WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 164

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The First Horn, Aldaran Vasaglia (4)

The First Horn, Triumph.

The Empire’s First Sword, Aldaran Vasaglia, brought down his blade.

Raised high as if to pierce the sky, the sword fell toward the earth without Sword Aura, any Imagery, or any sort of magical element. It was a purely physical swing.

Countless swordsmen and mages relied on magical means to break free from the laws of the world and surpass the limits of the flesh. Sword aura, mana, magic…

There, one swordsman seemed to ask, “Why do you need all that? A swordsman only needs a single sword.”

Originally, “Sword Master” referred to those who surpassed their limits with the single blade given to them. If so, shouldn’t one be able to transcend physical limits without relying on Sword Aura?

Aldaran Vasaglia answered that question through his actions.

“Of course. It’s obvious.” Making it a reality, he showed it to the world.

Triumph… The technique held no complicated theory. There was no hidden truth piercing the nature of the world, and the blade’s trajectory was as simple as it got.

It was just a straightforward strike from above, descending downward.

Straight and true, that was the value Aldaran Vasaglia revered. A knight had to always be righteous and direct; a hero of the Empire had to always win in an upright manner. That was the guiding principle Aldaran upheld throughout his life.

He proved that principle through his sword.

With each fraction the sword moved, the air quivered.

As though compressed by an overwhelming mass, the space around the blade distorted. Pressed down and twisted, space hit a breaking point and shattered.

Like splintering glass, it crackled apart.

Following the sword’s path, the landscape fractured. Pulling the fragments of space along, the blade reached the ground.

Tchuk.

The earth split.

Aldaran’s feet remained planted on the ground as he swung downward, but that single blow tore through the clouds above and cut all the way beneath the earth, and Sword Aura burst forth from the tip of his blade.

Rather than being born of mana, it was a tempest created solely by the sword’s force, a phenomenon born from piecing fragmented space back together. It was more like raw devastation than a normal Sword Aura.

Kwa-ga-ga-ga-ga-gak!

Aldaran’s power surged and crushed everything in its path. Like a ship’s bow smashing through an iceberg to forge ahead, it advanced straight forward with unstoppable momentum.

Najin witnessed it all with his own eyes.

It was a single strike without the middle step, leaving only cause and effect. Watching the blow approach—shattering space like a glass pane—Najin thought, in spite of himself, that it was beautiful.

The strike couldn’t be more exquisite.

He wished he could simply watch in awe, but of course he couldn’t. The blow was aimed at him.

In that instant, he stopped consciously thinking and let his instincts take over. Before his mind could react, his body moved, spurred by every warning bell going off.

He couldn’t evade it, he couldn’t deflect it; he couldn’t fully block it. All he could do was minimize the damage.

By reflex, he chose which part he would sacrifice.

Tik.

The moment his Sword Aura met Aldaran’s, time seemed to stretch.

He watched as the collision point ruptured space with a sharp “tchuk”, and fractures spread into his own Sword Aura. Anything that strike touched was annihilated as it forged forward regardless.

When a Transcendent being swung their blade, a certain law took hold, and mere mortals could not resist it. Countless futures streaked through Najin’s mind: images of his body ripped apart.

Ordinarily, that wouldn’t be the future but reality itself. Aldaran was rejecting the use of Sword Aura, he wasn’t in a flawless state, and there was no Imagery behind that strike.

That gave Najin room to fight back, and he knew how to escape that grim future.

It wasn’t because he’d just discovered an insight, nor because he’d deduced an answer with his eyes, but because he’d been taught.

While instructing him, Aldaran had explained his secret move and how to counter it—almost as if he expected a day would come when his own disciple faced him.

Recalling that lesson, Najin moved.

“Don’t try to block it. You can’t. Don’t try to dodge it. You can’t. Deflecting it? If that were possible, the Carnival King’s heart wouldn’t have been cut down.

“Give something up. Choose the part that’s least important.

“Use the impact, the recoil, in reverse. Sacrifice something, throw yourself into the backlash, and escape the strike’s range.

“That clown, Quixote, used that method. Even so, he lost an eye and his mount. Now I’m far weaker than I was back then, so you can likely break my strike in the same way.”

Aldaran had spoken with a laugh, calling it “easy,” but Najin, tasting the Triumph Sword’s secret firsthand, found nothing amusing about it.

‘Damn this master, what’s so easy about this?’

His sword shook. His Sword Aura split. Bones in his left arm began to break apart. He made a choice of what to sacrifice and what to protect. Offering up his left arm, he found a brief opening to hurl himself aside.

The recoil, gale, and shockwave passed over him.

As he threw himself into that chaos, Najin’s body cried out. Bones snapped, flesh tore, blood splattered. Inwardly, he cursed his master for teaching such a “defense”.

Engulfed by the aftermath, he was thrown skyward.

Tchuk.

The last thing he saw was the world splitting in two. The clouds in the sky had been cleft asunder, the ground gashed in a perfect line. He kept his eyes on the Sword Aura as it shot far into the distance.

Seizing all of that, he plummeted.

Thud. Thud! A jarring impact rattled his body as he drifted in and out of consciousness. His spinning vision suggested he’d been blasted high; then crashed down without bracing himself properly and was bouncing across the ground.

His sight kept blinking in and out. In that short time, cycling through fainting and revival, he barely managed to remain aware.

He still had his sword. Even after all that, he hadn’t let go. At least that was something. The problem was that the arm and hand gripping that sword were bent at a grotesque angle.

Chwaaak!

In the chaos, he stabbed the sword into the ground and skidded to a halt. Having at last stopped, he exhaled a breath he’d been holding. Blood poured out with that breath. It wasn’t just blood—he felt like bits of things that shouldn’t have come out were being coughed up too.

“Ugh… kuhk…” Letting the air out was possible, but drawing it back in was no easy task.

After spewing out the blood clogging his throat, he finally breathed. Each inhalation sent pain lancing through his lungs.

Excalibur’s healing power worked on him, but in doing so, it restored his shattered nerves before fixing the rest, magnifying his pain.

That very pain snapped him fully awake; he regained all sensation, including what had been numb.

Gritting his teeth, he raised his right hand and clamped it onto his half-severed left shoulder. Lightning flashed in his vision. The pain nearly knocked him out again, but he forced Excalibur’s healing to focus there.

“Haa…” He let out a long breath and twisted his mouth into a grin. Though that grin trembled, he didn’t hide it.

There were two reasons for that faint smile: first, because he felt he could finally understand the Triumph Sword’s ultimate move. Second…

“…” Najin looked ahead.

The dust and debris kicked up by the blow gradually settled. As the force unleashed by Aldaran’s secret technique ebbed away, his figure emerged, eyes locked on Najin.

Aldaran did not charge and did not swing his sword at Najin.

He merely waited for the dust to clear and for his fallen opponent to stand. As if to say a truly splendid duel demanded nothing less and insist it should not end until both had given their all.

Seeing that, Najin couldn’t help but smile.

Even having lost his memory, a knight was still a knight.

Moved by a certain awe, he rose slowly. Though he staggered, he managed to plant both feet firmly on the ground and lift his sword.

Only then did Aldaran raise his sword as well.

“Hoo.” Najin exhaled, his breathing calming.

‘He is unbelievably strong. Outrageously strong.’

Even without Sword Aura, his body half-eroded to the point of collapse, Aldaran Vasaglia remained the mightiest foe Najin had ever faced.

He had poured everything out just to reach the edge of Aldaran’s toes. If he used Excalibur, perhaps he could narrow the gap further, but aside from any consequences, Excalibur was not fit for that duel.

Najin still couldn’t control that sword. He didn’t wield Excalibur; it wielded him.

“A swordsman is someone who swings a sword.”

“You must not be ruled by your weapon or its aura, you must wield the sword with conviction.”

That was what Aldaran had told Najin while training him—don’t let yourself be controlled. If you are, how could it be called your power?

Najin stood by that; it was his final pride.

‘Unfortunate.’ Najin felt regret. He wanted to face Aldaran under the exact same conditions and achieve a true victory in their duel.

He wanted to wholly surpass his master and give him the perfect final moment he deserved, but he was too weak for that. Much too weak. He needed to push his Sword Aura, mana, and starlight to the limit just to clash blades with Aldaran. It left a bitter taste.

Yet…

Precisely because of that…

‘I must win. No matter what.’

Najin desperately recalled the Triumph Sword’s ultimate form Aldaran had just displayed. It was the first time he’d seen it in its complete state but not the first time overall.

While Helmet Knight—robbed of his memory of self—had tried over and over to recall that technique, Najin had watched him struggle, attempting to reproduce what he’d forgotten.

He vividly remembered those desperate gestures.

At last, when Helmet Knight recalled himself, rose again to transcendence, and became Aldaran Vasaglia, he saw exactly how Aldaran’s sword changed and how the missing pieces fell into place.

Kuuuk.

Thinking of all that, Najin gripped his sword.

Exhaling slowly, he raised it.

His talent for copying what he’d seen once or twice didn’t help with Aldaran’s secret technique. Even though he understood it in theory, he couldn’t reproduce it. He still hadn’t reached transcendence.

Between him and a Transcendent, there was a gap he could not close.

Just because he couldn’t fill that gap didn’t mean he’d give up.

As always, Najin took what he had and forced it to bridge the distance. Gazing up at the star shining above, he stretched out his hand once more.

Tak.

Like Aldaran, he stepped forward. Like Aldaran, he lifted his sword toward the sky. Of course, he couldn’t split space or conjure a storm simply by swinging a blade the way Aldaran did.

Flash.

Instead, he had his own Sword Aura.

A constellation’s power coiled around Najin’s sword. Following Aldaran’s teaching, he wrapped the blade in aura. Compressed to its limit, it distorted the air. High above, Najin’s star gleamed, amplifying his Sword Aura.

Sword Aura, mana, starlight—

Najin poured everything he had into recreating Aldaran Vasaglia’s technique. Responding to that, Aldaran shifted into position once more.

Splurt.

Blood poured from Najin’s every movement. His wounds kept bleeding, yet his stance never wavered. He was determined to transcend his limits there and then.

Pashhh…

Each time Aldaran moved, pieces of his body flaked off into dust. The moment he unleashed that Triumph Sword’s secret move, his body had already reached its limit, but his spirit had not. Driving his body beyond its breaking point, he pushed forward past the end.

They stared at each other. Master and disciple locked eyes, their blades glowing.

The Fallen Star and the Rising Star both shone.

The First Horn…

Neither moved first.

Triumph…

Almost simultaneously, both swung their swords.

Aldaran Vasaglia, as always, set an example. He was ever a model knight and a hero. Those who followed him ran the path he opened. Once again, he merely fulfilled that role.

His eight shattered stars glimmered.

Najin, as always, learned by observing those who advanced before him and through walking in the footsteps of the heroes who once traversed the world, glimpsing their lives and mastering their skills so he might surpass them someday.

His three stars and the fourth star that was awakening glimmered.

Najin; Aldaran Vasaglia—both swung their blades.

The same stance, the same stride, the same breath, perfectly identical arcs. The outcome might differ, but the form was in perfect unison.

For the Rising Star, the One-Horned Star shines.

For the Fallen Star, the Star of Dawn gleams.