Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Prologue: I Have Returned
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In ages long past.
Back in the days of the now-fallen Old Empire, all sorts of wondrous things abounded.
Among them was an object called a satellite.
They said that nations would flaunt their technology and wealth by how many of these satellites they launched into the sky, and through them, they ruled the heavens.
Things weren't so different now.
The only difference was that while the Old Empire flaunted its power by launching satellites, we now flaunted our power by launching people.
Ascendants.
Superhumans who, upon reaching a sublime state, sought to finally ascend to the heavens.
A few among them, with the full support of feudal lords, would succeed in their ascension and be reborn as special stars, bestowing blessings and protection.
An era where a lord's prestige was determined by how many Ascendants they successfully sent to the heavens, and how many of those stars remained active.
The lords poured human and material resources into competitively producing Ascendants.
It was only natural in a world where Ascendants were stars, and stars were power.
But sometimes, on very rare occasions, they say there were those who managed to ascend on their own, without any such support.
Considering that even Ascendants backed by great families rarely succeeded, I’d thought it was impossible. But it turned out to be true.
I saw it with my own two eyes.
The sight of Roman, the renowned freelance knight and my master, ascending to the heavens.
The problem was that this bastard hadn't ascended quietly; at the last moment, he’d dealt a devastating blow to the enemy with a terrifying sword dance.
“That’s him! That’s Roman’s squire!”
“Get him!”
And that he’d abandoned his poor squire in the middle of the enemy camp and left.
…….
…….
Ah?
* * *
They say if you hang around a scoundrel, you'll get struck by lightning too.
That was my situation exactly.
“I’ll make you beg for death.”
Thanks to the great Roman personally slaughtering the enemy's elite corps, they were absolutely livid, and I had to bear the full brunt of their fury alone.
My body, tormented by all sorts of creative tortures, had long since been reduced to a ragged wreck.
Escape was unthinkable.
Then again, being a cripple in the first place, I wouldn't have gotten far even if my body had been fine.
Even if I were released now, I'd be nothing but an invalid.
A sense of futility washed over me.
“Ahaha.”
It was so unfair, so absurd, that I couldn't help but laugh.
Ten whole years.
That's how long I’d slaved away like a dog under that foul-tempered bastard.
I endured all those harsh years with the sole ambition of becoming a knight.
But I never dreamed my devotion would lead to this.
My brilliant master had a sudden epiphany in the middle of a battle and ascended all by himself, leaving me a prisoner in the enemy camp, like a dog left barking at the sky after the chicken it was chasing flew away.
Not just any dog, but one that had been chasing a chicken.
“This is the one Roman treated like his own limbs?”
“He served him for ten years, so it’s safe to say he was practically his disciple.”
“Taking a cripple as a squire… He was an eccentric one.”
To make matters worse, the enemy believed I was some kind of beloved disciple cherished by Roman.
“Pah. Disciple, my ass.”
Their words made my blood boil.
My relationship with Roman wasn't the close-knit bond you'd see between any other knight and squire.
It was closer to a twisted fate.
On the battlefield, I killed Roman's squire, and Roman killed the master I was serving.
You could practically say we were mortal enemies.
‘Since you killed my squire, it's only right that you take his place.’
That man, who hated bothersome things more than anything, had forcibly made me his squire, and that was all there was to it.
But no matter what I said, the enemy wouldn't believe me.
“There are witnesses who saw you using the same swordsmanship as Roman. Are you still going to deny being his disciple?”
“That’s just because the damn bastard taught me a few moves for his own convenience, so he wouldn't have to find a new squire if I suddenly kicked the bucket.”
“So you finally admit to being Roman's one and only disciple.”
“……”
They'd already decided on the answer, so no matter what I said, all I got back was more absurd accusations.
“Just kill me already, you bastards.”
My body was so broken I'd be an invalid even if they let me go. I resigned myself to my fate.
But the enemy wouldn't grant me an easy death.
“I'll ask one last time. Where is Roman's Legacy?”
It was because of that damned Legacy.
It was a well-known fact that Ascendants left behind a sort of legacy when they rose to the heavens.
Usually, it was one of the weapons they used, or sometimes, an essence imbued with their lifelong energy.
An item condensing the entire life of a superhuman whose mastery was great enough to reach the heavens—how could its value be anything but immense?
The Legacy of someone like Roman, who had ascended alone and by his own power, was another matter entirely.
Its value was even greater in an age where the line of self-powered ascensions had all but vanished.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call it a treasure for the ages.
The problem was, treasure for the ages or whatever, Yan hadn't even caught a glimpse of any damn Legacy.
Because Roman had ascended without leaving so much as a speck of dust, let alone a Legacy.
He'd bid farewell to the mortal world so cleanly that he'd personally wiped out every living being within a few hundred meters before he left.
“Cooperate peacefully…”
“You think I'm going to cooperate with the bastards who did this to my leg?”
“……? But your leg was always crippled, wasn't it?”
“Whatever! I won't!”
The cycle of torture and persuasion repeated.
“Stupid bastards. If you want to beat it out of someone, you should be beating your own men, not me. If Roman left anything behind, they'd have it.”
If there was anything, it would be with them, not me, who was captured immediately without a chance to even secure my own safety.
It seemed the enemy already knew that.
Thud.
The enemy presented several neatly severed heads.
“Aha. So you've already beaten them. You should have said so earlier.”
They were the ones who had first reached the scene and captured me.
Looking at their faces, caked in pain and wounds from what must have been harsh torture right up to the moment of their deaths, I realized something.
These were men who would torture and behead their own subordinates simply for arriving at the scene first. Getting rid of me would be nothing to them.
It was just as I expected.
“We wasted our time. Dispose of him and search the area again. Pick only men we can trust.”
Shunk.
A gleaming, sharp blade pierced my chest.
“Ah.”
I let out a small, reflexive groan and lowered my head.
Only after seeing the blood gushing from the hole in my chest did it finally sink in.
I'm dying. I'm really dying.
My past life flashed before my eyes.
Falling for the words of a wandering knight and starting life as a squire,
Being used and abandoned, then serving a new master, over and over.
Regrets followed one after another.
If only I hadn't been so easily swayed by that wandering knight's offer to become a squire.
If only I hadn't gotten into a fight with that bastard and injured my leg.
If only I'd switched to being a mercenary after gaining enough experience with a sword.
Or if I'd just accepted the offer to become a city guard without hesitating.
If only.
“…Would anything have been different?”
I couldn't know. It didn't matter.
What did any of that matter when I was about to die anyway?
“Ah…”
My consciousness was fading.
As everything blurred, a sudden anger surged within me.
That damn bastard who only ever thought of himself.
That egoist who abandoned his squire in the middle of an enemy camp and ascended so freely all by himself.
Funnily enough, amidst my resentment, there was a sliver of admiration.
The sword Roman had wielded at the very end.
A world away from the tyrannical swordsmanship he usually favored.
Elegant and dignified, the kind of style you'd expect from the knights of some prestigious noble house.
It was far too beautiful to be the swordsmanship of a scumbag like Roman.
Yes. It was like a dance.
If you could call something that turned hundreds of enemies into chunks of meat a dance, that is.
In any case, it was beautiful and sublime.
So much so that I was too busy savoring the afterimage to even think about escaping.
Whoosh.
The scene I'd witnessed back then unfolded in my mind as if it were happening right before my eyes.
How strange.
The swordplay, which I usually couldn't even follow with my eyes, was now astonishingly clear.
The continuous trajectory of light was seared into my vision.
My consciousness was dimming, yet that image grew ever clearer.
Roman looked back at Yan.
On his enlightened face, which seemed to have transcended all joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure, an expression surfaced.
An expression that looked like resignation from one angle, and relief from another.
Roman's lips moved slightly.
*Of all people? This moron gets to see my end?*
That seemed to be the gist of what he was saying.
To think that this verbal abuse was my reward for ten years of devotion.
Even if it was just an imaginary Roman I'd conjured up in my dying moments, I was genuinely overcome with anger.
“……!”
* * *
“You son of a bitch!”
The moment I yelled, the world suddenly changed.
Roman was gone, and in his place was a man who looked like an absolute beggar.
“……?”
The man's face, glaring at me, was full of irritation.
“Damn, this kid's got some foul sleep-talking.”
It was incomprehensible.
The sudden appearance of this man, the inexplicable pain in my forehead.
I was stabbed in the chest, so why was my forehead throbbing? And why did the man's face look so familiar?
“Huh? Gunther the Beggar Knight…”
The name that suddenly surfaced from my memory slipped out unconsciously.
Smack!
“Ouch!”
Stroking my head from the vivid pain, I flinched in shock.
“Master…?”
Because the shabby man before me was the first master I had ever served.
“So you do remember I'm your master. When you said 'Beggar Knight' and all that, I thought you'd forgotten.”
The irresponsible bastard who, fifteen years ago, had lured a naive country boy into becoming his squire was standing right in front of me.
Yan was utterly dumbfounded.
What in the world was happening?
* * *
A few days passed.
Hop.
“Stop jumping around, you brat! You'll work up an appetite!”
Despite Gunther's scolding, I kept hopping around.
The uncomfortable pain that had always followed whenever I stepped with my left foot was completely gone.
It felt so strange and wonderful that I ran and ran.
“Did that kid eat something bad? He's been running around all day.”
Gunther shook his head as if looking at a madman, but I didn't care.
‘Asking to be a squire when he can't even run properly. I've seen some crazy bastards in my time.’
‘Tsk. Your situation is pitiful, but no knight will take a cripple as a squire.’
‘You're bad luck. Get lost. Know your place.’
Because I was no longer a cripple, no longer lame.
I didn't know how or why, but I had returned to the past.
The label of 'Eternal Squire,'
The injury that had made me limp for my entire life,
The stigma of being a disloyal wretch who constantly changed masters.
To a time when none of the things that had held me back my entire past life existed.
Something hot surged up from within me.
I couldn't hold it back, so I let it out.
“Uahaha!”
Goodbye to the me from my past life, a life riddled with mistakes.
“Roman, you son of a bitch! Let's not get involved in this life!”
Goodbye to that damned, twisted fate.
This life, unlike my last, will be a brilliant…
Thwack!
“Ack!”
“This brat was screaming his lungs out last night, and now he's yelling while he's awake too.”
At Gunther's chiding, I shut my mouth again.
“Just what kind of grudge do you have against this Roman fellow, to be making such a fuss even in your dreams?”
Gunther the Beggar Knight.
The first button I'd fastened wrong.
“Pffft.”
And so I laughed again.
“Has this kid really lost his mind?”
Gunther was appalled.