Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Memory of the Stars: Celestia (3)
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Barkat Mountains.
In the mountain range that the tribes of the Erbar League called "Mother Earth," a sharp-featured warrior moved with a massive axe slung across his back.
He was one of the League's heroes who followed Great Chieftain Partlinger—one of the Five Tusks, Woki of the Baltur Tribe.
Woki was a warrior relatively recently appointed to the Five Tusks, famous for his distinctive bold fighting style and belligerence.
He felt like his whole body ached if he didn't see blood even for a day.
Because of that, Woki wasn't exactly pleased with the current situation, where he had to leave the front lines.
He wanted to smash the imperial army's skulls right now, but due to the Great Chieftain's orders, he was wandering the Barkat Mountains.
"……."
Thud, thud, thud—.
Woki's heavy footsteps echoed through the forest lined with sturdy northern trees.
His eyes, marked with vivid tattoos on his face, gleamed with murderous intent.
With every step forward, drops of blood fell from Woki's ferocious axe.
Hoo—.
The massive warrior let out a deep sigh for a moment.
Soon, as he walked ahead, a familiar figure came into view.
"……Korkia."
"You've finally arrived here, you reckless warrior—."
An elderly woman with wrinkles creasing her face smiled as she waited for Woki.
Heh heh heh—.
The one waiting for Woki with that eerie laugh was the League's most renowned shaman.
—Grand Shaman Korkia.
Like Woki, she was a pillar of the Five Tusks, and the shaman who had tattooed the Great Chieftain's back, no less.
"Korkia. I heard you asked the Great Chieftain to summon me here."
"Yes, that's how it happened—."
"If you've pulled me from the front lines for some trivial matter… today will be the Grand Shaman's last day."
Of course, Woki's expression as he looked at Korkia wasn't exactly friendly.
He glared at the hunched old woman standing before him, his brutal axe stained with beast blood slung over his shoulder.
As Woki's bloodthirsty eyes looked down at Korkia.
Watching him, Korkia let out a voice laced with amusement toward the warrior.
"Heh heh—. You young thing are truly rude."
"Is that all you have to say?"
With Woki tilting his head before her, Korkia quietly turned her body.
In her hand was a wooden staff.
The staff, carved in the shape of a human face, met Woki's gaze.
Swish—.
Korkia began walking ahead without even glancing at the bloodthirsty Woki.
"Come along now. Since it's for the Great Chieftain you respect, we must hurry from here on."
"……."
"The Mother Earth's great warrior will soon perform the 'Star-Catching Ritual.' I asked for a useful fellow like you to gather the materials for it."
Thud, clack—.
Korkia's footsteps, leaning on her staff, advanced unsteadily.
However, Woki's expression, watching her, had changed greatly from before.
Star-Catching Ritual.
Because he knew what that ancient ritual Korkia spoke of meant to the warriors of Barkat.
"You're performing the Star-Catching Ritual? You know better than anyone what happened to the warriors who've held the ritual for so long!"
"For the unqualified, the Star-Catching Ritual is no different from suicide. Why would the tyrant dwelling in the night sky spare those who displease him?"
Thud, thud, thud—.
Woki's massive legs quickly caught up to Korkia's side.
His heavy frame vibrated as he pursued the old woman.
"You know that, yet you're still pushing forward with the Star-Catching Ritual?"
Thud, clack—.
Beside him, Korkia stepped slowly, treading on Woki's shadow.
From the old woman's lips, reliant on her staff, flowed endless tales of ancient wisdom.
"You reckless warrior. How can you place those fools on the same level as Mother Earth's great warriors?"
"Does that mean… perhaps……."
"You all should just be grateful for your current fortune. That Barkat's greatest warrior in history is fighting alongside us—that's your fortune."
Woki's eyes looked at the old woman's small back.
Korkia's back, bent from years of age, resembled a sinister and cunning serpent.
"Your Great Chieftain will seize the stars—."
That was the end of Korkia's tale.
The old woman and the warrior.
Their mismatched strides continued down the path.
No foolish beasts daring to target those two remained even one in the Barkat Mountains.
* * * * * *
Technical Advisor of the Polar Star Magic Research Society, Begerton Antares.
It had been three weeks since he brought a new assistant from the Academy.
Was it because she was still too young and immature, not even graduated from the Academy yet?
At first, even the doctor had worried about how well Avery would adapt to the lab.
He had fretted over when the research would end if she refused food and drink, sobbing that she wanted to go home.
However, Begerton's worries seemed unfounded.
Avery was adapting to the lab far quicker than the doctor had imagined.
"……Yes! This time, I think we've definitely found it!"
At a massive desk in one corner of the lab.
Avery held a transparent glass vial, beaming brightly.
She had been experimenting with the mixing ratio of Dreamweed and Atlea powder, and now showed a satisfied smile at her own results.
Scratch, scratch—.
Grabbing a quill hurriedly with her right hand, Avery dipped the nib in ink and began writing something down.
To record the results of the experiment based on her calculations.
"Hmm, she certainly has talent—."
The doctor watched Avery with interest.
Since the doctor finished interpreting the ancient texts, Avery had been progressing rapidly on research for elixir synthesis.
No, to be precise, it was after her meals normalized.
From then on, she threw herself into alchemy day and night like a woman without concept of time.
"Dreamweed, Atlea powder… We've confirmed their mixing ratio, so now we need to consider the reaction time with mana solution."
"……."
"Mystically, midnight under a full moon or noon during a solar eclipse are the most likely, but… actually, the moonlight resonance of Atlea powder peaks about two hours after midnight."
Even now, Avery discussed her calculations with an excited face.
Was it excitement from nearing a great achievement in alchemy?
Or the burning desire to finish the elixir production quickly and go home.
Whichever was true, it wasn't a bad situation for the doctor.
"Well, working hard is a good thing."
Perhaps both were correct.
"Avery, your voice carries all the way outside. Are you trying to announce where the lab is?"
"Ah, Leintas……!"
As the doctor watched Avery like that, soon Leintas descended the stairs carrying a bowl.
In Leintas's hands was a steaming stew.
That made sense, since the 'normal meals' Avery was now eating were made by Leintas.
Thanks to his long years as a mercenary, Leintas surprisingly had decent cooking skills.
Because of that, he had recently taken over meals for the guest who arrived from outside.
"You made stew today!"
Avery looked at the stew with eyes full of anticipation.
She gazed at Leintas with eyes brimming with respect, as if facing her savior.
"I'll leave it here, so eat it when you're done."
"Yes, Leintas!"
Thud—.
Leintas placed the hot stew on the empty desk.
Swish.
The doctor's gaze followed Leintas's hand to the stew bowl.
A delicious aroma wafted from Leintas's stew.
But there was only one bowl on the desk.
"Leintas, where's my share?"
Unfortunately, the doctor's portion was nowhere in the stew Leintas brought.
For a moment, the doctor's eyes stared blankly at Leintas through his monocle.
Soon, Leintas pulled a nutrition jelly from his pocket.
"Eat this modified one that's supposedly tastier."
"……."
"Didn't you claim this was your masterpiece?"
Unlike before, he tossed a pink-tinged nutrition jelly to the doctor.
Whoosh—.
The doctor's hand caught the flying nutrition jelly.
The doctor bit into the pink jelly containing bug juice and voiced a small complaint toward Leintas.
"Leintas, this is really too much. How can you favor a woman you've known less than a month over a comrade you've been with for so long?"
"……What?"
"Rumors are already spreading through the lab. They say Leintas neglects me and only cares for Avery—!"
Blink, blink—.
Leintas's eyes stared blankly at the doctor.
His lips twitched at the absurd slander.
"Rumors……?"
A hollow laugh escaped Leintas as his eyes reflected the doctor munching the nutrition jelly.
"With only three people in the lab, who the hell spread rumors?"
"Well, I wouldn't know—."
As Leintas's eyes quietly watched the culprit.
Behind the seated doctor, multi-legged chimera bugs crawled.
Tap tap tap tap—.
The slowly moving chimeras began waving their antennae quietly behind the doctor.
"See? The rumors have already spread that far."
"……."
As if gossiping themselves, they twitched their antennae in perfect sync.
Twitch, twitch—.
The two pairs of antennae waving rhythmically.
Their motion oddly provoked unease.
"It seems we've found the culprit spreading the rumors."
Click—.
Leintas's hand gripped the sword at his waist.
Seeing Leintas grasp his sword, the doctor hurriedly raised both hands in surrender.
It seemed Leintas truly felt like settling things with the doctor today.
* * * * * *
The training ground in the back yard of the Adenov mansion.
There, two knights currently exchanged blows with their swords.
Clang, clang—!
Amid the fierce clashes of metal echoing everywhere.
Klein Adenov, the man called the empire's strongest knight, swung a sharp sword strike.
"Urk……!"
Claaang—!
Roan's hands spasmed roughly as he blocked Klein's sword.
Unable to withstand his father's sword, Roan let go of his own.
Thud—.
Roan's eyes looked at the knight before him.
It had been two weeks since Roan, summoned to the capital, began sparring daily with Klein.
The boy had never once beaten his father.
"Grip your sword, Roan."
"……."
Over the past two weeks, Roan had dropped the sword from his hand countless times.
It was the exact same scene as when facing Leintas.
Picking up the fallen sword from the ground to fight, only to drop it helplessly again.
The man standing before him loomed like a thick wall, gazing down from an unattainable height.
"Grip your sword."
Endless hellish spars that only brought thoughts of his own powerlessness.
Yet Klein demanded Roan grip the sword.
Swish—.
Roan reached for the sword on the ground.
He was afraid. He wanted to run.
In the father before him, the boy saw the shadow of a certain mercenary.
"……."
Grip—.
Roan's hand seized his fallen sword.
The chipped and scarred, battered blade greeted him.
The damaged blade felt like looking at himself.
Thus, Roan's eyes gazed at the blade.
For some reason, he felt the sharp blade staring back at him.
"Are you afraid?"
As Roan stared at the blade, Klein's slightly subdued voice reached his ear.
A single phrase piercing Roan's weakness.
Roan's face darkened instantly upon hearing it.
"Are you afraid of defeat, Roan?"
He was afraid.
Afraid of his own weakness.
Afraid of facing defeat once more.
Tremble—.
Roan's hand gripping the sword shook.
"I wanted to become a knight… a strong knight……."
"……."
"But… because I was weak, I lost……."
Words like excuses spilled out.
His own weakness became the shield protecting him.
A knight cannot always stand in victory.
Yet the defeat etched in his heart felt like a sharp scar.
"Roan—."
He made excuses.
Excuses for defeat.
Reasons to run away, endlessly.
And the great knight listening to it gently caressed the cheek of the bowed Roan.
"Is it your lacking skill that makes you weak?"
The rough palm, callused from a lifetime gripping swords, touched his cheek.
Roan's trembling eyes looked at the knight.
The brown-haired knight smiled at him.
There was a man who once listened to young Roan's dream of becoming a knight.
Even now, after a dozen years, he looked at Roan with the same smile.
"Or is it your tender heart that makes you weak?"
"……."
Roan fell silent at the knight's words.
Silence descended on the training ground.
A brief silence.
In it, Roan forgot what words to say.
Tap, tap—.
Warm, rough fingers lightly tapped Roan's cheek.
"Roan Adenov. A knight is a profession that pursues honor."
"……."
"Above all, it is the knight's duty to mount a horse and charge into the fray for the pride we hold dear."
Stories of knights flowed from Klein's lips.
Valorous knights.
And honorable knights.
He recited fragments of the great legend young Roan once admired.
"It's fine to be stubborn. Fine to dream foolish dreams. Fine to act recklessly. But there is one thing you must never let go of."
"One thing……."
"Even in death, never abandon a knight's pride. Even if it means defying me—."
Roan's gaze met Klein's eyes.
Klein, speaking of knightly pride, had eyes straighter and clearer than ever.
Thump—.
Hearing those words, Roan felt a small heat pulsing in his chest.
"I never wished for you to become a knight, yet you showed your talent, insisting on becoming one yourself."
"……."
"So, here and now, I ask you."
No more rebukes from Klein.
He did not scold Roan.
He did not condemn the weak Roan of the past.
He did not mock Roan's arrogant actions.
He merely posed one question to the boy gripping the sword.
"What is the pride you must never let go of?"
The great knight asked him.
And the pitiful boy answered toward him.
A familiar name.
One the boy must never forget.
"……Avery."
"Then go forth and claim your pride."
The boy's hand gripped the sword.
The sword in his scarred hand held a resilience that would not break, no matter how many defeats.