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Star-Embracing Swordmaster Chapter 300: Side Story – My Father’s City (1)

Chapter 300: Side Story – My Father’s City (1)

It⁠‌ was a dark‍ mansion.

It‍⁠ was a magnificent​ mansion filled with⁠ antique decorations and​‍‍ luxurious red carpets,‌‌‌ yet strangely pervasive⁠‍ shadows seemed to‌ drain all its‌​ colors.

“So​‌‌ they failed.”

And​​ in the reception​​​ hall sat a man.

Alone⁠⁠‌ in a vast​⁠ room without a single visitor, he‌ gazed outside through⁠‍ the window.

“Fifty⁠ years raising the‌⁠ Deathworm. What a pity.”

Pale⁠‍‍ fingers, without a single drop of​‌ blood in them,‍‌ caressed the needle​ of a compass.‍⁠⁠

But‍⁠​ no matter how‍ much he called,⁠ neither the most‌‌ resilient dragon nor⁠‌ the necromancer who⁠ summoned death responded.‌

Realizing⁠ that something had⁠ gone wrong, the​‍‍ man gave a bitter smile and​​⁠ brought a wine‌ glass to his⁠‍​ lips.

“Although,‍‌‍ now that I think about it,​​​ that Swordmaster killed‍‌​ everyone who seemed⁠​ promising.”

A deep red liquid‌ spread across the‌‌ corner of his‍ lips as he​ smiled.

However,‌⁠ no matter how​ sweet the wine​‌⁠ was, it seemed‌‍ unable to dispel​​‌ the displeasure the‍ word Swordmaster stirred‌‍​ within him.

“…The​ Court Duke has⁠‍⁠ sent a reply.”‍​

Sensing‍ that his master’s‍⁠ mood had darkened,⁠ the butler spoke.​​⁠

“He‍ says he is​‌ satisfied.”

The‌‍ secret letter sent‍ from the depths⁠ of the Imperial​​ Palace contained only⁠ those words.

Satisfied.‍‌

It‌⁠ did not specify‍ what he was‍⁠ satisfied with, but‍⁠ the man holding‍ the glass nodded‍ and stood up.​​‍

“I​​ am glad to‍ know he is‌​‍ pleased.”

He​‍ approached the window.‌⁠​

In​‍‌ the distance, beneath⁠ the dark pre-dawn‍⁠ sky, the Imperial‍‌‍ Palace Albarion could​‌ be seen.

To‌ anyone else, it‌‍‍ was a beautiful‌⁠‍ sight.

But‌‍ the man holding‍ the glass seemed‌‌ to feel absolutely​ nothing.

“Why​ do people insist‍‌ on finding flaws‌‍ even in something​ so beautiful?”

From‌​ afar, it looked​⁠​ perfect.

But​​ when one drew‍​ closer, cracks and‌ imperfections that had⁠ once been invisible​‌⁠ could be found.​​

“I‍‌ find it ridiculous​⁠ to hear someone⁠ say they cannot‌‌‌ tolerate even a single stain.”

He⁠​ found it amusing.‍

They‍⁠ were born imperfect,⁠⁠ yet they sought⁠‍‍ perfection.

He​ found them pathetic.​

They⁠‌ reached out toward‍ something they could‍​​ never attain.

“And​ even if they​⁠ destroy everything and‌‌⁠ rebuild it from‍‌ scratch, new cracks‍ will appear all‍ the same.”

The‍ man known as⁠⁠⁠ the Court Duke​ pursued a dream.‍

One‍‍ could not say​‍‌ he was wrong.​

But⁠​‌ from this man’s‌⁠ perspective, it was‌⁠ nothing more than‌​ a futile attempt.‍

Because‍‌​ he had seen‍‍ too many humans‍ like that.

For⁠‍​ far too long.⁠

“By⁠​‍ the way, was‌​ his name Emil?​ The boy who‍​⁠ destroyed our piece.”⁠‍

“That⁠⁠ is correct.”

Emil.​‌​

Emil.​​‌

Emil…‌‌

The‍‌ man’s lips began‍⁠ to twist in​‌ a strange way​ as he repeated‍ the name.

“Children‍ of this generation⁠⁠ are definitely quite⁠⁠ peculiar. Is it‌ because they have​ too much human​​ blood?”

He‍‍‌ set the glass‌ down on a table.

Many‌ red drops remained​‍ inside, untouched.

“Perhaps​​​ that’s why. It‌ has quite a pleasant taste. If⁠ my father were​ still alive, he⁠​‍ probably would have‍​ liked it.”

The‍‌‍ man smiled as​ he looked at⁠ the wine.

Reflected​‍‌ on the surface​‌ of the glass⁠‍‍ was a distorted‌‍ face.

Blond‍​‍ hair.

Blue‍‍‌ eyes.

“I​​ should see him⁠‍⁠ before he grows⁠ too much. Once​ they become too⁠ large and resilient,​‍‌ it becomes difficult‍​‌ to find even‌‍⁠ a single crack​‍⁠ in them. Just⁠‍ like his father.”‌‍​

At‌​ those words, the‍ butler silently lowered‍‌‍ his head.

It‍⁠​ was a dark‌‌ mansion even in⁠‌⁠ broad daylight.

And‌​​ at the center‌​​ of that darkness,‍⁠​ the man looked​‌ up toward the‍‌‍ sky.

In​‍ the heavens above,‍​‌ a black moon​ was slowly approaching‌ the mansion.

***⁠‍

Clatter…‍‍ Clatter…

In‍⁠​ the quiet pre-dawn‌ hours, Emil opened‌‍ his eyes at​​​ the sound of‌‍‌ the wheels of⁠⁠⁠ an old wagon.‌

‘Ugh…⁠ Where am I?’‍​

Since‍‌ the sun had‍‌ not yet risen,⁠⁠ the inside of⁠ the wagon remained⁠ dark.

The⁠ scent of prairie‍​ grass and the⁠⁠‍ dampness of dawn⁠‌⁠ filled the air.⁠​​

But‌⁠​ the moment he⁠‍ opened his eyes,​⁠​ a wave of​​​ pain spread throughout‍‌ his entire body.‍⁠

He‌‌⁠ let out a small sigh and​ curled back up‌ beneath the blanket.‌

“How‍​​ are you feeling,‌ Emil?”

A hand was gently​​​ massaging his body.​

It‍ was a large​‍‌ and warm hand.​‍

Hearing⁠‍‌ the man’s voice​‌‍ beside him, Emil‌ frowned and tried‍⁠​ to focus his​‍ vision.

“You⁠ pushed yourself too‌ hard last night.⁠⁠‌ Rest a little​‍​ longer. Your father‌⁠‌ also spent several‍⁠ days bedridden whenever‌‍​ he did something‌ similar.”

In⁠ front of him​​‌ was the black-haired⁠ man he had‍‌‌ seen the previous⁠ night.

The‍​​ man who claimed⁠‍ to be Joseph​ Bayezid.

A strange emotion appeared⁠ in Emil’s eyes‌‌‍ as he looked​ at him.

“…Are‌‌ you dead or​​‍ alive?”

He⁠‍⁠ was a man‌​ impossible to understand.‍⁠​

That⁠‌ was why he‌‍‍ needed to stay‍​⁠ cautious.

But‍‌‍ Emil also knew‍ that, had it​ not been for‌​ him, he probably‌⁠ would have died‌ the previous night.​⁠

“Why​​​ are you following‍ me? Do you⁠ have a reason?”‌

The‌‌​ caution in the⁠⁠ boy’s eyes had‍ softened a little.​‍‌

Now‌ it was gradually⁠ being replaced by‌‍‍ curiosity.

Seeing​​ the way he⁠ looked at him,​‌ Joseph smiled faintly.⁠⁠‌

“Emil,⁠​ don’t you remember?‍⁠ When you were‌⁠ little, we used​​​ to play together⁠⁠ on the hill‌​ of Dermar.”

“My​ mom told me⁠ to be careful⁠‌ of people who‍​ say things like‍‍ that.”

“……”‌⁠‍

Joseph‌‌ swallowed hard upon‍ hearing a child⁠ who had clearly‍ been raised to‍ distrust strangers pretending‌‍ to be familiar.‌‍⁠

“…In⁠ any case, I’ve​​‌ been watching you⁠⁠ for a long​ time.”

To⁠ Joseph, Emil was‌ a special child.⁠

They‌​ shared no blood.‌

But​​ they were connected⁠⁠ by a bond‌‌ just as deep.‌​‍

And​‌ he also possessed‍‍‌ exactly the qualities‍ Joseph needed.

“The⁠⁠‍ truth is, yes,​⁠ I am dead.‌ I had a reason for returning.”​

Joseph⁠ had returned through‌ the Black Moon.​

A moon created through‌‌ magic that deceived‌‍ the world.

A moon raised through​‌ necromancy that manipulated‌⁠‍ death.

That​‌‍ was why, whether​‍‍ he wanted to‌​ or not, he‌⁠​ always carried with‌‌‌ him the scent‌‌​ of magic and⁠‍‍ death.

“In​​‌ fact, I also​ tried it with‍ your older sister,‍ but it didn’t​ work. Is she⁠‌‍ already over sixteen‌⁠​ years old?”

However,​‍ returning from death⁠ did not mean‌​ being able to‌‌ interact freely with​⁠ reality.

For‍ that, he needed‌⁠‍ a firm connection.‌‍

And‌‌​ someone capable of‌‍​ serving as that‌⁠‍ connection.

“The​ Black Moon only​‌⁠ responds to matters⁠​​ involving children. That‍⁠​ is how it​‌‍ was created from‌⁠ the very beginning.”‌​‌

It‍‌⁠ had to be⁠⁠‌ a child.

Furthermore,‍‍​ the connection had​ to be especially⁠‌ deep.

And‍⁠ if that child‍​ possessed senses sharp⁠​⁠ enough to hear‌‌‍ the voices of​ the dead, even​‍ better.

And⁠⁠‍ the only one‌⁠⁠ capable of fulfilling‌ all those conditions⁠ was Emil.

“Really?”‍‌‌

Emil’s⁠ eyes widened.

‘So‌ he really was‌‌​ dead.’

Thinking​​ that, he discreetly⁠‍​ pulled the blanket‌‍ up to hide‌ part of his⁠‌ face.

Because‍ he really liked​⁠ hearing that only​ he could do​‍​ it.

“…Ahem.‍‌ Then what exactly‌⁠​ am I supposed‍‍⁠ to do for​⁠‍ you from now‍⁠‍ on?”

Wanting‍‌ to be special⁠‍⁠ was a common‌​⁠ trait among all​​​ children.

And‍ in Emil’s case,⁠ it was even​‍‌ worse.

After‍ all, he had‍ a father known‌ as the Swordmaster.⁠⁠‌

And⁠‍ an exceptionally talented⁠ older sister.

“Who​ knows.”

That​ was why Joseph​‍‌ decided not to‍‌ rush things.

After⁠⁠‍ all, he had‍ experience dealing with‌⁠ Vlad when he‌‌‌ was a child.⁠⁠

“Now‍‌‌ even I’m curious.‍‍ I want to‍⁠‌ see what you’ll‌⁠‌ be capable of⁠​ doing in the​ future.”

Emil‍ did not respond⁠⁠‍ when he saw⁠ Joseph’s smile.

He‍‌ simply thought it⁠ felt rather nice⁠ that a man‍​ he barely knew‌ trusted him.

Clatter!‍⁠

“Alright~.‌ We’ve arrived. Welcome⁠​ to Soara.”

With⁠​ a rattle, the⁠‍ wagon came to‌ a stop.

At‌‍‌ the same time,⁠ Anna pulled back‌ the canvas from‍ the driver’s seat‌⁠ and energetically began‌​⁠ waking the children.​‍⁠

“Kids,⁠‌ it’s time to​ go home now.‍​ Come on, wake⁠⁠ up.”

At​‌‍ Anna’s hands, the​⁠⁠ children who had‍‍ been lying inside​⁠​ the wagon began‌‍‌ sitting up one‍‍ after another.

All‌‍ of them had‍‌‌ messy hair and‌⁠ puffy faces.

The​​ women who climbed‌​‍ down from the‍⁠ wagons behind them​ clicked their tongues​ at the sight​ and immediately began⁠‌‍ taking them one​​ by one to​ clean their faces‍ with handkerchiefs.

“Aren’t‌⁠ you coming with‍ us, ma’am?”

Although‌⁠ she had a strong personality, her​⁠ hands were surprisingly​ gentle.

Feeling‍​⁠ that treatment, Emil‍​ involuntarily thought of‍ his mother and​⁠​ asked whether she⁠⁠‍ would not come​‌‌ with them.

But⁠ Anna simply shook‌‍ her head and​ smiled.

“We⁠‌‌ have somewhere else⁠‍‍ to go. We‌‍ only came out​‍‌ for a moment⁠​‌ because of you.”⁠

As‌​​ if her task⁠‌​ had already been‌‍ completed, Anna held‍‍⁠ Emil’s chin and‍‌‍ turned his face‌‌⁠ from side to⁠​​ side.

“Now​ that I’ve cleaned‍‍‌ you up properly,‌‍ you really do⁠‌ look like your‌‌‍ father. It brings​‌​ back so many⁠‌‍ memories~.”

In‍ the boy’s face,‍‌ she could see​​ a face that​ no longer existed‍⁠ in this world.‍⁠

A face she missed.‌​‍

Anna​⁠⁠ smiled when she​ found it.

“Emil,​​‍ could you pass‍‍ a message to​ your father when‌‌⁠ you see him?”​

“What​ message?”

There‍⁠ were words she⁠⁠‍ had always wanted‌⁠ to tell him.⁠‌

But⁠⁠ she had never‍​ been able to.‌

Because⁠‍‌ the boundary between⁠​ the living and‍ the dead was‌⁠⁠ too clear.

Perhaps‌⁠ the women had‍⁠ returned precisely to⁠‌ deliver those words.‍⁠

“Thank​‌ you.”

There​⁠‍ had been women​ who cried silently‌‌ in a mist-covered‌⁠ village like this‌​​ one.

Women‍‍​ who had lost​⁠⁠ their children.

Who⁠​ had lost their​⁠​ bodies.

Who⁠ had even lost‌‍ their souls in‍ that dark basement.⁠​

“Tell‍ him thank you⁠ for finding us.”​⁠

But⁠ unlike back then,​ those women were⁠⁠ now smiling as‌‌ they watched the⁠​​ children.

They‌ had once been‌​ women who shed⁠ black tears.

And‌‌‌ there had been⁠ a young knight⁠‍‍ who wiped away⁠ those tears.

“Alright,⁠‍ now go!”

After‌‍ saying that, Anna‍​ gently pushed Emil’s⁠‍⁠ and the others’‍‍​ backs.

And⁠⁠ then the mist⁠⁠ lightly covering the⁠‌⁠ prairie began to‌ part before them.​

“Goodbye,​‌ Emil! It was‍ a pleasure meeting‌‌ you!”

With‌‌ Anna’s farewell, the‍⁠⁠ prairie mist slowly‌ began to dissipate.⁠​

The‌⁠ mist the necromancer‍⁠ had spread.

The⁠ mist the Black⁠⁠ Moon had used.‌‌

And‍​ when it began‍‌ to vanish, something‍‍​ familiar appeared before‌⁠‍ their eyes.

The⁠ walls of Soara.‌‌

The​⁠​ same walls they‍​⁠ had seen since​​ childhood.

[When‌​​ the next moon⁠‌ rises, we’ll meet​ again, Emil.]

Joseph’s‌‍‍ voice came from‌ behind Emil as‌‌ he slowly walked​ forward.

It⁠ sounded different from‌⁠ before.

Like‍⁠‌ a distant echo.‍⁠⁠

Puzzled‍​ by that reverberating​ tone, Emil turned​ around to look.​‌

But⁠​‍ the mist had‌‍ already disappeared completely,​⁠ as if everything⁠ had been a lie.

“…Whoa.‍‍‍ It’s Soara.”

In⁠‍‍ the end, the‌​ four children were​‌​ left alone in⁠⁠ the middle of‍⁠ the empty prairie.​⁠

Hampton⁠​‍ stared at Soara’s⁠ distant walls with⁠​ an expression of⁠ disbelief.

“I⁠​⁠ don’t understand. Even‌ riding from Sturma​​​ to Soara would‌‍ take a week.”‍⁠

Emil​ did not answer‍⁠ Hampton’s words.

He​ was only staring‌⁠ at the wagon‍⁠ beside him.

“…I‍⁠​ think those ladies‍ were ghosts.”

It‍ was a wrecked‍⁠‍ wagon.

A wagon with a wheel torn off,‌‌ abandoned in a pitiful state.

It‍‌‌ was undoubtedly the‌‍‌ same wagon they​‌‌ had used to‍‍‌ escape from Sturma.​​⁠

Lenia‌ spoke absentmindedly as​⁠ she realized what⁠ that wagon truly⁠⁠‌ was.

But​ Emil merely shrugged.​⁠

“They​⁠‍ weren’t ghosts.”

Dawn‌⁠ was beginning to‌‍ appear on the⁠ horizon.

At​⁠ the same time,​‌‍ the two moons‍ were setting.

And​ watching the smaller‍ moon, now completely⁠ white, disappear beyond‍ the western horizon,⁠‍‍ Emil said:

“They​‍‌ weren’t ghosts.”

“They‌‍‌ were my dad’s​ friends.”

There‍ had been people⁠ who returned from⁠⁠ death.

People⁠ who had arrived​ riding upon the​​ light of the‌‍ Black Moon.

And‌ thanks to them,‌ the children had​⁠ managed to make⁠⁠‍ it all the​‌ way here.

“Come​​ on. We only⁠​ have to walk⁠​⁠ a little farther.”‌‍

Emil‌ began walking across‌ the summer prairie,​⁠ now free of​ mist.

The‍​‍ city walls rising‍ before them were‌‍ blackened and damaged.⁠

But‍ people continued entering⁠​ without end.

The⁠ nest that had‍⁠ not fallen.

The​⁠‍ beacon of the​‍‌ North.

Soara.​‍

And⁠⁠‍ the children walked‍​‍ toward the city‍⁠ that had been‌‍‌ protected by the⁠‍‌ Lady in Red.​‍​

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