WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 187

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Who Am I? (3)

Evil Dragon Ladon’s colossal bulk overshadowed the entire Kassel Kingdom. Saying it was merely “huge” didn’t even begin to capture its size. It blotted out the sun, blocked the blue sky, and ultimately covered the entire nation beneath it.

As that shadow darkened the world above him, Najin began drawing his sword, only to stop partway. Even if he unsheathed it, then what? He simply had no idea how to proceed. He’d faced powerful foes many times before, but that dragon was on a different—no, literally another dimension of scale.

A giant dragon that could single-handedly cast a kingdom into darkness… How could one possibly fight such a thing? Where would you even start slashing? Momentarily overwhelmed, he stood awkwardly frozen.

Merlin, beside him, tilted her head. “That’s odd.” She pointed skyward. “Ladon the Dragon? It shouldn’t be that big. From what I remember, he was nowhere near half that size, or even a quarter that size…”

“Well, thanks for telling me, but… Merlin?”

“Yeah?” Merlin blinked, looking entirely too calm.

In Najin’s opinion, it was hardly the time for a relaxed chat. He grabbed her arm. “Explanations can wait. We need to get out of here first.”

She’d already mentioned that, even if it was the dream of a constellation, dying there meant truly dying. Thus, they were in mortal peril. If that dragon breathed fire, or, worse, simply flattened them with its overwhelming mass…

‘We die right here.’ Until they figured out some way to combat it, running away was the only option.

Hoisting Merlin to her feet, Najin hurried her along. “Let’s go. Now.”

“Huh? Uh, o-okay. You’re holding my hand?”

“We’ve gotta move fast. Can you run? If not, I’ll carry you.”

“I… I can run, but not nearly as fas—”

Najin slung Merlin onto his back.

“Kyaaa!” She let out a startled shriek, then quickly clapped a hand over her own mouth.

Najin’s eyes darted left and right. “Hang on tight. We should head for the temple of the constellation.”

“R-right…” Merlin looped her arms carefully around Najin’s neck.

He prepared to sprint but then abruptly paused to look around. Something felt off—it wasn’t complicated, just… too peaceful. He was the only one panicking over the dragon’s sudden appearance—the only one poised to run for safety. The citizens merely glanced skyward and—as though seeing nothing noteworthy—returned to their business.

They acted as if it were an everyday occurrence.

“What’s this about? What’s with them?”

“What do you think you’re doing in broad daylight…?”

“They’re young. Let them have their fun.”

Far from panicked, the townsfolk cast curious or exasperated looks at Najin and Merlin.

‘What in the…?’ Najin furrowed his brow. How could they remain so unperturbed when a dragon of that magnitude loomed overhead? Was it because it was all a dream, a mere reflection of Viola Oldina’s memories?

A few guesses and questions flickered through his mind; he soon realized his guesses were all wrong and found the answer to their strange reaction.

Dooong—

The deep toll of the bell echoed over the city. That time, it rang long and slow. Between those drawn-out rings, Najin heard a sound: the tap of someone kicking off the ground. He turned toward it.

Viola Oldina, who’d been looking down over the kingdom from the cliffside temple, leaped from the building’s highest point and soared upward as though she were weightless, sword in hand.

Tap.

Compared to Ladon, she was but a tiny speck. When six stars gleamed above her, that difference in scale ceased to matter.

In the heavens, six stars shone.

Merlin softly inhaled. “The Star of Detachment.” Something torn away or set apart.

“Oh, so that’s the constellation?”

“I’ve only heard of it in passing. Its abilities are famously unusual.”

“What can it do?”

“You’ll see. Just as the name says…”

Crash.

The sky fractured with the sound of shattering glass.

Like a pane of glass, the sky broke into shards. A moment later, it was back to normal, as though it had never shattered at all, but Ladon and Viola Oldina were gone, as though both had detached from the world itself.

“You know how a Transcendent can color their surroundings with their Imagery?” Merlin asked.

Najin nodded. He was aware. In his duel with Gerd (the First Pillar of the Empire), he’d been pulled into Gerd’s manifested Imagery.

“The Star of Detachment takes that a step further. Most Transcendents keep one foot in reality when creating their personal stage, but that one is different.”

Merlin continued, “There’s no need to stay anchored in reality, nor create a stage within it. Instead, it drags its target into a completely separate space, detached from the world.”

Seeing Najin’s uncertain expression, Merlin added, “Sort of like how we’re inside this Star Tomb.”

Slowly, Najin nodded. “So, what happens then?”

“She’ll fight Ladon in that world of her own.”

“Alone?”

“Probably. She went in by herself.”

Najin looked at the sky again. It had returned to peaceful blue, as though nothing had happened. Warm sunlight poured down. Ladon’s sudden appearance seemed no more than a passing rain cloud.

“How about a drink tonight?”

“Sure. You’re buying the snacks, though.”

“Fresh fish for sale! A copper coin…!”

The citizens, too, acted as though nothing at all were unusual. Judging by their reactions, it was far from a one-time event.

Swoosh.

Najin studied the sky a bit longer, then lowered himself to set Merlin down. There was no need to flee.

Even when he crouched, Merlin didn’t dismount. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder at her, still on his back. “What’re you doing? Get off.”

“Huh? Ah, r-right!” Startled, she quickly scrambled off him. She smoothed her skirt, shooting furtive glances at him. “So, um, Najin?”

“What?”

“Uh, it’s nothing. Never mind.” It looked like she wanted to ask something.

Najin already had a hunch. He’d been with her nearly two years straight, 24 hours a day, so he could guess what might be on her mind. “You’re heavier than I expected, Merlin.”

Merlin’s eyes went wide in genuine shock, her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

Realizing she might blow up at him, Najin hurriedly tacked on, “Just kidding. You were light.”

“Y-you…!” She gave his shin a few harmless little kicks.

He barely felt them. Leaving her grumbling behind, he glanced back up.

It was about half a day later that Yuriseong, Viola Oldina, reappeared.

Only she returned, but that hardly meant she’d defeated Ladon—she’d left the dragon sealed in that detached space and come back alone. When she made her way through the city toward the temple, cheers and applause sounded nonstop.

“Glory to Oldina.”

“Praise for the Empire’s Hero.”

Beneath those waves of praise, Viola’s expression remained as empty as ever. As if nothing had happened, she returned to the temple in the exact same manner as before.

Najin silently watched.

Then it happened again… And again.

One day, two days, three days, four…

Each day, at roughly the same time, the bells rang across Kassel Kingdom. With the sound of that bell, a crack appeared in the sky, Ladon broke through the “window,” and Viola Oldina confined him in a new “window” of her own. About three hours later, she came back.

Again… And again… And again…

“How long has this been going on? Hmm, couldn’t say. It was like that before I was even born.” A middle-aged man, appearing around forty, said he’d heard it all started before his birth.

It wasn’t until Najin asked an older man that he finally got something like a date. “Sixty-seven years, I reckon.” The old man explained, “That day, Evil Dragon Ladon showed up, and Lady Viola set out. She managed to seal Ladon in her window, but in the end, she couldn’t kill it. Dragons are immortal, you know. Thus, she could only bind him.”

Each day, the seal broke, and Viola again trapped Ladon in a fresh window.

“It’s been sixty-seven years.”

Finally, Najin understood why no one seemed perturbed by Ladon’s arrival. To them, it was practically routine—like the rising and setting of the sun, something that started before they were born and would continue till the day they died.

When an event became routine, it was hard to muster any surprise. They simply offered their formal applause whenever Viola returned, like clockwork, without genuine emotion.

Mechanical. Obligatory… Like the reflexive prayers one recited before a meal—done out of habit, not fervent faith.

Past, present; future…

The bell tolled, the sky cracked, Ladon appeared, Viola spawned another window. She repeated it all with a dour, miserable expression, as though sick to death of it.

The older man claimed it had gone on for sixty-seven years, but Najin knew that wasn’t the whole truth. The Kassel Kingdom had fallen 560 years ago, so simple math suggested over six centuries of the daily loop.

“This…” Najin muttered. “This isn’t a dream at all, is it? A Star Tomb, right? I thought it was a place where constellations sealed themselves away from reality to enjoy a carefree existence?”

“I did tell you.” Merlin gave him a bitter smile. “There are some constellations who retreat into a dream to punish themselves. They don’t do it for joy.”

“Most likely,” she added, “That’s the kind she is.”

Though he could leave any time, Najin stayed in the dream a while longer. Something he couldn’t quite pin down kept nagging at him. That feeling compelled him to consider how he might break the dream.

He recalled how Merlin said that, to clear a Star Tomb—i.e., a constellation’s dream—you had to resolve that constellation’s regrets. He could only guess that Viola Oldina’s regret was tied to the dragon, Ladon.

“Barging in might be dangerous, yeah?” Merlin was munching on bread from a bakery they’d grown fond of. “About that dragon, Ladon, it wasn’t always so massive or so overpowering. Not that it was weak, but this is extreme.”

Merlin went on, “Dragons are pretty straightforward creatures. Generally, the bigger they are, the stronger, and if it’s this big…” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Slight exaggeration, but you’d probably need my true form to handle it.”

“That strong, huh?”

“Yeah. As far as I know, Yuriseong isn’t a constellation at that level, yet she’s managing to contain Ladon day after day. That means… something here is fundamentally off.” Merlin narrowed her eyes. “That’s why the tomb is still here.”

When he thought about it, it made sense. Star Tombs could yield Star Relics, essentially treasures, and hold buried stars that could be “looted.” It was hard to imagine constellations or wandering Transcendents just leaving such a place alone.

Countless challengers must have tried, and still it remained. For centuries, it stood unchanged. For centuries, the constellation kept replaying the same dream.

“They couldn’t break it.” In other words, the Star Tomb of Viola Oldina is no trifling matter.

“If someone killed Ladon outright, maybe that’d be the key to breaking the dream, but you’d probably need a grand constellation’s power—like mine—to do that.” Merlin was giving Najin a hint: the entire situation was tangled, the threads hopelessly knotted. To untie the knot, you’d have to approach it from a different angle.

Sure, you could hack the knot apart, but that was impossible for Najin.

As he mulled over possibilities, he looked at the sky. Though it was midday, the light had dimmed. It looked like it might rain. A moment later, indeed, rain began to fall.

Sssshhh…

The sudden downpour sent people scurrying indoors, water cascading off the city’s brick walls. The rain showed no sign of letting up, and the bell did not ring.

While it poured, no bell tolled, and Ladon did not appear.

Rat-a-tat-tat.

The patter of raindrops—the sound of water flowing. Amid the background noise of the downpour, Najin caught another faint sound: a melody, buried in the rain. It was some sort of instrument.

As though guided by an unseen pull, he followed the sound to a small, rundown tavern. Long since closed, it lay thick with dust, with scattered instruments on display.

One instrument stood free of dust, and before it sat a lone woman at the piano bench. Her hair was white—pure, stark white, tied back in a single tail. She pressed the keys lightly, as if warming up her fingers.

Then she began to play in earnest, her slender fingers hammering out bold, resonant chords that easily overpowered the drumming rain outside.

Najin felt… moved, for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate. He listened, entranced. Though he knew nothing about music, even he could appreciate how beautiful it sounded. When the performance ended, he realized he was clapping without thinking.

At the sound of his applause, the pianist turned around. “So there was a guest.”

She looked similar to Viola Oldina, yet not the same—her hair color and atmosphere were wholly different.

She smiled at Najin.