Star-Embracing Swordmaster — Chapter 297: Side Story – Vlad of Soara? (1)

Chapter 297: Side Story – Vlad of Soara? (1)

From⁠ Joseph’s closed left⁠‌ eye flowed a darkness resembling the⁠‍⁠ night sky.

Seen‌⁠ from afar, it‍ would look as‍ though black tears‍ were dispersing through‍‍‍ the air.

But‌‍ Emil, who was‌ standing right beside‍ him, could see‍‌ it.

Even‌ within that flowing darkness, there were‌ tiny lights shining.⁠

“…It’s‌ magic!”

Reality⁠‍ was gradually losing⁠⁠ its colors beneath the light of‌⁠ the Black Moon.⁠‍‌

As‌‍ he gazed upon⁠ that monochrome world‍‌ where, exactly as‌‍ Joseph desired, only‌⁠ black and white⁠‌ existed, only truth‍ and lies, the‍ hooded necromancer screamed as though suffering‍‌ a convulsion.

“That⁠‍ man is a mage! And a necromancer!”

Because⁠‍ he was a mage, he could‍ tell.

Within‌ that colorless world⁠‌ spreading before them,‌ there was the⁠‍ scent of death.‍

A man who had‌‌ returned from death‍ thanks to the‍‌ Black Moon.

Joseph‌‌ gave off an unmistakable and profound‌‌ smell of dark‌‍ magic.

“…Rise!”‍

Then⁠ the method to‌‌ confront him was‍⁠‍ simple.

“…Edric,⁠⁠ knight of Rochefort.‌ Rise at once‍‌ and tear apart‍ the man standing‌⁠⁠ before you!”

In‍⁠ a battle between⁠‌ necromancers, the most‌‍‍ important thing was‍‍ who held greater‌ dominion over the‍ concept of death.⁠⁠‌

And‌ in that regard,⁠⁠ the hooded necromancer‌‌ had absolute confidence.⁠

Because‍‌ right behind Joseph‍‍ stood the corpse⁠‍ of a knight prepared by one‌ of the most⁠‌‍ extraordinary necromancers currently‌ alive.

[…Edric,‌‍ knight of Rochefort.]‌

A noble and skilled‌ knight, worthy of‌‍ receiving a coin‍ of honor.

And a cursed corpse‍⁠ created from that‌‍‍ knight.

It‍‍ was such a valuable material that‍‍ he normally would⁠ never have been‍‌⁠ able to touch‍ it.

That‍‌ was why the‍ necromancer was convinced‌‌ that simply raising‍ him would be⁠‍ enough.

But‍ he had made‌‌ a mistake.

The⁠‌‍ first mistake was believing that the⁠ black-haired man before‌‍ him was a necromancer.

“…O-one.”‌

The‌ second mistake was‍ forgetting that no⁠ matter how much‍ magic could deceive‌‌ the world, Law‌‍⁠ remained Law, and‌‌ every Law possessed⁠‌ supreme rules that‌ governed above all others.

“…J-just⁠ one.”

A voice emerged from‌‍ the dried corpse⁠⁠ of the old‌ knight.

An⁠‍‌ old knight who had never been‌ able to retire‌ because he failed‌‍⁠ to deliver his‌ final coin of‌‍⁠ honor.

And⁠ who had ended⁠‌⁠ up chained to⁠ death.

As‍ though deeply regretting‍‌ that fate, black‌‍ tears began to⁠‌ fall from his‍ eyes.

“W-what‌‌‍ is this…?”

The‌‍ necromancer’s eyes widened.⁠⁠‌

The‍⁠ corpse had escaped‌ his control.

No⁠‌ matter how many⁠⁠‍ manual seals he⁠⁠‌ formed.

The‍ body did not‍‍ respond.

The⁠⁠⁠ necromancer knew perfectly‌⁠‌ well how powerful⁠ the curse engraved⁠‍ upon that corpse‌‍ was.

That⁠ was why his‍ confusion was obvious.‌

However,‍⁠ Joseph remained completely‍ calm.

And⁠⁠ slowly knelt on⁠ one knee before‍⁠ the corpse.

[…]‍⁠

Before‌⁠ the body lay‍ a silver coin‍⁠ blackened by the‌⁠ curse.

Originally‍ it had been‍‍‌ a symbol of⁠‌ honor.

But‌⁠‍ now it had‍ been turned in‌ the wrong direction.‌⁠

Joseph picked up that‌‍ trampled honor and spoke to the⁠ old knight.

[Then⁠ I shall accept this coin on⁠⁠ your behalf.]

It⁠‍ was a promise.‍‍‍

A promise to fulfill⁠‌ the duty that⁠ man had been unable to complete.⁠

The⁠‍ old knight’s corpse‍‌ moved eyes that⁠ no longer existed⁠ and looked at Joseph.

At the end of⁠ that trembling gaze‌‌ was the silver⁠⁠‍ coin, shining brightly‌ once more.

[Listen,‌ Edric, knight of⁠‌ Rochefort, who swore⁠ by the Swordmaster’s‍‌‌ Code.]

The last knight of⁠ the Founding King‍‍ spoke calmly.

Which‍‍ was superior?

The⁠ dark magic that‌⁠ chained a knight’s‍ soul?

Or⁠ the Swordmaster’s Code?⁠‌

[You‌‍‌ have managed to‌ gather all the⁠ honor you once‍ spilled upon this‌⁠ land, just as‌⁠‌ you promised.]

Which‍ of those rules‍⁠ was older?

Which‍⁠ was more important?‍‍⁠

Which formed the very‍ foundation of this world?

[And‌‍ I, Joseph Bayezid,‍ last knight of⁠ the Founding King, certify that you‍ have paid the required price.]

All knights swore an⁠‌ oath before taking⁠‌‍ up a sword.‍‍⁠

They‌ swore to protect.⁠‍‍

They⁠‍‍ swore to protect in the name‌ of Kihano Frausen.⁠

[Therefore,‍ Sir Edric you‌ may retire now.]‌

And⁠⁠ so, to those‍‌ who finally fulfilled‍‌ their oath, he⁠ said.

That‌‍ their lives had‌‌‌ truly been honorable.

“Ah…⁠ ahh…”

An‍ intense light began radiating from Edric.‌

The‌ origin of the‌ Empire.

The⁠‌‍ root of all⁠‍ knights.

The⁠‌ most benevolent rule⁠ supporting this world.⁠

Freed⁠ by the Swordmaster’s Code, black tears‍‍ no longer flowed⁠ from him.

“Damn⁠‌‍ it!”

The⁠ knight’s soul began⁠⁠ to disappear wrapped‍ in the white‍‌ radiance descending from‌ the Black Moon.‌‍⁠

“Cough!”‍

The‍ necromancer tried to maintain the dark⁠ magic and hold⁠‌ on to that⁠‍ soul.

But‌ in the end,⁠ he could not⁠‍ stop the blood‌‌ rising from his‍⁠ insides and spat‌ it out.

‘No!’‍⁠

Wrapped⁠ in brilliant light,⁠ Edric was returning‌‍ to the Founding King.

The‌⁠ necromancer desperately struggled‍ to hold him‌‌ back.

But‍ this was not⁠⁠ a problem that‌‌⁠ could be solved‌⁠‍ through magical skill⁠‍ or mental strength.⁠‌

‘Who⁠ the hell is‍‍ that man?’

The⁠ Swordmaster’s Code.

A supreme concept among‌‍ all laws and rules existing on⁠ the continent.

An‍ authority so exalted‍‌‌ that to challenge it, one would‍‍ need to invoke⁠‍ even the name‌⁠⁠ of a god.⁠⁠

And⁠ yet there existed‍⁠ someone capable of‍‌ acting in the‌ name of that‍ Code.

It was something the⁠⁠‌ necromancer had never⁠ heard of in‍‍‌ his entire life.⁠

“Urgh…‌‍ ugh…”

However,⁠⁠ regardless of the⁠ reason, the plan⁠ had failed.

The Deathworm had stopped.⁠

And⁠ he was lying⁠⁠ on the ground‍ in a miserable‌ state.

If⁠‍ he returned like this, the punishment awaiting him was⁠‌ obvious.

But‌ the necromancer still‌ understood one important⁠ thing.

“…Kill‌‍⁠ them.”

“What?”⁠

He‌ did not know who that man⁠‌⁠ was.

But‍⁠ he understood perfectly‌ well what his‍ objective was.

“Kill‍‌ those brats!”

The‌‌ black-haired man had‌⁠⁠ appeared alongside the⁠ children.

He‍ had moved the children to thwart⁠⁠ their plans.

He‌ had saved them.

And‍⁠ he was still‍⁠ protecting them with⁠ all his effort.⁠‍

That‍ meant only one⁠⁠ thing.

The children were his‌⁠ weakness.

“They’re⁠⁠ not knights yet!⁠ That means I can still capture⁠ their souls!”

If⁠ he returned without⁠⁠ any results, he‌‌ would suffer a punishment worse than‌ death.

Or⁠⁠ perhaps he would⁠ not even make‍‌ it that far.‌‌

Perhaps that mysterious man⁠ would kill him⁠ first.

Either⁠‍‍ way, there was⁠‌⁠ only one option‌‌ to break this⁠ situation.

Capture‌‌ the children.

‘Damn‍‍ it.’

The‍ assassin leader realized‌ that he was‍‌ facing a desperate‍‌ situation.

‘There’s⁠ no other way.’‍⁠

He‍ had traveled there‌ to capture Barbosa’s‌ daughter.

But‌ in those unknown⁠ northern prairies, he⁠ had encountered a necromancer who controlled‍ death.

And‌‍ an unknown man‍ who had transcended⁠ even death itself.‌‍

“Don’t‌ move!”

This‍‍ was not something‌ they could fight‍‌‌ against.

Realizing‍‌⁠ that Joseph was‌⁠ an existence beyond⁠⁠ his level by‍ an immeasurable abyss,⁠ the assassin leader‌‍ grabbed Renvar, whom‍⁠⁠ he had been‌‌ using as a seat until moments‍‍ ago, lifted him‌ up, and pressed a sword against⁠ his neck.

“Of‌‌ course, unless you‍‍ don’t care about⁠⁠ this brat’s life.”‌⁠‍

As soon as he⁠⁠ took Renvar hostage⁠ and stood up,⁠‌ the subordinates who‍⁠ had gone after⁠‍ the children began‍ returning.

“Let⁠ me go! I said let me⁠ go!”

“Damn‌ you! I’ll kill⁠‍ every one of‌‌ you!”

Hampton‌ and Lenia had‌ bought time by desperately fleeing through‍ the fog, but‌ in the end‍⁠ they were captured‌ and brought back‍‌ by the assassins.⁠

Seeing⁠ his friends in danger, Emil’s face⁠ began to fill‌ with anxiety.

“…Sir.‍‌ No, Sir Knight.⁠⁠ Can’t you use‌⁠ that banner one more time?”

Joseph⁠ showed a strange⁠ expression when he⁠‍‌ heard Emil call⁠ him a knight.⁠

Until‌ yesterday, Emil had treated Joseph like⁠ nothing more than‌ a wandering spirit.

But‌⁠ after witnessing that⁠⁠ feat with his‌ own eyes, the⁠ boy had become noticeably more respectful.⁠‍

“I‌‍ did exactly what‌‌ you told me,‌‍ Sir Knight! And‍⁠‌ they ended up‍‍⁠ getting captured! Aren’t‍ you going to‌‍ save them?”

[…]‍

Although‌‍ he was asking⁠ for help, there⁠‍ was a clear‌‌⁠ reproach in Emil’s⁠‍ gaze.

[Do⁠ you want to‍‍ save them?]

At⁠‍ that question, the‌ boy nodded immediately.⁠

Even⁠ though Renvar had‍‍ ultimately said something⁠ along the lines‍ of him not⁠‌ mattering, Joseph liked⁠‍⁠ Emil’s shameless courage.‍‍

[For‍ free?]

It‌⁠ was like seeing⁠‌ that boy from‌ long ago once‌ again.

The⁠ blond boy who‌‍‍ kept escaping again‌‌⁠ and again even‌‍‍ when a leash‍⁠ was placed around‌ his neck.

And‍ now, a child‍⁠ with that exact‍ same hair color⁠⁠ began stroking the‌‍ old knight’s sword‌ with an expression⁠⁠ full of dissatisfaction.‌⁠

He⁠ looked ready to charge in by himself if necessary.‌

Joseph‌⁠ nodded at the‌‍ sight.

[Good.‍‍ After all, tonight⁠ is the Night⁠‌ of the Two⁠ Moons.]

Joseph‌⁠ raised his eyes⁠⁠ toward the sky.‍‌‌

Two‍⁠ moons shone above them.

One‌⁠‌ was the benevolent‍ white moon.

The⁠‍ other was the‌‌‌ Black Moon of the children.

Joseph‌ raised a coin‍ toward the white‍⁠⁠ moon.

Then‌ he opened the‌‌‌ left eye he‌ had kept closed‌ and this time‍‌⁠ closed his right‌⁠ eye.

[In‍‍ exchange, you’ll have⁠ to do it⁠ yourself. I cannot‌‌ wield a sword.]⁠‍⁠

Joseph’s‌⁠⁠ words caught Emil⁠⁠ completely off guard.‌

Even⁠‌⁠ now, the assassins‍‍ were keeping their‌‌⁠ swords at his⁠ friends’ throats while slowly backing away.

If‌ they managed to‌ escape with the‍ hostages, Hampton’s, Lenia’s,⁠‍ and Renvar’s lives‌ would not be‍ guaranteed.

“What am I supposed‌⁠ to do in‌ a situation like‌ this?”

Emil‌‍ was impulsive, but he was not⁠ an idiot.

Even though the necromancer⁠ was lying on⁠ the ground coughing⁠ up blood, there‌ were still more‌‍ than thirty assassins⁠ left.

And⁠‌ on top of⁠⁠⁠ that, they were‍⁠ using his friends‌‌ as hostages.

No⁠ matter how talented‍ he was for‌ his age, this‍⁠ was beyond what⁠‌ he could do.‌‍

[Then who could do‌‌‍ it?]

Then‌ who could do‌‍ it?

Who⁠‍ would need to be here to‌ save your friends?⁠

[Tell me, Emil. Who‌ should be here?]‌‌

Joseph’s⁠⁠ words left Emil‌ speechless for a moment.

Even‌⁠⁠ in the middle⁠‍ of such a desperate situation, he⁠ seemed to be‍‍ talking about something‌‍ completely abstract.

But⁠⁠ eventually, the boy⁠⁠ lowered his head‍ and answered with‌‌ a somewhat sad‍‍ expression.

“…When⁠‍ things get like‍‍ this, everyone looks‍ for one person.”‌

I can’t do it.⁠

But‍ that person could.‍‍

When‌⁠ things become difficult, everyone ends up‌ saying his name.‍‌

[And⁠⁠ who is that‌‌ person?]

At⁠ the question, Emil‍‍ looked at his‌ friends.

Hampton‌ was still shouting‍ with his face⁠‍‍ red from rage.‍

Lenia‍‍⁠ was still fiercely biting the assassins’⁠ wrists.

“My⁠ father.”

If‌⁠‌ my father were‌⁠‍ here, he could‍ have saved them.‍‍

He’s‍‍‍ much better than I am.

I can’t even ride‍⁠ a horse.

I haven’t even properly‌‍ mastered the principles‍ of One-Strike Kill.‍

[You⁠‍ must say his‍⁠ name properly, boy.]‌

“……”‌⁠⁠

The‌⁠ boy had grown‍ up always watching‍‍ his father’s back.‌‌⁠

But‍ no matter how hard he tried⁠‍‌ to catch up.⁠‍

That‌‍ back kept getting‌ farther away.

And⁠‍ even when people‌‍⁠ told him he‍‍‌ had done well,⁠ there were always‌ others around him‍ saying he would‌‌‌ have to become‍‌ much better to‌‍ reach his father.‍

“Vlad.”⁠

That‍ was why, even‍⁠ for him, his⁠ father’s name carried⁠‍‍ a special weight.‍‍⁠

It‍ was like a winged bird that kept flying farther away no matter⁠ how much he‍‍‌ tried to reach⁠⁠‍ it.

“Vlad‌ of Soara.”

Vlad.‍

Vlad‍‍ of Soara.

I want to become someone like him‍ too.

[…Vlad‍ of Soara. It’s‍‍‌ been a long‍‌ time since I last heard that‍‍ name.]

The‌ name everyone waited‌ for.

The‍ name everyone loved.‌

The‍⁠ name in which‍ everyone placed their‌‌ hopes.

Vlad⁠ of Soara.

Joseph‌⁠ smiled as he⁠‌ looked at the‌ boy who had‍ just spoken that⁠ name he longed‍ to reach.

[Then‌‌ try it. Be‍ Vlad of Soara.]‌⁠‍

“…!”⁠‌

Emil flinched when he⁠ felt something cold‍ touch his forehead.

But‌‍‌ what surprised him⁠⁠ even more was⁠ realizing that his‍⁠ body was slowly⁠ beginning to turn‌‍ white.

“Sir?”⁠‍‍

He‌⁠ was so startled‌ that he called‌‌ him “sir” again‍ instead of “Sir‍ Knight.”

But‌‌‍ Joseph could not answer.

Because‍‍‌ now he had⁠ to create a world of lies using the right‍‌‍ eye he kept‌⁠ closed.

[With‍‌‍ a single coin,‌⁠ naturally I cannot⁠ turn you into a Swordmaster.]

The‌‍ boy’s body began‍ to change.

It‍ all started with‍ the white energy⁠‍ flowing from the‌ silver coin attached‌⁠ to his forehead.‍

Toward‌ the image he‍ had always wished‍ to become.

“Huh?⁠⁠ Huh?”

His⁠ height increased.

His‍⁠‍ body became more‌ agile.

His‌ eyes grew sharper.⁠‍

The‌ thirteen-year-old child was transforming.

And‍‍⁠ so, with a single coin and‍ beneath the merciful⁠⁠⁠ light of the‌‍ white moon, which‌ forgave even lies,‌ Emil slowly began‍‍ to become the‌ image he had‌⁠ always repeated in‍‍ his mind.

[…It‌‍ has been a long time, Vlad.]‍

And‍ thus, the boy‍ from that day⁠ finally appeared.

Vlad.‌‌

Vlad⁠‍‌ of Soara.

Joseph‍‌ smiled softly as he spoke once‌ more that name‍‌ he had not‌ uttered in such‌‌ a long time.‌⁠‍