Holy Fire Guardian Knights (4)
Two stars shone atop the citadel.
Najin's was a new star, risen only a short while ago. Untouched by the soot of ages, it scattered pure white light. Schlein's, by contrast, was an ancient, long-worn star. An eroded star could never shine as Najin's did.
If a star is defined as that which generates its own light, then what Schlein possessed could no longer truly be called one. But if a star is simply that which shines…
Then it was unmistakably a star.
Schlein received the light born of Najin's star. If he could not shine of his own power, he need only borrow the light of another. Even a crumbling, battered star could still reflect starlight.
And so two stars shone.
Schlein raised his sword horizontally beside his head. He bent his knees and steadied his breath. It was the technique he trusted most—the one that had cut down countless foes. In other words, it was the best he had left.
The best must be answered with the best.
Najin willingly took his stance. The moment Schlein saw it, he laughed aloud.
"Atanga!"
He had to shout it. He could not hold it in. Atanga—a name that stirred a deep, aching nostalgia. A smile curved Schlein's lips. So it was Atanga. Was this not far too generous a partner for the final moments of a ruined knight?
But Najin stretched his right foot forward. This was not the sword that punished a knight. It was Atanga's sword, raised for a worthy rival. At that sight, Schlein could no longer even smile.
Truly… to go this far…
Their gazes locked. No signal was needed. Conversation even less so. Almost as one, the two men kicked off the ground. Distance vanished in an instant; each pair of eyes fixed solely on the blade in the other's hand.
Both Najin and Schlein were Sword Seekers.
Yet their realms were not the same.
The Schlein who abandoned himself to instinct stood lower than Najin. But the Schlein who swung his sword by pure will stood no lower at all. He was already a warrior who had passed through Sprouting.
Sprouting—the moment a bud breaks the soil.
If a Sword Master dyes an entire field with their mindscape and unfolds a domain, a Sword Seeker pours their mindscape into their aura. Then what of the warrior who takes one step further and achieves Sprouting? Schlein demonstrated the answer.
His aura blazed fiercely. Schlein's aura was modeled after the Holy Fire. Within his mindscape burned an eternal Holy Fire that never went out. He poured that landscape into his blade and swung.
Wherever the sword traced its arc, the world dyed itself red. The aura only imitated form, yet with every advance of his blade came the crackling sound of flames. In the wake of his sword, starfire remained, burning.
He could not yet dye an entire region with his mindscape as a Sword Master could. But he could make his mindscape bloom along the path his sword traveled. That was the realm of a warrior who had undergone Sprouting.
It had not yet Bloomed, nor reached Full Bloom—but the sprouted mindscape had taken root in the world. The flames burning there were the landscape Schlein had refused to release even as he eroded.
I don't know either. Why I keep protecting that thing.
A voice reached his ears.
It's not really a sacred flame. No star dwells in it. Just ordinary fire.
Then why protect it?
Because the people regard that fire as the Holy Fire.
Because that is the pride of the Holy Fire Guardian Knights.
Recalling conversations shared over drinks, reflecting on the life he had lived, Schlein swung his sword. The fire he had guarded for more than two hundred years swept across the citadel's peak.
The corpses that had littered every direction, the stench they gave off, the Holy Fire that had been devouring them, the brazier that held the flame—Schlein's aura swallowed it all.
Yet there was something that fire could not consume.
Shhhraaaak!
A star flashed as it cut through the oncoming waves of flame. Cleaving the fire, the star closed in on Schlein. Yes—that was how it should be. As if he had expected nothing less, Schlein swung again.
"Come!"
He cried out, drunk on the glory of the past.
He swung his sword while recalling forgotten pride. For as long as the blade moved, for as long as Holy Fire danced at its tip, he could still be a knight.
Of course he knew.
He was no longer a knight.
This was a dream that would not even last a single night, and soon he would have to wake. And when he woke, only a merciless reality waited. He knew all of that. But what of it?
This lightness of spirit was something he had not felt in a full two hundred years. He refused to let petty emotions interrupt it.
Ah…
Schlein groaned.
It was coming. Reality approached, parting the flames. At last Najin burst through the wave of fire. Soot covered his body, yet the boy's eyes remained clear.
Kaaaaaaaaang!
Constellation and flame collided and scattered. Through the dispersing aura, blade met blade. In that instant Najin's eyes flew wide. How could they not? Half of Schlein's body was already being consumed by fire.
Najin had never before seen a mindscape turn on its own master. Why? The answer came to him almost at once.
To Schlein, the Holy Fire was the flame that burned away all that was wrong. He himself was no exception. As the parts of him that had become undead burned away, his body grew lighter. As if to say Najin had no leisure to be shocked, Schlein pressed the attack, driving him back.
Blade crashed against blade.
Aura collided with aura, sparking violent rebounds.
Exchanges flew back and forth. Najin laughed in disbelief even as he caught Schlein's sword. He did not merely defend; he answered with counterattacks, meeting Schlein head-on.
I don't take free wins even when they're offered.
Is that so.
My blade will be faster than burning to death.
He would settle this before that body was so thoroughly charred it could no longer swing a sword. Simply stalling for time would hand Najin the victory, but he had no interest in so dull a triumph. He charged Schlein even more aggressively.
His aura output was inferior; he could not handle aura as skillfully as his opponent. Yet that was no reason for Najin to fall behind.
Whatever was lacking could be filled.
With what? Instant judgment, technique, and Atanga's sword. With every exchange of blades, Najin advanced. He parted the fire and pressed endlessly forward.
Kang!
Najin's sword sent Schlein's flying wide. At last he shattered Schlein's technique head-on and took one more step. He placed a period at the end of an exchange that had seemed as though it might never end.
Seogeok.
Najin's blade cut through Schlein.
With a dull clatter, Schlein dropped his sword.
He ran his hand along the long sword-scar that stretched from his shoulder to his heart.
His body began to erode with terrible speed.
Yet this was different from becoming undead. What came for him now was death. Eternal death that arrived as the entire body crumbled to dust. It was a rest Schlein had never been able to claim on his own.
An eternal rest he could obtain only with the help of another star.
Facing the approaching death, Schlein released a long breath. It was time to wake from the dream. With human eyes—not the eyes of a burned undead—he looked around him. There lay the reality he had spent so long refusing to see.
Though a wave of fire had swept through once, corpses that had not yet turned to ash still filled the place. From the bodies whose hearts had been stolen, a foul stench rose thick. Every bit of it was a massacre of Schlein's own making.
Awake from the dream, Schlein groaned.
Evidence that no words could excuse lay spread before his eyes. The price of drowning in a brief dream had been heavy. Confronted with a reality he could no longer ignore, he suffered.
And precisely because of that—
Schlein could choose.
He looked at Najin. Najin looked back at him. Even through the pain, Schlein's expression was one of profound relief.
"Thank you."
Schlein spoke.
"For letting me make the choice I kept putting off."
He seized the sword he had dropped.
Then he pressed the blade into the fire that was already consuming his body. The sword, steeped in Holy Fire, flared to life. Leading that burning flame, Schlein leapt down from the high fortress.
Najin followed him to the ground below.
There, undead lay scattered, beaten back by the Helmet Knight. Still more undead continued to hurl themselves at the Helmet Knight. But the moment Schlein stepped before them, every undead froze.
They stared at the sword in Schlein's hand.
The instant they faced the starfire blazing from his blade, they ceased to be undead and became knights once more. Clank! Their rusted armor rang out. They formed ranks and stood straight before Schlein.
The Helmet Knight, who had been fighting the undead, lowered his spear. For a brief moment Schlein's gaze met the Helmet Knight's. Schlein's eyes widened, then he gave a bitter smile.
"We are the Holy Fire Guardian Knights."
He cried out.
"Knights who guard the Holy Fire and burn together with the flame."
Schlein made the choice he had postponed for so long.
Unable to release his comrades, he had delayed and delayed placing a period at the end of their unfinished journey. But now the period had to be written.
"Let us go forward together."
It was time to set them free.
And perhaps, himself as well.
Schlein wrung out the last of his strength and swung his sword. Starfire erupted from the blade and swallowed the knights. The Holy Fire burned their bodies with fierce intensity. The Holy Fire was no longer at the citadel's peak. The fire blazing before their eyes right now—that was the Holy Fire.
Of course, it might have been a flame that had nothing at all to do with stars. An ordinary fire that could go out at any moment, nothing particularly sacred.
But that did not matter.
What mattered was that every person gathered here regarded it as the Holy Fire.
The knights willingly accepted the flame. They made kindling of themselves and raised a final fire. As the last starlight remaining in their bodies was consumed and they burned away, platinum particles leapt within the flames. The fire they kindled at the end was unmistakably starfire.
Najin and the Helmet Knight watched in silence as the knights turned to ash.
That was the end of the Holy Fire Guardian Knights.
Not every moment of their living years had been beautiful—but the final flames they raised were beautiful indeed.
Schlein's corpse, which had burned fiercely to the last, crumbled without a sound. Amid the heap of ash, only the single sword he had gripped his entire life remained.
"…"
The Helmet Knight drew the sword from the ashes. Then he drove it into the earth so that it stood upright—a makeshift sword-grave. After a brief, solemn bow before that grave, the Helmet Knight let out a long breath.
"In the Outer Land, people eat people."
He spoke.
It was a continuation of the conversation they had shared before reaching the fortress.
"To survive, people devour human hearts. Some claim honor and pride must come before survival—but in the Outer Land, you can only protect those things if you stay alive."
The Helmet Knight turned to Najin.
"Because here, death cannot be rest. If you do not wish to become undead, you must treasure your own life."
"If your heart is taken, you can die for good, can't you?"
"Half right, half wrong."
He began to walk. Searching for something as he wandered the fortress, he continued the story.
"The more stars a person holds, the higher the realm they reach, the more they become monsters. Even if heart and stars are stolen, they keep moving until every last scrap of starlight left in the body is gone—turned into beasts that hunger only for starlight. And if they are lucky enough to devour more starlight, that existence stretches even longer."
But how could that be called life?
Undead who had lost all self and moved only in pursuit of stars. Come to think of it, he seemed to recall seeing undead that still moved even after losing their hearts.
"So if you ever face one that moves without a heart, assume the bastard was quite strong. Someone who reached a high realm while alive."
"I see."
"Yes. Schlein was the same. That man once held as many as four stars. He's lost them all and grown weak now… but there was a time he was a rather formidable knight. That's why he couldn't even choose death alone."
Schlein had been unable even to choose death for himself. Even if he drove a blade through his own heart, he would simply have become undead—that much was certain.
"In the end he chose to survive. If he too became undead, the entire Holy Fire Guardian Knights would have become undead. He could not bear to see that."
"So…"
"Yes. So he hunted humans. He cast aside his own honor and pride if that was what it took to protect the pride of the order. A foolish act. The moment the knight commander made that choice, they were little better than a pack of undead."
The Helmet Knight searched the interior of the fortress.
Finding something, he reached out.
"What do you think of that choice? Was it right? Wrong? Deserving of condemnation? Is Schlein a sinner?"
"…"
Najin fell silent. Honestly, he did not know. Schlein had done things that fully deserved condemnation. Yet explaining it by a clean division of good and evil was difficult. At least, that was how Najin felt.
"You need not answer. Simply remember that such humans exist in the Outer Land. See as many things as you can, experience them, and agonize over them. That is the path that leads toward transcendence."
The Helmet Knight gave a short laugh and clapped Najin on the back. Then he pulled something from a chest that had lain inside the fortress. What came away in his hand was a banner.
The military standard of the Holy Fire Guardian Knights.
Unfurling it, the Helmet Knight spoke.
"Even so—thanks to you, Schlein was able to meet death. At the very end, he could choose as a knight."
"Thanks to me?"
"A pure white star. Only a brilliant star that has not yet eroded can gift an eroded star with death. A glorious death. Though I don't know the reason."
The Helmet Knight claimed not to know the reason—but someone who did know it stood at Najin's side.
Stars are also symbols of the natural order. By nature they resist those things that defy the world's rules—mysteries, demons, witches, and the like. And undead who cannot meet a proper death are beings that likewise violate the natural order.
Thus a pure star can bestow complete death upon an undead. However, Merlin continued,
Stars become dyed by their owners. Just as demons or witches can hold stars, the stars are stained to match their masters. And in that moment the purity a star possesses vanishes.
From the instant purity is lost, a star no longer resists the natural order. It degenerates into nothing more than a tool for defining the world however its owner pleases.
My star is like that, and so are most stars. Even if they begin pure, the more they erode or the more stars one gathers, the stronger the self becomes—and the farther one drifts from a star's essence.
There was exactly one exception.
Arthur had held thirteen stars and still preserved the essence of the stars. Whether Najin could do the same remained unknown—but the star that had risen so recently remained pure.
"A paradoxical thing, isn't it?"
the Helmet Knight said.
"Because a star has eroded, because it has been soiled, its owner longs to end his own life. Yet paradoxically, having lost its brilliance, he can no longer end that life himself. Complete death requires brilliant starlight."
He looked at Najin.
"I suspected as much when I first saw you, but your star still seems to retain its purity. Well—you've only just obtained it. I hope you keep that purity for a long time. In the Outer Land, nothing is more precious."
With those words, he dropped to one knee before the banner of the Holy Fire Guardian Knights. Head slightly bowed, he spoke in a heavy voice.
"The Holy Fire Guardian Knights. The order that once guarded the Rohast domain and guarded the starfire. To the very end they did not abandon their duty."
It was a eulogy.
A eulogy spoken for the Holy Fire Guardian Knights.
"Though they failed to protect their domain, they never turned their eyes from responsibility. They advanced into the Outer Land. They did not advance because they had no choice to retreat. They simply chose to advance. They chose to struggle for eternity, and thus to fulfill their duty."
The Helmet Knight recited the names of the knights written in the roll that had been wrapped within the banner. Krenkel, Callias, Torres, Celache, Schultz, Yubel, Kalsen… and Schlein.
"In their final moment, they were knights."
May rest accompany them.
So saying, the Helmet Knight draped the military standard of the Holy Fire Guardian Knights over his own body. Only then did Najin realize that the rags the Helmet Knight wore were no rags at all.
Those worn scraps of cloth that had looked like rags—
Every last one of them was a knightly banner.
Upon the countless banners already wrapped about him, the standard of the Holy Fire Guardian Knights was added. When the Helmet Knight rose to his feet, the flags he wore fluttered and snapped in the wind.
"Let us go."
Were those words meant for Najin, or for the banners bound to his body?
Most likely both.
The banners that had lost their masters were bound to the Helmet Knight's body, and their journey continued.