Chapter 370: The Tin Knight and the Land of Emeralds (20)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 370: The Tin Knight and the Land of Emeralds (20)
Long ago, the God-King Oz used a god to banish the myriad races living on the surface to the underground.
The god, who should have offered a hand to all races with impartiality, became a god for humans alone. The god’s power healed the wounds of humans, but to the people of the underground, it was poison.
All the vile, dangerous, and unstable things that had existed on the surface were cast down into the underground, and the once chaotic surface became a paradise, a fine place to live.
It was an act born from Oz’s personal greed and desire, but it was also true that because of it, humanity had obtained a peaceful and comfortable land.
Therefore, the King of the Underground decided to overturn it all.
He declared that the god would now forsake humanity and embrace the people of the underground.
He would cast all the dangerous and vile things sealed in the underground onto the surface, and make the underground a clean and pleasant place to live.
The surface would be plunged into a living hell.
It was not a problem for this continent alone; the vast oceans and the other lands that lay beyond would also be contaminated.
Just as only a handful of the vast space humans called the ‘underground’ was actually habitable for its people, the surface, too, might turn into a barren wasteland, save for a very small area.
The humans of the surface could never let that happen.
To let the King of the Underground leave now was tantamount to accepting a future of slow but certain death, like being strangled by soft cotton.
While the King of the Underground still felt a flicker of doubt.
While he was torn between the efficient choice of a monarch to avoid battle and flee, and the desire to fight honorably as his people expected.
Yes, he had to be defeated right here, right now.
Thus, when the Tin Knight revealed himself, the people were ecstatic.
A plain magic doll, old and worn, with nothing magnificent about it.
But he was a veteran hero who had traveled the continent and performed countless great deeds.
The Kingdom, the Empire, the Magic State, the Alliance.
Everyone knew of the Tin Knight’s strength and looked forward to his feats.
And as if to meet those expectations, the Tin Knight drove straight toward the King.
The King’s eyes narrowed.
As if commanding a subordinate, the King reached out his hand to retrieve the sword the Tin Knight held.
Slice!
That arm was severed in a single motion.
The King’s eyes widened, and then a hollow laugh escaped his lips.
“Yes, that was an uncouth thing to do. Forcibly compelling one who refuses to obey is not the way of a king.”
As if to ask, how about this, then? the King’s army stirred.
The shadow of the female soldier who had been commanding the battlefield was absorbed into the King, and immediately after, a massive army poured out from beneath his feet.
They swarmed the Tin Knight like a great wave.
The Tin Knight snatched a shield lying on the ground and swung it at the wave.
BOOOOOOOOM!
As if an explosion had occurred within, the wave of shadows was instantly shattered.
The Tin Knight charged through the black shadows scattering like sea spray.
The King of the Underground stomped his foot, retreating.
Behind the retreating King, the shadow of a fairy settled upon him.
Flame, ice, lightning, gale.
Colorful magic conjured from the King’s hands raged forth to blow the Tin Knight away.
The mana within the Tin Knight began to move fiercely.
He deflected the trajectory of the fire magic to collide with the ice, kicked up shattered rocks to block the lightning, and slashed through the blades of wind with his golden sword.
He continuously shifted the mana cloaking his body, concentrating it on anticipated points of impact, and at times, he even materialized the mana itself to deflect attacks.
In the process, the wounds that already riddled his body tore open even wider, but he could still move.
Realizing he could no longer create distance, the shadow of a tiger settled upon the King of the Underground.
Immense strength filled the King’s body as he threatened the Tin Knight with his fists and feet.
Each kick held enough power to obliterate a small fortress.
But the Tin Knight showed no fear, instead responding to the King by closing the distance.
He bashed with his shield, struck down with his pommel, and jabbed with his elbow at the King’s side.
Wounds multiplied across the King of the Underground’s body as he was struck by the brutally practical assault.
The Tin Knight’s injuries were also growing more severe.
The ‘screen’ he saw was already glitching and distorting as if from a critical error, the colors shifting erratically and noise appearing everywhere.
The senses he felt as the Tin Knight were also beginning to fail; his sense of balance and distance swayed as if he were seasick, hindering his movements.
Thwack!
The King’s fist shattered a part of the Tin Knight’s head.
One of his two eyes, like blue will-o’-wisps, flickered and died. His body staggered violently.
“You…”
As if startled by his own successful attack, a look of bewilderment flashed across the King’s face.
It soon changed into something akin to pity.
He started to say something to the Tin Knight but swallowed his words.
Returning to the cold-hearted king once more, he swung his fist again, intending to strike the Tin Knight down.
In the midst of a world where nothing was clear.
The Tin Knight entrusted his body to instinct and swung his sword.
The countless battles he had fought as the ‘Tin Knight’.
It was a swing that relied on the senses engraved upon his very soul.
Slice!
The King’s left arm was severed in a single motion.
The King of the Underground tried to heal the wound with holy power, but it did not mend easily.
The Tin Knight’s sword was not just cutting mere flesh, but the King’s very essence.
Just as the Tin Knight was about to swing his sword again, a black snake appeared at the King’s side.
The King gripped the snake, which had transformed into a sword, and met the Tin Knight’s golden blade.
The King of the Underground’s swordsmanship, compared to his grand title and reputation, was not particularly special. It was rather unrefined.
There was no brilliant wit, no outstanding creativity, no lofty enlightenment.
It was simply honed by countless swings over a long, long time.
In a way, it was a sword style similar to the Tin Knight’s.
Gold and black intertwined.
The King of the Underground and the Knight of the Surface crossed paths.
There was a king who had to kill himself because the duty he shouldered was too heavy.
There was a stranger who, having nothing, desperately clung to the single bond he had managed to grasp.
As they were in a situation where they could not speak to one another, they conversed with their eyes.
The King of the Underground asked.
Why do you fight? Why did you not run?
Even if the surface turns to hell—no, precisely because it would have turned to hell—there would have been no shortage of those who coveted your power.
Candidates to fill you with mana, to polish your rust, to provide you with amusement for all time, would have been plentiful.
You gain nothing by winning here. What awaits you is a despair and solitude so vast it would make my own long wait seem trivial.
And yet, why?
The Tin Knight answered.
Because I wanted to. So what?
Stab!
The knight’s sword pierced the king’s heart.
The sense of responsibility that had sustained the king for millennia flowed out with his life.
With a face that seemed almost relieved, the king gave a faint laugh.
What a terribly uncool answer, he seemed to say, one that could never be written in a fairy tale.
In his final moment, the king commanded the god he held within his body.
If you cannot give the underground special treatment.
If you say it is wrong to take what we have been denied for so long.
Then at least, from this moment on, treat us equally.
─────
The god answered.
Hearing the reply, the king closed his eyes and vanished.
And the Tin Knight was left alone.
Thud. The knight’s knees hit the floor.
As the Tin Knight’s body fell forward, the Witch caught him.
“Hey, you’re heavy. Get up… huh?”
The Witch’s gruff voice filled with bewilderment.
Through a gap in the heavily damaged armor, her eyes, now wide and trembling, confirmed the shattered core.
The brooch the Tin Knight always wore.
The accessory that had conveyed his words fell to the floor and shattered, as if it had finally reached its limit.
The Lion, panicking, shook the Tin Knight’s body.
The Scarecrow, having lost his usual composure, trembled, his lips quivering.
The Witch called the Tin Knight’s name again and again.
No answer came.
What remained was nothing more than an empty shell.