Icarus's Wings (2)
The Wandering Star, Icarus, unfurled his stage.
The last time he had done so was seven hundred twelve years and thirty-seven days ago. And of the constellations that had been sucked into Icarus’s stage that day, not a single one survived.
All of them sank into the deep sea.
More than seven hundred years had passed since then. The world had forgotten the true name of the Wandering Star, forgotten the characters used to write it, and even forgotten the nation he had founded.
Forgotten, and forgotten in turn.
Until at last he became a Forgotten Star.
The star forgotten even by himself let out a scream. That scream was performed through the mouths of the whales. Tens, hundreds of thousands of whales opened their jaws as one and sang their master’s cry.
BuoOOOOOOOOOO······.
The sky roared. The earth shook. The Wandering Star’s stage swallowed the world. The heavens stretching beyond the horizon turned pitch black and heaved like a violent tide. The sky itself had become a single vast sea.
The sky was the sea.
The empty air the whales swam through was the sea as well.
And when they touched the ground, the heaving earth itself could become the sea.
The whales swam. Everywhere they touched became sea and rolled with waves. The pulse of the whales swimming with the tide echoed far and wide.
⟨ Mansangdaehae ⟩
The Great Sea of All Phenomena
A stage that turned every thing in existence into ocean.
Icarus had created it so he could journey with the friend who could live nowhere but the sea. Yet it was not Icarus’s stage alone. It was a stage shared with his friends—the hundreds of thousands of whales.
The sea swallowed everything.
Dozens, hundreds of descending constellations were swept away by the waves. Even Transcendents could not resist the current raised by millions of whales. The stars that had come down to this place to kill the master of Excalibur now had to thrash not for their original purpose, but simply to survive the Wandering Star.
“······.”
And Najin gazed ahead without a word.
He looked upon the endless sea.
Upon the countless whales charging toward him, and upon the constellations who, even as they were swept up among those whales, still forced their way closer to kill him.
“Merlin.”
“Yeah.”
Merlin flicked her fingers. The place where Najin set his foot froze solid. Even within the heaving sea he made footing for himself. Steadying his stance, Najin let out a long breath.
So long as he held Excalibur, Najin was a Transcendent.
What that meant was simple. Techniques of the Transcendents that until now he had only imitated—he could now reproduce them.
Najin raised his sword. The seven stars carved into Excalibur blazed. The stars sinking into the sea, the stars charging at him, the stars trying to stop them—every gaze snapped to Najin in a single instant.
And Najin brought the raised blade down.
Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
A colossal blade of aura bisected the battlefield.
The sea split. Waves shattered. Whales were hewn in half, and even the stars that had been rushing toward Najin were swept away. Constellations that had lived long ages managed to hold on; the rabble did not.
In a single stroke, more than ten constellations fell.
Demons who had lost their stars sank beneath the sea.
For a moment silence settled over the field. The power of that blow was impossible to believe from a brat who had only just reached Transcendence. Amid stares thick with shock, terror, and rage, Najin adjusted his grip on the sword.
······The ultimate technique of the Triumphant Sword was a costly attack.
Perhaps Alderan Basaglia in his prime could have managed it, but it was not a technique a new star who had only just transcended could casually endure. That was true only in ordinary cases, however.
A flash.
Excalibur began at once to replenish the starlight Najin had spent. Watching the holy sword drink in the overflowing starlight around them and shine anew, Najin laughed as if he could scarcely believe it.
I’d heard about it from Merlin, but still.
What an absurd sword. He might not be able to use it this very second, yet before long he would be able to again. Najin settled his grip and leveled the blade before him.
As if to declare that even after unleashing a technique of this caliber he was not tired. As if to invite them all to come if they dared.
And if they would not come······
With a sharp step, Najin kicked off the sea and ran. Everywhere his feet landed froze solid.
Then I’ll just go to them.
The task he had to fulfill in this war.
Turning that purpose over in his mind, Najin began to run.
Unless the Wandering Star was suppressed, the war itself could not take shape. That was the view of the Holy Blood Church, and the judgment of the Empire’s commanders as well.
The final destination was the Revelry Emperor’s domain.
To reach it, Transcendents had to open a path, and the army had to hold that path. Yet so long as the Wandering Star existed, the very act of “making a path” became meaningless.
A being who was an army unto himself.
A catastrophe even the Transcendents of the night sky feared.
While the Wandering Star ran wild, the knights would not be an advancing army but powerless humans swept up by a natural disaster. To keep allied losses to a minimum, Najin needed to open the way alone.
Draw the Wandering Star.
Draw the stars that had descended to kill him.
It was a task fraught with danger—but when had anything ever been safe? Because this was the war he had started, Najin claimed the hardest role for himself.
Chaaaaaaaaaa!
Parting the surging water, Najin ran. Drawn by the starlight he created, Transcendents and whales began to pursue him.
Of course it was not easy.
No matter how many he cut down, the whales were endless. He had many Transcendent allies, yet killing was always easier than protecting—especially in a melee like this.
KWA-AAAANG!
The spot where Najin meant to plant his foot exploded violently. Water shot high into the sky. Spinning to change direction, Najin scowled.
Dozens of thorn-clusters glittered in the heavens.
The instant those thorns all shot toward him, Najin looked down at his feet. Dozens of grasping hands had seized his ankles. The constellations were pouring their authorities onto him without restraint.
Thorns, spears, magic, swords, bludgeons······
Transcendent strikes from every weapon made the sky flash again and again. The moment Najin stopped, countless attacks poured down. Just as he tightened his grip to cut them all away—
“This is no place to have your feet tied,”
The sky flashed.
“when you’ve still got so far to go, boy.”
A single streak of vivid blue aura sheared through the magic raining on Najin. He looked up and burst out laughing. Blue petals were scattering across the battlefield.
The Sword Master of a fallen kingdom, Kirchhoff.
Blue hydrangeas bloomed in full across the field. The blue flowers rising everywhere gathered into one place whenever Kirchhoff swung his blade.
“I’ve plenty to say,”
Landing beside Najin, Kirchhoff shrugged.
“but this isn’t the place for it.”
“I agree.”
“We’ll meet again farther on.”
Kirchhoff raced behind him; Najin raced forward. As blue aura erupted like an explosion at his back, Najin ran. Without a word, Kirchhoff took one side of the battlefield for himself.
“I am Kirchhoff.”
His voice rang across the field.
“Last Knight of Rondinel—Kirchhoff.”
The voice was full of joy. Because the stage of vengeance he had so long desired had at last opened, because the road toward the Revelry Emperor now lay clear, he shouted in rapture.
“You are far too shabby to block the path of the greatest knight. You don’t even belong in the story.”
A blue star blazed.
“You will not pass me.”
It was not only Kirchhoff’s star that shone.
“Go.”
Every time Najin pressed forward, nameless Transcendents brushed past him. They did not speak at length.
“I once received grace from the Round Table. What kind of knight would I be if I pretended not to know that debt?”
A knight the Round Table had once saved.
After long ages he had become a Transcendent and ascended to the heavens; now he willingly descended to this earth for Najin. Even if it meant his own annihilation, he would repay the debt he owed the Round Table.
“Merlin! What a welcome face. Have you been well?”
A mercenary king who had once fought alongside the Round Table swept past Najin. He smiled at Merlin, then gave Najin a shove between the shoulder blades—as if telling him to hurry on.
“If I can decorate a page of legend, a risk like this is only fair.”
Heroes who had been active centuries ago.
“Go.”
Stars that had abandoned their ideals in the harsh Outer Land and merely clung to life day by day.
“We’ll open the path.”
Yet stars that had once been heroes.
“Hahahaha! This is it—this is truly a battlefield of stars!”
They took up their weapons once more, wishing to become heroes again. Drawn by the starlight Excalibur created, they flung themselves into the fire like moths.
“I’ve lost honor and pride both, yet before that sword I still want to be a knight.”
“A nostalgic light.”
“Ah······.”
“Hurry on.”
“I’ll handle this place. It’s nothing I can’t manage. Go, greatest of knights.”
They had reached Transcendence, yet in the end they were still human. Inconsistent, foolish, pretending to be rational only to move on impulse······ stubborn humans of that sort. And precisely because of that, they shone.
A flash.
Burning every scrap of starlight they had hoarded and saved, they blocked the Transcendents aiming for Najin. They opened the road he would take. Some did it to repay a debt; some out of gratitude for King Arthur’s sacrifice; others simply from the desire to adorn a single page of legend.
Their reasons differed, but their purpose was one.
Open the path for the greatest knight to run. For that, they would offer anything. The starlight they created turned the boundless sea platinum-gold.
“······.”
Najin fell silent. Only now did he truly feel it.
What it meant to have drawn Excalibur.
What it meant to become a hero.
“Heavy, isn’t it?”
“A little.”
“So? Does it weigh on you?”
At Merlin’s question Najin smiled and shook his head.
“Not at all.”
This was the sea he had been waiting for. Feeling the weight settled on his shoulders, Najin quickened his pace.
What he fixed his eyes on was the greatest whale of all.
The mother of every whale that prowled the upper sky and glared down at him. The whale that carried the Wandering Star’s palace upon its back. The very moment Najin took another step—
BuoOOOOOOOO······.
A whale suddenly burst up from beneath the ground. Its gaping maw swallowed toward him. Najin swung his sword and split the creature, yet the rising whales were not only one.
An even greater whale surged up, devouring even the severed carcass. Frowning at the oncoming wave, Najin gritted his teeth. At this rate there would be no end. With his arms already aching he set his stance to unleash the ultimate technique of the Triumphant Sword once more.
He raised the sword high—and just as he was about to bring it down—
Thwack.
Somewhere the sound of a staff being swung rang out. In that instant the body of the whale about to engulf Najin bent with a sharp crack, curved like a crescent moon.
“Oarsman!”
And then a familiar voice.
Najin looked toward the sound. There stood a man with one foot planted on the prow of a sailboat, wearing a captain’s hat.
“Didn’t you miss me?”
The romanticist, Anton Quijano.
At the familiar face Najin burst out laughing. He stretched out a hand, and Anton, cutting through the water at high speed, snatched him up.
Chaaaaa! The sailboat carrying Najin slid across the waves and wheeled about. It was a motion no oar could produce—something closer to magic.
The first-rate navigator aboard, Lapis, flicked the brim of her hat with a finger and looked at Najin.
“It’s been a while, Najin.”
“Lapis?”
“That’s right, it’s me. And that one over there······.”
Her eyes wavered for an instant as she looked at Merlin hovering near Najin. Cold sweat beaded on Lapis’s brow; Merlin beamed at her.
“You’re human now, aren’t you? I only thrash witches.”
“······.”
Lapis gave a small nod. Anton whistled.
“Good heavens—so you were the one who pulled Excalibur. Well now. To think I once hired the greatest knight as an oarsman. That’s a drinking story I’ll be telling for the rest of my life.”
Anton grinned and slung an arm around Najin’s shoulder.
“This time I’ll row for you.”
You rowed for me once.
You brought me to her.
“This time, as promised, I’ll take you to your destination. Where to, Captain?”
“There’s only one place, isn’t there?”
Standing at the prow, Najin pointed.
“The Wandering Star’s palace.”
Confirming the destination, Anton whistled again.
“Whew—now that’ll be one hell of a voyage.”
Then he tucked the staff at his waist into his belt.
“Lapis? I’m asking your leave in advance.”
“For what?”
“I’m going to use a sword from here on. I know you hate it, but look the other way just this once.”
“Oh please—you’re asking leave for something that small?”
Laughing as if it were absurd, Lapis raked her nails across her own forearm. The blood that welled out hardened, and in a moment it became a finished sword. Handing him the blade forged from her own blood, Lapis whispered into Anton’s ear.
“Go on. Madman Anton.”
His old nickname.
The name from the days when he had been a vengeful ghost slaughtering witches. Calling it, Lapis smiled.
“I’ve been wanting to see him again. This might sound wrong, but back then you were rather to my taste.”
Anton laughed and kicked off the prow, leaping high.
“As much as you like.”
Anton Quijano took the sword in hand.
Despite a blank of four hundred years, the moment he gripped the blade his presence transformed.
He closed his eyes, then opened them.
“······.”
The laughter was gone. What stood there was no longer the cheerful romanticist Anton.
The madman who had hunted witches alone opened his eyes.