WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 143

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The Holy Fire Guard Knights (4)

Two stars shone brightly at the top of the fortress.

Najin's star was new and had risen not long ago. His star, unblemished by the passage of time, radiated a pure, white light.

In contrast, Schlain's star was an old and worn relic—a star so eroded that it could no longer shine like a new star.

If a celestial body with its own light could be called a star, then what Schlain possessed could no longer be categorized as such, but if one defined a star simply as something that shone…

Then it was undoubtedly a star.

Schlain absorbed the light from Najin’s star. If he could no longer shine on his own, then borrowing someone else’s brilliance would suffice. After all, even a worn and crumbling star could reflect light.

Thus, the two stars illuminated the night.

Schlain raised his sword horizontally to the side of his head. He bent his knees, controlling his breath. The technique was what he excelled in most and had cleaved through countless foes. In other words, it was the best that he had to offer.

The best had to be met with the best.

Najin willingly took his own stance.

Schlain couldn’t help but laugh. "Atanga, is it?!" he shouted. He couldn’t resist. Atanga—the name was so nostalgic. A grin crept onto his lips. Could it truly be? Atanga? To think his final opponent, the one to mark the end of his life as a ruined knight, would be so worthy!

Then Najin stretched his right foot forward. The stance was not that of a blade meant to punish knights but a pose made with the intent to face a rival.

Schlain could no longer bring himself to laugh.

Indeed, to that extent…

The two locked eyes. No signals or words were needed. Almost simultaneously, the two warriors launched themselves forward, the ground beneath them cracking.

In an instant, the gap closed, their gazes fixed solely on the swords they held.

Both Najin and Schlain were Sword Seekers, but their levels were not the same.

Schlain's instinct-driven swordsmanship might have been inferior to Najin’s, but the willpower with which he wielded his blade was by no means lacking. He had already gone through Sprouting, the stage preceding mastery.

Sprouting—the bud breaking through.

If a Sword Master used their Imagery to color their surroundings and create a domain, then a Sword Seeker imbued their Sword Aura with their Imagery.

What could a warrior who had stepped beyond Sprouting achieve? Schlain demonstrated it: his Sword Aura roared to life, his aura mimicked the holy fire, an eternal flame burning in his Imagery.

Capturing that vision within his Sword Aura, Schlain carved a trajectory with his blade, bathing the world red. Though his Sword Aura was merely an imitation of form, each swing produced the crackling sound of flames igniting. Wherever his sword passed, starfire ignited, burning bright.

While he could not dye the entire area with his Imagery like a Sword Master, he could plant his Imagery in the wake of his sword—such was the realm of a warrior who had gone through Sprouting.

Though it had not yet sprouted or fully bloomed, the Imagery took root in the world. The flames burning there were a vision he clung to, even as he eroded.

"I don’t know either. Why do I guard it?" His voice echoed in his ears. "It’s not even a sacred flame. There’s no star imbued within… It’s just ordinary fire."

Then why guard it?

"Still, people believe it to be the holy fire." It was the pride of the Holy Fire Guard Knights. Schlain reflected on those words, spoken over drinks long ago, and swung his sword.

The fire he had protected for over 200 years swept through the top of the fortress. The blazing fire consumed everything—the corpses littering the area, the stench of decay, and even the altar holding the fire.

Through it all, there was one thing the flames could not devour…

Hssssshhh!

A glimmering star appeared, cleaving through the oncoming waves of flame. Cutting through the fiery tide, it advanced toward Schlain.

‘Yes, that’s how it should be.’ Schlain swung his sword once more, as if he had anticipated the result.

"Come!" he roared, drunk on past glory. He swung his sword, recalling the pride he had forgotten. In that moment, as the holy fire surged along his blade, he could still call himself a knight.

Of course, he knew that he was no longer a knight and that it was nothing more than a fleeting dream, one that would not last the night.

Soon, the dream would end, and he would awake to a harsh reality, but so what? For the first time in 200 years, he felt liberated. He didn’t want this trivial emotion to intrude on that feeling.

"Ah…" Schlain groaned. It was coming. Piercing through the fire, reality was drawing near.

Najin burst forth, his body scorched, but his youthful eyes remained clear.

Clang!

Stars and fire clashed, scattering. Through the dissipating aura, their blades collided. In that instant, Najin’s eyes widened in shock—half of Schlain’s body was burning away.

It was the first time he had seen Imagery harm its creator.

‘Why?’ He found his answer soon enough.

Schlain’s vision of the holy fire was one that burned the corrupt, and he himself was no exception—the parts of him that had become a Forgotten One were burning away, lightening his body.

Though Najin was bewildered, Schlain paid him no mind, pressing his attack with relentless swings.

Blades clashed; Sword Aura collided with violent resistance.

They exchanged countless blows. Najin met Schlain’s strikes with incredulity, yet instead of simply defending, Najin retaliated.

"I don’t accept victories by default," he commented.

"Is that so?"

"My blade will strike you faster than your flames will consume you." Before Schlain’s body burned completely, Najin would end the fight. Time was on his side, but such a petty victory held no interest for him. He pressed Schlain with greater vigor.

Though his control over Sword Aura was inferior, that alone wasn’t enough to put him at a disadvantage.

Indeed, shortcomings could be compensated for. With what, though? It’s simple: split-second judgment, technique, and Atanga Swordsmanship. With every swing, Najin advanced. Pushing through the flames, he pressed forward.

Clang!

His sword deflected Schlain’s. Breaking the man’s technique in a direct clash, he took one more step forward, bringing an end to the relentless exchange.

Shhk.

Najin’s sword cut through his opponent.

Clatter.

Schlain’s sword fell to the ground.

He ran his hand over the wound stretching from his shoulder to his heart, and his body began to erode rapidly.

However, it wasn’t the same as becoming a Forgotten One. What approached him was death—an eternal end, with his body crumbling into dust. It was a rest that he could never have claimed without the intervention of another star.

Standing before this encroaching death, Schlain exhaled deeply. It was time to wake from the dream. No longer seeing through the eyes of a burning corpse, but as a man, he gazed at the world around him.

What he saw was the reality he had long avoided.

Though the waves of fire had swept through, the fortress was still filled with bodies not reduced to ash; the stench of corpses with missing hearts lingered thick in the air—all the result of Schlain's own deeds.

Awake from his dream, Schlain groaned. Before him lay irrefutable evidence—there was no way to excuse it; no words to justify it—the price of indulging in his fleeting dream was heavy.

Confronting the reality he could no longer ignore, he was in anguish.

Yet, for that very reason… he could make a choice.

He looked at Najin.

Najin, in turn, met his gaze.

Though wracked with pain, Schlain’s expression carried unmistakable relief. "Thank you," his voice broke the silence, "for allowing me to make the choice I’d long postponed."

He reached for the sword he had dropped and took it in hand; then, he brought the blade to the flames consuming his body. As the holy fire engulfed the sword, Schlain leaped from the top of the fortress.

Najin followed him down.

Below, the ground was littered with the Forgotten Ones who had been defeated by Helmet Knight. Many still clawed toward the knight, refusing to relent, but the moment Schlain stood before them, the Forgotten Ones stopped in their tracks.

They turned their attention to the sword in Schlain's hand.

When faced with the holy fire burning on Schlain’s sword, they were no longer Forgotten Ones—they were knights.

Clank!

The rusted armor covering their bodies groaned as they shifted, standing upright to form ranks before Schlain.

Helmet Knight, who had been fending them off, lowered his spear. For a brief moment, his gaze met Schlain’s.

Schlain widened his eyes; then let out a bitter laugh. "We are the Holy Fire Guard Knights," he shouted. "We are knights who guard the Holy Fire, burning together with its flames."

Schlain finally made the choice he had deferred for centuries. Unwilling to part with his comrades, he had put off placing a period at the end of their journey, but he was finally ready to write that ending.

"Let us go forward together."

It was time to release them and perhaps release himself as well.

Schlain mustered the last of his strength, swinging his sword. The holy fire erupted from the blade, consuming the knights. The fire burned through their bodies, growing ever more intense. The holy fire was no longer atop the fortress. It burned right there, before their eyes.

Perhaps it had nothing to do with stars at all. It might have been nothing more than an ordinary flame, one that could be extinguished at any moment. It may not have been sacred in the slightest…

But that didn’t matter—what mattered was that those gathered there regarded it as the holy fire.

The knights accepted the flames without hesitation and offered their bodies as fuel to keep the fire burning one last time. As the flames consumed the starlight remaining in their bodies, white platinum sparks erupted from the blaze. The fire they kindled in their final moments was, without a doubt, the holy fire.

Najin and Helmet Knight watched silently as the knights turned to ash.

Such was the end of the Holy Fire Guard Knights.

Though their lives might not have always been noble, the flames they kindled in their last moments were nothing short of beautiful.

Schlain’s body burned fiercely to the end, crumbling into silence. Among the ashes, only one thing remained: the sword he had held all his life.

"…"

Helmet Knight stepped forward and retrieved the sword from the ashes; then, he planted it into the ground, blade-first, as if marking a grave. With a brief, solemn bow before the makeshift Sword Grave , Helmet Knight let out a heavy sigh.

"In the Outland, people consume people." His voice broke the silence in a continuation of the conversation they’d had before reaching the fortress. "To survive, people eat the hearts of other people. Some say that honor and pride must come before survival, but in the Outland, you must survive first to protect those things."

Helmet Knight turned to Najin. "Here, death offers no rest. To avoid becoming a Forgotten One, you must hold your life dear."

"If losing your heart brings eternal death, isn’t that a kind of rest?"

"Partially." He began to move, searching through the fortress as he continued. "The more stars a person has, the higher their level, and the more monstrous they become. Even if their heart and stars are taken, they’ll keep moving until all the starlight in their body is extinguished. They’ll turn into beasts that seek only starlight, and if they’re lucky enough to consume more starlight, their existence is prolonged further."

Was that truly life?

Devoid of self, they became wandering husks chasing only starlight. Najin recalled seeing Forgotten Ones who seemed to move even after losing their hearts.

"So, if you meet one of those creatures still moving without a heart, you should assume it was once a powerful individual. Likely someone who reached great heights in life."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed. Schlain was no different. That man once possessed four stars. Though he’s weaker now, he was once a formidable knight. That’s why he couldn’t even choose to end his own life."

Schlain could not die by his own hand. Even if he pierced his heart, he would only become a Forgotten One.

"Ultimately, he chose to survive. If he had also turned into a Forgotten One, the entirety of the Holy Fire Guard Knights would have become Forgotten Ones too. He couldn’t bear to witness that."

"So he…"

"Yes. He hunted humans. He cast aside his honor and pride to protect the pride of his knights. Foolishness, really. The moment their captain made that choice, they became little more than a band of Forgotten Ones."

Helmet Knight rummaged through the fortress. Eventually, he found what he was searching for and reached out. "What do you think of that choice? Was it right? Wrong? Worthy of condemnation? Was Schlain a sinner?"

"…" Najin remained silent. To be honest, he wasn’t sure. Schlain undoubtedly committed acts deserving of reproach, but dividing everything into black and white felt impossible. At least, that was how he saw it.

"You don’t need to find an answer. Just remember that such people exist in the Outland. Observe as much as you can, experience as much as possible, and wrestle with these dilemmas. That is the path to transcendence."

Helmet Knight gave a faint smile, patting Najin on the back; then, he retrieved something from a chest within the fortress: a flag, the banner of the Holy Fire Guard Knights.

Unfurling it, Helmet Knight said, "Still, thanks to you, Schlain was able to die. In his final moments, he made a choice as a knight."

"Because of me?"

"A white star… Only an unblemished, radiant star can gift a tarnished one the grace of death—a glorious death. The reason may be unknown, but that’s how it is."

Though Helmet Knight claimed ignorance, Najin had someone at his side who understood the truth.

- Stars symbolize order.

Merlin’s voice echoed.

- They resist everything that defies the natural flow—be it Mystique, demons, witches, or the Forgotten Ones who linger against their natural end. Only pure stars can grant true death to the Forgotten Ones.

She added,

- Stars take on the color of their bearers. Just as demons and witches can wield stars, the stars adapt to their owners. That’s when they lose their purity.

When their purity faded, stars no longer resisted the unnatural and instead became tools to impose their wielder's will.

- My star is the same. Most stars are. No matter how pure they start, they erode over time or their bearer's ego grows, distancing them from the star’s essence.

There was one exception: Arthur had retained the purity of his thirteen stars. Whether Najin could do the same was uncertain. For now, as a newly risen star, Najin’s light remained pure.

"It’s paradoxical, isn’t it?" Helmet Knight mused. "A star erodes, becomes tarnished, and longs for death, but it’s precisely because they’ve lost their brilliance that they can no longer die on their own. For an untainted death, a pure star’s light is required."

He turned to Najin. "When I first saw you, I wondered if it was possible. Now, I see your star still holds its purity… Likely because you’ve only just acquired it. I hope you can preserve that purity for a long time. In the Outland, there’s nothing more valuable."

With those words, Helmet Knight knelt before the banner of the Holy Fire Guard Knights. Bowing his head slightly, he spoke with a heavy tone. "Holy Fire Guard Knights, protectors of the holy fire and the land of Lohast… To the very end, they upheld their duty."

It was a eulogy for the Holy Fire Guard Knights.

"They failed to protect their land, but they never turned away from their responsibilities. They ventured into the Outland—not because they could not retreat, but because they chose to move forward… In order to fight eternally. In order to fulfill their duty."

Helmet Knight recited the names recorded in the banner’s registry: Crenkel, Callias, Torres, Selace, Schultz, Ubel, Carlsen… and Schlain.

"In their final moments, they were knights. May they rest in peace.” With that, Helmet Knight draped the Holy Fire Guard Knights’ banner over his body.

Only then did Najin notice that the tattered cloth the knight wore were not rags at all—what had seemed like scraps were all banners.

Countless banners adorned his body, and the Holy Fire Guard Knights’ banner had joined them. Rising to his feet, the Helmet Knight adjusted the flags draped over him.

He turned to Najin, banners fluttering in the wind.

"Let us move on." It was unclear whether he was speaking to Najin or to the banners. Perhaps, it was both.

The flags, bereft of their original bearers, had found a new purpose. Tied to Helmet Knight’s body, they continued their journey.