I Pulled Out the Excalibur

The battle had dragged on longer than expected. In the forest blanketed with shallow darkness, the demon hunter Jerold gasped for breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his forearms were marked with scars as if slashed by a blade.

From his forearm to his wrist. From his wrist to the back of his hand. From the back of his hand to his fingers, and from his fingers to the hilt of his sword…

Blood dripped. Staring at the flowing blood, Jerold let out a long breath. Truly, it was a dreadful adversary. It never willingly surrendered its flesh. It seemed as if it wouldn’t be satisfied unless it tore a chunk of flesh from its opponent as well.

“Huff…”

Jerold gasped for air and glanced to his side.

There stood Klaus Aten, his clothes also stained dark with blood. He was bleeding. Jerold couldn’t quite grasp the situation.

‘Wasn’t he a Sword Expert?’

He had merely approached the Sword Seeker.

Wasn’t the target said to be a Sword Expert? But how could any expert withstand two seekers? It was an impossibility by any standard logic.

“……”

Jerold looked ahead.

There, Najin, gasping for breath with his sword drooping, had lost more blood than Jerold and Klaus combined. A hole was pierced through his side, and his body was covered in wounds.

If their wounds slowed them down a bit, his condition made it difficult for him to even move. At best, he might have one or two moves left.

The end was near. The victor would obviously be them, but from Jerold’s standpoint, it was an unsatisfactory victory. To win by attrition against one expert with two seekers?

‘Damn it…’

This wasn’t what he wanted.

It would have been better if it had ended with the first ambush. It would have been better if that young man had died before they realized who he was, before crossing swords.

A dirty and ugly victory was no different from defeat.

Yet, there was a reason they had to win. Jerold stomped the ground, hoping to finish Najin with his sword before the young man collapsed from excessive blood loss. Ferocious sword aura erupted from Jerold’s sword.

This is the end.

Jerold closed the distance in an instant, swinging his sword at Najin, who couldn’t even maintain his stance properly. Until the moment Jerold swung his sword, Najin hadn’t moved. Perhaps he had no strength left to react. That’s what Jerold thought.

The greatsword sliced through the air.

In the moment the greatsword was about to cleave Najin in two.

The gusting wind made Najin’s hair flutter. Between the strands of his fluttering hair, Najin’s eyes were revealed. The moment Jerold locked eyes with him, he involuntarily gasped.

Calm, sunset-hued eyes.

Despite his battered body, those eyes alone remained tranquil. Immediately after, Najin moved. His drooping sword moved with a trace of afterimage, striking Jerold’s greatsword with unbelievable speed. It was so swift it was hard to believe he had reacted so late.

Kaaaang!

Sword aura clashed against sword aura.

At the moment of the clash, Jerold had no doubt about his victory. Until now, he had always had the upper hand in the clash of sword auras. Najin had been struggling just to dodge and deflect. But this time…

Kiiing!

It was different.

A fierce backlash. A backlash strong enough to make Jerold’s hands tremble. Jerold’s eyes widened in shock, his face painted with astonishment.

Unable to withstand the recoil, Najin was pushed back, but he wasn’t the only one. Jerold’s greatsword, failing to complete its arc, was deflected in the opposite direction.

And so were his boots.

Jerold stared at his retreating legs in disbelief. How? But more than that, the sword aura that had shone so brightly just before…

Jerold Orten.

Klaus Aten.

Stared wide-eyed at Najin. The distantly pushed-back Najin slowly lifted his head, gasping for breath, with a smile on his lips.

“…Caught you.”

Najin muttered softly.

A vague outline of an answer he had been seeking. The one step he had been lacking. Now, he had finally grasped it.

Crack.

The sound of Najin’s sword aura shattering resembled that of a cocoon breaking apart.

He was born where no stars could be seen.

Born low, he lived like trash. He was a sinner from birth, not even permitted to dream. For the boy, the Underground City, Artman, was a prison.

A vast prison.

A prison he thought he’d never escape.

Even after leaving that prison, the boy still considered himself a prisoner. That’s why he thought he had to change. A prisoner can’t become a hero. A knight must shine.

Even though he had gained freedom.

Even though he had crossed the line.

Even though he had broken through the bars and escaped the prison.

The boy was still shackled by something. His speech and expressions became stiff, and his shoulders naturally tensed. He was a rotten hunting dog from birth, a sinner, so he believed he had to start over from scratch.

Denying himself.

Even after leaving the prison, the boy unconsciously still saw himself as a prisoner, still wearing the chains on his ankles. He realized this belatedly and smiled.

“I was wrong.”

The boy thought.

“I’ve been wrong from the start.”

Najin exhaled deeply.

The Underground City, Artman.

His damned hometown and the prison he was trapped in. He hated it, and wanted to hide his origins, but now he had to acknowledge it.

Najin closed his eyes. When he closed his eyes, he saw the landscape of the underground city. However, as he remembered, the city wasn’t entirely dark. There were two stars there.

A high star and a low star.

The stars that the boy dreamed of were there. Looking at the low-hanging star, Najin smiled bitterly. Who was the first knight he ever admired? It was Ivan. The Knight of Atanga.

The knight who planted dreams in him.

The mentor who pushed him forward.

He said, run beyond the line, run far. Run freely. You are now free. The last words of the knight he served. How could he proudly claim to be Ivan’s kin if he didn’t keep them?

“I was mistaken, Ivan.”

Najin raised his sword.

The moment he raised his sword, Jerold and Klaus could only close their mouths. They couldn’t take a single step towards Najin. To approach rashly was to die. That intuition flashed through both their minds.

The tide had turned.

The air around them churned.

Yet, contrary to the swirling currents, the white sword aura settled peacefully. The violently churning sword aura was nowhere to be found. The softly glittering sword aura was incomparably tranquil.

Najin lowered his sword. The white sword aura dispersed. Like a cocoon shattering or threads that were entangled unraveling. As the sword aura scattered, darkness crept into the forest.

Najin still had his eyes closed.

With closed eyes, he looked within himself. A space barely ten steps across at most. Yet, that space was now tumultuously stirring. The landscape began to expand.

Buildings rose along the outskirts. The landscape of the city Najin had wandered, the alleyways where he had scavenged through trash, dirty and dark though they were, clearly places where Najin had lived, appeared one after another.

Najin did not deny any of them.

He simply smiled, looking at the bright white star shining in the center of the city.

‘Ivan, you taught me so much. Indeed, as you said.’

「Take it easy, kid.」

「Try smiling a bit.」

「How can you live like that? It’s exhausting.」

‘I find myself tensing up again. I think I must do this. I try to take on the weight. Even now, it’s the same. Your life and honor weigh on my shoulders. Not just yours, but Offen’s, old man Hogel’s, and the weight of all those who have helped me.’

‘It’s truly heavy.

I keep thinking that this is not the way to live.’

‘I pulled out the Excalibur. I must become a hero. The great constellation of Merlin in the night sky watches over me. She whispers to me that I will become a hero. Yes, I must become a hero. I naturally think of King Arthur.’

‘I must become like Arthur.

That’s what I keep thinking.’

‘More dignified. A bit more knightly. Just a bit more, a bit more… It was an unconscious thought. My expression stiffened, and my speech became more formal. The hunting dog of the Underground City Artman, I gradually faded.’

‘But where could my essence possibly go?’

‘I won’t deny it. Just as Ivan did. Above all, have I not made a promise?’

‘I swore in a place where no stars could be seen.’

‘To engrave my star in the sky.’

‘Because it was a promise made in a place where stars could not be seen, it holds value. I have no intention of tarnishing that value. Born in a place without stars, I dream of stars, and I will surely hang them up in the sky above.’

“Phew…”

Najin exhaled deeply. The tension left his shoulders, and his posture relaxed. Naturally, his breathing lightened as well. The imagery that had expanded far and wide. Najin slowly rose from his place.

There stood Merlin.

In Merlin’s hand was a small birdcage.

She threw the birdcage towards Najin. A birdcage crudely made. Looking at the birdcage, Najin smiled. Smiling, he swung his sword.

He swung his sword lightly.

Surprisingly smooth and natural movement. When he swung the sword, sword aura did not surge forth. It didn’t even draw the flow. Only the tip of the sword shone.

The tip of the sword shone.

At the tip of the sword, a bright white star formed.

In reality, the sword split the void, but in the imagery, the swung sword cut through the birdcage. The cage was so easily severed. Watching the collapsing cage, Najin opened his eyes he had closed.

The cocoon was shattered.

The cage was smashed.

The boy had reached metamorphosis.

『Papapapapapapapapak!』

Light flashed in the void as if exploding. The light started from the tip of Najin’s sword and connected onwards. The connected and continuing light took on the form of constellations.

The sword aura was completely dismantled and reassembled.

It was no longer the sword aura of a Sword Expert. Not even the sword aura that merely contained fragments of imagery. A completely new form of sword aura. sword aura that fully encapsulated the imagery, belonging only to Najin.

The eyes of the boy who opened his eyes shone with a platinum hue.

Sword Seeker.

A seeker and a wanderer of the sword’s path.

Having completed metamorphosis, the boy had reached the realm of a Sword Seeker.

“Metamorphosis…”

Klaus muttered absentmindedly. Metamorphosis. A process that must be undergone to reach the realm of a Sword Seeker, or something akin to it. He had gone through a similar process himself.

The sensation of the imagery expanding and the aura wrapped around his spear being completely restructured. Klaus, who had felt this sensation in the midst of battle, recalled his past and saw the present.

Before him stood a young man who had just undergone metamorphosis. Klaus gazed at the constellation swirling around Najin’s sword tip as if enchanted. The constellation form of sword aura. Had there ever been such a form of sword aura in history?

Although the sword aura of a Sword Seeker varies, there are usually some overlapping elements. However, Klaus had never seen such a form of sword aura before today. Jerold, who had faced countless strong opponents, felt the same.

The sword aura that Najin emitted shone brilliantly even in the dark forest. The radiant constellation drove away the darkness.

A constellation drawn with a human’s sword. Before this unprecedented sword aura, the corners of Jerold’s mouth twitched. He gripped his greatsword tightly and let out a laugh. He had an intuition. The tide of battle had turned. The advantage and disadvantage had reversed.

Before him stood a Sword Seeker.

A formidable opponent who had reached the clear realm of a Sword Seeker.

Jerold wasn’t the only one laughing. Klaus also burst out in hollow laughter. Metamorphosis in such a situation! Trials imposed on humans usually end in death, but this young man had overcome the trial and achieved growth.

‘Amazing, truly.’

Even in the midst of a life-threatening duel, Klaus purely admired the sight. As he admired, he felt a cold sweat run down his spine.

The swordsman who had been perfect in every aspect except for sword aura had now acquired a formidable sword aura as well.

From now on, it wasn’t about making the opponent bleed with each attack, but rather ensuring their own bodies weren’t torn apart. Although the situation had turned, the flow itself hadn’t changed in the slightest.

It was a matter of a single strike.

The battle would be decided in one blow.

Klaus steadied his breath. His imagery surged and wrapped around his spear. Jerold took a firm step forward. His imagery, stronger than ever, was deeply imbued in the greatsword that had slaughtered countless demons.

A single strike.

The moment would determine the outcome.