Chapter 1

The Wizard of the Lake, Merlin.

A constellation, usually like a beautiful and tranquil lake, always marked by gentle ripples, was boiling madly like water in a pot.

"Wow, wow, wow...", she clutched her feverishly hot neck.

"What kind of insane person is this?"

Stars listen to human voices.

It's a well-known fact, but the reality is a bit different. There's one more condition attached.

Stars listen to the voice of those with the right qualities.

Not every human voice reaches the stars. Most voices become mere noise, passing by the constellations, but only the voice of someone with the right qualities can become meaningful sentences.

'Even then, it's heard only as a faint murmur...'

It should have been so, but why?

Merlin recalled the voice that had echoed in her ears moments ago. It was so clear. It wasn't just a sentence with meaning; she could even understand the mocking tone.

A clear voice heard for the first time in hundreds of years.

A definite will of someone with the qualities of a hero.

And the will conveyed by that voice was enough to stir Merlin's tranquil lake. It outright denied King Arthur's achievements, mocking him as a 'man of his time.'

"Is this really happening?"

Fury flared in Merlin's eyes.

The Constellation, the Sword of Selection, the protagonist of "The Chronicles of Arthur," had the most followers among constellations across the continent. Everyone knew that.

Yet, to insult Arthur?

With such nonsensical words?

Was this guy desperate to die?

Merlin's eyes widened as she looked down upon the earth. Her gaze could reach anywhere touched by starlight. She rapidly scanned for the owner of the voice that had echoed in her ears.

But she couldn't see him.

She thought she had seen an insolent boy when the voice echoed... but now, she couldn't see his face anywhere.

'Has he hidden in a place where the starlight doesn't reach?'

It didn't matter.

Let's see if he can hide for a lifetime.

"Just get caught in my sight."

With a click, Merlin bit her nail. Her eyes, filled with blood vessels, moved rapidly. She wouldn't miss even the smallest trace.

"You won't die an easy death, kid."

Whether he was a genius with the qualities of a hero, an apostle of a star serving another constellation, or a favorite disciple of the Sword Master, it didn't matter to Merlin.

She just needed to make him pay for insulting her king.

The Wizard of the Lake vowed by her pride as a constellation. She would find and crush that audacious brat.

"Uh, what's this?" He massaged his neck.

Suddenly, his neck felt tight, as if someone had made a vow to the sky to catch and beat him.

'Who is it?'

Honestly, he had made quite a few enemies here and there, so there were more than a couple of people who might be vowing to get him. Probably nothing. It could be the pickpocket, Tus, whom he had disarmed a while ago, or the drunkard, Belga...

Anyway, it didn't seem like a big deal.

"Hmm..."

Shaking off various thoughts, he opened his eyes once more.

"Offen, does this meditation stuff really work?"

He turned his head and looked at a corner of the clearing. There sat a man in shabby clothes. He was like a mentor to him, teaching him swordsmanship. Responding to the lad's question, he slowly opened his mouth.

"Of course. Gathering one’s mind through meditation is the very basics. If your mind wavers, so does the tip of your sword..."

Here we go again.

He shook his head and drew his sword.

"Enough of that, just watch me swing my sword."

"Tch. Show some respect for your teacher, you damned brat."

"Then at least put down that bottle of liquor you're taking care of more than your student."

He looked disdainfully at Offen, who had been drinking since early morning. Rumor had it that he was a well-known mercenary in the upper city before being exiled to this underground city... Every time he saw him like this, he doubted those rumors.

Unkempt beard.

Shabby clothes and drunken eyes.

Offen looked like a man who anyone would just mumble ‘Ah, a drunkard’ and move on.

'But still...'

He took his stance and swung his sword.

'His skills are undeniable.'

As soon as he swung his sword, a sharp voice echoed in the clearing.

"You're too rigid. Loosen up. Tuck in your elbows more."

It was Offen’s critique.

He adjusted his stance accordingly, and the effect was immediate. The sound of his sword swing became heavier. Surprisingly, it sounded heavier even though he was using less force.

Whoosh.

He continued to swing his sword, and Offen occasionally gave brief pieces of advice. His teaching was always like this. He wouldn't show or adjust the stance himself but always gave advice.

'And...'

His advice was always genuine.

Although he might look and actually be a drunkard, Offen became infinitely serious when it came to the sword.

"Lower your stance."

Like now.

"Keep your eyes open."

Sharp voice.

"Breathe. Exhale. You’re putting in too much strength."

Not drunken eyes, but sharp pupils.

"It's not about pressing down with weight. What you're holding is not a blunt instrument, but a blade for cutting. Don't press down, swing it as if you're brushing past."

Listening to Offen’s voice, he swung his sword for a long time. Sweat dripped down his back.

"Put strength in your legs and step forward. It’s not about swinging with force. Follow the path of the sword to the end."

Paying attention to his advice, he thought.

Probably, this swing would be the last for today. He had a lot to do.

'The last one should be clean.'

He adjusted his grip on the sword.

Remembering the advice he heard today, he steadied his breath. Offen's voice echoed in his ears like an illusion.

'Take a big step.'

Thump.

'Compose your breath, and watch the tip of the sword without stiffening up.'

He exhaled and swung his sword.

From top to bottom, a basic swing that hardly qualified as swordplay. Yet, at that moment, he had an intuition.

It was different than usual.

Swoosh!

The sound of the sword cutting through the air resounded.

The trajectory of the sword tip was clearly visible. A clean silver trace, drawn without any wavering. Only after the slicing sound echoed did he take a deep breath.

"Cough, cough!"

For some reason, the breath he inhaled felt hot. Confused by the hot air, he coughed dryly and turned towards Offen.

"Offen, wasn’t that last one pretty good?"

It was a surprisingly clean swing.

He asked with a bit of expectation and excitement, but Offen looked at him with a lukewarm gaze. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly.

"Well..."

After a brief pause, Offen muttered blankly.

"Wasn’t it good?"

"What kind of vague answer is that?"

"Well, it was good. Clean."

"Right?"

He smirked, wiping the sweat off his forehead before sheathing his sword. As he was finishing up, Offen asked him a question.

"Got any plans? You finished up earlier than usual today."

"Where else would I go? Work, obviously."

"Who is it this time?"

Offen's eyes narrowed instantly.

He answered with a bitter smile. "Tricksy."

"Tricksy of the Lilac Tavern?"

He nodded, and Offen clicked his tongue briefly.

"That bastard finally crossed the line, huh?"

"Seems like he got caught by Ivan after taking kids and slicing them open to sell. What can I do? I've got to take care of it."

"You?"

"Who else but me? I'm Ivan's hound, after all."

Offen grumbled and took a swig of his drink.

"That Ivan, always making a kid like you do all sorts of things. Damn it, he's messed up, and so is his whole group."

"You're part of Ivan's group too, aren't you?"

"That's because he kept asking me to... Ugh, forget it."

Offen waved his hand dismissively. It was his way of saying to get lost.

He chuckled and began to walk away.

"Najin."

He had only taken a few steps when he heard his name and turned around. There stood Offen, staring straight at him, an empty bottle of liquor at his feet.

"Come back tomorrow."

"I would have even if you hadn't said anything."

The empty lot where Najin had vanished.

Offen slowly stood up and walked over to where Najin had been swinging his sword just moments before.

He silently observed the traces Najin had left behind. His gaze lingered on the spot where Najin had swung his sword last.

Offen exhaled deeply.

Before getting stuck in this underground city, he had been a famous mercenary and a swordsman, although he hadn't been strong enough to take on real powerhouses...

But at the very least, he could recognize someone's level.

Offen pondered over the trajectory of Najin's final sword swing. That damn kid probably didn't even realize what he had done at the end.

'I'm sure he heard the sound.'

The swish of cutting through the air.

He probably thought nothing of it. He heard a slicing sound even though he was cutting through thin air. There was only one reason for that. Offen touched the ground where the sword marks were. It was where Najin's sword had passed through.

The ground was hot.

He could feel the heat emanating from the ground.

Digging through the dirt, he found pebbles that had melted and fused together. This kind of feat couldn't be achieved by merely swinging a sword. Offen's lips twitched. He knew what it was.

Mana, and remnants of sword aura.

"Crazy kid. He's learned things I never taught him."

Offen laughed hollowly, realizing his hunch was right. He had been watching over Najin's swordsmanship for two years now, at the request of his old friend and Najin's employer, Ivan.

Two years, enough time to gauge talent.

He had known all along that Najin was a promising lad. He would understand ten things for every one thing taught, and he often realized things on his own that were never taught to him.

'I knew the kid was a genius, but...'

To think he was this talented. Offen's face turned sour as he considered the extent of Najin's abilities.

"Tch."

He clicked his tongue briefly. He understood the value of Najin's talent, and also knew that in this damned city, such talent could never shine. Anxiously, Offen muttered, “Kid, having such talent in this place only leads to misery.”

In this city, which was like trash. In this damned city, filled with nothing but trash. Children with light are still born. And everyone in the city, not just Offen, knew what would become of those children. No matter how brilliant their talent, no one could leave this city. That was the rule.

So, ultimately, Najin, that unfortunate kid, too. Would slowly rot away in this city, losing his light. In other words, it meant dying. Being buried and rotting among the mountains of trash. Knowing this, Offen let out a long sigh.

Stomp.

Offen stomped roughly on the ground, erasing the traces of sword energy left behind. He thought he needed a drink, more than usual. Just as he was about to leave the spot, Offen suddenly looked up. He was reminded of a rumor he had heard during his days as a mercenary in the upper town. It was said that those with brilliant, star-reaching talents would always catch the attention of the stars, no matter where they were.

“......”

Instead of stars, the sky was studded with ores. Looking at the ceiling of the underground city, Offen let out a wry laugh. For a moment, he found himself amusing for even entertaining the thought of 'perhaps'.

“If it were that easy, then nobody would speak of it.”

It was nothing but a vain dream. Why would the constellations of the night sky care for a nobody from an underground city like this? After all, rumors were just rumors. Dreaming such dreams only added to one's misery.

“Hoo…”

With a sigh that seemed like resignation, Offen left the empty space, picking up an empty bottle of liquor.

[The Constellation, the Staff of Selection screams.]

[The Staff of Selection swears on its star to catch and punish that insolent brat!]

Unbeknownst to Najin, the constellations in the night sky were boiling over with obsession for him.

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