Chapter 72
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: The You That I Like
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After the great victory that annihilated the main force of the Central Army, the ‘Decisive Battle of the Eternal Mountain Range,’ the Southern Army did not sing songs of triumph.
Setsunen of Thunderous Fragrance erected a memorial tower on the mountain battlefield and personally led a memorial service for the fallen.
The names of the Central Army’s casualties were also inscribed on the memorial tower. The number of casualties on both sides exceeded two hundred thousand.
Bodies littered the ridges and peaks of the mountain range, and as that November was warm, they began to decay quickly.
“Your Excellency, why must we collect the bodies of our enemies? These bastards are our sworn foes!”
“No death in this world is without sorrow. You do not have to weep. Just… pity them. You must.”
So Setsunen was said to have replied.
Setsunen attempted to recover all the bodies by herself. She did not order anyone to do the work.
However, most of the soldiers volunteered to help her. It took three full days just to collect all the corpses.
As Setsunen offered a single bellflower before the memorial stone and clasped her hands in prayer for their souls, the honor guard fired a three-volley salute.
“Did you hear? The story about Luxeria Ludwig?”
“Yes. To think the descendant of the Dragon Sage was actually a Branded One…”
“Most people still can’t believe it. She was considered the second coming of hope, but to think…”
“Look at the sky. Two suns and two moons have fallen, have they not? With such undeniable proof…”
“The remnants of the Central Army believe that our side fabricated the falling of the suns and moons…”
“Thoroughly bewitched! Just like the Elector-Princes themselves, who were swayed by a Branded One—heretics, the lot of them…”
“Did you see how gravely injured the Yongsa was? If humanity’s strongest soldier hadn’t been on our side, what would our situation be now…?”
The nobles and officers murmured amongst themselves.
The whispers rose and fell in waves, quieting whenever they noticed Setsunen’s gaze.
Behind her closed eyelids, Setsunen was recalling the days she clearly remembered with Luxeria Ludwig.
*She was such a lovely child...*
If only I could have let her and Kaisen meet on a different day, in a different way…
It would have felt like watching my niece and nephew meet and talk.
Together, sharing memories of their mothers and laughing, fighting together, and together…
*And yet, were even these memories and emotions all fabricated by the outer universe?*
An eagle circled above the memorial tower, its cry echoing through the mountains.
The mountain range, where the eagle’s lonely cry resounded, lay settled in silence. Amidst that cry, Setsunen shed silent tears.
Tarsiyo Yere Sharrilion attended the memorial service, even on crutches, but Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel did not.
Echo of another world,
The true face of religious innovation (7)
Since the battle of the Red Mountain Range, I have had this dream without a single exception.
A burning desert.
A land where the heat shimmered dizzyingly across the horizon.
Many people walk across that land, staring straight ahead. The three people at the front of the column are always the same.
Roveris Alter Scherpang.
Seira Alter Solang.
Isla Alter Gaumris.
I reach out, crying and screaming that they must not go that way, but the sounds never form into words, merely scattering.
Only…
Just…
It was always a dream that ended with a cry that formed too late.
At memorial services, where the sorrow of death overlaid life, the dream would even superimpose itself onto reality.
That was why Kaisen never attended any memorial service. He would just swing his Supreme Holy Swords, as he was now, to banish his idle thoughts.
“Hello.”
Just then, the moonlight arrived.
Perhaps, if moonlight were to take human form and stand beside you, this is what it would feel like.
Surely, if moonlight could speak and smile brightly, this is what it would feel like.
“…Tarsiyo.”
Tarsiyo never asked questions.
*Why didn’t you come to the memorial service? Many people want to talk to you. It wouldn’t hurt to talk with them for a bit, would it?*
Without such questions, she would simply approach quietly, like moonlight, and stay warmly, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
The Supreme Holy Swords, led by Aradamanthel, breathed out in a low bow before the majesty of the True Holy Sword. The True Holy Sword Sharrilion answered their reverence with a brilliant flash.
“Yes, yes, have you all been well?”
Tarsiyo sat on the nearby railing.
As she sat there, speaking to each of the Supreme Holy Swords one by one, her voice carried the scent of moonlight.
Before, I didn't know why, but now…
“Gaumris, being so stubborn won't do you any good. Solang, you too. Do you think acting all silent makes you look cool?”
The situation, the two of us sitting side by side, just felt awkward, so I offered an answer to her unasked question first.
“I’m just a FakeWarrior anyway. I don’t belong in a place like that.”
Unlike you, who smells of moonlight, I only reek of blood.
And I don't want to belong.
The severance of ties now… it’s terrifying enough to break my heart.
“What’s a FakeWarrior?”
Was it a simple question?
It was knowledge I definitely possessed—no, it was common sense, so clear it couldn't be clearer.
But being asked so directly, the edge of the question felt terrifying.
“A fake who isn’t a real Yongsa…”
“Then what is a Yongsa?”
What is it?
It was the question of a lifetime.
Akirea had clearly explained that a Yongsa was merely a signpost, but that had only made it more abstruse.
“Someone like you.”
“There’s no one like me. And no one like you. There’s only you and me.”
“…”
“Isn’t it strange? Even if people have the same name, the paths of their lives are mostly different, you know? But Yongsa are generally similar. Like you.”
“What did I do?”
Somewhere, a smile bloomed on your lips as you gazed straight into my eyes.
“The Yongsa who cut down three thousand in his first battle.”
“…”
“The Yongsa who subjugated Mauna Loa in his second battle, who slew Old Nobles in every sortie thereafter, and who defeated Neigallas in the final battle on the Red Mountain Range front.”
“…”
“And so you earned nicknames like Uruk Slayer, Demon Slayer, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier, Humanity’s Greatest Sword, and the Strongest FakeWarrior in History.”
The string of embarrassing titles made the tension around my eyes release. My eyes softened as I gave a self-deprecating smile.
“You seem to know a little too much.”
“When I was still in <Haraldoniki>, there wasn't a single person who didn't know. Back then, at that moment, you were the Yongsa admired by everyone.”
“What?”
“‘Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel slew a demon,’ they’d say… or, ‘At this rate, the war might actually end,’… or, ‘Darling, will we be able to go back home then?’… I can still remember all the tears those people shed.”
“You remember all that?”
“Yes. Because it was all about you. I memorized it all.”
Tarsiyo beamed.
Upon that smile, the landscapes and whispers of a world I hadn't seen with her that day unfolded in my heart.
“You might say you were just carrying out your duties. But every single thing you’ve done has shone as a beacon of hope in people’s hearts.”
That bashful, clear, and pure white smile was as mysterious as nature itself.
I stared blankly at Tarsiyo’s face before turning my head back toward the ground.
Was my expression a mixture of laughter and tears? It probably was.
“I didn’t do it alone…”
In the darkness, and in the silence.
I always feel the eyes of the dead watching me.
Even now, in my dreams, I see the backs of those who walked into the heart of that nightmare before me.
“I’m just carrying the achievements and duties of my comrades who died before me…”
Their merits, their tears, their pain.
All of it…
Before my bitter smile, Tarsiyo suddenly drew Aradamanthel’s blade and held it high to the sky.
“Isn’t that what a Yongsa is supposed to be?”
“…?”
“Sorrow, pain, tears. To carry everything others cannot and move forward. I believe that’s how the name ‘Yongsa’ is completed.”
It's strange.
When I'm with her, memories of the days I spent with my mother come back to me, one by one.
Days spent with my master, my seniors, the Three Great Dragons, and even further back, my mother.
“Someone who wipes a friend’s tears is a Yongsa, a parent who works for their family is a Yongsa—in truth, everyone is a Yongsa.”
She shines like them.
She possesses a light that illuminates others with her own brilliance.
I, who have known nothing but fighting and killing my whole life, could never produce such a light.
“From that perspective, Kaisen? You are more of a Yongsa than anyone. From the day you joined with Aradamanthel, you’ve been fighting on behalf of those who grieve.”
As if a dazzling light were shining upon the self-deprecating shadow in my heart.
As if a clear light were pouring into the pit of sorrow in my heart.
You approach my feet and crouch down adorably, your smile meeting my lowered gaze.
“So please don’t say bad things like you’re just a FakeWarrior anymore. Promise.”
In that moment, as the wind quietly caressed and swept through the field of reeds swollen in the moonlight, a thought suddenly came to me.
*A journey…*
In that instant, as each and every strand of her hair, more brilliant than the moonlight, fluttered above her smile, a thought abruptly struck me.
*Master, right now…*
Just the fact that I'm with you.
Her warmth.
Her breath.
Just seeing, hearing, and feeling her voice.
*I am now… embarking on a journey.*
To somewhere that isn't here, somewhere I don't have to hold a sword or be stained with blood.
To that somewhere my master dreamed of in his youth, the world he promised to Tarsiyo.
In every moment I spent with you, I was traveling, time and again, to those worlds I had never been able to visit my entire life.
With you.
It was an unspoken truth.
A daydream of a future I could never reach.
“…Why did you try to save me?”
While wanting to cherish that moment forever, I knew it could never be, so I changed the subject to cast the delusion aside.
“No matter what you say, there’s a huge difference in value between you and me.”
“Huge? Why?”
“It is. You’re the daughter of [The Ones Who Came]—”
“—and you’re the son of Lady Raminea.”
She answered in a lovely tone, like lovers discussing each other’s parents.
“My mother was a great hero, but she can’t be compared to [The Ones Who Came]. Just like you and me.”
“I’m a person, just like you.”
“No, we’re different. So why did you do it? Why did you try to save me and die in my place?”
“…”
“No matter how much I think about it, I can’t accept that kind of judgment. Don’t ever do that again. Got it? Our very values are different. Why would you make such a decision? Because you’re the real Yongsa who protects everyone?”
My comrades who died before me all dreamed of becoming you. Not me.
They knew full well they couldn't become you, so they dreamed only of the day you would come… and yet you would die for my sake?
When I die, how am I supposed to face them?
“…”
Tarsiyo briefly lowered her gaze, her eyes covered by her pale eyelids, then gave a poignant and beautiful smile.
“You’re not supposed to ask a woman a question like that. Especially a woman who seems to like you.”
I didn't know what words would follow—no, because I didn't know, I simply stared silently at her smile.
The reason still unknown.
The pounding of my heart, a rushing sound in my ears, outpaced the rhythm of the autumn leaves in the fields caressed by the moonlight.
In the night sky, through the drifting clouds, two full moons scattered their light upon the world.
That day.
The memory of a certain night of the full moons.
The memory of the most beautiful night in that world—Kaisen could not forget it, and did not forget it, until the day he died.
“It wasn’t because I’m a Yongsa. Hmm, this is hard. Do I really have to explain it in words like this…? Back then, you… because it was you there… I just wanted to protect you, the you that I like… is what I’m saying…”