Chapter 178 - An Uninvited Guest (2)

A long and broad corridor.

From far in the distance, a man was walking toward them, treading over the bright yellow twilight.

The corridor the man was walking through now was a path only noble aristocrats could tread, and at the end of that path waited the lords who were the highest power in the North.

"..."

The Iron Duke Timur was watching Vlad as he walked toward the conference hall, his lips pressed tightly together.

Brilliant blond hair and blue eyes.

And even an aristocratic-looking face.

'Now that I'm looking for it... he certainly resembles him.'

Watching Vlad approach with the setting sun, the Iron Duke Timur was able to recall one very old memory in his mind.

A man whose impression was so intense it could not easily be forgotten.

Duke Sarnus Dragulia.

To the point that Timur wondered why he had only recognized it now, Vlad's current appearance resembled the Dragonblood Duke in his memory all too closely.

"My lord duke."

Timur, who had been lost in thought while looking at Vlad, shifted his gaze slightly at Fernand's low call.

"It is wavering."

"... Mm."

The scale the old mage was holding was shaking.

It was a small scale, with an ornate brooch engraved in the shape of a dragon on one side, and an old coin engraved with the pattern of a sword on the other.

"Which side is it?"

"I think he will have to come a little closer before I can tell."

Just as Fernand said, as though he truly could not tell, the old scale in his hands was shaking without rest.

And that shaking was growing more violent the closer Vlad's footsteps came.

"... It seems even that cannot recognize him."

Timur felt as though he could understand the heart of the scale as it wavered, unable to find its direction.

The shadow of the sunset grew darker the nearer it came.

Because that shadow was covering the face of Vlad as he walked toward this place.

What is approaching me now from the end of the setting sun—a dragon, or a knight?

But Timur felt as though he would not be able to recognize who Vlad was, no matter how close he came.

* * *

CREAK...

Vlad's back slowly disappeared through the gap in the doors.

The seven knights who had remained because they had to keep watch stood in the corridor, silently observing that sight.

"Seeing Sir Vlad enter, it seems the meeting is more or less finished."

"It would appear so."

"It would be best if at least the ending concludes well, as planned."

The knights who remained knew well what Vlad's entrance meant.

The meeting was now over, and all that remained was a declaration and resolve for one person.

If there was anything needed at such an occasion, it would probably be celebratory wine to lift the mood.

"Did they say he was only just twenty?"

"They say talent is born in turbulent times, and it seems those words are true."

An emperor without legitimacy had ascended, the war in the central region still had not died down, and now even a wicked being was targeting the North.

In the current situation, where all the news was gloomy, Vlad was surely one of the few symbols from which the North could take comfort.

"Hm?"

While the knights were gathered and talking for some time, Rutiger suddenly felt goosebumps rise and grabbed the nape of his neck.

'What is this?'

It felt as though a blue blade had touched his throat.

The chilling warning his instincts recognized first climbed up the nape of his neck and gradually spread through his entire body.

"..."

"..."

As Rutiger looked around at the strange sensation, he saw Volkov's eyes meet his own.

A sensation Volkov had noticed as well, not merely Rutiger's own imagination.

Through each other, the two of them realized that this chill was not their imagination alone.

"Something is coming!"

"Hup!"

WHOOSH!

A dark corridor, a far distance where the end could not be seen.

But though it was invisible, Volkov hurled his javelin without hesitation toward the place he could feel.

His movement was far faster than Rutiger's shout of warning.

"Ugh!"

"What in the world is..."

At the sharp sound of air being torn apart right beside them, Duncan and Ernst covered their ears.

"...!"

Volkov's gaze sharpened as he glared toward the end of the corridor.

Though he could not see it, enough time had now passed for it to hit.

But the impact sound of the javelin he had been waiting for did not come, and the dark corridor remained silent.

"... Damn it!"

PAK!

Volkov, who had been glaring into the pitch-black corridor, opened his eyes wide.

Because he saw the javelin return with a momentum as fierce as when he had sent it flying.

'He snatched that out of the air?'

It was a javelin even the fastest dragon, the Lindworm, had been hard-pressed merely to dodge.

And yet the opponent seemed to have neither dodged nor deflected it, but simply caught it by hand.

CLANG!

"Kuhup!"

A loud burst of sparks flew between the spear he desperately struck out with and the returning javelin.

Even with only the sharp shock wave spreading along with those sparks, the knights who had not formed their worlds staggered greatly.

"Is it an assault?"

"... It seems they broke through."

Karoy and Guillermo, grasping the situation as they watched the sparks fly, quickly stepped in front of the group.

This was a space prepared in the deepest part of a city that must never be breached.

The fact that someone had reached this place without any warning was also proof that the assailant standing ahead was no ordinary opponent.

"Who the hell are you?"

With the sound of teeth grinding in frustration, Karoy's closed left eye began to shine.

Bastopol, said to have never once fallen in all of history.

Though Karoy was not a knight of Baranoff, the city of Bastopol was a place no different from the pride of the northern knights.

"Stop hiding and come out!"

With a great roar to seize the initiative, Knight Karoy began solidifying his defensive stance with his raised axe.

If Arnstein had Pablo in the central region, the North had Karoy of Harkita.

Their stances, like fortress walls, were so solid they would not be easily pierced no matter whom they faced.

BOOM!

That should certainly have been the case.

Karoy's defensive stance, which could not have been more solid.

"Kuhup!"

A single shadow sprang out from the darkness.

But by the time he noticed, the assailant had already closed in and was smiling coldly at Karoy.

'This is...!'

As axe and sword collided, a surge like a typhoon began to rise.

It was such an impact that merely feeling the wind against one's skin was enough to know how much power had burst from that single blow.

"Gah!"

Unable to withstand the shock, Karoy slammed into the wall with a short scream.

His defensive stance, which had been like a solid fortress wall, was uprooted by just one strike.

"Karoy!"

"He is no ordinary man!"

Seeing Karoy sent flying in such a terrible state, Guillermo and Ralph began to rush in.

The dark corridor, now soaked not in sunset but in moonlight.

There, a lone blond man standing alone was smiling coldly as he watched the northern knights charge fiercely at him.

"The dragon killer knights?"

As Guillermo, who had been swinging his sword fiercely while taking in the pouring moonlight, recognized the faintly shining crest.

Dragons that kill dragons.

Above the armor engraved with the crest of Dragulia, the man's blue eyes were shining.

THUMP!

"I can see right through you."

"What?"

The sword of Romnie, said to be capable of deceiving any knight.

But the man with blue eyes stopped Guillermo's ever-changing movements with just a single thrust.

"Your intent is too shallow."

"...!"

Guillermo felt goosebumps rise as he looked at Mircea, who was smiling at him.

Because along with that smile, he felt the sensation of a blade piercing coldly into him.

"Graaah!"

"You bastard!"

From beside Guillermo, who was groaning in pain, a knight leaped in fiercely.

A gap that could not help but open because the sword was thrust forward.

Ralph of Maringen, an experienced knight, used Guillermo's crisis as an opportunity and thrust his sword without hesitation.

'If it's here!'

Since Mircea was stabbing Guillermo with his right hand, he would not be able to react easily to this attack.

Even if he did react, it would only be a slight evasive movement...

BANG!

"Urgh!"

But Ralph felt a heavy pressure against his abdomen and was sent flying backward in a disgraceful tumble.

Because a kick had stretched out toward the place Ralph was approaching, as if Mircea had been waiting for him.

Even as his consciousness faded, Ralph could tell that his opponent had already seen several moves further ahead than he had.

"Fall back!"

"Kuhup!"

Guillermo, whose shoulder had been pierced, was only barely able to escape after Volkov supported him.

Along with his urgent movement backward, a bright red stream of blood scattered across the corridor.

"So these are the knights the North boasts of? Only this much? How disappointing."

"..."

Volkov, who had pulled Guillermo out, raised his javelin toward the man standing ahead.

The view became visible as the half-risen moon fully ripened.

Three knights, miserably sent flying, were writhing behind Volkov now.

Each of the names of the fallen knights was by no means light.

"Mircea... Dragulia."

"It has been a while, Sir Volkov."

And there was a man who had taken down such knights in the time it took to drink a cup of tea.

The dragon killer knights, said to contend for the highest place among the countless knightly orders in the Empire.

"I have come to see the Iron Duke. Would you move aside?"

And the Captain of that knightly order, Mircea Dragulia.

"I also thought I might repay the favor of your having cherished my younger brother Radu."

He was smiling now above the city that had never once fallen.

* * *

"...!"

A distance from which he could enter the conference hall in only a few steps.

At a distance from which he could even recognize the faces of Peter and Alicia ahead, Vlad finally stopped walking.

THUMP!

The strange heartbeat he had felt since entering the city was growing rougher and rougher.

To the point that it could no longer be controlled.

"... What is this?"

The farther he went forward, and the closer he came to Timur, the heart that had been pounding now began to race on its own, beyond Vlad's will.

A heart that began to run not by will, but by instinct.

Having once felt a moment like this before, Vlad quietly bit his lip and began to stop.

"... My lord duke."

"Speak."

The seated lords must have sensed something strange about Vlad as well, for they were turning their heads toward Timur.

But even under the lords' gazes, Timur was only looking at Vlad.

Timur's right hand, hanging naturally at his side, was positioned where it could reach either the edict beside him or the sword hanging at his waist.

"What is it?"

The man who had finally reached him through the setting sun.

At Timur's question, the wavering scale at last tilted greatly.

"... A dragon."

The weight indicated by the old scale that told the truth.

It was on the side where the splendidly decorated dragon-shaped brooch lay.

SHING!

"...!"

At the sudden sound, Timur hurriedly looked ahead.

There stood Vlad, his left eye closed, sword drawn.

'Vlad...!'

Vlad had drawn his sword toward the lords.

At that utterly disrespectful attitude, Peter flinched, and Alicia, seeing Vlad's eyes far bluer than usual, let out a shrill scream inside.

"What is the meaning of this behavior, Vlad Aureo?"

"..."

At Vlad's sudden action, the lords who knew how to handle a sword slowly began rising from their seats.

A lord of the North could only be one who had survived even in bitter cold.

The lords standing up now were all knights who, like Peter or Timur, had represented the previous era.

"I have not yet permitted you to draw your sword, Vlad Aureo."

The distance where the conference hall and corridor were divided by only a single step.

Standing at that boundary, Vlad held his head lowered, his blue-shining eyes cast down, and quietly clutched at his chest.

Quijano's voice, rising through the pounding sound of his heart, was ringing within Vlad's world.

["Do not look below. What is there is not yours."]

There was a place his inborn blood pointed to.

It was the place located at the very bottom of the city of Bastopol, and where there was an intensity even the mystery of a seasoned mage could not perfectly conceal.

["Where was it that you always looked? Where was the blue moon called Godin hanging?"]

But now Vlad, too, could understand.

That beneath this city, there was a perfect fragment calling to him.

That fragment was one that could make him, born in the mud, noble simply by taking it into his hand.

["Remember where the unadorned sword you wanted was hanging."]

As if trying to erase Quijano's voice, Vlad's heartbeat began to grow rougher.

As the call of the fragment gradually filled his ears, Vlad felt as though his mind would go hazy.

'... Quijano. Was I a dragon?'

His mother had been a prostitute of the back alleys, and his father was unknown; he was an ordinary orphan, as common as any other.

But at the bloodline whispered to him by the fragment below, Vlad was greatly shaken.

Come to me quickly, young dragon.

Find me, imprisoned here.

For I am a being who can make you noble with nothing more than a grasp.

If you are with me, you will obtain perfection that will last forever.

A whisper only those born as dragons could hear was still ringing in Vlad's ears.

It was an alluring resonance that was almost impossible to pass by.

The Name of the Newly Held Star

A dragon is, by nature, perfect.

Enormous, fast, sharp, solid, and closer to the sky than anything else in this world.

How sweet a thing it would be to become such a being, one everyone could look up to.

THUMP! THUMP!

There were fragments tempting Vlad now from deep below.

Fragments of a dragon that sought to become perfect.

Quijano was not the only being who recognized the most brilliant possibility.

"Ugh... aaaaaah!"

BANG! BANG!

He tried hard to calm it, but his pounding heart simply would not stop.

And with that pounding began to flow anger and madness.

Before the dragon's instinct, impossible to do anything about, Vlad struck the floor and began to roar.

["Do not look below! Look up! Vlad!"]

Quijano's cry came from the depths of his soul, but the pounding of his heart was covering his voice.

The Death worm that had attacked the pilgrims.

The Lindworm that had devoured the barbarians.

And even Nidhogg, who had tried to swallow the young spirits of the World Tree.

Dragons that had tried to take what belonged not to them, but to others.

At the fact that the same blood as theirs flowed inside his body, Vlad became enraged.

"Then what have I been doing all this time!"

As time passed, his eyes grew bluer and his teeth sharper.

Watching Vlad gradually yield to the instinct of his blood, the northern lords began raising their swords.

"Vlad! Sir Vlad!"

Even Alicia's voice, calling out desperately at the sight, began to fade, and Vlad's consciousness slowly began to sink toward the place where the dragon's fragment lay.

The temptation of the fragments, to which even the distant Lindworm had responded, was a call that Vlad, who had just become aware of dragon blood, could hardly refuse.

"..."

From white to green.

From green to blue, then through gold, and now to an ominous bloodred.

Watching Vlad's world as it fell into confusion over who he was, Timur could not hide his complicated feelings.

["You were born a dragon, but that does not mean you must live as one!"]

Quijano's voice was gradually being drowned out by the rough pounding of Vlad's heart.

But the final words Quijano wished to convey were able to drive themselves down deep into Vlad's soul.

Do not live according to how you were born.

Please, live according to what you desire.

Though you were born a dragon, just as you looked at the stars back then.

Vlad, who had been slowly sinking as the fragments called to him, raised his head at Quijano's final shout.

There, visible because he had sunk so deeply, floated the one star that had always been watching over him.

* * *

"Krrgh!"

Volkov clenched his tingling hand and quickly retreated.

No matter how weapon compatibility might matter, Volkov of the Javelin was one of the knights who symbolized the North.

And yet now, he was only barely managing to receive Mircea's attacks while breaking out in a cold sweat.

'... Was he always this strong?'

Fast, sharp, and solid.

His stance, with no opening whatsoever to slip through, was truly perfect.

Even the aura he had raised seemed to grow deeper and deeper the farther he walked forward.

"As I heard, the North is terrible at treating guests."

The closer Mircea came, the fiercer his momentum grew.

Volkov, unable to guess the reason, could only prepare the best he was capable of.

"I flew all the way from a distant place, and this is all?"

At Mircea's taunt, the fallen knights began to stir little by little.

But the reason they could not bring themselves to rise was likely because the blows he had carved into them had been far too painful.

"If this is all, I really am disappointed."

Watching Mircea trample mercilessly on the North's pride, Volkov's eyebrow began to twitch.

Aura began to gather thickly on Volkov's last remaining javelin.

"That's right. You should offer at least that much."

The visible momentum was certainly fierce, but Mircea, who was watching it, merely smiled as though pleased.

Mircea was enjoying this situation now, feeling a strange uplift rising from below.

Intoxicated by the being called himself, growing more perfect the farther he advanced.

"... It would be rude to leave the hospitality lacking."

But there was a sound that caught his steps as he tried to advance without hesitation.

That sound was flowing from behind Volkov, who had held Mircea back until now.

TING...

A clear, fine sound of ringing metal.

Rutiger, who had flicked the flat of his blade with a finger, slowly raised his head.

From his closed left eye, a thick and sticky red aura was flowing out.

"Then from now on, I will be your opponent."

A sticky and hot aura like lava was flowing along Rutiger's sword.

His world was a world like a volcano.

Deep within his chest as he laughed heartily, wounds and anger still burned hot.

"And I will do it on behalf of the knights who fell in my place."

Rutiger's world, which he had drawn out after going into his deepest place during the time the knights had earned him.

"...!"

Rutiger's anger, which he had been holding back until now, burst out like an active volcano and flowed toward Mircea.

BOOM!

At last, with a single sword strike, the windows of the corridor shattered and the floor began to break apart.

Amid those breaking fragments, there was one red-stained line that shot forward.

"At last, I can land a blow on that smug face of yours!"

"Rutiger... Bayezid!"

Blue eyes and a red world met close between sword and sword.

The two men, with nothing left to hold them back, began growling at each other.

* * *

The conference hall was as if cold water had been poured over it.

Vlad, who had been standing at its entrance, staggered as he raised his head.

The way he was still clutching his chest did not look normal by any measure.

"... Really, is it really all right?"

"What?"

Timur, who had been watching Vlad, was briefly taken aback by the sudden question.

He could tell it was a mutter to himself, but it did not simply sound like a deranged question.

"Really... as I want..."

Vlad's blue eyes still could not find their focus.

They were eyes as though possessed by something, yet the fierce light in them still shone as if about to burst.

"My lord duke."

At Fernand's urgent voice calling him from the side, Timur briefly turned his head.

"...!"

Truth because it did not change.

Yet the scale said to tell the truth was now trembling and slowly tilting to the opposite side.

The present situation, in which it overturned the truth it had judged, was a sight neither Fernand nor Timur had ever seen before.

—Young dragon. Not there! Look at me!

—Do not yearn for what is hard to possess. Even around you now, there are so many things you can sweep into your arms!

The voices of the fragments filled his ears, but Vlad now heard them without looking at them.

Because Vlad, who had raised his head now, was looking at Timur in front of him.

And now, beyond him, he was looking at the end of the ceiling.

"... Can I really do it?"

Beyond the unadorned sword, past the blue moon, and at last, beyond the sky he could face, there was one star.

Looking at that star, which shone more brilliantly than any being he had ever encountered, Vlad was raising his head once more.

RUMBLE...

"My lord duke!"

"What is this!"

"Aaaah!"

At the rough trembling that suddenly spread from beneath the ground, the northern lords began to panic greatly.

The tremor shaking the city was like the roar of the fragments declaring they would not let this young dragon go.

'... So he does seem to be a dragon!'

The Iron Duke Timur, Guardian of the Pact, could tell that this vibration was being caused by the dragon fragments.

If so, Vlad standing before him was surely a dragon.

"... But it tilted."

And yet the trembling old scale had, before long, completely tilted to the opposite side.

The old coin lying on the side to which it had tilted was a coin made from the honorable metal the Swordmaster of old was said to have removed from his own sword.

"Who are you?"

A situation in which both the dragon fragments and the scale of truth said that they were right.

Unable to make any judgment between the duty of the Pact to cut him down and the duty of a knight to protect him, Timur quietly closed his left eye and looked at Vlad before him.

"..."

A world visible when his eye was closed.

In that quiet world where neither the trembling of the earth nor the screams of the lords could be heard, Timur saw someone's back.

The man standing there, shielding Vlad, was even now raising both hands to cover the young dragon's ears.

* * *

Every child born into this world had once reached a hand toward the stars.

And because they realized they could not reach them no matter how they grasped, they became adults.

"Kid. If you start dreaming in a place like this for no reason, you'll be the only one who suffers."

The old blacksmith had said it too.

If you dream an impossible dream in a place you cannot escape, the only one who will suffer is you.

In the end, perhaps it was the fate of all children to live according to how they were born.

["Yes. You were born a dragon."]

Even so, I believed.

That I had not been born to live my life on top of this mud.

Even if it was nothing great, I was someone who wanted to have my own light.

["Even so, you do not have to live as a dragon."]

Even if one cannot reach that sky, if one wishes to shine on one's own, then that is a star.

And in the sky one looks up at, there is someday, surely, a light that will recognize me.

"... Gods."

The back of a man he could recognize because he was a Guardian of the Pact.

Timur, who had reached the world through his closed left eye, could only be horrified as he realized what scene he was seeing now.

Behind Vlad, who was looking at the star, a single tree was blooming.

The color of that tree was golden, and it grew straight and upright, soaring toward the star floating above the sky.

One side that formed the tree was Vlad of Soara.

Another side was Vlad Aureo.

And the remaining side was Dragulia, which he had no choice but to accept because he had been born with it.

Having accepted even his negative side as his own, Vlad had now reached the time to find his true self.

["Will you continue to raise your sword for the possibilities of children?"]

"Yes."

["If you are in the place where you ought to be, will you never turn away from your duty, no matter where you are?"]

"Yes."

With the Guardian of the Pact as witness, an ordination ceremony between a boy and a knight was taking place.

It was a moment the dragon's cry echoing from below could never reach.

["Then lastly."]

Quijano removed the two hands that had been covering Vlad's ears, took out a sword from within memory, and brought it to Vlad's shoulder.

The silver knight shining brilliantly was far larger and brighter than when Vlad had seen him in the young World Tree.

["For you, who must always be honorable, can you receive only your rightful due?"]

Do not covet what belongs to others, do not steal it, and take only my own rightful due.

Hearing the commandments of knights that the blue moon had once taught him, Vlad was finally able to meet Quijano's eyes before him.

"Yes."

Looking at Vlad, who swore that though he had been born a dragon, he would live like a star, the Swordmaster slowly stepped back.

["Having sworn to uphold all duties, from this day forth, you are your own master."]

With Quijano's declaration, between Vlad's pounding heart, not dragon blood but a single starlight began to dwell.

Not the self he had been born as, but the self he desired to be.

Thus Vlad looked at the one star that had settled inside his heart.

The unadorned sword had shattered, and he had ultimately never reached the blue moon, but even so, Vlad was able to hold in his heart one star with which he could dream anew.

That star was the light that had been shining on the boy from closer than any other until now.

And when called aloud, it was a star known as the Swordmaster.