WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 156

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The Essence of 300 Years (6)

"Why did you become the Carnival's clown?" Bernstein’s voice lacked strength. Unlike before, even his anger had vanished. Anger, like fire, requires fuel to burn—and he had none left.

A full 150 years…

The time he had spent in anger surpassed the years he had lived normally. He was exhausted and no longer felt genuine rage but instead squeezed out emotions out of obligation—rage against his former idol.

“Why…?” Bernstein tried to reignite the ashes, but the embers could not last and flickered briefly before leaving only emptiness. “Did you want to live that badly? Was life so unbearable?”

“I had to live… no matter what,” Helmet Knight finally responded. “I had no other choice.”

“Why?”

Their exchange was not new. For 150 years in the Outland, Bernstein had hurled the same questions in anger, and Helmet Knight’s answers had always been evasive.

“I had to.”

“There was a reason.”

That time, Bernstein expected the same. Contrary to his assumptions, Helmet Knight seemed ready to answer.

The knight gestured to Najin, who silently nodded and stepped aside.

Bernstein’s eyes widened. Was he finally going to answer? Truly?

After 150 years of silence, why suddenly? Out of pity for Bernstein’s pitiful state? The humiliation stung, but he desperately wanted to hear the answer—even if born from sympathy.

Somehow, it seemed unrelated to him. Bernstein guessed that Najin, the boy, had stirred a change in Helmet Knight’s heart.

That was likely the case.

Helmet Knight remained silent until Najin was completely out of sight—until the distance ensured their voices would not carry.

Najin’s senses were sharp. Even at such a distance, he could have enhanced his hearing to eavesdrop, but he chose not to.

Everyone had secrets they wished to keep. He saw no need to pry into words unwillingly shared. Sitting on a nearby rock, he pondered Bernstein’s earlier remark.

‘Helmet Knight… a clown?’ He understood what a “clown” was—those defeated by the Carnival King, reduced to puppets—Helmet Knight had explained it himself.

“…” He absentmindedly stroked his chin. In the past, he might have pressed for answers or stubbornly stayed to eavesdrop.

Traveling with Helmet Knight had shifted his convictions. The rigid walls of his beliefs had cracked, allowing room for new perspectives.

The newfound flexibility troubled him.

Bernstein had accused Helmet Knight of abandoning honor and pride and of choosing survival over dying a hero. Once, Najin would have struggled to accept it, but he reconsidered.

He recalled those he’d met in the Outland: Sir Schlain—who chose duty over glory—hunters who clung to life out of fear of hell after death, and those like the Hornblower, who became beasts after refusing to relinquish pride.

As for Helmet Knight—what did he guard? What drove his choices? Reflecting on their first meeting, Najin muttered, “…A hunter.”

Had Najin not challenged him to a duel that day, he might have truly been hunted. Back then, Helmet Knight had genuinely hesitated to steal Najin’s star.

Why? In the Outland, stars were stolen for one reason: survival.

Helmet Knight desired survival—not mere existence, but a purpose achievable only through living. His goal was heavy enough to discard honor and pride.

“Tsk.” Najin clicked his tongue.

He could speculate, but he refused to judge the knight on assumptions. Shaking off his thoughts, he glanced sideways, where a familiar blue-haired figure lingered at the edge of his vision.

Merlin, the Great Constellation, clung to him more lately—as if emphasizing her role as guide, usurped by Helmet Knight.

–Hm?

Merlin’s eyes sparkled under Najin’s gaze, as if she’d been waiting.

–What? Something you want to ask?

Najin hadn’t planned to, but her expectant look demanded a response. ‘No, nothing important.’

–Come on! Even small things!

After a pause, Najin spoke—or rather, thought, as his lips remained sealed in reality. ‘Demons existed in your era, Merlin. Even long before that there were beings born with the world, like dragons and giants. As I recall, demons feed on the souls of sentient beings to grow stronger. Ancient demons aren’t powerful due to their concepts but because they’ve fattened themselves on souls over millennia.’

– Well-versed, aren’t you? Demons can never be independent. They parasitize concepts, others’ lives, the world itself.

Najin continued, ‘Does this logic apply to the Carnival King? A demon king who transcended her race’s limits—like humans surpassing their own.’

She was a demon king—a Transcendent with self-awareness, unlike mindless demons bound by their concepts.

Was even such a king is bound by this?

– No. A demon king is independent, but… it’s still the easiest path. Despite no longer needing to, they crave souls. It’s their essence.

‘So their method remains the same?’

Merlin nodded.

– Demons are demons. Even Transcendent constellations can’t fully shed their nature.

“So it’s a contract.”

A pact with a demon…

Time passed indistinctly.

When Helmet Knight called, Najin rose and returned.

Bernstein sat slumped on a rock, eyes vacant.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“My tale must have shocked him.” Helmet Knight shrugged.

Najin observed Bernstein, muttering incoherently. He seemed to need time, yet—

“…” Contrary to expectations, Bernstein soon lifted his head. The fervor in his eyes had dimmed but not extinguished—a smoldering flame ready to reignite.

“What you just told me…” He addressed Helmet Knight. “Is it all true?”

“If you doubt it, that’s on your end. I can’t prove it now.”

“…I see.” Bernstein clenched his jaw. “Then I retract nothing. To me, you remain a coward… A deserter who tarnished the empire’s name and abandoned your duty…”

He paused. “But… if your words are true, and your goal is achieved… I’ll retract everything and kneel and apologize. Willingly.”

“That is unnecessary. Your anger is justified, I am a cowardly deserter.”

“No.” Bernstein shook his head. “Don’t demean yourself. That attitude angers me more. Don’t seek my understanding or pity. I refuse to sink further into wretchedness.”

With that, he stood, retrieved his fallen sword, and turned to Najin.

“Anything else to say?” Najin asked.

“…” Pride made it difficult, but a knight’s courtesy prevailed. “Najin, was it?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t apologize to him yet… but I owe you one.”

Najin’s eyes widened as Bernstein bowed.

“Insulting a master before his student was uncalled for. I acted rashly. My apologies.”

“I… apologize for my arrogance,” Najin replied, bowing.

“You were arrogant… but you had the skill to back it up.” Bernstein chuckled, clapping his shoulder. “Impressive. Even at my full strength, victory wouldn’t have come easily. Seeing that swordsmanship again…”

He trailed off. When Najin wielded Helmet Knight’s style, Bernstein had felt rage born of inferiority and betrayal, yet another emotion surfaced.

“It was… nostalgic.” The swordsmanship reminded him of glorious days. “Master it well. That man… was once called the Empire’s Greatest Sword. Though few remember now…” Bernstein pointed to the chained sword at Helmet Knight’s waist. “That blade brought the Empire endless victories. It’s worth learning.”

He glanced at Helmet Knight, whose visor hid his gaze.

Bernstein smirked, as if seeing through him. “Your destination remains unchanged?”

“The same as 150 years ago.”

“Then I’ll see you there.”

“Can’t promise how long it’ll take.”

“After 150 years of wandering, a few more won’t matter.” Bernstein departed, walking with purpose.

Najin watched his retreating figure before speaking. “You were quite famous.”

“I had my moments.”

“An imperial hero, it seems.”

“Circumstances made it so.”

Najin eyed the chained sword. “It’s an honor to learn from an imperial hero’s blade.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Does it matter? If I proclaim it as the hero’s sword, it’ll become so.”

“What nonsense is that?”

“A hero’s sword is defined by its wielder. What’s special about it otherwise?”

Helmet Knight laughed. “That only works if you become the hero. Trust me—it’s exhausting.”

“But there’s glory, no?”

“Glory is all there is.”

“That’s enough.”

Helmet Knight laughed but Najin did not.

He shrugged and exhaled sharply before abruptly asking, “Did you make a contract with a demon?”

The casual conversation shattered, and Helmet Knight’s breath hitched.

Silence lingered—brief to others, eternal to warriors.

His silence was answer enough.

“With the Carnival King?” Najin pressed.

Helmet Knight smiled bitterly. “Your intuition is viciously sharp.”