Staff of Selection (3)
Najin blinked blankly.
What filled his vision was not the forest he had been standing in moments before, but a vast night sky. He blinked again and again as he stared up at it.
…I’m back.
Had he returned? Or had it all been a dream?
Slowly pushing himself upright, Najin lifted the hand he had used to shake Merlin’s. He thought he remembered a constellation being etched into the back of it—but there was nothing there now.
Was it really just a dream?
Something about it felt too strange for that.
Well… whatever.
He rose carefully to his feet. However much time had passed, he could not afford to let his guard down. Pursuers might already be following the river that had carried him here.
While erasing the traces he had left behind, Najin glanced toward the distant city. It was almost certainly the one built above the underground city. Looking at the sprawling expanse, he felt a flicker of wonder—so that was up here all along—but he could not bring himself to regard it kindly.
He knew too well how filthy the place truly was. Even from this far away he could make out the spires, and he fixed them with a hard glare. Those towers bore the emblem of the Church. Was that the lighthouse of the Church he had only ever heard about in rumors? He burned the shape of it into his mind, vowing that one day he would tear it down, then turned away.
There was no time to dwell on what lay behind him. From now on, he had to move forward.
But… where am I supposed to go?
He had only just emerged into the outside world. He knew nothing of it—where to head, how far he needed to run. In a single moment the boy’s world had expanded beyond measure… and in that vastness he felt like a lost child.
An endless world. Rolling fields stretching away in every direction. Which way should he walk? Feeling the weight of that emptiness, he took his first step simply to put distance between himself and the city—
A spark of light.
The back of his hand flared. The constellation that had been invisible only a moment ago rose into view across his skin.
2.
“You called for me, Merlin.”
Only a short while after the boy vanished from Merlin’s sanctuary, a new guest stepped into her domain. The one who entered was a constellation who hung his star in the same sphere as hers—and the knight who had never left the Round Table, even at the end.
The oldest of the knights. One-armed Bedivere.
A man who still guarded the shattered Round Table out of nothing more than loyalty to Arthur. Looking at the most trustworthy knight she knew, Merlin smiled.
“I have something urgent to discuss.”
“Is this about Excalibur? If so, I’ve looked into a few things myself.”
Bedivere settled onto a tree stump near the lakeshore.
“Intervention is difficult in the inland regions, so the information I could gather is limited. Still, the Holy Blood Church appears to know nothing.”
“The Church?”
“Yes. The worst-case scenario—an executioner of the Holy Blood Church drawing Excalibur—does not seem to have occurred. Their principal deity denied it personally… so it is almost certainly true.”
He had tried other channels as well, he muttered, then let out a sigh.
“To be honest, the information we can obtain is far too limited. If I had known it would be like this, we should have founded a church of our own.”
Neither the Land of Stars, nor the Battlefield of Stars, nor even the vicinity of Kamran—this was the inland, the realm of living humans. For constellations who had already ascended, intervening there was extraordinarily difficult.
That was why some constellations founded churches to secure a foothold, while others raised private armed forces devoted solely to themselves and stationed them inland. Merlin, Bedivere, and the knights connected to the Round Table had never done so.
More precisely…
“It isn’t that we didn’t. We couldn’t.”
Merlin sighed. Her gaze drifted beyond the horizon. Something dragon-shaped writhed there; she frowned and flicked a finger. The net of stars that had been hanging in the air tightened around the dragon and slammed it into the earth.
Kuuung…
Turning away from the rising dust beyond the horizon, Merlin continued.
“Just holding back those cursed things of Kamran keeps us busy enough to die. How are we supposed to spare attention for the inland as well?”
“For someone who says that, you’ve been paying quite a lot of attention lately. Something about hearing a voice.”
“…That was an anomaly.”
Merlin looked away. Bedivere gave a bitter smile and shrugged.
“So what information did you manage to find?”
“I found the master of Excalibur.”
“I see. You found the mast— Wait. What did you just say?”
Bedivere’s eyes went wide.
“Who is it? An Imperial Swordmaster? The Sword Saint of the Sword Church? Or one of their disciples?”
“None of them. Just a brat I’d never seen before.”
Barely twenty—or perhaps a little younger. A green youth who had achieved nothing yet had drawn the sword. That was what Merlin told him.
“Honestly, the most insolent little brat. Standing there with his eyes wide open, answering me right back, word for word…”
As he listened, Bedivere glanced at Merlin’s face. Something felt off.
She’s complaining… but
Her voice was full of laughter. As if she found it fascinating. The corners of her mouth were turned up. Strange, Bedivere thought to himself.
By rights, Merlin should have been the one most reluctant to see a new candidate appear. She had witnessed Arthur’s death from the closest seat of all, and she had heard the prophecy of the Knight of Betrayal with her own ears. Precisely because she hoped that prophecy would never come to pass, she had always been wary of anyone who might draw Excalibur.
And yet now…
She was smiling. The same way she had smiled long ago, when she traveled beside the king. Bedivere could not quite understand it—until soon enough he could.
“He said the same thing.”
Merlin’s words made it clear.
“He gave me the exact same answer Arthur did, of all things.”
Without realizing it, Bedivere found himself smiling just as she was. The tale of the boy who had drawn Excalibur, told through her lips, was interesting even to him—interesting enough to call up memories of the days spent at the king’s side.
“That is remarkable. You said he still doesn’t possess a single star, correct?”
“That’s right. No stars, nothing at all. Truly just an ordinary brat.”
“And yet he withstood that vision… just as our king once did?”
Merlin nodded. Bedivere smiled.
“I would like to see him myself.”
“About that.”
Merlin grinned—the smile of the strategist and guide who had once plotted brilliant schemes at Arthur’s side. After so long, the sight of it should have been cause for joy, yet Bedivere felt a chill run down his spine instead.
Whenever Merlin smiled like that, trouble inevitably followed. Things always worked out in the end, but he remembered how grueling the process had been.
“Wait—”
Before Bedivere could cut her off, Merlin spoke, still wearing that mischievous grin.
“I intend to bring him here myself.”
“…What?”
“We can’t interfere where the brat currently is. At the very least he has to reach the Battlefield of Stars before we can speak properly, impose trials, and so on…”
How long were they supposed to wait for that? And who knew whether some other faction might snatch him up in the meantime?
“So I’m going to move my consciousness down there.”
“Hold on—just a moment. What do you mean by—”
“If I transfer my consciousness to the boy using Excalibur as a medium, I’ll be able to see what he sees and hear what he hears.”
In other words—
“I will guide him directly. He declared with his own mouth that he was prepared, that he would aim for the highest place. That leaves only one path he must walk.”
It was the same as saying Merlin would become the boy’s guide.
“The same path our king once walked.”
The Royal Road.
Or the path of a hero.
“I will make him walk it.”
Bedivere regarded her in silence. He knew what it meant to transfer one’s consciousness. A constellation’s power flowed from the place where their stars hung—from their sanctuary. To move one’s consciousness elsewhere meant leaving behind all the authority, rank, and might of a constellation. It meant becoming a being who could intervene in reality only through voice.
It is certainly the only way to interfere inland… but
It was neither easy nor safe. If anything happened to the boy who carried her consciousness, Merlin’s own spirit would be endangered as well.
This is a choice that must be made with care, he meant to advise—then he saw her face and closed his mouth. It was the face of someone who had already decided.
“…I doubt you’ll listen even if I say more.”
Bedivere sighed and shook his head.
“I understand why you called me. You want me to take over your duties while you are away.”
“It’s nothing difficult. Just push the dragon back down whenever it starts writhing. I’ll leave stars behind, so it won’t be that hard.”
“It sounds like the hardest job of all.”
A crease formed between the brows of Bedivere, suddenly stuck with the leftover work, but he rose with another sigh.
“I cannot do this for long.”
“It won’t take long.”
To a human it might feel like ages; to constellations who had held this post for centuries, it would be the blink of an eye. With that, Merlin closed her eyes. Her body dissolved into starlight and scattered.
Alone by the lakeshore, Bedivere ran a hand over his armor. Engraved there was the crest of the Round Table. Centuries had passed since the Round Table lost its master and shattered. The knight who had guarded it alone for all those years let out a long breath.
He had waited hundreds of years already. What was another decade or two? So he told himself—yet even Bedivere could not cast curiosity aside entirely.
The boy who might one day become his master.
He sketched the youth’s image in his mind, then closed his hand around empty air. What filled his grip was the pure-white spear Arthur had bestowed upon him. Spear in hand, Bedivere left the sanctuary.
He did not know when the boy would reach this place—but until then, he would keep his post. To clear away the cursed things of Kamran that strained to slip through the cracks of the seal, Bedivere moved.
3.
After the constellation on the back of his hand flickered for a moment, Najin narrowed his eyes and stared at it. The light that had flared was already gone again, as if it had never shone at all.
What the hell was that?
He was still rubbing the back of his hand in confusion when a voice rang in his ear.
—Rubbing it like that won’t make it show. I’ve hidden it so the other constellations can’t see it either.
Najin’s shoulders jerked. He spun toward the source of the voice—but nothing entered his vision.
—Turning your head won’t help. Save your strength.
A smirking voice. The same one he had been listening to only moments ago. Najin recognized it at once.
“…Merlin?”
—You look pretty startled.
“What is this? Your voice is echoing right in my ear.”
—What do you think it is?
A snort of laughter.
—I told you. I said I would watch over you.
Najin blinked. The voice kept coming.
—And if you’re going to compete with Arthur… shouldn’t the conditions be the same, at least? Otherwise it wouldn’t be a fair contest.
The same conditions as King Arthur. Before Najin could ask what that meant, Merlin answered.
—You need a guide as well.
Someone to point out the path a hero must walk.
Only then did Najin understand. In Arthur’s journey there had always been an advisor and guide. Countless knights had followed behind, but the place at Arthur’s side had always belonged to one person alone.
The guide, Merlin.
The guide who always showed the right path—that was how the fairy tales introduced her. Still, Najin’s expression turned a little dubious.
“So… you’re saying you’ll be my guide?”
—That’s the idea.
“Didn’t you hate me?”
—Yeah. I do.
“And yet?”
—Hate is hate, and what’s fair is fair. You proved your qualifications by breaking the trial I set.
Her tone was calm.
—Those who possess the qualifications deserve a proper chance.
To those who possess the qualifications, a proper chance. He had read that line in the chronicles of Arthur.
Najin nodded slowly. Whether he accepted or not, there was no reason to refuse.
Honestly, I was at a loss.
He had managed to escape the underground city, but he was utterly ignorant of the outside world. Knowing nothing, he naturally had no idea which way to go.
“I appreciate it, then.”
—No need for thanks. It’s only natural.
“In that case, I’ll take some advice right now.”
He had no intention of turning down help. Use whatever you can—Ivan had taught him that. Najin exhaled briefly and spoke.
“First: I’m being hunted. If they catch me, I’ll probably die. I’ll explain the details while we move, so for now just listen.”
He pointed back at the city behind him.
“Second: I need to get as far from that city as possible. That’s where the pursuers came from, and my appearance and features are already fully known.”
—…Did you commit some kind of crime?
“Well. I was born a criminal, so it’s a little hard to answer that.”
He would explain everything later.
“For those reasons, I need to run somewhere—anywhere—right now. Do you know a good path?”
After following Merlin’s directions for a long while, Najin finally allowed himself to breathe once they entered a dense forest. They had put solid distance between themselves and the city, and the towering trees provided excellent cover. He had received guidance for only a short time, yet he had to admit it: as a guide, Merlin was remarkably skilled. In an instant she had found a place perfect for hiding and catching one’s breath.
Convenient, at least.
He was essentially treating a person—no, a constellation—like a tool, but he felt no particular guilt. Why refuse help when it was offered? With that thought, he tilted his head back to look at the thick canopy.
So this is what trees look like.
There had been trees in the underground city, but never ones this large. Gazing at trunks three or four times his own height, Najin felt a fresh wave of wonder. Everything was new.
—So.
Once she confirmed he had recovered somewhat, Merlin spoke.
—What’s this about being a criminal and having pursuers?
“That is…”
He was about to answer when the words died in his throat. Looking up through the dense branches, he saw that the sky was no longer the same. The pitch-black night was slowly brightening.
“Why is the sky that color?”
—What? What’s wrong with the sky?
“The color’s weird.”
—Weird…?
Merlin sounded baffled. Najin tilted his head, then climbed a nearby tree. Perched high in the branches, he looked out.
An unobstructed view.
One corner of the sky was dyed the same color as the mineral lamps he had always seen in the underground city. The darkness that had painted the heavens black was retreating, replaced by the hues of sunset. Then, beyond the horizon, something round rose, trailing light.
Something bright and warm.
He stared at it for a long time before a single word drifted through his mind. The sun. The thing the people of the underground city had tried—and forever failed—to imitate with the sunset glow of their mineral lamps.
“That’s…”
Najin murmured without thinking.
“That’s the sun.”
For the first time in his life, he witnessed a sunrise.
The rising sun. The sky growing brighter, the sunset hues fading, the heavens turning blue—Najin watched it all, utterly entranced. It was a sight of pure wonder.
—“That’s the sun,” he says.
Merlin sounded incredulous.
—You talk like someone seeing the sun for the first time.
“I am. Today.”
—What?
Najin gave a bitter smile.
“Seeing the sun, seeing a blue sky—both are firsts for me today. Where I lived, neither the sun nor the sky was ever visible.”
—Did you grow up in some hole in the ground?
“Somewhere similar, yeah.”
Where was he even supposed to begin? The words would not come easily. Summarizing the place where he had spent eighteen years of his life was no simple task. While he was still choosing his words—
—If it’s hard to explain, do it while we walk. I don’t mind hearing it slowly.
“Shall we?”
—Yeah. And this wasn’t intentional, but…
Merlin continued.
—The conditions you want seem to match a destination I already had in mind.
A place far from this city. A place where he could escape his pursuers. A place where he could shed an exposed identity and start over from the beginning. By pure coincidence, the destination Merlin had already marked satisfied every requirement.
—The City of Opportunity. Cambria.
Do you know that city?
At the question, Najin’s eyes widened. Cambria—he had heard the name before.
Strictly speaking, only in fairy tales…
After the prologue in which King Arthur drew Excalibur, the story proper began in Chapter One—and the stage of that chapter was Cambria.
The place where Arthur and Merlin first met.
And the city where Arthur first began to truly stand out. Its other name was…
“The place where two dragons were buried. The Tomb of the Dragons.”
—You know it well. And you know who did that, don’t you?
Of course he did.
“You and King Arthur.”
That was the feat that first made Arthur and Merlin famous. The legend of a single swordsman and a single mage bringing down two dragons—that was where their story began.
This was hardly the time, yet Najin felt his heart pound. A fairy-tale he had only ever encountered in print was unfolding before him in reality.
—Before we head for Cambria, just one thing.
Merlin said.
—I need to check your skill. I should know your level if I’m going to put together an estimate.
“My skill?”
—Nothing major. Can you handle mana? That alone should give me a rough idea…
Najin thought for a moment, then drew the sword at his hip. It was the blade Old Man Hogel had forged—the one that had helped him escape the underground city. Gripping it, he drew out his sword aura.
Shhhk.
White radiance bloomed along the blade; golden particles rose in its wake.
“Will this do? It’s about all I can show you right now.”
—……
“Hello?”
Merlin said nothing—as if her words had been completely cut off.