I Pulled Out the Excalibur

The starlight soared high into the sky.

The residents of the Underground City.
The shadow forces that pursued the boy.
The knights of the self-proclaimed righteous order.
The mercenaries who chose loyalty over money and power.

And…

“Ha…”

The knight who had chased the star also saw the starlight clenched in the boy’s hand. Ivan exhaled a breath of admiration and adjusted his grip on his sword, grateful for the honorable opportunity to face the legendary sword.

Ivan’s sword aura flared up in a dark blue hue. In response, the boy’s sword also wrapped itself in a platinum aura.

The starlight sword aura around the Sword of the Star. In the Underground City, where Ivan never forgot the light of the star, he smiled. His forgotten dream was right there.

“Come,” Ivan called, and the boy charged.

The boy holding the star and the knight who chased it collided.

***

Najin gave it his all.

With a lowered stance, he dashed forward, swinging his accelerating sword, not caring for defense. It wasn’t a technique taught by anyone, and it was vague to even call it a technique…

But it was undoubtedly Najin’s best strike.

Thud, Najin stomped the ground.

With each step, his speed increased. On his third step, Ivan momentarily lost track of Najin’s movement, and by the sixth, Najin’s speed had surpassed Ivan’s.

In Ivan’s eyes, Najin’s movement was invisible, only the trajectory of the Sword of the Star in Najin’s hand was visible. And that was enough for Ivan.

“Come on.”

Ivan stood his ground.

“I’ll face it head-on.”

The Sword of the Star is approaching.
The starlight is approaching.

Boom!

On his final step, Najin lunged at Ivan with his highest speed. Excalibur, reaching its peak velocity, accelerated further, scattering starlight as it approached Ivan.

Knight of Atanga, Ivan.
The essence of the technique he honed all his life.
A technique synonymous with the symbol of Atanga.

Facing the opponent’s technique head-on, and boldly denying it, is the Atanga way. Ivan, unwavering, received Najin’s sword.

Crash!

Swords and auras clashed.
The moment he received the sword, Ivan realized. It was simple yet firm, and its firmness made it heavy. The weight behind Najin’s swing exceeded Ivan’s expectations.

His firmly planted feet wobbled.
His knees began to buckle.

But a Knight of Atanga never bends or steps back, even on the brink of breaking. Ivan strengthened his knees and pushed forward, letting out a battle cry.

Crack!

Gradually, Ivan’s sword moved forward. Najin’s understanding of the sword was still lacking. He hadn’t learned proper swordsmanship. Ivan’s sword, refined over years, exploited this gap.

Ivan’s stance, initially receiving Najin’s sword, now appeared to be pressing down on it.

Ivan’s bending knees straightened. His retreating steps now moved forward. As Ivan advanced, Najin was pushed back.

“Ugh!”

The tide had turned.
Najin’s sword swing, gradually overpowered, was on the verge of being completely broken. Najin’s eyes widened. He brutally infused the flow from his body into Excalibur.

He knew he was outmatched in technique.
So, he decided to compete in power.

Responding to its master’s will to win at all costs, Excalibur flickered violently. The densely intensified platinum aura shattered Ivan’s technique head-on.

“…”

Ivan’s eyes widened.
Najin’s sword completely overpowered Ivan’s. Ivan’s hand, holding the sword, was forced upwards. A deadly vulnerability was exposed. Ivan had no strength left to receive the second strike.

In a rush, Ivan retracted his sword, but a fatal wound was inevitable. The moment Ivan sensed his defeat…

Rustle.

Najin’s swinging sword turned into starlight and vanished. Only the remnants of the aura grazed Ivan’s body, with no fatal blow as expected.

“Ugh!”

Instead, it was Najin who suffered a critical hit.
He collapsed in the same posture he swung his sword. He had used a power not yet permitted to him. Although he drew Excalibur, his body and soul weren’t mature enough to handle it properly.

Lacking the strength to maintain Excalibur, he couldn’t swing for the second time and collapsed.

“…”

Ivan was silent.
Drip, a droplet of blood fell from the wound grazed by the sword aura. Something dropped amidst the falling droplets. It was Ivan’s eyepatch that covered his right eye.

The fallen eyepatch. The fallen blood.
And the boy lying before him.

Seeing all this with one eye, Ivan realized.

He had won and also lost.

As the ruler of the Underground City, the one-eyed Ivan had won over the boy. He stood till the end and could have killed the boy with a swing of his sword.

But as a Knight of Atanga, Ivan had lost to the boy. Atanga’s way was to never bend or retreat, to crush the opponent head-on. However, overpowered by the boy’s momentum, Ivan had ultimately retreated and bent.

A victory as the ruler.
A defeat as a Knight of Atanga.

Which one to accept?
Ivan groaned in front of the choice laid before him. At the very end, the world once again asked Ivan.

What will you choose?

And what will you remain as?

***

Like everyone else, a person’s life is their most precious possession. Death is the end. Death is frightening. It’s a fundamental fear shared by all humanity.

Therefore,

In the face of death, humans can become cowardly, cruel, and contradictory. No one can mock their display of the desire to live, as it’s an aspect everyone possesses.

Ivan was no different.

He wanted to live.

He didn’t want to die here.
He wanted to see the stars again, the sun again, and to be a knight again. The chances were slim…

But if he survives, there’s a possibility.

Death, however, is the end.

Ivan clenched his teeth. He must kill the boy before him to survive. It was only right to swing his sword and end it. He understood this logically.

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The raised sword didn’t move an inch. Najin, lying on the ground, looked up at him. As their eyes met, Ivan’s expression twisted.

A boy different from himself.
A boy shining with the star he held.

Looking at the boy, Ivan groaned. What to become? What to remain as? Although Ivan had been postponing his answer to these questions, now he had to decide.

It would have been better if Najin’s sword had struck him down. Better to face death that way. Ivan groaned.

[I swear upon the pride of Knight of Atanga, Ivan.]

Echoing in his ears was the oath he had sworn upon his pride. The moment he strikes with this sword, he would lose that pride.

A person who has lost honor and pride.

Can such a person truly be called a knight?
Sure, there are many knights who know neither honor nor pride. Many, but Ivan could never regard such people as true knights. The moment he loses his pride here, he ceases to be a knight.

Ivan knew this.

Even if he survives this battle.

Could he, having shed his pride and embracing a false honor, still chase the stars? Could he proudly claim himself to be a Knight of Atanga?

“No.”

No, it wasn’t so.
What he desired was to possess the stars as a knight.
Not as a tarnished, dishonored scrap, but…

“As a knight bearing pride and honor.”

That was his dream, to possess the stars as such a knight.

“…”

Ivan pondered.
He agonized.
He hesitated until the very end.

…Every person cherishes their own life.

“But a knight is.”

The knight he wanted to be.

“For honor and pride, a foolish breed ready to throw away their lives.”

Foolish, yet it’s their brilliance that makes them live a life more radiant than anything else. Recalling the dreams of knighthood he held dear in his youth, Ivan made his choice.

“Damn it.”

Ivan ruffled his hair in frustration.

“Really, damn it all.”

Cursing, he sheathed his sword.
With his sword at his waist, Ivan reached out to the fallen Najin. Najin, blinking blankly, grasped Ivan’s hand and rose to his feet.

“Can you move?”

The intent to kill had vanished.
Responding to Ivan’s question, Najin nodded slowly. Ivan opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, as if he had something to say but found it hard to express.

“Uh, Najin.”

Ivan slowly began.

“When you go down the waterfall, be careful of the slippery rocks. The footing can be treacherous. One wrong step and you’re gone. And… no. No, that’s not it.”

After a long sigh, he spoke again.

“Najin.”

“…I’m listening.”

“Do you remember what I always said?”

“Not to cross the line?”

“Yes. That.”

Don’t cross the line. Know your place.
Don’t reach for what you can’t have.

“That’s what I meant.”

Ivan touched the spot where his right eye once was.

It had been over ten years since he fell into this city.
During that time, Ivan abandoned his dreams, chipped away at his knightly self. He lived repeating the mantra to stay within the line, to live as given… But it was also a statement he made to himself.

A word thrown at himself, who could no longer rise higher.

“I’ll correct that.”

Today, Ivan decided to change that saying.

“Listen well. You know I hate repeating myself.”

Ivan smiled.

“Cross the line, Najin.”

He spoke with a smile.

“Reach for the unreachable. Punch the faces of those muttering about staying in your place. Only you know how far you can go.”

Ivan negated the words he had always uttered.

“Look high and run. Climb higher than anyone else. You have the talent for it. Believe in the talent you possess.”

Though he had only one eye.
Though he had neither the eyes to see the future nor the sharp senses to sense it.

“When you reach the highest point.”

Ivan was certain.
The boy before him would reach the highest point. He would hang his own star in the highest night sky. Ivan was sure that future would surely come.

Certain of this, Ivan said.

“Shout it from there.”

What should he shout?

“That I was there.”

That I was at the beginning of your story.

“That the Knight of Atanga, Ivan, was there.”

To grace the prologue of a hero’s tale, what greater honor could there be for a knight chasing the stars? Seeking honor while bearing pride. What finer end could there be for a knight?

“Go on.”

Ivan pushed Najin towards the tunnel.
He no longer watched the boy’s wavering gaze or his hesitant figure. Turning his back to the boy, Ivan stood guarding the entrance to the tunnel.

To earn back the time he had taken from the boy.

“Thank you, Ivan.”

With that voice fading away, the sound of the boy’s footsteps receded. Before they completely vanished, new footsteps began to approach from ahead.

They are coming. The pursuers, drawn by the light, seeking to extinguish it, were approaching. They were the order’s shadow unit, its knights, and also his former comrades.

Listening to the fading footsteps.
Ignoring the approaching ones.

Ivan drew his sword again. This time, not for the retreating boy, but for those who followed him.

“Not as the one-eyed ruler.”

Ivan stepped on the fallen eyepatch.

“But as the Knight of Atanga, Ivan.”

The knight chasing the stars smiled.
It was lighter than ever before.