Chapter 110 - Ballad (1)

“I hear there’s trouble in some backwater village in Verdi.”

In a tavern, the subject came up amid the chatter of drunken patrons.

“Which village?”

“You know that village to the west, the one all those sinister rumors were about. The one nobody lives in.”

“The village where an evil dark mage supposedly made his nest, or a Monster Wave swept through, or some horrible unknown plague broke out?”

“Yes. That’s the place.”

“Good grief, you’re behind the times. Weren’t all those rumors proven false? That village has recently been growing faster than anywhere else in southern Verdi. They say some honored mage settled there and is building it up into an estate. Old folk afraid of wild animals, farmers whose crops failed in the drought, vagrants with nowhere to go—they’ve all gathered there. Everyone wants to go, since he takes anyone in.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one behind on the news, my friend.”

The drunks’ voices grew louder.

“Those people gathered there hoping for a better life. Now those country bumpkins are leaving the village and running away all over again. There’s a family in our village that fled from there.”

“Running away? Why?”

“It seems the young lord who rules that little village has gotten himself into trouble. I hear some terrifying knights came looking for him, and he’s not even eighteen. They even brought mages who wield bizarre arcane powers!”

“Good heavens, is that true?”

“I’m telling you, it is.”

A tavern where all manner of stories passed back and forth.

The drunks’ voices grow louder.

Louder and louder.

“I don’t know what crime the young lord committed, but they were apparently a terrifying lot. Whatever he’d done, they bellowed that he had to answer for it. But this is where it gets truly ridiculous.”

“What happened?”

“That young lord, not even eighteen, with blond hair and blue eyes—he took up a sword and challenged the highest-ranking gentleman among them to a duel.”

“Well, there’s youthful spirit for you.”

“Tsk. Youthful spirit, my foot. He takes after his father.”

“His father?”

The drunk clicked his tongue.

“From what I hear, that young lord’s father died some time ago after suffering from madness. A terrible madness that made him think he was the hero of a chivalric novel!”

“What a shame.”

“Faced with mortal danger, the son must have gone mad too. Lost whatever sense he had and sunk into the most absurd delusions—”

The drunk’s voice now rang throughout the tavern, louder even than the ballads its bards were singing. Their conversation reached an old man sipping cheap beer alone in a corner. And that old man could not let their words pass him by.

Absolutely not.

“... Excuse me.”

The old man who had been listening approached the drunks.

“Could you tell me more about that story?”

“Oh, of course.”

The drunks laughed as the old man sat down. One of them asked,

“Why are you so interested in what we’re talking about?”

“... Because I’m from that village.”

“Ah, did you leave recently?”

“No.”

Having finished his beer, the old man removed his hat.

“I left quite a long time ago.”

“...”

“Not when the young lord you speak of ruled the village, but when the man who suffered from madness did. When my master was there—the kindest man on this continent, whose eyes burned like a boy’s, who lost whatever sense he had and began making the most absurd plans.”

“Wh-what the hell? This old man!”

Without his hat, the old man looked hideous. Burns had twisted his scalp, and terrible scars covered half his face. The drunks recoiled in disgust, spat, and rose from their seats. The patrons around them hurled all manner of abuse at him too. Get lost. Get the hell out.

“Out, old man.”

In the end, the old man was driven from the tavern without hearing the rest of the story. Emerging in his shabby state, he put on his worn hat. He trudged along the nighttime streets and entered a stable. Inside was not a horse, but a donkey. A donkey as old as he was.

“Why the long face?”

An old woman stood beside the donkey.

She patted the dispirited old man’s shoulder and made a few jokes. But he did not answer her. After a brief silence, he spoke abruptly.

“I must go back home.”

“... After everything it took to leave?”

“Yes. I must go back.”

With his aged body, the old man slowly mounted the donkey. The old woman watched him with sorrowful eyes. Meeting her tearful gaze, he asked,

“Will you come with me, Nurse?”

“I have no right to go back there.”

“Neither do I.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. We’re both runaways, after all.”

“Then it isn’t the right I lack, but the courage.”

The old woman grinned.

Then she said,

“Take good care of Young Master Arhan, Sancho the butler.”

* * *

At the far left.

At the far right.

There stood two men.

And there were two swords.

“Whew.”

I breathed.

Mana filled my lungs, my second heart surged into motion, and for a fleeting instant, superhuman strength was granted to me. That strength settled into my sword. But at this moment, I was not the master of the makeshift dueling ground. Beyond the blade I held, the man holding another blade dominated it.

‘I have to hold out.’

Only one piece remained before my plan could succeed.

Toma Rhapsody had sworn in the gods’ names that this was rightful vengeance. That meant his soul had been broken. I did not know why, but he believed I was responsible for the brutal murder of his retainer and the dishonor brought upon him.

‘I absolutely have to hold out.’

My suspicion was that this was the Iron Prince’s scheme.

And if it was the Iron Prince’s scheme, the one who had carried it out would be his executioner. The man he trusted most, the sharpest sword in his possession.

The swordmaster Carlos.

‘I’m the key.’

Toma Rhapsody had forgotten the truth.

That was why no punishment had descended upon him despite his oath in the gods’ names. Tom, the caretaker, had told me that great power came with great responsibility. Under that rule, Toma Rhapsody, as a member of the Great Families, had to bear responsibility. He should have received punishment from an omniscient, omnipotent god who knew everything. Yet no punishment came. Why? Because Toma Rhapsody understood his account to be the truth.

‘These might be the longest ten seconds of my life.’

There was only one way to set things right.

Make Toma Rhapsody remember the truth.

To do that, I had to make him recall our final bout in the Endless Duel. Make him recall the moments we had experienced as we crossed swords. To do that, I had to recreate that bout.

That bout.

The clash of steel and waves had lasted ten seconds.

In other words, ten seconds was enough for Toma Rhapsody to remember the truth. My sword would draw out the truth buried deep within his soul. The moment he realized it, everything would turn around. He had sworn in the names of the nine goddesses and seven chief gods, after all.

The stage was set.

All that mattered now was my sword.

‘Even so, I have to endure.’

My plan would reach completion at the tip of my sword.

Edan Rhapsody.

A formidable fighter recognized across the continent.

Heir to one of the Great Families, a candidate for swordmaster. I had to withstand the wrath of a swordsman who was beyond comparison with someone like me. It did not seem possible. It was absurd, reckless, and stupid.

But I had to do it.

“My lord, you can win!”

I had to protect my village.

I had to protect my people.

I had to become a hero to the farmhands.

["You must remember those glorious days."]

At least in this moment, I had to be a hero.

["Always take pride in being a member of the Caravan family, and remember that the blood of steel runs through your body. Then one day, you will be able to reclaim our glory."]

Like my father, who took up his sword against an enormous enemy even when people mocked him as mad, even when everyone laughed, even when no one acknowledged him. Like you, who faced the world without retreating until the very, very end.

“Stay strong, my lord!”

I closed my eyes.

The cheers of shabby, powerless country folk.

My people, who lived on my estate. Their voices grew steadily grander. Darkness came as my eyelids closed. In that darkness, like a pitch-black night sky, lantern lights rose. They resembled stars. The starlike lights spread without number.

『How happy was the age when we could look upon the starry heavens and read the map of the paths we could take, and must take?』

Like the world once seen by the first sovereign, who had longed for the Age of Stars.

『And how happy was the age when starlight shone brightly upon those paths?』

Like the world desired by the lantern-like man who had guided wandering souls.

At last, I could clearly see the world held within 「Lantern」.

Within the sword I had fully digested lay another world.

Someone’s world, held within a blade.

As I faced that world, another came into view.

『I resolved to become the wind for you.』

『You said: Let us die. Let us die here. Let us not think of standing against this harsh world. Let us simply die as we are.』

A shabby wandering swordsman.

A man who had been like the wind.

『I could not. You do not know what I dream of.』

What the man had dreamed of.

『I became the wind for you. A wind that could sweep anything away.』

Dorothy, the Mage of Oz.

The wandering swordsman’s love, who vanished, swept away by a whirlwind.

The whirlwind the man had raised against the world swept away the woman’s life. Along with her tears, the world she resented, and the trials that harsh world sent her.

Only now could I see.

Only now could I feel the swords.

Two swords.

Once I understood them, there was something I could finally sense.

One more blade.

Pale and indistinct.

An unknown third sword...

“Ready.”

But the world would not wait for me.

The knight standing in the center raised his hand.

And then—

“Begin!”

The duel began.

“Hup—”

The instant the signal came, I trapped my breath inside my body to draw on the arcane power of combustion within 「Lantern」. A struggle to burn my breath and produce strength beyond my limits. A desperate effort to cross weapons with that lofty swordsman, even for an instant.

But—

“How crude.”

My opponent was a swordsman who defied common sense.

“Wha—”

I had not seen him move.

Edan Rhapsody stood right before my nose. He was there so naturally that he might have occupied that spot before the duel even began. I hurriedly tried to swing my sword. As if mocking my struggle, he moved the wooden stick in his hand.

A basic thrust.

A piece of wood.

A steel sword forged by a dwarf from winter steel. The two mismatched weapons swayed toward a single point. The blade collided with the end of the piece of wood. At the moment of impact, I nearly lost consciousness and collapsed. An overwhelming shock unlike anything I had ever experienced. A monstrous weight crashed over me, as though it were shattering my soul.

「Pull yourself together.」

It feels as though my heart is breaking.

As though my arms and legs have already been torn from my torso.

I cannot tell whether I am standing or have already crumpled to the ground.

「One second.」

But one thing is certain.

I am still holding my sword.

Then—

「One second, starting now.」

What I must do has not changed.

「Turn this moment into enlightenment.」

I taste blood in my mouth.