the head of⁠ his friend’s grandfather.⁠

“I​ don’t even need​ to ask to‍‌​ know.”

The​ man smiled.

“You’re‌ Vlad’s son.”

Yes.​‍

There‌ was no need‍ to ask.

Because‌⁠ the gaze with​​⁠ which he looked‌‌‌ at him was⁠⁠‌ exactly the same‌ as his father’s.‍

That​‌ cursed shade of‍⁠ blue.

It‌ was identical to⁠​‌ Vlad’s.

“I’m​ glad to see‌​ those eyes again.”‌⁠

That‌‌‍ was why he‍‌ wanted to ask​⁠ that blue color.‍‍⁠

Whether‍‍‌ he could take⁠⁠⁠ it back now.‍​‌

Whether‍ the time had‍​ finally come to⁠ reclaim it.

“My⁠‌⁠ name is Ishtvan‌ Gaidar.”

The⁠⁠ banner he carried​‌ bore an eagle,‍‍ the symbol of​‌ the Wastelands.

“I’ve​ come to reclaim‍⁠‍ my sword.”

And‌⁠‍ beside the eagle​​⁠ was another coat‍⁠ of arms.

The​‌‌ emblem of a decapitated dragon.

Swaying​⁠ in the blood-soaked‍ wind, it stared‌‌ directly at the‌‌ boy.

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