WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 167

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The Battlefield of Stars (1)

The sky tore apart above the two Sword Masters. It wasn’t a metaphor—the sky literally split open. Beyond the torn sky, countless stars shone brightly.

Yuel and Kirchhoff were just the beginning.

The Carnival King was a constellation with ten stars, and in the Outland, she was considered the strongest after the Round Table. The moment such a constellation revealed her weakness, the hyenas wouldn’t miss their chance.

Flash!

Stars lit up as numerous constellations attempted to descend upon the land. Even constellations that would normally be too weak to attempt a descent stepped through the passage opened by the Thorned Martyr.

The Thorned Martyr, the patron deity of the Starblood Sect, had ascended to the heavens long ago, so she couldn’t descend. The process was too complex and time-consuming, but she had spent hundreds of years accumulating starlight through faith, and she used it to open a passage for the stars to pass through.

A justification for the stars to descend had appeared.

Under her beacon, the constellations gathered. Not all of them were heroes, nor did they all have noble intentions. Of course, there were a few heroes among them, but most were crows coveting the Carnival King’s stars.

That was fine.

The Thorned Martyr didn’t care about their motives. A thousand years ago, 300 years ago, and even presently, her purpose remained unchanged.

『Kill the demons.』

『Wipe out all the demons from this land.』

Killing demons… As long as that purpose aligned, it didn’t matter who you were. They were all comrades sharing a single goal.

Whoosh!

Dozens of constellations rose into the sky stained with the Carnival King’s paint, descending to kill her. As the massive beings descended, the space around them began to creak.

Dozens of constellations, led by the two Sword Masters…

The pressure they exuded was indescribable—a force capable of erasing an entire nation without a trace, and they pointed their blades at the Carnival King.

Dozens of spears, swords, bows, staves…

Amidst the dazzling array of weapons and shining stars, the Carnival King’s response was simple…

“Hahahaha!” She laughed a ridiculous, raucous laugh, like a clown. Tipping her head to the side, she raised both arms and clapped her hands together with a loud smack.

Silence fell.

The laughter stopped. The clowns’ performance ended. The voices of the constellations that had descended vanished, and even their breathing quieted. No one dared to break the unnatural silence.

Flutter.

In the silence, a giant curtain descended from the sky, separating the audience from the stage. The black veil covered the heavens.

Thud.

Right then, the connection between the stars in the sky and the constellations on the ground was severed. Cut off from their stars, they were no longer constellations—just humans with immense power. The constellations panicked at the sudden fall, and the Carnival King clapped her hands again.

Smack.

The performance resumed. The clowns began dancing again, laughing so hard it seemed the world would collapse. The laughter grew louder and more chaotic.

Flash.

The Carnival King’s star shone.

Flash, flash, flash…

Stars were embedded in the artificial night sky she had created—stars she had collected and who had chosen to live in her shadow. The clowns, who danced only for her, answered their master’s call.

To face the dozens of constellations, hundreds of clowns set foot on the ground.

Leading them was the Star of Scorn, Quixote. Shattering the weakened boundaries of the forbidden zone, he appeared with Bernstein’s head impaled on his spear.

Even as his body burned in the flames Bernstein had unleashed in exchange for his life, Quixote didn’t stop laughing.

“Let’s go, Sancho.” Quixote charged, his spear gleaming.

Hundreds of clowns followed him.

Bound to the Carnival King, they too were not free from the nature of the forbidden zone. Even as their souls and bodies eroded, they charged forward.

To protect their master, their lady, their princess, their queen, their lord, their knight, their lover, their captain, their wife, their child, their belief—they willingly walked into the jaws of death.

To the clowns, the Carnival King was everything. To them, she was the most precious being, worth sacrificing even their lives for. Brainwashed, they willingly burned their lives at her slightest gesture.

“Hahahaha!” The Carnival King laughed and laughed. As if amused by the clowns sacrificing themselves for her, as if their pitiful state delighted her, she spared no ridicule for them.

For them, it was the highest praise.

Nourished by their master’s mockery, the clowns marched.

Originally, the Carnival King never left her domain. She operated behind the scenes and the curtains of the stage.

In that moment, she’d chosen to step onto the stage and reveal her weakness, putting her at a disadvantage.

Countless constellations, like moths to a flame, rushed to exploit her weakness… but they had overlooked something.

Even weakened and with her weakness exposed, the Carnival King was still the Carnival King. The fact that she was a constellation with ten stars hadn’t changed.

Hahahaha!

The laughter didn’t stop, and the clowns’ march didn’t cease. Though they were swept away by the attacks of the Transcendents, they rose again and charged at them.

The clowns were already close to being the Forgotten Ones, and you can’t kill someone who’s already dead.

Drinking in the Carnival King’s starlight, the clowns revived again and again, mocking the constellations.

‘If you think you can overwhelm us with numbers, you’re fools.’

From the moment the black curtain descended, the stage had been set with the Carnival King as the lead.

In the play, the countless constellations were mere supporting characters. Even if dozens of supporting characters gathered, they couldn’t compare to a single line of the protagonist’s dialogue or monologue.

“Kill her!”

“No, focus on this side first…”

“We need to remove the curtain in the sky!”

“Damn it, I told you to target her first! If she’s alive, she’ll just keep…”

“Ah, seriously!”

“Everyone, move aside! I am fire, I will burn the battlefield…”

“Ahhhhh!”

“Quixote, it’s Quixote! Damn it, the Star of Scorn!”

“Isn’t she supposed to be weakened?”

“If she’s weakened, then why does she…”

“Ah, ahhh!”

“Where’s the great warrior of the Starblood Sect? We need to stick with them…”

“My head, my head? Ah?” “Damn it, we’re being overrun! Over here, over here!”

They weren’t even supporting characters—they were extras, mere props decorating the stage. The cries of the constellations were reduced to mere noise.

Perhaps, they might have uttered more noble and dignified lines, but extras exist only to highlight the lead. On the Carnival King’s stage, their lines were distorted and echoed meaninglessly.

“I will open the path. Follow me,” a constellation said. “Run, run! Damn it, I told you we couldn’t win!” The voice that came out carried a completely different meaning.

The constellations couldn’t tell what was true and what was false. With dozens of individuals acting independently, the advantage of numbers was meaningless.

“I hit her!”

“Huh?”

“But why…”

“Wait, did it really work? The star is rising again…”

“Crazy.”

“Damn it, I told you that wouldn’t work!”

Even if their attacks managed to reach the Carnival King, she simply sacrificed one of her stars to them. If she gave one away, she had hundreds to spare; she could just replace them.

A lead character never died at the hands of an extra, so their blades could never deal a fatal blow to her.

“…”

But not everyone was like that.

There were constellations who hadn’t been reduced to extras. Unlike the opportunists who had descended to target the Carnival King’s stars, these beings had a firm purpose for joining the battlefield.

They had a reason for why the Carnival King had to die.

These beings silently cleared the clowns, creating a path to the Carnival King. They were more than extras—they were supporting characters.

Following that path, figures who could become the leads of the stage began to run.

The Heaven-Slaying Star, Yuel Razian.

The ■■ Star, Kirchhoff.

Their stars weren’t obscured by the Carnival King’s black curtain. Without losing their light, they swept through the clowns as they charged. Kirchhoff stomped the ground hard, his eyes wide open; a blue sword aura surged on his blade.

Swoosh.

The moment he swung his sword, the sky silently tore apart.

A portion of the black curtain the Carnival King had draped was cut away, and the stars hidden behind it once again illuminated the land.

As the constellations, reconnected to their stars, ran wild, Kirchhoff continued to swing his sword.

With each swing, the battlefield was dyed blue. His Sword Aura resembled blue petals. Blue flowers bloomed across the battlefield.

Amid the blooming flowers, Kirchhoff shouted, “Look at me, Carnival King!”

At the tip of his sword bloomed a blue flower—the national flower of Londinel. “Londinel still stands here. Londinel has not been forgotten. In my blade, Londinel lives and breathes.”

The Carnival King couldn’t distort those words because he had the right.

Her gaze turned to Kirchhoff and Yuel Razian, who was rampaging beside him.

Six stars, and one star… In terms of the number of stars, Yuel and Kirchhoff weren’t particularly impressive constellations, but stars didn’t always represent absolute strength.

Of course, the more stars a constellation had, the stronger they were, and constellations with many stars could wield many authorities, giving them an advantage in battle, but battles were always relative.

There were many strong beings in the world who defied the number of stars. Kirchhoff was one; Yuel Razian was another, as were Karan, Gerd, and most of the heroes known as constellations.

Screeeeech!

A sword cry resembling a human scream drowned out the laughter of the clowns and even the Carnival King’s laughter. A Sword Aura traversed the battlefield and grazed the Carnival King’s mask.

Crack.

A piece of the mask fell off. Beneath the fallen piece, the Carnival King wasn’t smiling.

Sitting on the ground, Najin blankly watched the battlefield. It wasn’t that his will had been broken—it was just that there was nothing he could do now.

A battlefield of stars, a battlefield of Transcendents…

On that stage, Najin, who hadn’t yet reached their level, wasn’t even a supporting character, let alone the lead. He wasn’t even a prop decorating the stage. He was merely an audience member.

He couldn’t step onto their stage and could only helplessly be a member of the audience.

The rage that had turned his mind white subsided. All that remained were ashes. A hollow laugh escaped his lips. He didn’t know if he was laughing or crying.

His teacher had been insulted; his final moments had been defiled. Even though the cause of it all was right in front of him, there was nothing he could do.

Grind.

He gritted his teeth. His head bowed, his tightly-clenched fist trembled.

- …

Merlin looked down at him.

Biting her lip as she watched the boy sitting on the ground, she shared the emotions he was feeling. She wanted to descend right then, rip off the clown’s head, and place it before Najin… but she knew that wouldn’t be the right answer.

- Najin…

Merlin called his name.

Najin slowly raised his head. Merlin bent down, meeting his eyes, and reached out her hand.

- Stand up.

‘There’s nothing you can do, but you can’t stay sitting here.’

- Plan for the future, find something you can do here, and do whatever you want.

- I’ll help you.

Najin opened and closed his mouth repeatedly.

Then, suddenly, his gaze fell on Aldaran, kneeling beside the Carnival King. The Carnival King was gripping Aldaran’s helmet, whispering something into his ear.

Najin didn’t know what she was whispering. He didn’t understand the meaning of her actions. Even in that urgent situation, the Carnival King, protected by Quixote, didn’t stop whispering into Aldaran’s ear.

He found what he had to do and slowly stood up.

‘Merlin…’

- Yes, tell me.

‘Did you see where my sword fell?’

Merlin nodded. She pointed in a direction.

Najin staggered in that direction; then he grabbed the sword he had dropped.

- …

She realized what Najin was planning to do. She closed her eyes tightly, then let out a long sigh.

- You’re going to do it?

‘Yes.’

- Can you see?

‘Not very well.’

- That’s to be expected.

‘Can you guide me?’

- Of course, that’s the guide’s role.

She wrapped her hand around Najin’s sword-holding hand. Acting as Najin’s eyes, she pointed the sword in the direction it needed to be swung.

Najin slowly raised the sword. His wounds tore open, and blood gushed out like a flood. His complexion turned pale, but he didn’t stop.

He gripped the sword and took a stance.

With his blurred vision, he didn’t see reality—he saw his inner self, the direction Merlin was pointing.

What he envisioned was the First Horn of the Empire, Aldaran Vasaglia.

Amid the stars of the Transcendents filling the night sky, Najin’s star shone. Though few in number, his constellation shone brightly, not inferior to them.

For a moment, the gazes of the constellations and clowns turned to Najin.

Even the Carnival King stopped whispering into Aldaran’s helmet and looked at him.

The insignificant boy’s starlight drew their attention. They saw it—a boy who hadn’t reached transcendence, imitating transcendence.

The First Sword, a sword raised high enough to pierce the heavens…

Triumph.

Najin swung down the sword, shining pure white.