The Scramble (1)

Sword Master Yuel Razian.

The words used to describe the woman who held a rank equal to the High Priest of the Holy Blood Church were, without exception, blood-chilling. Murderer. Madwoman. Slaughterer. Executioner… Epithets closer to warnings of her danger than true descriptions of who she was.

And how could they be otherwise?

Objectively speaking, Yuel Razian was a dangerous person.

Given even a slender pretext, she would gladly draw her blade. Gladly kill. She felt no hesitation in the act of murder, no lingering reluctance. Her only consideration was a brief, almost perfunctory one: Will killing this person come back to haunt me?

"She's a psychopath."

"A lunatic completely severed from the common sense of the world!"

"To think someone like that acts as an agent of the stars' will… The Holy Blood Church has gone too far…"

None dared speak such things to her face, of course, but the powerful gossiped endlessly about Yuel's nature—almost always in the negative.

"But as for her appearance…"

The moment the subject shifted even slightly—say, to Yuel Razian's looks—every negative opinion evaporated without a trace.

"A beauty who could be called peerless without exaggeration."

"Snow-white hair, crimson eyes, a face of endless cold. That blank expression can make her seem lifeless at first glance, yet even that becomes part of her charm."

"She steals your gaze as if you've been enchanted. There's a rumor that the corpses she executes die with the same entranced look on their faces."

"She's a complete contradiction. The outside and the inside couldn't be more different, could they? Inside lives a blood-mad killer, yet what shows is a peerless beauty."

"Isn't that part of the appeal, though?"

"Mm. I have to agree with you there."

An appearance that had nothing whatsoever in common with the Sword Master they called a murderer. And so the nobility gossiped about Yuel's looks in the shadowed corners of salons—because doing so in front of her would, quite simply, cost them their heads.

"Even without expression, she's like a work of art."

"And if you added the vitality of a smile?"

"I've heard that if you present her with sufficiently expensive liquor, she will smile, however faintly."

"Wouldn't it have to be Star Blood Wine grade at the very least?"

And among them, a few poured out gold coins just to see Yuel Razian smile once. Those who had witnessed it would declare that if you presented her with the finest wines and spirits—the kind where the price was whatever the seller named—she would offer the faintest of smiles, and that it was worth every coin.

Yuel Razian's smile was said to be worth hundreds of platinum coins.

Such rumors circulated among the powerful. And here stood a single boy, with Yuel Razian smiling brightly before him. Beautiful as that smile was…

I'm completely fucked.

The boy, Najin, felt no admiration for its beauty. What he felt instead was the thick, clinging killing intent coiled behind it. Cold sweat slid down the length of his spine.

"Explain yourself. I will give you the opportunity."

Yuel Razian was still smiling.

It was a smile someone might spend hundreds of platinum coins to see—but for Najin, it was a smile that made him want to bolt from his seat and run for his life.

2.

Merlin's laughter echoed in Najin's ear. When he narrowed his eyes, he could just make out her hazy form clutching her stomach and cackling.

—You've really been marked, kid. Keuk—khhrrk—

Here he was, seriously trying to invent an excuse, and this was how his guide chose to behave? Najin shot her a look with eyes gone cold. Merlin, undeterred, had graduated from mere cackling to full-throated snorting laughter.

"In truth, this is not a matter that requires explanation."

When Najin remained silent, Yuel spoke first. As if the killing intent she had been projecting until that moment were nothing more than a casual greeting in everyday conversation, it vanished in an instant.

"I did not hear your name, but I did hear your age, and that proved true, so I will let it pass. That you encountered the Sword Saint first is somewhat displeasing, but…"

She spoke while chewing on a side dish.

"Having seen what you displayed today, I will let that pass as well."

"…What I displayed?"

"Your sword aura. Aura taking the form of a constellation. It was beautiful. Yes—truly beautiful."

Yuel clenched and unclenched her fist in the empty air. Najin recognized the motion at once. It was the gesture she used to summon her armament, the Greatsword of Holy Blood.

"I nearly drew my sword without thinking. When I see something beautiful, I want to cut it. Fortunately the two Sword Masters and His Majesty were watching, so I restrained myself, but…"

Blood-red eyes thick with killing intent slid toward Najin. She gazed at the sword fastened at his hip and smacked her lips for no particular reason.

"I still want it. What do you say? Would you care to duel me once? I would like to cut that aura. I would also like to try deconstructing it."

"…Did you not say last time that you would put it off?"

"I did. But words, by their nature, tend to bounce this way and that."

"I must politely decline."

"A pity."

Yuel took a sip of her drink.

The thoroughly uncomfortable stretch of time continued until someone knocked on the reception room door. In that instant Yuel's eyes narrowed. She was not an authoritarian person, but this was an entirely separate matter.

She was the first guest present. She, the Executioner of the Church and a Sword Master, was sharing drinks with the boy before her—and someone dared to intrude upon this precious time?

Her eyes thinned at the interruption of her pleasant interlude—then widened slightly the moment she confirmed who had opened the door. Standing there was someone who actually possessed the right to interrupt.

"Well now. Looks like I wasn't the first guest."

The master of the Sword Church. The Sword Saint, Caron.

He stepped into the reception room, scratching the back of his neck. Of course, Caron too had a somewhat uncomfortable relationship ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with Yuel. Who would enjoy the company of someone forever ready to rush in and try to kill them?

Even so, he had come. Even knowing Yuel was here, he had set foot in this room for one reason alone: to help Najin. Caron shrugged his shoulders toward the boy.

Like a lamb that had just found its savior, Najin nodded back at him. Caron gave a bitter little smile and settled onto the reception room sofa.

"Mind if I join you, Yuel?"

"Of course not. You have that right. Will you have a drink as well?"

"I'll pass. That liquor of yours tastes like absolute garbage."

"What did you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just say?"

"It's nothing but heat that scorches your throat on the way down. There's no flavor to it at all. What kind of taste is that even supposed to be…"

While Yuel glared at him with eyes wide open, Caron casually turned his gaze toward Najin.

"So your name is Najin, is it? Younger than I expected, too. Either way—you're something else. Congratulations on becoming the youngest Sword Seeker in history, boy."

As he spoke, Caron tossed a single sword toward Najin. It was a blade engraved with the crest of the Sword Church.

"A gift from me, Caron, Sword Saint and master of the Sword Church, on behalf of the order—and a personal token of my goodwill as well."

Najin looked down at the sword he had caught.

When he drew it a fraction from its scabbard, a pitch-black blade emerged. It was forged from Rare Metal, a material only master craftsmen could work. A true top-tier piece, the kind where the price was whatever the seller asked.

Najin stared at Caron with wide eyes. Caron grinned and spoke.

"The Sword Church blesses the birth of the youngest Sword Seeker. A swordsman who has drawn a new line in the history of the blade deserves a sword worthy of that renown."

"Thank you. Truly."

"Take the longsword you've been using and visit the Mage Tower later. Rare Metal has a property of absorbing refined metal and reinforcing itself with it… so it might be able to join with the sword you already carry."

Najin looked back and forth between the sword at his hip and the one Caron had given him. The blade Old Man Hogel had forged for him. The edge had been growing dull and the weapon had been falling apart for some time now; he had needed to replace it, but a lingering attachment had made him put it off.

But now…

A smile spread across Najin's lips.

"I'm glad. I wanted a little more time together with it."

"A swordsman always grows attached to the first blade made to fit him. I understand. The sword I use now has my first sword from my master melted into it as well."

Caron laughed, tapping the hilt of his own blade.

While the two of them smiled, Yuel sipped her liquor in silence. After a while she set her cup down with a sharp tak.

"…"

Caron and Najin's eyes turned toward her—as if to ask whether she had something to say.

"Do not look at me like that. I did not come empty-handed either. I have my own position to consider."

"…Pardon?"

"I am the Executioner of the Holy Blood Church. The High Priest and I use each other, true, but I am still a member of the Church, so I must do the work."

She drew a letter from her robes.

"Considering the oaths you swore before the Empire's sun, I assume you have no intention of belonging to any particular organization. In that case, the letters the Church sent would be meaningless…"

The letters Yuel had produced numbered five. Muttering that they meant nothing, she flicked her fingers, and four of them crumbled to powder and scattered. She held out the remaining one to Najin.

"From ancient times, the Holy Blood Church has managed and supervised Masterpieces alongside the Empire's core. If the Empire holds the Masterpiece Granting Rights, then the right to own them—the Masterpiece Ownership Rights—belongs to the Holy Blood Church."

Yuel pointed at the letter in Najin's hand.

"That document grants you the right to take possession of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a Masterpiece should you confront or subjugate someone who owns one without permission—or should you discover a new Masterpiece yourself."

Had you held that right when you defeated Fauve, for instance, you would have been able to claim the Masterpiece Fire Shadow. With that brief explanation, Yuel exhaled softly.

"In the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Outer Lands you will encounter a fair number of people who own Masterpieces. The high-ranking demonkin who rule those lands possess them. It should prove useful."

When Najin looked at her with eyes that asked why she was giving this to him, Yuel shrugged.

"I already told you. The Holy Blood Church holds your achievements in high regard. This is a kind of bribe—provided so that you will continue to assist in the hunting of demons and black mages."

She added a casual well then.

"When you have the leisure, visit the main cathedral of the Holy Blood Church and seek out High Priest Milsentia. She appears to take a considerable interest in you."

3.

Najin, having left the Imperial Palace, was remaining in the reception room. The moment that rumor spread through the capital, a great many people set their feet toward where he stayed.

The youngest Sword Seeker, Najin.

A figure who had accomplished the absurd and whose future prospects shone bright. Had the boy joined the Imperial knight order, any thought of snatching him up would have been cleanly abandoned—but the palace had yet to issue any further announcement.

So this was the chance. If the boy was still deliberating, now was the perfect moment to reel him in!

With that thought, the countless organizations rooted in the capital began dispatching their people. Bearing armloads of bribes, they made their way toward the reception room where Najin was said to be staying. Mage Towers, guilds, knight orders, mercenary companies…

The personnel sent by the great powers of the Empire were not the sort to be slighted anywhere. Word that so-and-so had sent someone was enough to make even high nobles scramble to treat them as honored guests. And so, even as they schemed to claim Najin, they arrived before the reception room with a certain dignity intact.

However.

The moment they reached the door—

Not one of them dared knock. Dignity abandoned, they could only stare with eyes wide open. There was no other choice.

Two transcendents were inside the reception room.

Caron, Sword Saint of the Sword Church, and Yuel Razian, Executioner of the Holy Blood Church. Two Sword Masters were already present as first guests—who would dare knock on that door?

Before transcendents, no organization could preserve its face. And so they stood outside in silence for hours, unable even to announce that they had arrived.

Step.

They were still wasting endless time beyond the door when footsteps approached from somewhere. They lifted their heads toward the sound.

Great. Another one to wait with us.

Thinking as much, and intending to confirm which organization this new arrival belonged to, they saw the new guest's face—and their eyes flew wide as they dropped at once to their knees and bowed their heads.

Tak.

Without so much as a glance at those bowing, the old man stopped before the door. No one else could knock on a door behind which transcendents waited, but the figure who had halted there was different. He too was a transcendent.

The Empire's first pillar.

Gerd, the Empire's Greatest Horn, knocked upon the reception room door.