Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: New Myth (3)
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They say it's terrifying when a normally rational person loses their temper, because they see it through to the end. Saint's bottomless rage and violence stemmed from an incident just one day prior.
***
It had happened in his hometown, Gilnaun.
***
Gilnaun, the industrial city reachable in a single day west of the Empire.
"Saint, is manifesting your sword name still far off?"
The city's feudal lord and aged master, An Holden, sat creaking in his chair, glaring disapprovingly at his youngest son. Gone was the fierce, blazing gaze Saint had shown before Bulki and all the knights; now, there was only a savage intensity as he stared at his father.
The confidence he'd displayed in battling foes was nowhere to be found.
"Yes, Father."
"Hah, you pathetic wretch."
The old lord rose from his seat and limped slowly forward. He scanned the cramped room in his modest castle with a gruff expression and spoke.
"How long do you think I'll stay holed up in a place like this? How long do you think I'll lean on you? Don't you know you're nothing but a stand-in for my daughters? Pathetic, selfish fool! If there'd been no moon that night I picked you up from the forest, if a demon hadn't snuck into my room while I was out of my mind, if only I'd died right then- I wouldn't be suffering this humiliation. My Gilnaun wouldn't be pinning all its hopes on you alone!"
"I'm sorry."
"Quiet!"
As his father's fury mounted, Saint shrank smaller and smaller until he was pressing his forehead to the ground. It was his way of swallowing the rage born from his father's verbal violence.
Yet bubbling up from the depths of his heart was a single wretched question.
"Why can't even one thing go my way? Why can't you fulfill even this small hope of your old man!"
The old lord bellowed so loudly he broke into a coughing fit. Watching him, Saint wondered once more.
Why did Father raise me?
In that moment of hacking coughs, Saint reflected on the past. First, he'd been abandoned in the forest as a child who didn't even know his birth parents. That very night, he'd gained this aged new father. After that, no one doted on him; he'd grown up on his own. Days were for training, nights for study, though he never knew why.
Eating, sleeping, even the tiniest breaths-all of it was just to make his father happy.
"I'm sorry."
"Do you have any idea how much I've poured into you since you joined the knights-and how much more I will? As of today, you're cast out from our house. Even with just my daughters, Gilnaun will stand strong."
But why wouldn't he acknowledge it, even once? He'd tried his best, pouring his heart into making him happy-just that one time.
Even if the whole world denied him, approval from just one person would satisfy him.
"I was wrong. Please, just one more chance..."
Suddenly, one of the old lord's shoes flew at Saint. He could have dodged, blocked, or destroyed it, but he didn't.
He was just curious. And with that, something writhed in the depths of his soul.
Why did you raise me and shove this false hope upon me?
"If only you'd built a connection with the Princess, it wouldn't have come to this. None of this would have... Get out! And never come back. I thought you were a Hero..."
Violence caged in hope. The words his father spat like a sigh, clutching his forehead, tore into Saint's chest. In that instant, an ominous wind stirred in his heart. He didn't know what it was, but only after shedding tears and leaving the lord's room did a way to find out occur to him.
***
Boom!
The gale Saint unleashed blew away one entire side of the training ground's roof.
"Enough!"
Bulki fired light through his sword and raised the ground to block it, but it wasn't enough to calm the mad wind that seemed ready to shred flesh at any moment. With no choice, Bulki drew his blade.
"I know it's not your fault, or mine. But... that was my life's goal. Bulki-no, Hero Bulki Sonain."
The wind showed no sign of dying down, so Bulki split his sword in two: spear and hammer forms. It was a declaration of full seriousness.
"Saint, I don't know what's eating at you... but Riu Captain once said something like this long ago."
He thought of someone.
"It's sudden, but when a friend goes all out, you have to meet them with the same!"
Bulki tossed the spear in his left hand into the air. It moved like a well-trained falcon, obeying his will as it soared toward Saint.
Saint deflected it effortlessly each time, as if accustomed to it, but Bulki closed in, smashing the repelled spear with the hammer in his right hand.
With each strike, the spear grew faster and fiercer, pressing Saint relentlessly.
It almost looked like sculpture, but Saint's fluid swordsmanship fluttered like a flag in the wind, deflecting every blow. In response, Bulki danced with the spear-catching, striking, releasing-tightening the pressure.
"Urgh! Why won't a sword name rise for me? Everyone else who worked hard got one-why you and not me, Bulki! I didn't ask for much. Why do you have to acknowledge me like this! I hate you! I never even wanted to be a Hero!"
Bulki's heart ached at Saint's words, longing for someone.
"Yeah! Hate me if you want, friend."
[Formation - Prison of Light].
In an instant, Bulki's spear elongated, splitting into branches that stabbed the ground around Saint, disrupting his stance.
"You think that'll work on me, who's fought you the most!"
Saint dropped into a low stance and lunged into Bulki's guard. Feinting a combo rush by crumpling his torso to the ground and spinning, he targeted Bulki's legs with centrifugal force and wind pressure-but was blocked by the rising earth encasing Bulki's lower body.
[Formation - Rock Guarding the Sword].
Just as Saint sensed Bulki's golden glare and tried to pull back, a massive light-
[Judgment of Glory].
-and the hammer plummeted toward the spear hovering right above Saint first.
For that split second, Saint squeezed his eyes shut in dizziness.
***
"Bulki, why don't you spar with others?"
"Eh, why spar and risk hurting each other? I only do it with you because you're strong enough not to get hurt. You're the only knight who can'take my sword."
"Yeah, Bulki. That's how good a guy you are."
"Right, friend."
***
Boom!
Tears fell onto the fallen Saint. Bulki, expressionless, wept as he spoke.
"I don't want to spar like this anymore, friend."
He'd twisted the hammer's end at the last moment, so the spear embedded far from Saint. One wall of the training ground was pulverized to dust. If Bulki had willed it, he could have demolished the whole place.
"Sword names, Hero titles-none of that matters. We're comrades before we're knights. No matter who your enemy is, my blade's tip will point at them, and I'll never lose another friend."
"Then what am I supposed to do?"
Hope imprisoned in misery asked.
"What you can do..."
Bulki echoed what he'd once told a friend.
"Was I... strong? A Hero?"
"Yeah. You're strong enough now."
"Even the Hero's acknowledgment doesn't change it. That makes it more miserable. No, the answer's mine alone, huh. Sorry. I showed you an ugly side."
Saint lay flat on the ground, continuing through ragged breaths.
"I know my tantrum came from not getting Father's approval. You're a good guy. And like you said, my trusty comrade. I get it. In my craving for recognition, I lashed out at you-the one I respect most. Feels better now."
Everyone has an abyss inside. But only a rare few fall in. Saint, like his friend that day, didn't plunge into his.
That friend had crawled out of his abyss through death.
Bulki sat beside him, reacting differently than with that friend. The training ground was a mess of gaping holes everywhere, but perhaps because of it, the two wore slightly relieved expressions.
"You accept it quick. As Gil said, you're stubbornly noble."
"Was that outburst because you miss your friend? I know he enjoyed sparring with you."
"A bit."
"How's my sword compared to his?"
Bulki hesitated before answering.
"He always took my sword, but I've never felt a heavier one. He always swung his for the world's sake."
"I see. If you-the one leading a new myth-say that, then he knew he fell short but didn't care."
Saint stood, adjusting his gauntlets and greaves, and spoke to Bulki.
"I've decided not to join this expedition. Understand."
"Why?"
"Disowned by the family. I'm no lord's heir anymore. I chased recognition, but now I don't know what it takes to be myself. Or who to seek it from."
"That's..."
The ever-serious, unshakable man had bared his weakest side, requested a spar in agony, and resolved himself anew.
Just like Bulki's friend.
If you'd fought with more heart back then, would you still be alive now?
"Got it. Hope you find your answer, Saint."
Like with his friend, Bulki couldn't provide the answer-so he chose trust. Though that friend had always found answers for him.
"Bulki, Nia's not back yet?"
"No. She said she was heading home."
Amid clanging metal and ominous winds, Saint's face darkened again at "home."
"Hope nothing like this happens to her."