The Guardian Star and the Final Sin (6)

With every heavy step I took forward, the endless darkness barred my way once more.

Yet I pressed on without pause, unbothered by the way the black swallowed my sight. And though my stride cut through the shadows swift and sure, my mind only tangled itself deeper with every step.

"So where did all those blacksmiths go?"

According to Bret, the 4th Generation Successor of the Azure Dragon had abducted the dwarves, subjected them to unspeakable cruelty, and then set fire to their lodgings to slaughter them all at once. But if that was true—where had all those smiths gone?

And when I had hovered on the edge of death, the only figures I'd glimpsed in that place were the First Azure Dragon and two others who looked to be the 5th and 6th. If the 4th had truly departed to ascend, then he should have been there too. Why wasn't he?

The temple was pure white from wall to wall, and it held three souls. Count the 4th Azure Dragon, and it should have been four.

Why, then...

Question begat question, and when those questions finally curdled into suspicion—

a fletching of pure white came flying at my face.

- CLANG!

I reacted on instinct and batted the white arrow away, and it clattered to the floor. A pure-white arrow, in a space that held nothing but darkness, wielded by a man in whom the color white could not be found.

"Your beloved made this for you so that, in any unjust situation—"

"in any dangerous situation, any hardship, you would not break. It was her final gift to you, I'm sure."

I couldn't know how Ranya had foreseen what would befall her. But the Galaxy that she and Bret had forged together—surely it was never meant to be used like this. Bret may have built it, but his lover Ranya was its maker just the same.

So that brown-haired woman I'd seen earlier really had been Ranya.

Even if not for Bret—for Ranya's sake, and to make sure no one else became a victim the way he had—I had a duty to raise my sword. I was the Successor of the 7th Azure Dragon, child of the 2nd and 3rd, and the lover of two women whose sense of justice ran deep. My mind was made up. I stepped into the vast chamber, and what greeted me was Bret, bristling with magnificent artifacts.

"So? On your way here, did you happen to see my 'factory'?"

At his words, fury flared up in me in an instant—but I forced it down slowly. There were things I needed to ask first.

"There's something I'm curious about."

"I wonder—what could our noble hero possibly wish to ask of a lowly dwarf?"

I ignored the sneer in his voice, the way he made it plain he had no intention of answering, and pressed on.

"I died once."

"Whoever did it, that's a shame. Had I known them, I'd have poured every ounce of my strength into forging them a truly magnificent weapon."

I cast a glance back at my women, still unconscious where they lay, then turned my gaze forward again to face him.

"Back then, I saw the First Azure Dragon. I could even see the lesser gods who serve under him."

"Oh? Then you'd have seen the 4th Azure Dragon too, wouldn't you? The bastard—what did he say? Don't tell me he didn't have a single word to spare for a dwarf."

"He didn't."

"Thought so—"

"No. It isn't that he said nothing. The 4th Azure Dragon simply wasn't there."

Bret's eyes flew wide open as he stared at me.

"What the hell... what is that supposed to mean? Right before the massacre... before he set the fires and locked us in—he told us! He said he was going to ascend to the heavens!!"

Emotion had swallowed him whole; he couldn't even tell whether my words were lie or truth. He thrashed and wailed before me, and now it was my turn to ask.

"Then tell me—describe the 4th Azure Dragon's appearance. You never know. I might already have the information."

"Fine... I'll tell you. A long-haired man. Blood-red hair, and eyes of burning orange."

.....Damn it.

The curse left my lips of its own accord.

The 4th Azure Dragon, Elysium. He had cast aside the name the Azure Dragon had proudly bestowed on him and taken a new one—and by now even that name would be lost to him. He was one of those who could no longer be called the 4th Azure Dragon at all. If I spoke that title before the other dragons, they wouldn't take it as a joke. Their killing intent would flare on the spot.

Among the Four Divine Beasts, those who had fallen and gone over to the Four Perils were rare—but not unheard of. Florence, drowning in the inferiority, rage, and pride she'd suffered at my hands, had accepted Taowu's power without hesitation. And before that, when Florence had defiled the White Tiger's name—the Azure Dragon's name had been defiled as well.

By him. The one among the Azure Dragon's successors who drove a blade into the Azure Dragon's back, answered the call of the Four Perils, and passed beneath their banner.

The Successor of Qiongqi—Vile the Fury.

The 4th Azure Dragon's true identity was none other than the traitor who had abandoned the Azure Dragon and accepted Qiongqi's authority—the strongest of the current Successors of the Four Perils. Vile.

"What's with that face? What in the world do you know... that you'd wear an expression like that?"

Bret's voice wavered with bewilderment. Quietly, I began to speak of the one who had defiled the Azure Dragon's name—the man who had toyed with and then killed Bret's lover, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who had slaughtered his kin. When I finished, telling him that this man had thrown away the Azure Dragon's name and inherited Qiongqi's, Bret—

"Heh heh heh... HAHAHA!!!!!!"

—couldn't stop laughing, as if he'd finally broken past what he could bear.

"Would anyone believe that? You could be deceiving me right now—turning my hatred and rage elsewhere so you can claim my power for yourself, couldn't you?"

In answer, I chose to infuse my voice with mana—to invoke the Dragon's Word. It was the very method the First Azure Dragon had used to sway me, and it had been enough to quell even my fury back then. The effect would be staggering.

"From this moment, I will seal my oath with the Dragon's Word. One who defies the Word is deemed to have broken the rules, and punishment will fall upon them for failing to keep their vow."

"Can you believe me now?"

"...Yes. From the look in your eyes, that part of it is no lie. But that story of yours about the 4th Azure Dragon—that I cannot believe."

Bret had agreed. The moment I poured mana into my voice, a pressure burst forth, as if an unseen hand had seized the entire chamber. Compared to a few months ago, my Dragon's Word now carried a weight, a restraint, a crushing pressure that was no joke at all. But I didn't stop. For the sake of truth—for Ranya, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his lover, not Bret—I spoke my oath aloud.

"I, Lee Hyun, Successor of the 7th Azure Dragon, shall answer Bret's questions with truth alone, and should I speak a falsehood—"

My lovers behind me had given me their faith for all eternity, so I had no reason to hesitate. Those women would love me to the very end, Successor or not.

"...I will relinquish my position as Successor."

The moment my oath ended, Bret—panting hard, evidently crushed by the pressure—still kept his eyes fixed on me to the last. I met that gaze and continued, slowly.

"Ask. But ask me nothing that demands a lie. I will not forgive it."

Perhaps he'd felt the full weight of my Word; Bret swallowed hard and began.

"The one who persecuted and oppressed our kin, who carried out the massacre—is he truly the current Successor of Qiongqi, as you said?"

"Yes."

To prove my words true, I raised the power of purification in my left hand. Cruelly enough, that hand shimmered and glowed with pure white light. There's a saying, after all—that sometimes a hundred lies serve better than a single truth. Looking at this moment, I wondered if that's what it had been coined for.

Bret, meanwhile, learned that the man he hated had never been an Azure Dragon at all, that the one he had vented his hatred upon was not me—and something in him simply broke. He hung his head, motionless, doing nothing at all.

At last, tears streaming, he asked again.

"The man who... did those things to my Ranya without a flicker of hesitation, who treated her like a plaything... you're telling me he was the Successor of Qiongqi...?"

"Yes."

The light of purification I had kindled did not waver. It simply... shone, bright and steady.

"I can't believe it...! Successor of the Azure Dragon—I will kill you, and soothe my woman's soul with your death!"

There was no longer any soul behind Bret's eyes. Watching him act on raw emotion alone, I accepted that I had simply become the target of his rage, and silently raised the sword my skill had conjured in my right hand.

"The oath is concluded."

At my words, the pressure of the Dragon's Word vanished entirely. All that remained was a rage that had lost its road—and a single man who now understood that everything he had done had been for nothing, and that he had been walking the very same path as the man he had hated most of all.

"Successor of the Azure Dragon!!"

A white sword and a black sword rose into the air around him, aiming themselves at me as he attacked. I caught the twin blades' head-on descent, deflected them aside, and drove my fist into Bret's stomach. The tremendous impact sent him skidding backward, and only after a great distance had opened between us did he finally stop.

"Stop this. You know now, don't you? What you've done."

"SHUT UP!!!"

He raised the Galaxy, flung it skyward, and painted a beautiful swath of sky—and from within it, a deluge of arrows came pouring down toward my position.

Countless currents of wind howled savagely around me. I seized the violently rushing gale, gathered it into my blade, and swept the sword toward the rain of arrows falling upon me.

The wind-blades of staggering force sheared the arrows apart, and one by one they lost all their menace, drifting down in a soft whisper of feathers.

"I will NEVER forgive you!"

The instant Bret realized I had turned aside every arrow, he rushed me, trying to strike. But a blade in the grip of rage can cut down nothing. No matter how fine the sword, never. A maddened blade's arc is plainly visible—nothing more than wild, flailing swings.

- WHOOM!

As if to prove the point, every strike Bret flung at me was a swordstroke I could read before it came. Naturally, none of it could touch me; Bret carved nothing but empty air, never once drawing blood.

"You think your lover wanted this? Your lover wanted you to suffer more on her account—she wanted that more than anything."

"SILENCE! What could YOU possibly know about Ranya—what gives you the right to speak of her!"

"No. It's because I'm me that I understand. I was a Successor fated for exactly the same road as yours. There was a moment, not long ago, when I nearly lost the ones I love."

Ellie had fallen into Asmodeus's trap and nearly been consumed by madness. Hwa Yeon had died once, by Asmodeus's hand. Naturally, that made me the one person alive who understood Bret best—who could grieve with him, ache with him. The only difference between us was that I had swung my sword myself and carved my lovers out of that fate.

Bret could not.

Bret was by no means weak. What other man would spend centuries planning revenge while reliving, over and over, the pain his lover must have felt?

"So I share your pain, and I know it. But—"

"the price of your sins must be paid. Even if that price is your life."

Regardless of everything, he had built this trap, and adventurers and my own women had suffered within it. Had I not been there, they would have fallen in too and ended up just like the rest. He had set out to do such a thing, and so paying the price was right.

Lightning's power flooded my entire body, explosive force radiating from me in every direction.

"So rest easy now. Your hatred—I'll carry it with me."

With those words, I surged forward ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and carved a diagonal line through Bret's upper body. The immense slash left its mark across his torso, and at last Bret collapsed backward, blood pouring from him.

I walked toward him, dismissing the shape of the sword in my hand. As I drew near, his eyes turned to me. I met his gaze and spoke.

"Anything you want to say, at the end?"

"After you spoke... I understood everything at last. That I was... no different at all from the man I hated. But by then..."

"it was far too late to turn back... So to sever my own wickedness, I finally let every emotion burst free and threw myself at you."

"....."

"Isn't it funny? A man who grew to resemble the one he hated more than anyone else, dreaming of revenge—and the words he utters at the very end are for his beloved... *khh*!"

With that, a dry cough wracked him, and a flood of blood soaked through his clothes.

"Ranya... one more time... I only wanted to see her one more time. But I don't think I can go where she is... would the Divine Beasts ever let me be...?"

"Heh heh heh... so don't take a rotten bastard like me... find another man... and live... happily..."

"....."

"Ah... I'd forgotten one thing. The blacksmiths here... they're all dead by now. They breathed the scorching air of the flames for far too long... they didn't last long after."

"Burying my kin's bodies one by one was... bitter, bitter work. So now it's my turn to die, is it."

Then, with the last of his strength, Bret lifted the swords and the bow into the air and sent them drifting toward me.

"The Galaxy, the Constellation, and the Starlight. The weapons she and I made together. They'll serve you well. It was... my pleasure... Ra...nya... I... loved... y..."

And with those final ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠words, tears spilling down his face, Bret breathed his last.

Seized by an inexplicable bitterness, I could only stare for a long while at the weapons he had left behind at his end. In the end, I accepted his hatred, and gathered up the sword and the bow. They would become weapons that threatened the Successor of Qiongqi—the man who had shattered his happy life, after all.

Just as I turned to leave—

once more, the brown-haired woman, Ranya, appeared before me.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It was something I had to do."

Ranya looked at Bret through her tears, then turned to me.

"There is one last thing I must give you. Follow me, please."

The wind wolves had long since been dismissed, and I couldn't bear to leave the women behind—so I called on my mana. Two wind wolves appeared at my side.

"Would you two carry them for me?"

The wolves nodded as if to say of course, hoisted the two unconscious women onto their backs, and together we followed Ranya. Before long, we arrived not in some dark void, but in a bright, aged workshop—cozy and lovingly arranged. Strange, though: every piece of equipment in the place was brand-new. Only the hammer looked worn to the bone.

As I took in the workshop and turned to Ranya, she was gazing at a corner of the wall.

"Press here, please."

When I pressed the wall, the stone shifted, revealing a narrow crevice. And from that crevice emerged a long stone coffin. Following Ranya's gesture, I drew it out and opened it—and inside lay a sword of the deepest black.

"Its name is Guardian Star. The first masterpiece I ever created without Bret's help—and, I believe, my finest."

Every master craftsman is said to have one—that singular work called a masterpiece. And here, before my eyes, was Ranya's: the sword known as Guardian Star.

"Take it, and save those who suffer the same misfortune as Bret and me."

Then her body began to turn translucent, her form slowly fading away.

"It's... time for me to go. May every blessing find you, kind one, who always saved my beloved. I'm going to give Bret a piece of my mind, and then be reborn. Thank you, Successor."

And so the only remaining proof that Ranya had ever existed was the Guardian Star in my hand.

- Shing.

As I drew it, I saw that along the black blade, inlaid at its center, golden ornaments gleamed like starlight, forming the shape of the Big Dipper. At its heart sat a single silver ornament—the Guardian Star that watches over the Seven Stars, I supposed.

I opened my status window and examined the weapon.

Every one of the sword's powers existed to protect someone, amplifying only when its lover-blades were near. And that exclusive skill—Sky of Longing, which made it impossible for any being to die within its darkness—told me everything I needed to know about the kind of woman Ranya had been.

"Rest easy now."

After offering a prayer for Ranya, I slid the sword into its sheath and waited for the women to wake naturally on their own—

still holding the Constellation and the Starlight, my gifts to them.