Star-Embracing Swordmaster — Chapter 296: Side Story – The Last Knight of the Founding King

Chapter 296: Side Story – The Last Knight of the Founding King

The‌⁠ blue glow that‍⁠ had not yet⁠ completely faded still‍ lingered at the edge of the‍⁠‍ sky.

It‌ was an hour⁠⁠ when night had‍‌ not yet fully fallen.

Along⁠ the road that‍‌ crossed the prairie,⁠‌ where the deep‍ blue darkness slowly‌⁠ spread, a man‌⁠ advanced.

“Emil!⁠‌ Emil Aureo!”

He‍‌ was a dark-skinned‌ man.

After⁠⁠ receiving an urgent⁠‌ message from the‌ Red Lady, he‌‍ had gathered the‍⁠⁠ members of the‌‍ caravan who were⁠⁠‍ in Varna and⁠ was now desperately‍‌ searching for someone‍ while shouting in‌‍ anguish.

“Emil!‍⁠ Emil, Vlad’s son!”⁠

The‍‍⁠ stream of refugees‍‌⁠ coming from Sturma⁠‌‍ seemed endless.

Seen‌ from afar, the‍⁠‌ crowd was so⁠ immense that it‌ looked like a giant serpent twisting‌ across the plain.⁠⁠

Yet‍‍ Ned moved against‌ the flow of‍ people, calling the⁠‍‍ boy’s name over‌‌⁠ and over again.⁠‍

“I’m‍‌ looking for the‌⁠‌ Swordmaster’s son! Rose’s‌‌ Smile will reward‍⁠ any information, no⁠‌ matter how small!”‍‍

It was a human tide that could‍‍‌ not be stopped.‍‍

As⁠ he fought against‍ that current, the⁠ man’s body accumulated small cuts and‍ injuries.

But‍ he continued shouting‍ the boy’s name‌⁠ as though none⁠ of it mattered.‍⁠

“Emil!⁠‌ Emil Aureo!”

Thinking⁠‍ that this time it was his‍ turn.

When he was a child, Vlad had saved that dark-skinned‍ boy.

Just⁠⁠‌ as Vlad had‌ pulled him out‍‍⁠ of the back alleys back then,⁠ Ned now wanted‍ to find Emil in that crowd and pull him⁠‍ out as well.‌

“Has‍ anyone seen Emil‍ Aureo?!”

“The‍‍‌ Swordmaster’s son! Emil Aureo!”

And‍ perhaps it was⁠⁠⁠ because Ned’s sincerity‍‍ managed to move the people.

Little‌ by little, more‌ people began calling‍ Emil’s name throughout⁠‌ the crowd.

“The‍ Swordmaster is coming?!”‍‌⁠

“Sir‌⁠ Vlad! Sir Vlad⁠ of Soara!”

One⁠ person’s voice became‌ a massive echo.⁠‌⁠

Carrying‍‌ anger.

Carrying‌‍ sorrow.

Carrying‌‍ fear.

The⁠ gathered voices began‌‌‍ to fill the‌ roads of the‍‌‌ North like the‍‍‌ roar of a gigantic beast.

Rumbleee…‍

But⁠ the salvation they‍ were calling for‌⁠‍ was far away.‍⁠

And⁠⁠‍ the danger approaching⁠‍ was already breathing⁠ down their necks.‌⁠

“Aaaahhh!”⁠‌‍

“It’s⁠ an earthquake! Everyone⁠ get down!”

The survivors of Sturma‍ knew perfectly well⁠ what those vibrations‍⁠ rising from the‌‌ depths of the‌‍ earth meant.

The‍‍‌ gigantic dragon that⁠ seemed to pierce⁠‍‍ the heavens.

Those⁠ who remembered the‍‌ nightmare of Sturma‍ fell to their‍‌ knees and began⁠‍ screaming once again.‌

‘…Is that the Deathworm?’‌‌⁠

It‌⁠ was a vibration‍ so intense that‌‌ it seemed to‍ shake the soul itself.

Ned‌‍ had been shouting⁠ Emil’s name at‌ the top of⁠ his lungs, but even he could‍‍‌ not withstand that⁠ tremor and ended‌ up dropping to‍ his knees.

Rumble!⁠‌ Rumble! Rumble!

Beneath‍‌‍ the sky illuminated‌‍ by the Night‌‍‍ of Two Moons, the northern prairies‍ groaned.

And‌‍ the destination of‍ that lament was‌‌‌ Soara.

Toward‍‌ the brightest beacon⁠‍ of the North.⁠‍

A dragon consumed by⁠ greed opened its‍ jaws.

***‍⁠

Tick.⁠‌

Tick-tick.‌⁠

Tick.‌‍

An‍‌ unsettling metallic sound‌‍ echoed through the‍ fog-covered prairie.

It came from an‍ old, worn compass.‍‍‌

The‌ hooded black mage‌‌ listened carefully to⁠ that sound.

“The‍‌ dragon… is approaching.”⁠

It‍‍ was an artifact‍ capable of detecting‍‌ draconic energy.

Watching‍‌ the needle climb‌⁠‍ higher and higher,‍ the black mage smiled in satisfaction.⁠

“Yes…‌ yes… come this‌ way.”

Each‌‍ time the needle moved, the red⁠ glow of the‍ magic circle pulsed⁠‍ like a heart.‍⁠

And⁠‍‍ so did the⁠‍ corpse of the‍ knight positioned at⁠ the center.

An⁠ old nameless knight‍‍ who had chosen⁠‌ an honorable retirement,‍‌‌ only to end‌ up turned into‍ bait meant to⁠‍ lure a dragon.‌

Pierced‌ through by a sword, he had‍⁠ before him a solitary honor coin,‍‌ earned over an‍ entire lifetime and⁠⁠ now being used⁠‍ as fuel for⁠‍‍ the magic circle.⁠‌‌

Wheeeeeet!‍

“…What?”⁠

Both‌⁠‍ the living and‍ the dead remained⁠⁠ silent within the‌‍ prairie fog.

But⁠ when he saw⁠ the compass needle⁠ suddenly leap upward,⁠ the black mage⁠ showed a surprised expression.

“…What is this?”

The‌ Deathworm was still⁠ on the northern‌⁠ roads.

It⁠⁠ would need at‌‌ least half a day to reach‌ this place.

And⁠ yet the dragon-detecting⁠‌ artifact continued hammering‌ frantically against the‌ edge of the‍‍‌ compass as though‌⁠ warning of imminent⁠‍ danger.

Tap-tap-tap-tap!‌

Suddenly, footsteps echoed through⁠ the fog.

Light‍‍‌ and swift footsteps.⁠‍

One⁠‌ of the assassins⁠ reacted instantly and‍‌⁠ assumed a defensive⁠ stance.

But⁠ it was already‍ too late.

Thwip!‍

“Urgh!”‌

A dagger shot out‌⁠ from the fog.⁠

It‌‍ was a dagger⁠ with the distinctive⁠ design of the‌ Southern Isles.

It‍ flew in a curved arc like⁠⁠ a butterfly and⁠‌ pierced the assassin’s⁠⁠ knee.

“Die!”⁠

Then⁠⁠ something else appeared.‌‍

A massive pole tore⁠‌ through the fog.‍

Crack!!‍‍

It⁠‌ was one of‌ the main support⁠‍ poles of a tent.

Normally it should have‍‌ been planted quietly‍‌⁠ in the ground.‍‍⁠

But⁠⁠ when it came flying with such⁠‍ force, the assassin‍‌⁠ could not withstand the impact and‍ his neck snapped.‌

“That’s‌‍ for my father!”

Hampton⁠‌‍ spat out those⁠⁠ words between heavy‍ breaths.

As⁠ expected of a member of the⁠ Kannor family, famous‍ for their sturdy‌ physiques, he wielded⁠ that pole with⁠⁠ terrifying strength.

“We’re‌ under attack!”

“Barbosa’s⁠ daughter is here!”⁠‌

The assassins were momentarily‍ stunned when they‌‌‌ saw the children‌‍ emerging from the⁠⁠ fog.

But once they realized⁠ the children had⁠ come to them⁠ on their own,‍‌⁠ the assassin leader⁠‍ grinned broadly.

“Well,‌‍ well. Things are‌⁠ working out nicely!⁠‌⁠ The fish are‍ swimming right into‌‌ our nets!”

His gaze shifted toward‌‌ Lenia, who stood⁠ on the other⁠‌ side of the⁠ fog.

The⁠⁠ girl’s orange eyes⁠‍ blazed with fury.‌⁠

And he liked that‌‍ even more.

“Capture‍ her!”

The⁠ greater that fury,‍‌ the more gold‍ they would receive‍‌ afterward.

The blood of Golden‌ Duke Barbosa was‍‍⁠ worth that much.⁠‍

“Whoever⁠‌ catches her gets‍‌ double! And if⁠ you bring her‌‌⁠ back alive, I’ll‌ pay four times‍ as much!”

The⁠⁠ man who put‍‌ a price on⁠‌⁠ flowers that were‍‌ still blooming had‍‌ eyes shining without⁠⁠ pause.

And⁠ the other assassins,‍‍‌ sharing his excitement,‌ reacted in exactly‍‌‍ the same way.‍‌

“Move‍‌ aside! That brat‌‍‌ is mine!”

“You‍ can kill the‍⁠⁠ others!”

The⁠ men blinded by‍⁠‌ gold charged toward‌‌ Lenia.

Seeing‍ them coming, Lenia‍⁠⁠ bit her lips‌ tightly and ran‌ into the fog.‍

“Good,‍⁠ good. Everyone is‌‌‍ so full of‍‌ spi…”

Clang!⁠⁠

The men, completely focused⁠ on Lenia, rushed⁠⁠ into the fog.‍⁠

The⁠ assassins from the‍‍‌ Southern Isles quickly‍ began to spread‌⁠‍ out.

And taking advantage of‌⁠ that opening, a sword shot straight‍‍ toward the group’s⁠‍ leader.

“…Hehe, there was no⁠‌ need for you‌ to show up‌ so soon.”

It‍‌ was a boy‌ whose entire body‍ was shining intensely.⁠

The⁠‌⁠ yellow mole atop‌ his head remained‍ motionless like a statue.

Anyone‌‍ could recognize who‍‌‌ he was at‍ a glance.

“Emil‌‍ Aureo. I was‍ planning to take‌‌‍ you with me‍‍ anyway. You’re valuable‌ merchandise too.”

When the leader spoke⁠‌ his name, the‌‌ bright boy’s eyebrows‌⁠ twitched slightly.

Those‍ men thought only‌ about the fruit⁠ a flower would‍ bear once it⁠‍ had withered.

But‌ the young swordsman‍ showed no disgust‌ toward the reality⁠‍ before him.

“Hyaaah!”‌

He‍‍‍ simply swung his sword.

Clang!‍ Clang! Clang!

A shrill sound erupted‌‌⁠ as the two‍‌ weapons collided.

It‌⁠‍ was a contest‍⁠‌ of strength against‍ strength.

Realizing‍ he was at‌⁠⁠ a disadvantage, Emil‌ quickly retreated and⁠ caught his breath.‍‍‍

“For‌ someone your age,‍‌‍ you’re not bad‌ at all. You’ve⁠⁠‍ been trained quite‌ well.”

It‍‍ had been a perfect strike.

But⁠‌⁠ it had been‍⁠ completely read.

The‍ other children had created an opportunity⁠ for him, but⁠ the assassin leader‌ was not someone‌‌ who would fall‌‍ for such simple tricks.

“But‍ you’re too honest.‌ That’s why little brats raised in‍ comfort are never‍‌‌ useful.”

Fwoosh!

With‍‍ the tip of‌ his foot, he‌ kicked up a cloud of dirt‌‌‌ straight at Emil.

“…!”⁠⁠

It⁠ was a trivial‌ trick.

But⁠ for Emil, it‍‌ was an entirely‌ new situation.

Startled‌ by the dirt that blocked his⁠‍⁠ vision, he took⁠⁠ a step back.‌

However,⁠⁠ the leader had‍ already closed the⁠‍ distance.

Wham!‌‍⁠ Crack!

“As⁠‌‌ expected of a dragon’s body, you’re‌‍ pretty durable!”

The violent attacks that⁠⁠ pierced his body‌ from every angle⁠ made his footing‍ falter.

Without the spirit’s blessing, his organs would‌‌ have been shattered‍⁠ long ago.

“Damn‍⁠‍ it!”

Under⁠‍⁠ that fierce assault, the boy’s sword‍‍ seemed to have lost its direction.‍⁠

His‍ movements were clumsy,‍ almost like those‍ of a drunkard.‌‍‌

The‌‍ surrounding assassins openly‌ laughed.

“Is‌ that all you’ve‌⁠‌ got, Emil Aureo?”⁠

Craaack!‌

The leader’s kick landed⁠‍⁠ squarely.

The glowing boy’s body⁠‍‍ shook helplessly.

Unable‌ to withstand the‍ force of the‍ impact, he was‍ sent flying.

A groan escaped through‌ his blocked breathing.⁠

“Urgh!”‌⁠‍

He⁠ couldn’t even break‍ his fall properly.

He rolled miserably across⁠⁠‍ the ground.

Even⁠ so, he still‍‍⁠ clung to his‌ sword with all‌⁠ his strength.

The‍⁠⁠ determination with which‌‍⁠ he refused to⁠‍‌ give up was‌ almost admirable.

Creeeak!⁠‍

“Ughhh…”‌

The⁠ leader began crushing‌‍‌ his hand beneath his foot.

The‍ mole’s blessing was still protecting him.‍

But‍ even it could‍ not counter pure⁠ physical pressure.

Little‌ by little, the‍⁠ hand gripping the⁠⁠⁠ sword began to‌ open.

“Hey,‌ mage. How much‍ did you say‌⁠ they’d pay for‍‌ this kid?”

The⁠‍ leader looked at‍⁠ Emil like a fisherman admiring an‌‌ extraordinary catch.

“You’d better pay well!⁠ I’ve kept him fresh and in perfect condition!”

Emil‌ Aureo.

Vlad⁠ Aureo’s son.

The‍ leader smiled proudly⁠⁠ as he called⁠ to the black⁠ mage.

But⁠ the mage who⁠‌ emerged from the‍ fog looked more‌ confused than pleased.⁠⁠

“…He’s⁠ not a dragon.”‍

“What?”‍‍‍

Because⁠ the needle of‍‌‍ the compass he‌‌‍ was holding wasn’t⁠ moving.

Only moments ago it‍⁠ had been trembling⁠‌ like mad.

Now‍ it remained completely‍⁠ still.

“This⁠ boy… doesn’t have‌ dragon blood…”

Hearing‍ that, the leader‍⁠ looked down at⁠‍‌ Emil.

“Then what exactly are‍ you?”

The‌‍ boy was being‌‍⁠ crushed against the‍ ground.

But‌ despite his miserable appearance, his shoulders⁠⁠‍ were shaking slightly.

He⁠ was laughing.

“You’re‍⁠ not much.”

He‌ raised his head⁠‌⁠ with a mocking‌ grin.

“Not‌ even the assassins.”‌⁠

The‌‍ leader’s eyes narrowed.⁠⁠‍

And‍⁠ only then did⁠⁠ he truly look‍‍‍ at the boy.⁠

Until that moment, greed‌ and the glow⁠ of the mole’s blessing had hidden an important detail.

The‍ boy’s hair.

Now‍‌‌ he could see‍⁠ it clearly.

It⁠ wasn’t blond.

It‌‍‍ was a pale‌⁠ yellow.

Rattleee!‌

Wheeeeeet!⁠‍‍

With‌‍ the shrill scream‌ of the compass‌ needle, someone slipped into the magic‌⁠⁠ circle.

Even‍ amid that fog,‌‍ it was impossible‍‍ not to recognize that brilliant golden⁠⁠ hair.

“Hyaaaah!”‍

Taking advantage of the‌‍ black mage momentarily‍ leaving the circle,‍ the boy lunged⁠ like a beast.‍

And‌‍ the target he⁠‍ sought was the‌ sword embedded in‍‌ the corpse.

“Gaaahhh!”

The‌‍ sinister runes carved⁠ into the sword⁠ began climbing up⁠‍ Emil’s arm.

They⁠ were cursed words‌‍ so cruel and⁠ vile that an ordinary person wouldn’t‌⁠ even be able‌⁠‍ to look at‍‌⁠ them.

But⁠‍ the dragon blood‌ flowing through his‌‍⁠ veins refused to‌ allow those curses‍ to invade his‍‍ soul.

“Get⁠ away from there!”‌‌‍

The‍ world of the‍⁠‌ most perfect dragon.

A world that crushed all possibilities.

And‌ the world of‌⁠ curses created by the black mage,‍ an existence that⁠ could never be⁠ accepted within that‍ perfection.

“…Stop‍ him!”

The⁠ black mage felt‍‍‌ his magic circle‌‍‍ collapsing.

His‌ face filled with‍ terror.

But⁠ Emil’s eyes were‍ already shining with‌ an intense blue⁠ color.

The‍‌ dragon’s vertical pupils⁠‌ destroyed the world‍‌ of curses.

And⁠ tore the sword⁠‍‍ free from the‌‌‍ old knight.

“Stop him!”

Fwoooosh!‍

The‍ instant the sword‍⁠ was pulled free,⁠‌ a storm erupted⁠ across the prairie.‍

The‍ air that had‍ remained trapped within⁠ the fog began to move violently.⁠‍

The‍‌ sword was the core of the‍ magic circle.

And the moment it disappeared, the prairie⁠ wind burst through and swept away‍ the milky fog.‌⁠

[Well‌⁠ done, Emil.]

And then they saw‌ it.

The‌ green prairie.

The⁠⁠ clear night sky.‍

And‌ beneath the light⁠ of the Black‌‍ Moon.

Joseph‍ Bayezid.

[From‌‌⁠ this moment onward,‌⁠ every battlefield present⁠ here shall fall⁠‍ under my command.]⁠‍

The‌ banner he held‌‍ fluttered in the‌ air.

Upon⁠ the cloth, dark as the night‍‍‍ sky, were embroidered‍‍⁠ the emblem of⁠ Bayezid and the‌ white lightning bolt⁠‌ that symbolized the‌ Founding King.

[All‍ authority I exercise‌‌‍ is simultaneously backed‌‍ by Bayezid and‍‍ by the Founding‌ King.]

Crunch!⁠

Joseph drove the banner⁠‌ into the ground.⁠

And‌ at the same time, the light‌‌ of the Black⁠⁠⁠ Moon began descending⁠ from the sky.⁠

Wherever‌ the light touched,⁠ colors disappeared.

A world where only⁠⁠ black and white⁠‍‍ existed began to‍ spread.

[I,⁠ Joseph Bayezid, declare‍⁠ that from this‍‍ moment onward I shall exercise my‍ rights under the‌‌ honorable names that‍ guarantee my existence.]‌‌‍

The‍ black-haired man closed⁠ his left eye.‌

Then,‍‌ with a cold⁠ smile, he said.‍

[Even⁠‌⁠ over your lives.]‍

Dark‍ aura, black as the night sky,‍⁠⁠ began to pour‌ from Joseph’s closed‍ eye.

Joseph‌ Bayezid.

The⁠ last knight of‌ the Founding King.‌‌

And‌ with that rightful‍ declaration, the world⁠⁠ he unleashed began‍‍ to devour the‍‌ wretched crowd.