Chapter 205 - The One Who Remembers (7)

Najin had never put much faith in the idea of an innate human nature. He believed a person's character was shaped by their background and upbringing, and that an inborn disposition had little influence on how that character developed.

His own life was proof enough.

As a child, Najin had rummaged through garbage, stolen, and never hesitated to do all manner of dirty things to survive. Looking back now, his former self in the underground city had clearly been an evil man. He had no intention of denying that.

Whatever his reasons, he had killed people. He had offed quite a few traitors to make examples of them. The most dignified name people had called him back then was "hound," which said it all. Most had called him a butcher of men.

Butcher of men. Filthy hound. Executioner.

How had someone known by those names come this far? Najin believed it was because he had met good people. Because he had learned good things from them and experienced the wider world.

To him, human nature was no different from clear water in a paint pot. Its color depended on what paint you mixed into it.

That was what he had always believed. But...

「Use me as a stepping stone to climb higher.」

「May you use me as a stepping stone to climb higher.」

Watching Blue Spear say the same thing even after losing all his memories, even after forgetting himself... Najin had no choice but to acknowledge it.

Some people were simply born that way.

Some people were good even in the deepest reaches of their nature.

"I don't put much faith in innate nature either, but there are people born with something broken inside them. To borrow your analogy, sometimes the paint pot starts out filled with filthy black water instead of clear water."

Merlin spoke as she listened to Najin's thoughts.

"Like you said, people can change in all sorts of ways because of their environment and the people they interact with. But I do think there's such a thing as an innate nature—a color in the pot from the beginning."

'A color? What do you mean?'

"Exactly that. But I wouldn't go so far as to call it someone's essence, or a nature that can never change."

Merlin flicked a finger.

"Even filthy black water can turn pure white if you keep mixing white paint into it, can't it? It would take an incredible amount of effort, though."

"On the other hand," she continued, "someone born pure white will be stained black by even a single drop of black paint. If they stay white despite that, it must take an incredible amount of effort too."

'Then what do you think I am?'

"How would I know? I'm a mage, not a psychologist."

Merlin smiled mischievously.

"Still..."

She watched Najin swing his spear, sweat pouring off him. Her gaze was gentle.

"I don't know what your innate nature is, but isn't the color in your pot now quite beautiful?"

'What's that supposed to mean? You're making me cringe.'

"Even when I say something nice, you make a fuss."

Leaving Merlin to grumble, Najin swung his spear. Even with the end drawing near, Blue Spear's spear arts remained incomplete. There was no helping it. Najin could not fill in the parts the man himself no longer remembered.

And this situation was somewhat different from the Helmeted Knight's.

The Helmeted Knight had another disciple, Gerd, who had learned the Triumphant Sword. He had also recovered his memories at the final moment and completed his swordsmanship... but Blue Spear could not do that. The miracle of his memories returning could never happen.

'I'd like to complete it, if I can.'

That was what Najin thought. But Blue Spear's answer was brief.

"What does it matter if it's incomplete?"

"It feels like a shame."

"Haha, and what does that matter? If it bothers you so much, why not complete it yourself?"

He laughed freely.

"It's a miracle you've come this far at all. I've laid the foundation, so you can build your own work on top of it. Fill in the rest yourself. I'd prefer that. I like that much better."

Blue Spear wore a gentle expression as he spoke.

"So this is the last time."

Blue Spear murmured as he looked around the desolate desert.

"You said I had three days left, didn't you? Tomorrow will be the last. That means today will be the last time I offer this farewell."

The sun set over the desert. In that brief interval before night arrived, at the border between night and day, Blue Spear spoke.

"Well then, Najin?"

He bade him farewell.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

The hourglass broke.

Only a handful of sand remained in the broken glass.

2.

When Blue Spear opened his eyes the next morning, they were different from usual. Not empty and clear, but hazy. He looked at Najin with eyes that seemed not quite awake.

Even the star of Funeral Rites could not wake him from that sleep.

It only helped him remember how to read. He read the diary he had kept. After reading for some time, he gave a hollow laugh and closed it.

"I can't remember the beginning," he murmured. "I forgot it while I was reading. There's no point in reading the diary, then. But according to what it says at the end..."

Blue Spear looked at Najin.

"I'm to ask you. It says you'll give me the answers. Who are you?"

"Najin. Najin the free knight."

"Who am I?"

"You are Blue Spear, a knight of Londinel. You're also the teacher who taught me the spear."

Blue Spear's memories could no longer endure a full day.

He forgot everything in less than an hour, and even that interval was growing shorter.

"Who are you?"

"Your disciple."

The question had been asked more times than anyone could count.

So had the answer.

"Why am I in this state? It hurts. I can't remember anything, anything at all. Why did I make this choice?"

He groaned. His wavering eyes were full of fear. None of the serenity he had shown just the night before remained. Najin started to say something to the trembling Blue Spear, then stopped.

Instead, he raised his spear.

A warrior spoke through the weapon in his hands. Najin decided to put into his spear what words alone could not express.

THUD.

Instead of answering, Najin stamped his foot. His footprint marked the desert sand. Blue Spear lifted his head, still trembling with fear, and looked at him. With Blue Spear—with his teacher—watching, Najin began to swing his spear.

Najin knew little about the spear as a weapon.

He was a swordsman, not a spearman. Until now, the only spear arts he had learned were the fundamentals taught by the Helmeted Knight and Battering Ram, the signature technique of the Order of the Golden Horn. All of them specialized in thrusting.

They were not techniques for swinging a spear to command the surrounding space.

They were techniques for piercing the enemy blocking one's path.

But the spear arts he had learned from Blue Spear were different. The spear arts of Londinel that Blue Spear had preserved focused not on a single point, but on a line—and beyond that, on controlling the surrounding space. They were designed with being surrounded by multiple enemies in mind.

Those were the arts Najin now wielded.

WHOOSH.

With every swing, wind followed the tip of his spear. That wind sent grains of sand swirling into the air. Once airborne, they did not fall. They danced along with the direction of the spear blade.

'Right now, it's only sand, in an empty, desolate desert... '

Kirchhoff had told him.

Whenever Blue Spear swung his spear, blue petals had fluttered through the air. The sight had been so beautiful that even Kirchhoff's sword aura had come to resemble it.

"What is a blue hydrangea?"

Najin spoke as he swung his spear.

The words he was about to say were those Kirchhoff had shared with him—words Blue Spear had spoken to Kirchhoff three hundred years ago.

"You see, a hydrangea is actually quite unimpressive if you look at just one petal. Small and humble. But a hydrangea doesn't bloom with just one flower. Dozens of flowers open at once. They reach full bloom."

Grains of sand swirled through the air.

Najin infused the tip of his spear with aura. In essence, aura was no different from sword aura. His aura resembled a constellation. Filled with starlight, the grains of sand shone like stars.

"Why is the blue hydrangea Londinel's national flower? This is what I believe. Its meaning lies in being made up of small flowers, rather than one large, splendid blossom."

Najin had already reached Sprouting. He had not yet achieved Flowering, but he could faintly trace its outlines.

"Londinel can be beautiful precisely because it has knights like you."

The grains of sand filled with starlight began to sprout.

"You are Blue Spear. Blue Spear, a knight of Londinel."

"..."

"You asked why you're in this state, what you sacrificed your memories for, and what value there was in doing so?"

Najin swept his spear in a wide arc.

"There is a knight you saved. His name is Kirchhoff, and there is no one in the Outer Lands who doesn't know his name."

The Sword Master of the Forgotten Kingdom.

Kirchhoff, Londinel's last knight.

"That knight remembers Londinel when everyone else has forgotten it, and he wields his sword for Londinel. That is why Londinel has not been forgotten."

WHOOSH.

The grains of sand scattered. Gazing at them as they fluttered like petals, Najin tightened his grip on the shaft. He meant to connect all the currents he had created with his spear swings into a single line.

Najin did not know the name of this technique. How could he? Even Blue Spear himself did not know it.

「Petals fluttered through the air.」

「I can't recall how he swung his spear, but I remember that much. Wherever he stepped, flowers in full bloom always fluttered about him.」

「Then he gathered those flowers into a single bouquet. It was a technique that drew in the very currents around him.」

But combining its form with what Kirchhoff had told him, Najin could guess the technique's name. The clue was already there.

Blue Hydrangea.

A technique resembling a hydrangea, its fully bloomed flowers woven together into a single whole. Of course, Najin's aura was neither blue nor made of petals, but that did not matter.

With a sharp tug, Najin pulled the spear drawing those currents toward himself, as though reaching out to seize the wind. The grains of sand swirling in every direction were drawn toward him all at once.

WHOOOOSH!

The incoming grains of sand collided, crumbled, and flew in every direction. The grains that flew up collided with one another again, and again... As the process repeated, starlight flashed endlessly before Najin like fireworks.

No petals had reached full bloom, but starlight flooded the air.

Najin panted. Imperfect though it was, he had splendidly reproduced what Blue Spear had taught him. Bracing his legs to keep his stance from collapsing until the very end, he spun the spear once and planted it in the desert sand.

"And so..."

He looked at Blue Spear and smiled.

"Your devotion had value."

Blue Spear's eyes sparkled with the starlight Najin had brought forth. With those starlight-colored eyes, he looked at Najin.

"That..."

He asked, "Whose spear arts are those?"

He pointed to the traces of the spear arts still lingering in the air.

"They're beautiful. A sight I want to remember. I want to emulate them. Truly, so beautiful..."

Najin answered his question.

"The spear arts of a knight who fought oblivion."

And then:

"Your spear arts."

Najin pulled free the spear Blue Spear had let go of some time ago and handed it to him.

"I'll teach you. Take up your spear."

This time, I will teach you.

3.

"..."

Blue Spear took the spear without a word.

He imitated Najin's movements. It did not matter if he lost his memories. For as long as he swung his spear, he was Blue Spear. He swung it, again and again.

A blue flower bloomed at the tip of his spear.

Blue flowers formed upon Blue Spear.

Flowers bloomed in the empty, desolate desert. One, two, ten, dozens, hundreds of flowers burst into full bloom.

Sprouting, Flowering, and then Full Bloom.

The blue flowers in full bloom filled the desert. Blue Spear extended his spear toward them. For a master warrior, a weapon was no different from their own hand. And so, Blue Spear was reaching his hand toward the flowers.

He grasped them.

He wove the fully bloomed flowers together into a hydrangea.

The hydrangea was blue. A blue hydrangea had bloomed in the heart of the desolate desert. Blue Spear smiled as he gazed at that flower. He smiled for a long time, with utter satisfaction.

"Ah..."

He lifted his head.

His gaze moved from the blue hydrangea to the desert, then from the desert to the sky. At last, it settled on Najin.

"Najin."

He looked at Najin.

He seemed to consider what final words he should leave his disciple, but he did not ponder long. He left words much like the farewell he had always spoken.

"Go forward. Toward tomorrow."

Those were Blue Spear's last words.

RUSTLE.

The handful of sand that remained in the broken hourglass scattered on the wind.