Chapter 283
Chapter 283
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 283
Chapter Title: One Empire, Three Legends (42)
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Childhood memories were hazy, but some were still vivid.
Thanks to being taught only the essentials and left to roam freely, he had gotten along well with his half-siblings back then.
His father, whom he rarely saw, had appeared godlike with that golden aura when glimpsed at official events.
What he thought was a minor illness had laid him low, summoning priests from the Order of Courage rushing to his mother's palace.
Yes, that was it. Age seven. The raging fever that nearly killed him. These old thoughts had suddenly resurfaced because of that memory.
It felt like waking from a long sleep—not restful, but one haunted by drugs and hallucinations, barely opening his eyes at the end.
Prince Gainax trembled as he opened the door to the secret passage known only to royals.
The fever that had nearly killed him was the backlash of the Empire's power invading a child's body.
The lax education for royals was because they grew into what the Empire desired without much teaching.
His father's face had seemed divine because the Emperor gazing down was emotionless, like a temple statue.
Finally free from the yoke of Empire and royalty, Gainax wanted to forget it all. Beyond the Empire's borders, under the name Gainax—not prince. Holed up in a place where no one knew him or his mother, starting a new life.
"Hmm... Your Highness? Saying that while using the royal-only passage kinda lacks conviction, you know?"
Step... step...
Clack clack clack clack—
"Fine. Life's a comedy from afar, tragedy up close, right? The glamorous royal life turns out to be a 500-year-old puppet show by a ghost—enough to make anyone sick of it. I get it. Really, I do. Want me to show you the tears I dabbed on my handkerchief?"
Step step step step
Clack clack clack clack clack
"Oh, come on! I won't force you, I swear! Anyway, you gotta bring your mother who's waiting back there—rushing won't help. Your Highness—no, you quit being royal, so you're a commoner now? Hey, commoner Gainax! Lucilla Aedran, noble of Teldrat's elite, commands you as a noble! Stop right now and obey my order!"
...Crack!
"See? That's what you set down, Gainax. Tragedy up close? Plenty of folks live tragedies whether seen from afar or near! Just head to the back alleys—the air changes, the air! How do you plan to survive out there? The jewels from Her Majesty? Know where to sell 'em for full value? Their worth? The second you leave the capital, thieves'll swarm like ghosts—you know you'll need a blood bath? We know. Hmmm~ Smell of gold. That yellow sparkle draws our kind like magic."
"...Lady Aedran."
...Hooouu.
Yes. A new life. One detached from royalty.
Thus, Gainax pondered the entire walk through the passage how to deal with this irritating noble lady from head to toe.
Yell and chase her off? He had no such authority anymore. He'd shed his royal name.
Serve her as a commoner, like she said? ...No. Just hours ago, his aura had shattered as a swordsman; he didn't want to abandon his pride as human Gainax too.
Lucilla Aedran. The famed "Teldrat's Suitor." A strange woman who never shut up.
It was a laughable legend, but seeing her wield that thing like a street vendor's cheap dagger made him think the rumors held some truth.
"Look at this fine color. As someone in Aedran's Golden Caravan, I know my stuff— this subtle blue sheen only comes from steel alloyed with Palleradium. Tough yet flexible. Elegant yet wild—the ideal metal! But no human, not even dwarves, have mastered it; every Palleradium alloy ever made is called a failure."
"But this doesn't look like a failure, right? Even on that stubborn 'contrary metal' they call Palleradium alloy steel, someone's engraved it. Wow, magical inlay—hard even on soft metals like copper or gold in big workshops, yet done on Palleradium alloy steel! You're a swordsman, Gainax. Empire's legend, first emperor's sword Lionel or whatever aside—doesn't seeing this make your heart race, make you wanna grab it?"
Her endless flattery and praise left no room to breathe, sucking the mind in. At least, Gainax couldn't deny it was an excellent sword. Even without her spiel, he'd nearly reached for it instinctively upon seeing it.
Lion Sword Lionel. The sword that birthed the swordsmanship taught by the Empire's will, and his aura—said to embody a swordsman's soul—took its form.
A woman leading great fates, bearing that legendary sword into his presence.
That only heightened his revulsion.
The moment he shed his royal name, this sword appeared—like an inescapable call from the Empire.
"...No use saying it again, Lady Aedran. It's not that I hate it—I'm afraid."
Yes, afraid. Despite grand excuses from his small pride, Gainax spoke his honest heart, plain and simple.
Afraid. Not of becoming emperor, but even touching that thing.
The sword symbolized the Empire itself, like its name, Lion Sword Lionel.
If the Empire's power sought him, touching it would drag him back into destiny's whirlpool.
"To Lady Aedran, the man before you is First Prince Gainax. Mid-thirties. Blessed with conqueror's talent, renowned knight too."
"Yeees...."
"But that's not who I see. All that was shaped by the Empire's guidance—the First Prince's facade. Now awake, the mirror shows a child who fell crying in the palace garden before that fever. First Prince Gainax's sword is broken, his princely power scattered. Even if I wield it, no miracle will happen, I assure you. So, find someone else now."
"But—"
"I know. Without the prince's name, I'm just a big child. Like you said, how to sell the gold. What to eat, where to live. I know nothing, but that's fine. A pathless life is life itself. Learning to 'get lost' at this age is novel and painful. But everyone endures it, don't they?"
"....."
Awakened from long sleep with newfound conviction, Gainax's voice rang sure.
Lucilla sensed truth in his awkward mix of informal and polite speech.
He had truly escaped the old First Prince.
Wuuung—
The Lion Sword hummed amid their silence, but Gainax turned from its pull.
'It'll have an owner. Like me, not some scabbard— a true wielder. Not me. Not me....'
Step. Step..... Clunk.
The long narrow passage ended. Finally free of this damnable All Amperia, the Empire's capital.
His hand hurried inserting the key into the locked door's hole. Just through this door. Life would finally come—not as Empire's puppet, but as human Gainax.
Bright outside—must be the undercity pleasure district. Late night, salons for nobles venting party excitement. Good for avoiding eyes.
Hire a carriage, flee the Empire with Mother. Supplies. Yes, buy soldier rations. Water too. Much to do. Firmly shake off that persistent noble lady and elf here, then find his life.
Creaaaak....
Door opened, light flooding the dark passage. Yes, life. Beyond the palace, beyond Empire's grasp.
"Your Highness...."
This light heralding his new—
Roooar—
"Aaaah!"
"Empire! Empire eternal!"
"All as one toward the eternal star! The Empire too shall become part, shining forever!"
Creaaaak.... Thud.
The old heavy secret door fully opened, and the prince froze at the undercity sight before him.
The whole city burned. Streets, squares, nobles' fine mansions.
Not the pleasure district. What he took for festive lights was the blaze engulfing the undercity; amid flames, delirious people prayed endlessly, their melting skin devoured.
Toward the sky, toward that vivid red moon within reach if stretched.
Executioners roamed among them. Gleeful with exposed molten flesh, wielding rusted swords and axes, harvesting necks like rotten logs.
Click!
A small hand stopped his instinctive draw of the broken sword.
"Gainax."
"...Lady Aedran."
"If you're that resolved, I won't push anymore. Not that way—this way. The saint and our group cleared a path. Can't say how far the flames spread, but safer than your direction, I think. One step faster from the capital is best for your safety."
"...Or can't you move your feet?"
...Grip!
At her words, Gainax clenched the broken sword's hilt hard.
Logical, rational help. Coldly viewed, his path led to flames teeming with monsters and madmen.
But why. Why wouldn't his feet move. What stalled his longed-for freedom, fueling this rage.
'Could it be. Empire's ghost still lingers in me? Holding my feet at this burning undercity?'
Before the agonizing man stepped the persistent Aedran lady, finally meeting his eyes.
"As you said, you're free now. Palace fallen, Emperor's fate unknown, Empire's power in the witch's hands. Know what that means?"
"I...."
"Gainax, you're free, as you said! Every emotion, action, sight, thought now—pure human 'Gainax's' will. Tell me, Gainax. What were you about to do before I stopped you?"
"I...."
Run out. Leave Mother in this defended passage, walk into fire to stop those people, kill the prowling monsters.
Reason...? Needed for that? People dying before eyes, city burning?
Silence, eyes darting 'twixt flaming city and sword.
Seeing it, Lucilla smiled brightly, releasing his arm.
"Gainax? Lend me your sword a sec?"
...Clunk.
Lucilla propped cloth-wrapped Lionel casually against the wall, then boldly demanded Gainax's sword like entrusted goods.
"Hurry. It's broken anyway—won't use it proper."
"Lady, how... this sight, and you're so calm?"
"Ugh, heavy, hea—Yes! Whew! Traveling with our hero, you get used to it."
Wobble!
The hero who shattered his aura barehanded, that great saint.
Lionel swung like a dagger, yet half-broken in her hands, Lucilla barely hoisted the iron lump to her shoulder.
"...Not cursed, is it."
"What're you—"
Kaaang!
Before Gainax finished, Lucilla swung her whole body, hurling the shoulder-borne lump.
At the wall. Precisely, at Lionel's hilt propped there—the legendary sword of the first emperor.
No novice swing; the broken sword smashed dead-center into Lionel's hilt with a clang.
Madness, even to Gainax stripped of Empire ties.
"What... deed is this! Lady Aedran!"
"Ow, my back.... What else? You didn't want it 'cause of that, right? Lionel. Can't avoid devaluing goods, but if customer wants—minor processing is fine."
Gainax examined fallen Lionel with Lucilla.
Lion Sword Lionel. Once matched dragon claws unscratched—great first emperor's sword.
Its hilt—vivid lion-head carving—shattered, rolling on the floor.
"You... broke Lion Sword Lionel?"
"Just so you know, I'm a merchant. Never learned swordsmanship, no aura either. Don't misunderstand."
"But just now...."
"It's 500 years old, right? Rough handling might chip it. I bulked it up to sell to you, but it's an antique, antique. Just a decent sword. Worn, but way more useful than that club you were gonna take—obvious, right? There, happy? No more hang-ups?"
"Uh.... Um...."
Gainax knew not how to react.
Mere sleight, pommel off didn't erase its essence.
—Crack!
Yet seeing the lion-head decoration shatter helplessly under a frail noble lady's swung broken sword, something clogged in him shattered too.
Like a curse breaking with the lion-head—what tugged mysteriously since facing Lionel.
'Was I the one unable to let go of that sword.'
Duty. Deep in chest, inescapable fate he'd thought. Worry that leaving would ruin destined path.
Absurd, yet fleeing emperor's throne, he fretted dying commoners.
Not sword pulling him—he clung to it. That chain-like duty vanishing so emptily, Gainax exhaled hollowly.
The Lion's Empire was done.
The shattered lion-head spoke for it.
...Click.
Gainax carefully picked up the strewn sword. As she said, the 'nameless decent sword' matched his old curved blade in weight, balance—familiar to wield.
Like all swordsmen. Seeing Gainax test-swing satisfied, Lucilla smiled, clearing his path.
"Go, free man Gainax. Forge your destiny, as you said."
"...Still no intent to be Empire's emperor. From your view.... All right, Lady Lucilla?"
A small thought halted him. Lucilla Aedran, woman from Teldrat.
She too bore Lionel here by fate's lead. If he went rogue, wouldn't her fate derail too.
"Oh? Worried for me, Gainax?"
"I know well the future of one swept by fate."
At his halted back, Lucilla pocketed the broken ornament—whence found?—grinning widely.
"Me? Teldrat woman, legend whatever. I'm just merchant Lucilla. If Lionel entrusted fate to a merchant, it should've braced for undervalued sale. Merchants move goods from here to there. Use is buyer's choice. As carrier, meeting true owner fulfills my role."
That lion sword, antique acting picky for full price—ridiculous anyway.
Pushing like a market vendor till now, yet farewell like demure village girl lifting skirts.
Her final jest showed she truly took it lightly. Just transported goods. The look of one finding own path amid fate's storm, as he sought.
"Merchant.... Then I must pay."
"Huh? Now?"
"...Later. We'll settle after. Safe here—stay with Mother."
"Yes, but.... Specifically how much—"
Tadak!
Before Lucilla finished, Gainax plunged into the burning city.
'No handkerchief-tears type, that woman.'
Splash!
Power into sword-grip, aura poured waterfall-like, sweeping blocking flames, carving path ahead.
Aura. Said to shape swordsman's soul.
Not overwhelming skies like as First Prince, but Gainax preferred its solid sword form now.
Aura—crystallized self, impossible for puppets like royals.
Proved amid 34 years, at least as knight he was purely himself, free of Empire's will.
"In that long life, only sword in hand was truly me.... That the meaning?"
Boom—
Lost in sentiment, a monster of clumped molten corpses blocked Gainax.
"Ha, hahaha.... Knight Gainax. For a man leaping from seven to twenty-seven.... Good start!"
Knight realizing true self reclaimed launched with liberated laugh.
All life dominated, yet center purely sword-honed knight's aura.
From grand golden scabbard, Gainax's aura bared its edge,
Slash—
Refined metal-like, gleaming solid silver.
****
Flames and screams enveloped the undercity. Clear metallic ring, silver aura slicing through.
Under red moon sky, watchers beheld Gainax.
"What think you, Belbo."
"White-hair not yet, but spine solid. Axe'll do."
"Fault mine asking brain-rotted grave-dust. Sword Lord, your view? Fit to be Oath's master?"
"....At least. Not easily swayed, I see."
"Quit yapping, run down already! Wind's dragging us beggar-like—over capacity since it blew! Way past schedule, hey!"
"Mage. Thanks for aid. Arrived on time thanks to you."
"Why thanks, Duke Schwartz. Their wind blew us all aboard."
"Glenn! Watched you from snot-nosed brat! No right to speak! Why ride the squire? That frugal one left his own kids behind, rode solo."
"Dukes don't travel sans body servant! Trunk it was!"
"No human spot—wind passage!"
Capital skies. Wind-mage's vessel.
Today's oddly compliant winter wind bore them to capital, but dragged to beggar-haunt, forced boarding motley crew—arrived late.
-Th, th-that j-jerking.... F-f-fineee.... Cr-crunch, th-this w-wind.... Gl-Glenn D-Duke's s-superb s-servant, always f-for m-master....
"See? Fine, he says."
"....Glenn. Crooked since kid."
"Since you stole my snacks, old timer."
"....Brat. No cuteness."
"Sixty and cute? Senile."
"I'm 113, brat."
"Told you first sight: senile geezer."
Headache every meet, but skills undeniable—had to board.
Especially under curse-reddened sky.
Old mage gauging clouds turned to young wind-adjuster.
"You see winds better than old me—ask. That below seems our Oath master. Where's wind blowing."
Quietly stroking beard, toying newborn static.
Green-robed mage gauged fingertip winds, replied.
"Bit further."
"Hm? Not below, another?"
"Him seems right.... But our spot's elsewhere."
Green-robe's words tensed the slack vessel air sharply.
"That ahead?"
"Yes. Scalrad-nim. Descending there."
Green-robe took in undercity's silver sword-flash, turned vessel's wind.
'This wind too, from that.'
Mage Astrad smirked at familiar wind from beyond Allamperia's walls—from tower piercing skies.
Recalling big saint ever with winds.
Oath-bearers' vessel headed storm's eye.
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