Chapter 290
Chapter 290
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.62 – What Justification Does a Knight Have to Fight? (12)
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According to the records, just around three hundred years ago, Wales was supposedly nothing more than an utterly ordinary territory.
It wasn't fertile enough for crops to thrive like they do now, the soil wasn't rich, and there wasn't even a river to speak of.
That said, even if it wasn't prosperous, it clearly had the potential to develop through commerce or whatever else, just like any other territory.
That's the natural progression for territories and their people.
But then, at some point...
"A massive fog enveloped all of Wales, and they say a miracle occurred."
"That fog was..."
Overnight, the land turned fertile, trees sprouted thickly in every direction around the territory, and a great river cleaved through the earth, shimmering with oily ripples.
That's what the tales say.
It was a phenomenon that could only be described as a miracle.
A blessing from the fairies or the light god.
Nothing else could explain it.
In truth...
"Our ancestors didn't see it as a blessing, but as something ominous."
The bloodline of Modred has possessed the [Spirit Eyes] for generations.
The mystery and blessing that the founder, Sir Modred, received when he fell in love with a spirit of immense power.
Thanks to that blessing, Modred alone could see the essence of things...
"Wait, what? He dated a ghost?"
"Ahem, keep it quiet. That ghost was from Britannia, and if word got out, it'd be a headache."
"...So the problem was her birthplace?"
"She was beautiful."
"...Ah."
"They called her a nation-toppling beauty."
"Can't be helped then."
"......"
"Agreed."
"......Ahem."
...Yes, it was because they possessed that mystery called the [Spirit Eyes] that they saw through it.
They realized that the event three hundred years ago wasn't some blessing or prank... no, it was a [curse] and a [forced contract] that wasn't even comparable to a mere prank.
And it was a forced contract with an utterly vile entity at that.
"We call it the 'Wandering God.'"
"Wandering?"
"You could call it an exiled god."
A land god is akin to a native who's lived on that land for ages.
The first tree to take root in an area, or a mountain formed naturally.
Or animals and plants imbued with mystery.
Such beings accumulate dignity and years over time spans humans can scarcely fathom, and that's the essence of what we call land gods.
Of course, not every being that gains dignity becomes a land god.
Take the sacred mountain Vulcan— it holds the mystery to become a god, yet it doesn't.
Pure natural existences tend to shy away from gaining intelligence, it seems.
...However, there are occasionally gods like that among them.
Gods abandoned or driven out by their worshippers for one reason or another.
Most are wicked gods who wreaked havoc, so losing followers and fading away is the natural course, but some manage to survive and abruptly settle on some land.
Known as...
"It's a brazen existence that claims a house that's not even its own."
"No business ethics at all."
"It's a god."
"......"
It's absurd.
The homeowner never permitted it, yet it forces a 'contract' anyway.
"The wandering god—no, that 'pest'—gave blessings as if it were rent. Even though we never asked for them."
The pest was utterly arrogant.
They never begged for it, yet the pest says:
- Here, take it. Don't thank me too much. I can do this sort of thing. Just praise me and offer your faith in return.
- Be more grateful. That's all it takes to be moved.
- Why are you angry? I gave you what you needed, didn't I?
The wandering god that settled in like that clashed with the margrave of the time, and in the process, the god must have taken offense...
- Who do you think you are, trying to drive me out? How insolent!!
And so famine struck.
The once-fertile land vanished, replaced by sudden droughts and plagues of insects, causing massive chaos.
By the time countless were starving to death, the margrave led a subjugation force and boldly confronted the wandering god, fighting without sleep for days on end...
"They succeeded in repelling it—no, in sealing it away."
"Sealing..."
Not annihilation, but sealing.
In the end, they failed to utterly destroy it, but even that was an achievement that would make Avalon’s heroes marvel.
No matter how fallen into a wanderer, a god is still a god.
And they had triumphed over one.
...However,
"'What meaning is there in a victory that leaves only wounds...' That was what our ancestor left as his final words."
Someone might say:
No? Why pick a fight with a god and bring disaster? Why not just get along?
...But that's because they don't know the situation at the time.
"That damned pest accelerated Wales' land fertility by a full century. It was fine back then, three hundred years ago, but from the next generation on, they'd have starved. Not even a blade of grass to eat."
Not only that, but it had the gall to call it a blessing—enough to give anyone a fit of rage—but there was ample reason to fight.
They couldn't let the territory become a land of horrific death.
But the worst part was the curse left by the defeated god.
None other than...
"The contract with the god still persists to this day."
"......"
The richness forcibly thrust upon them by the pest.
Even though they never wanted it, that richness established the contract with the god.
Humans can't even dream of severing the bonds of a god unless the god is completely annihilated...
"That cursed pest intended to descend using the entire populace of Wales as sacrifices from the start."
*Crunch!*
It was an outrage against heaven and earth.
They never asked for it, yet were forced into a contract, meaning countless people of Wales would someday become 'living sacrifices' for it.
It was a truth they couldn't tolerate, one that demanded fury.
But the most horrific and malicious part was...
"That you can't forcibly break the contract with that pest. Not even if you flee to the ends of the continent."
No matter how forced, a contract with a god is sacred, an inescapable curse for any human.
Anyone born and raised in Wales can never escape it, and even if they go elsewhere, the curse follows.
Until the contract with the god is fulfilled, the curse passes to descendants—an unknown cruel fate awaiting generation after generation...
"It's a horrific thing."
That's why Modred fought the god endlessly.
To annihilate it.
Every sixty years or so, when the god's seal weakened, the bloodline of Modred and their knights waged ceaseless battles in this secret chamber where the god was sealed.
"At some point, rumors spread that this chamber, where the pest is sealed, hides Modred's treasure. As if—it's just where the world's most horrific pest slumbers."
Over the years, there were no meaningful blows against the pest.
Just as despair began to creep in...
"That's when it happened."
Sixty years ago, one in the Modred bloodline was born with extraordinarily powerful spirit medium abilities.
Suddenly, spirits gathered, and to protect him—the one born with immense spirit medium powers—they began eliminating threats to Modred.
People went mad or died sudden deaths frequently.
It was as if ghosts were showing overzealous loyalty to their 'king,' and the Modred of the time realized this was an unnatural phenomenon.
What they discovered was none other than:
"To put it cruelly, the people of Wales living there were just one condition the pest needed to fulfill for its descent—the most important thing was the [vessel]."
"So the pest was imitating a god."
"Something like that."
Like how saints and holy ones convey a god's words, the vermin chose Modred's bloodline as its saint and holy vessel to wield its power.
Their exceptional bodies, talents, and even mysteries suited to itself.
...It's laughable. They're sworn enemies bent on killing each other, yet the pest obsessively clings to Modred with fanatic attachment and affection, as if it doesn't care.
But do you know what's even more horrific?
"That affection is twisted."
The pest was deeply jealous.
It didn't want its vessel to love or befriend anyone else.
So whenever a candidate chosen as its vessel grew close to someone precious, a curse would strike.
Death, illness, mysterious accidents...
Because of this, the man chosen as the vessel took up his sword to kill the pest with his own hands, and for the first time, he succeeded in wounding it.
He was later hailed as the greatest knight and spirit medium in Modred history, and that man's name was...
"Me."
Garon Douglas de Modred.
He was the man acclaimed for being the first to break the pest's curse with his own power.
Of course, he took no pride in it.
"Even so, I'm just a foolish old grandfather who passed that curse on to my granddaughter."
He wasn't particularly proud of his feat.
In the end, only he survived, solving nothing.
No, on the contrary.
"Because I survived, my granddaughter became the next vessel, the target of that damned curse—so all I feel is guilt."
The Modred born with talents surpassing even Garon, who was said to have the greatest spirit medium aptitude in Modred history.
Even better than Garon?
In that case...
"The pest would go mad with desire."
"......Right on the mark."
The rather long tale from the distant past came to an end.
...It wasn't a pleasant story, enough to sour even the listeners' moods.
"...After that child was born, the pest began rampaging madly, summoning its army inside this chamber."
"That explains why there were so many monsters."
"The pest's patience has run out. It plans to settle everything at once—lead its monster horde, devour everyone in Wales, and claim that child too."
"......"
"Isn't it ridiculous? A so-called god commanding monsters."
"Feels more like a demon."
"Haha, that's why we call it the Great Evil Spirit. A greedy monster that craves desires more than humans, yet neither god nor demon."
Yes, it's called a god, but it's no god.
Just a vicious evil spirit, a pest that harms people, possessing power greater than most evil spirits.
"Killing that Great Evil Spirit is Modred's—no, our—sole 'long-cherished wish.'"
"Why not ask an Aura User for help?"
"Impossible. Aura Users require special conditions to intervene, and those weren't met."
"......"
"So we must resolve this ourselves. It's not for outsiders to handle."
"......"
He asked Cain and Lee Han again.
"...Let me ask once more. Even after hearing Modred's secret history, do you still resolve to fight that pest? That vile thing could curse not just you, but those precious to you."
You could inherit our curse as is.
So flee now.
Don't be reckless.
...It was practically a threat.
Telling them to run while they could.
Lee Han...
"You asked me. What justification I have to fight."
"...?"
"Some might think I'm stepping up out of a sense of justice, or pity for that girl. But that's not it. I'm not fool enough to fight for such flimsy reasons."
"...Then what is your justification for fighting?"
Cain asked sincerely, genuinely curious.
What on earth drives this man to such recklessness?
And the answer was...
"-Self-respect."
"......"
"To be proud of myself."
He stated an astonishingly simple justification, yet no one mocked Lee Han for it.
And for good reason...
"Where did you hear that story?"
"?"
"Were you unaware when you said it?"
"What are you talking about...?"
"...Haha."
It was unbelievable.
This man had no idea how his words set their hearts ablaze.
...Long ago, there was a knight.
Known as the first knight, he possessed extraordinary strength yet never used it to dominate or indulge greed—instead wielding his sword solely for the sake of the weak and good.
One day, a nameless child whose life he saved asked him:
'Why did you save me, even getting hurt?'
Why go so far, with no reward?
To that question, the knight replied without hesitation:
'To be proud of myself.'
The nameless child laughed upon hearing that.
It was probably the day he laughed the most since birth, his heart swelling the greatest.
And that day, the nameless child knelt before the knight and pleaded:
'Can I follow you too?'
'Why?'
'I'm curious. What a life of self-pride looks like.'
'It's not an easy path.'
'Better with two than one, right?'
'I already have companions.'
'...More is better.'
'......That's true enough.'
The man and child shared a similar smile, and the knight gave the nameless child a name.
'Modred.'
'What does that mean?'
'It means [rebellion].'
'...What kind of name is that? Does it mean rebel against you?'
'Yes. If I stray or walk the wrong path, do so.'
'You don't hold back with a kid. ...Still.'
'-I'll remember. Even if I die, my descendants...'
"Will remember your heart..."
"...What's that? Did what I say sound ridiculous?"
"No, no—it's overflowing with reason..."
"?"
"Haha, this is something."
A conversation recorded in the history compiled by the great sage Merlin.
The reason the nameless child became the bravest knight of all.
"For self-respect, haha!"
Ah, Modred, our great ancestor...!
This generation too, we cannot dream of rebellion.
After all.
'There is still an honorable knight of self-respect.'
Right here.