Chapter 225
Chapter 225
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 225
Chapter Title: Knight of Prophecy 4
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Death Knight Plank turned transparent like a ghost during the day, becoming invisible. To inevitably seek his teachings, one had to meet him at night.
Azadin rested in his tent during the day and met with Plank at night.
Plank emanated an aura of death, freezing the air around him with chill. Azadin, who had returned from the threshold of death, felt pain just from being near him.
Yet in his current situation, only Sir Plank could save Azadin. Who else would impart magic to a soulless blasphemer like him?
During the day, Azadin posed to Plank the insights and questions he had gained through meditation, harmonization, and contemplation. Plank responded with answers worthy of his title as the Knight of Wisdom.
"The key is to empty yourself, Azadin. You're broken because you're filled with things you can't handle. Emptying out is more important than anything. But who on earth crumpled up a copy of the Divine King Scripture and stuffed it into their body? What kind of orc-brained idea was that?"
"I know an orc who..."
"Figures. Orcs and elves are always the problem. They treat magic like some casual tool."
"No, but emptying out the magic was that orc's suggestion too."
"Must've been an orc with a shred of common sense. Still, don't trust elves or orcs. They're madmen obsessed with power and knowledge."
"I... see."
"Of course, don't just blindly empty yourself like a fool. You have to empty while understanding and experiencing everything that's entered you so far, so you can refill it anytime. It's a shame my body is filled with death energy and you can't touch it. Normally, a master skilled in handling mana would teach through contact, and you'd learn faster."
"It's fine if it takes longer. Doesn't that mean more time with you, Sir Plank?"
"Well. Haha. Oh my."
Plank laughed at Azadin's cheeky flattery... but it wasn't something to laugh about.
Plank had taken a liking to this young man.
Was it because he was an Aragasa?
No.
He had spent over forty years in the Hospitaller Order, but he had never seen a purer devotee of the Hospitaller faith than this youth.
Even he himself felt ashamed in comparison.
A survivor of the hellish life of the Herald Clan, enduring mockery and persecution from others. For someone persecuted even among the soulless blasphemers to hold the ideals of a Hospitaller...
It couldn't be more admirable.
If he had a son like this, he could have lived every moment with joy. He even thought that.
But Azadin was dying.
His vital energy was excessively damaged, and even a slight cold wind made him groan in pain.
Yet every night, he steadfastly endured Plank's shroud of deadly chill and kept vigil.
Thus, the seasons changed.
The Arangi Plains were warm, but snow still fell and piled up occasionally.
In the snow-covered wasteland, where the distant howls of wolves echoed, master and disciple exchanged questions and answers once more.
"You're dying."
"Yes."
"Do you know?"
"I do. That my days are numbered..."
"Yet how are you so composed?"
"With someone already dead right before my eyes, how can I, who am still alive, make a fuss?"
"Haha. You really know how to say the right things. A disciple like you would make being a master worthwhile."
"You already are my master."
"Right. So you are."
Plank pitied his new disciple Azadin, whom he had grown fond of, as he watched him dying.
"Why are you so accepting of death?"
"To live, I need a miracle—or Nether sorcery. I don't want sorcery, and I dare not hope for a miracle, so like everyone else, I'll await my fate."
"Then why train now? Why endure such harsh training and duties in the past?"
"I wanted to become Aldis's pride. And for Arael... I wanted revenge."
"Revenge? You mean your sister Arael?"
"Yes."
"She came to me begging me to save you. You two must have been close."
"Haha. That's just a last-ditch repentance at the very end. We weren't close. Far worse than ordinary siblings."
"......"
"I've lost my star. The night is dark, and I don't know where to go."
"I see. Then why learn from me?"
"Because I still have a small duty left. If I regain even a little strength, as an Aragasa, I want to atone, even slightly, for what Two-Leader Hatir did. And I must help Midiam and Ismail. They abandoned even their bloodline solely for me, so I have to repay them somehow..."
"When your will was noble, they helped out of admiration for it. So you must find your will again. They don't want a slave who helps them; they were drawn to your spirit."
"My spirit?"
"Yes. Or as you put it, your star."
"...My star."
Azadin gave a wry smile.
It was absurd that a dead man was telling the living to hold onto hope.
'This child... is so pitiful. He's never had anything, yet he shoulders heavy responsibilities alone. I, a knight, lusted for power and died by my disciple's hand. How shameful.'
Suddenly, Plank realized why he had wandered the wasteland as a ghost. And what his prophecy meant.
Plank drew his sword.
"Master?!"
Azadin went on guard.
Plank himself didn't know, but sometimes he would go berserk as the Death Knight and attack those around him. Azadin had been attacked several times but hadn't told Sir Plank.
Today's Plank was in his right mind. But what he said was so radical it couldn't come from a sane person.
"Azadin. How about... becoming a Hospitaller?"
"Me? Pardon?"
"Yes."
"Me, an Aragasa?"
Soulless blasphemer, Aragasa.
If such a cursed clan that the entire Whibbris Continent shunned had come seeking to become a Hospitaller, Plank would have opposed it with both hands raised.
Yet here was Plank, the opposite, asking Azadin if he wouldn't become one.
"You need a mission. But the Emperor's Voice is gone, and the Emperor's Heralds no longer provide any. So how about becoming a Hospitaller? I'll... knight you."
"...Knight me?"
"Yes."
"That's..."
Azadin gave a wry smile. He recalled his childhood memory of being moved by the Hospitaller Order book Aldis had given him.
Even amid the pain of persecution, the tales of the Hospitallers—and Aldis's kindness in sharing them—had sustained him.
But Aldis was dead, and Azadin had lost everything...
Was the dream of his youth still dazzling? Did the star still shine in the night sky?
"Azadin of the Aragasa. In the name of the Archangels of Courage, Wisdom, and Mercy, I call you—rise to the call and kneel."
"...Master."
Azadin looked troubled at the earnest Plank.
Sir Plank was already dead. A wanted Death Knight. Even if he knighted him, no one would recognize Azadin as a knight.
But Azadin understood why Plank wanted to perform the knighting.
Plank was heartbroken. Seeing him seem to have lost his mission and await death...
Of course, Azadin had no intention of dying. He still had much to do.
Help Midiam and Ismail, atone for Hatir's deeds.
Simple words, but missions that would take a lifetime. Azadin already had more than enough, yet Plank insisted.
Was it because he understood that heart?
Azadin knelt and bowed his head before Plank.
"Be brave before injustice, humble before the unknown, merciful to the weak. Will you faithfully uphold these three virtues, honing martial and scholarly arts to spread goodness until justice breathes in this land?"
"Yes."
"Then you are a Hospitaller."
Plank prayed to the angels, raising his sword to the sky. Then he touched Azadin's shoulders and head with the blade.
"I, Plank of Banreung, name you a knight in the name of wisdom, courage, and mercy. Now, the boy kneels, and the knight rises. Rise, Sir Azadin!"
"......"
Azadin stood. It was then.
"Master!"
"Ah."
Plank's sword fell to the ground. The tips of his fingers were crumbling. The curse of the Death Knight was lifting, and rest was coming for him.
"Hahaha."
Plank realized his thoughts were correct.
"So that's it! Azadin. You were the Knight of my destined prophecy!"
"What? Master?!"
"Thank you, Sir Azadin. Thanks to you, I can now find rest..."
With that, Plank nodded toward his sword.
"Take my sword. If they see it, the Hospitaller Order won't completely ignore you! Because it's a seramite sword forged with angel's blood."
"Master..."
"Farewell, and may blessings guide your path, Sir Azadin!"
Leaving those words, Plank crumbled into dust and scattered into the blizzard.
Death Knight Sir Plank had found rest and vanished.
Azadin sat stunned in the snow-covered wasteland.
Having organized all the magic tomes within his body as Plank taught, his inner self was now at peace.
But then.
-Thump.
His heart pulsed.
"Hm."
Azadin had suddenly become a Hospitaller.
Of course, it was a knighting received from Death Knight Plank in the wasteland. No one would acknowledge him as a Hospitaller, and telling others would just get him labeled a madman. A meaningless act.
But was it really?
-Thump.
Azadin felt a warm power envelop his body.
Clearly, something like an angel's touch was warming him from within. The power of the Hospitallers had taken root in Azadin.
"Master left me quite the heavy burden too."
Azadin brushed the snow from his eyes and stood. So, where to now?
Should he head back toward Btuma to find Ismail and Midiam? But what if they've moved?
Return to the Kerim Mountains and the Herald Clan's sanctuary?
As Azadin pondered,
-Thump...
"Huh?"
A vision appeared deep in Azadin's mind. It was... someone yearning before an Emperor's gold coin.
The Emperor's Voice was gone—how?
"Huh?"
Azadin was bewildered by the sight of the one calling the coin.
Hospitallers. Hospitallers were summoning a Herald with the Emperor's gold coin. What on earth?
'The distance... about twenty li... so far away.'
Could he make it in time? Without a horse?
As that doubt arose,
-Rumble!
Piercing the winter blizzard and swirling mists, a beast appeared. It was a Kerim mountain goat bearing the horrific traces of Nether magic on its chest.
Its body was semi-transparent, showing through to the other side, with mist coiling around it as it moved. When Azadin reached out, the steam-like body—neither hot nor cold—solidly met his hand.
And those traces of Nether magic...
"Arael's Voice? She was alive?"
Arael's artificial spirit, Arael's Voice.
He thought it had vanished with Arael's death, but upon reflection, Arael's Voice had been modeled after the Emperor's Voice from the start.
Just as the Emperor's Voice continued to aid and control the Herald Clan after the Emperor's death, Arael's Voice persisted after hers.
"......"
He thought he had lost his star.
The Emperor's Heralds were finished, the Hospitallers had fallen, and his beloved Aldis was dead.
Yet Azadin had become a Hospitaller, and whether it was the Emperor's Voice or Arael's, the yearning of those calling for a Herald still beckoned him now.
Could a soulless blasphemer become a Hospitaller?
Azadin didn't know the answer.
But he picked up the seramite longsword his master left and mounted the misty mountain goat his sister had left behind.
A star blazed dazzlingly above his head.
[End of Part 1]