Holy Fire Guardian Knights (2)
Was some kind of taunt effect attached to the Helmeted Knight’s battle cry? The instant he roared, every undead gaze snapped toward him. A few still swung spears and blades at Najin, but far fewer than before.
Not a taunt. Looks like he amplified his starlight.
What?
You know how the undead are drawn to starlight? Same way undead are drawn to the living. Amplify the starlight and you can pull a taunt on them.
Merlin whispered the explanation into Najin’s ear. She seemed thoroughly bothered that she hadn’t taught him how to control starlight last time, so she went into exhaustive detail—then slipped in a half-excuse, glancing at his face. It’s been so long since I tried hiding starlight that my memory’s a little fuzzy…?
I didn’t care about that, so don’t worry.
The constant sidelong looks were getting on his nerves, so Najin cut her off.
Really…? You mean it?
Yeah. Really.
Merlin’s expression brightened noticeably. Najin parried the undead’s spears and blades and pulled away. The moment he opened the distance, even the handful still fixated on him wheeled and charged the Helmeted Knight instead.
Undead who had been sniping from the walls and towers transformed into beasts and leapt down after him as well. The swarm that gathered numbered a good twenty.
Roughly twenty undead. Fourteen of them were Sword Seeker class—the aura coiled around their weapons had taken on distinctive shapes. Honestly, if Najin had been surrounded by that many, he wouldn’t have bet on walking away unharmed.
The Helmeted Knight was different. Even hemmed in on every side he wasn’t being pushed back; he was driving them off. He swept his long spear in wide arcs, kicked bodies aside, and rampaged through the middle of the pack.
A giant of a man—easily two and a half meters tall—whirling a three-meter spear looked for all the world like a giant gone berserk.
Looking that relaxed, the guy really must have been a Transcendent.
“What are you standing around for?! Get moving—I’m barely holding!”
So much for relaxed.
While the Helmeted Knight bellowed, Najin sprinted into the fortress. Destination: the top floor, where the Holy Fire burned. The master of this stronghold would be there.
He could have scaled the walls and vaulted straight to the keep’s summit, but he didn’t. If he’d meant to do that he would have done it from the start instead of lance-charging the front gate.
Might as well, now that we’re here.
Najin decided to follow the Helmeted Knight’s talk of romance. For all his pragmatism he was a romantic at heart himself. A frontal breakthrough—what more heart-stirring phrase existed? Efficiency over romance, reason over feeling? His sword-light flared.
You’re unbelievable. Truly.
This is why mages…
What?
I didn’t say anything.
What would a mage know, anyway? While Merlin howled that he was being mage-phobic, Najin swung his sword. When a mage complained, a swordsman simply swung once more.
2.
Atulu Fortress seemed to have concentrated its forces outside. The keep itself was no small structure, yet the knights garrisoned within could be counted on one hand. Even as he neared the top floor, Najin had met only three undead on his way through.
An empty citadel.
A fortress that gave no sense that the living had ever walked its halls.
Climbing flight after flight, Najin glanced at Merlin. She simply watched him, saying nothing. That silence felt strange.
Since coming to the Outer Land she had interfered far less in his choices. Normally she would have been offering “You should do it this way,” or “How about this?” or “That’s a foolish method—want to hear a more efficient one?” Lately she didn’t.
Even during the duel with the Helmeted Knight. A life-or-death fight, a risk that could have ended his entire journey if his instinct had been wrong. Yet Merlin had only asked, Can you handle it?
Unlike the Continent, where she had shrieked every time he made a reckless decision.
That’s because you’re not a child anymore.
Merlin answered his unspoken monologue.
Your star and my star hang in the same sky. Even if the number or height of the stars differs, the fact that they share the same heaven doesn’t change.
So?
It means the time for treating you like a little kid is over.
Not guardian and child.
Something closer to senior and junior.
They stood in the same place, on the same battlefield; she ought to look at him a little differently. That was what Merlin said.
So I should respect your choices. As long as they aren’t completely hopeless, as long as they aren’t pure suicide runs. When you fought the Helmeted Knight you had your own reasoning, didn’t you?
It was mostly instinct.
An opponent who still wanted to be a knight. Someone who spoke of honor and pride while drowning them in drink, yet still longed to get drunk on them. Najin hadn’t charged in without calculation.
That’s enough. If you judge and choose with your own grounds, I’ll respect that choice.
Because that was how it had to be.
Merlin said so.
To become a Transcendent you need trials. Not just physical growth—mental growth too. And no one else can do that for you.
Worry, agony, conflict, and the answer reached at the end.
That answer could not be handed over by anyone else. Only the answer one gave oneself held meaning. For that reason alone Merlin would respect Najin’s free will.
And the price of your choices… well, we’ll pay it together.
Together?
Why the surprised look? It’s obvious.
Merlin sighed and glared at him.
You think I’d just let you die in a ditch? This isn’t the Continent where intervention is hard. If it really looks like you’re going to die, I’ll step in. The aftermath… well, I’ll just have to deal with it.
Najin gave a dry laugh.
She said it lightly, but Najin knew exactly what that “aftermath” meant, and it didn’t sound light at all.
The intervention she spoke of was not the spiritual form walking beside him now. It was her true body—the star waiting at the far edge of the Outer Land—moving. In other words…
It meant the seal on Kamran would waver.
Just as a boundary line existed between the Continent and the Outer Land that the Outer Land’s undead could never cross, another boundary existed at the Outer Land’s end that the cursed things of Kamran could not pass.
The boundary Arthur had bought with her own life.
The Round Table Constellations kept that line.
The moment Merlin—the strongest among them—moved her star, the boundary would shake. The “cursed things” of Kamran would cross. The balance of the world would collapse. Outer Land and Kamran mixing would not remain an Outer Land problem; it would reach the Continent itself.
“That’s a heavy burden.”
Najin muttered without thinking.
Merlin had meant something like Even if you face death I’ll save you once, so don’t worry, yet Najin heard something entirely different.
The moment I die, Merlin intervenes and the world’s balance shatters.
That would start the countdown to ruin. Contrary to her intention, Najin felt the weight hanging on his own life all over again.
Isn’t the world’s balance and the boundary more important than me? It’s a bit much.
He asked it half in jest.
More important than you? That? Why?
Merlin did not take it as a joke.
She tilted her head. Perfectly clear eyes fixed on him and asked again. Najin had no answer. Climbing the stairs, he stopped and turned to look at her.
A brief silence.
Their gazes crossed.
Merlin blinked as if wondering what was wrong, then her eyes flew wide—as if she had just realized she had said something she shouldn’t. She scrambled to cover.
Ah, it is important. Important, sure. Well. Um, I just meant… Let’s talk about this later.
She laughed it off.
Najin could not laugh with her.
…Najin’s mind and Merlin’s were linked.
Even without speaking aloud, a thought was enough for them to communicate. As Najin’s realm rose and his mindscape expanded, they had begun sharing monologues and emotions as well.
Whether they wanted it or not, uncontrolled surges of feeling or thought sometimes spilled over. Just now had been one of those times. The moment Merlin said That’s important? Why?, her true feelings had rung in his ears.
Balance, peace, stability.
None of that mattered.
That kind of thing—none of it mattered at all.
The monologue and the sticky emotion that came with it sank into Najin’s heart. It was a feeling Merlin had never shown him before.
Hatred. Regret. Remorse. Rage. Resentment. Grief.
Compressed emotion crashed over him like a wave.
Normally she would have controlled it, swallowed it down herself. On this subject she could not. It was her reverse scale.
Yeah, let’s talk about it later.
Whether or not she realized her monologue and feelings were flowing into him, she was still smiling. Najin found it hard to take that smile as only a smile.
Merlin.
Hm? What?
Najin looked straight at her. His sunset-colored eyes were reflected in her deep blue ones. Her expression was the same as always. Yet somehow her gaze looked fragile to him.
He shook his head.
That won’t happen.
What won’t?
I’ll make sure the day never comes when you have to drop everything and intervene.
Well… of course? But why?
Just because.
The emotion that had brushed past settled quickly. Merlin returned to the slightly airheaded, scatterbrained self he always saw and looked away.
Then her eyes snapped wide.
Hey—front! Look front! Front!
She slapped his shoulder frantically and pointed. An undead was charging him with terrifying speed.
Looks like we’ll have to pick this up later.
With that thought Najin adjusted his grip on the sword.
3.
Hey! Looking at me in the middle of a fight? That was dangerous!
The moment the undead fell, Merlin started whining as if she had been waiting for it. You’re the reason I looked, he swallowed the words that rose to his throat and kept walking.
The final staircase to the top floor.
What waited for Najin at the top was an open view. The highest level of the keep had no roof. Good ventilation should have followed, yet the instant he arrived he grimaced.
The stench of rotting corpses hit him hard.
Bodies blanketed the rooftop. Some wore the same armor as the knights below—Holy Fire knight armor—but most did not.
There were those in other orders’ armor, those wearing none at all, those in mage robes, and corpses so ruined it was impossible to tell what they had been in life.
The only thing the motley dead shared was a hole punched through the place where a heart should have been. Corpses whose hearts had been stolen. Atop the keep reeking of their stench stood a single brazier.
Holy Fire—Starfire, the fire of the stars.
Stars were platinum-gold, yet the Holy Fire was not. It was ordinary red flame, no different from any other fire. The only distinction was the golden particles that crackled and leapt within it.
So that’s the Holy Fire the Holy Fire knights are guarding.
Smoke from the brazier climbed high into the sky. Najin shifted his gaze slightly. Beside the brazier a man sat like another corpse. He was looking straight at Najin.
“You’re the master of this fortress, then.”
Najin asked.
The man gave no answer. He simply rose, slowly.
The figure that stood was ruined. Blackened armor was shattered in places and no longer covered the body. The skin showing through the gaps was charred and withered like charcoal.
Half his body looked as if fire had eaten it. Put another way, only half had been eaten.
Burns and erosion claimed only half. What of the rest? Unlike undead who had fully eroded and lost all self, intelligence still gleamed in the man’s eyes. Half of him was still human. Even so, he did not open his mouth to answer Najin’s question.
Not because he could not hear or understand.
Because there was no need to answer.
He brought the sword he had drawn to the Holy Fire.
Flame leapt onto the blade. Red fire roared up the steel as if the edge itself were kindling. Whether it was the Holy Fire’s own blaze or the shape of the man’s sword-light was impossible to tell.
With the burning sword he offered the sword salute.
Najin asked nothing more. He raised his own blade vertical, tip toward the sky—the salute Ivan had taught him.
The salutes passed between them.
No words were required.
Introduction, name, everything—the greeting offered by the sword had already said it all. Najin settled into stance. The man did the same. Sword-light like Holy Fire and sword-light like constellations each cast their radiance from the summit of the keep.
Then—
Tak.
The two of them charged.