WETRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Editor: Reeters

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 197

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The Free Knight (2)

Najin, a Free Knight…

Jowel’s eyes flew open when the young man introduced himself. He already knew that name—who didn’t? The New Star set the whole continent abuzz, even reaching that distant Outland battlefield.

“Remember that kid who became the youngest Sword Seeker ever? What was his name, Najin?”

“Of course I remember. How could I forget the peerless genius who became a Sword Seeker at eighteen?”

“They say he just earned two more stars—both at once, no less.”

“Oh, come on. That’s impossible. If you’re going to lie, at least make it sound plausible.”

“…”

“You’re not joking?”

He recalled that exchange with his comrade a few days prior. Najing becoming a Free Knight was unexpected, but the title was fitting, considering his accomplishments.

A gust of wind ruffled Jowel’s hair. He forgot he was still running and glanced back on impulse.

‘Did something streak behind me?’ Belated realization that Najin had flashed past him, straight toward the horde of Forgotten Ones giving chase, set in.

“Wait, you…” His hand shot out toward Najin by reflex, meaning to stop him. The youth might have been a peerless prodigy who had earned two stars at only eighteen, but he was still a fellow Sword Seeker, and there were far too many enemies for a single Seeker to handle.

At least thirty Forgotten Ones, with demon beasts and monsters mixed among them? No Sword Seeker could face that alone.

Jowel’s gaze wavered. ‘Should I join him? Leap in and help?’ The knight in him screamed that he had to, yet the man—stripped of armor and sword—hesitated to move.

He soon saw that the hesitation was unnecessary.

Najin vanished among the Forgotten Ones, and a blinding gleam cut through them, too bright to be blocked by their bodies. The instant it blazed—

Shraaaaaaaaaaak!

Bodies split apart. In a single breath, ten Forgotten Ones were bisected, then quartered, then diced again. By the time the light flickered five times, corpses lay in dozens of pieces.

Sword Aura dragged a halo of brilliance behind, erupting as sword flashes and glittering several times a second. With every flare, another shredded body collapsed.

Jowel’s eyes went round. ‘What in the world am I seeing? Wasn’t that young man supposed to be just a Sword Seeker?’ He himself stood at the same level, but following Najin’s movements strained his sight.

Speed, astonishing speed; that wasn’t all—every motion was brutally efficient.

A Forgotten One could only die if its heart were pierced. Aware of that, they guarded their chests with desperate zeal. Most had been Sword Seeker-class warriors in life, so breaking that defense was never easy.

Spht.

Najin never bothered swinging where it was difficult. Instead, he slid his blade into the gaps between joints, ripped calves, and slashed legs to upset balance; then his blade would pierce into an exposed heart.

The finish was a simple stab—arm snapping forward, then back—clean, economical, and lethal once the defense shattered. All of it happened so quickly that missing a heartbeat meant seeing nothing but mangled remains.

‘What is this…?’

The thirty-odd Forgotten Ones and beasts were butchered in scarcely a minute. Najin, having ground the mob to dust, flicked his sword clean.

“Phew.” With a short breath, he sheathed the blade and stopped mid-step, stooping to pick up the sword Jowel had dropped while fleeing. He looked at him as if to say, “Isn’t this yours?”

When Jowel gave a slow nod, Najin also gathered the armor the older knight had flung aside and walked back. Accepting them, Jowel found he could not meet the youth’s gaze.

“Th-thank you.” Shame and smallness clawed at him. His eyes darkened as they fell on the dirt-spattered sword and armor. “Um…”

“Najin.”

“No, I know your name, how could I not? I just heard it a moment ago as well…”

Najin waited, eyes inviting him to speak.

Forcing himself to hold that gaze, Jowel wetted his lips. “I am grateful you saved me. I am Jowel, a knight of the Nost Unit guarding the Northern Frontier Line.”

“The Northern Frontier Line?”

“Indeed, the border of the Outland.”

Najin’s expression turned thoughtful, and then he nodded in comprehension. “An honor to meet you, Sir Jowel.”

“Well… Sir Najin, what brings a Free Knight like you to a place like this? If you need information or a guide, say the word. I’ll help in any way I can.” Jowel felt small. He knew full well the youth expected no payment and needed no aid, yet pride made him ask if there was anything he could provide.

He regretted the words at once. ‘Why didn’t I just thank him and bow? Was I too proud to accept help for nothing?’ His face dimmed further.

Najin stared at him in silence, eyes narrowing. After a moment’s thought, the youth waved a hand before the man’s face, then flicked his fingers twice with a sharp snap, as if checking his reaction.

“Mm?” Perplexed, Jowel tilted his head.

Only then did Najin smile and say, “Nothing at all. Sir Jowel, might you have something to eat?”

“Something to eat?”

“Food or drink. It’s been a while since I last had anything.”

“I have some field rations.”

“Perfect.” Najin nodded, fetched some firewood from somewhere, and struck a spark.

Hesitant, Jowel sat down opposite him. Over the campfire, he warmed the rations and something to drink. It was a meager repayment for having his life saved.

Najin tore into the jerky with every sign of satisfaction. “Salty, but rather tasty.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, this is quite…” Jerky, dried ration cakes, and thin soup… Najin savored them as if they were a feast and looked across the flames. “How long have you been in the Outland, Sir Jowel?”

“A year or two, I suppose.”

“Not long, then.”

“No. I’m still a newcomer, unlike the other knights in the unit. I haven’t gotten used to life out here.” Jowel smiled bitterly. “Honestly, it feels like I’m wearing clothes that don’t fit.”

“Don’t fit?”

“I strap on armor and call myself a knight, but armor that never felt heavy on the continent weighs on me out here.” Heavy armor indeed. Though Najin had returned it, Jowel left the gear lying beside him, unwilling to don it again. “May I complain a moment? I hate to take up a great knight’s time with my whining…”

“We’re both knights, aren’t we? Speak freely.”

“Thank you.”

He drew a long breath. “To tell the truth, watching you earlier filled me with shame.” Shame. Humiliation. Smallness. “You’re eighteen, if I recall correctly?”

A tiny flinch. Najin nodded. “Yes.”

“So young—no, so very young. It embarrasses me to say, but I turned one hundred twenty-two this year.” A knight of a hundred twenty-two felt ashamed before a boy a century younger. He tried to hide that shame by praising Najin. “To set foot in the Outland at your age took real resolve. I honestly respect it.”

“Do you?”

“Of course! You became a Sword Seeker not long ago and already stand at such heights as a shining example of heroism.”

“Thank you for saying so.”

Jowel chuckled and rubbed his arm. “Small as I am beside you…” He stared into the fire and remembered his past. “Back on the continent, I made a bit of a name for myself. I racked up decent merits, earned a star, and even carved a line about myself into the history books.”

He had shone. There, he had felt no shame and could square his shoulders and proclaim himself a knight.

“So when I volunteered for the Outland, this battlefield, I believed I could shine here as well.” He threw his arms wide, declaiming like an actor. “Who am I? Jowel the Sword Seeker, knight of House Drevy! I told the young master, the next lord of Drevy, that I would live here like a knight and exalt our name.”

He finished with a self-mocking smile, “Reality is far harsher. Out here, I’m worth less than a common soldier. I’m stained and tarnished, not shining, and I can no longer bring myself to call out Drevy’s name. I’m sullying it instead of elevating it.”

Crackling flames reflected in his eyes as he murmured, “I’m afraid—afraid of everything in this land. Forgotten Ones that don’t die even when you hack off limbs or a head. Beasts that swallow starlight. Demons. Those stars in the night sky. Transcendents who might appear before me at any moment.” He groaned. “Most of all, I fear that there is no beautiful end here.”

He gestured at the scattered corpses. “Whenever I imagine my end as one of those Forgotten Ones, terror overwhelms me. I repent each night, thinking I should have died an honorable death on the continent.”

He looked at Najin, the youth who still blazed brightly. “I felt the same just moments ago and declared I would act as bait for my comrades, spoke such gallant lines, resolved to meet a gallant end…” He bowed his head. “I panicked. I shrieked, threw down armor and sword, and became a coward. Shameful… truly shameful.” Raise his eyes again, envy glimmered in them, perhaps even inferiority. “I envy you, Sir Najin.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I wanted to be a knight who shone as you do, a hero who made his presence felt even on the Outland.”

Najin was taken aback. He had never imagined hearing such words. He always chased what lay ahead, eyes fixed on heights above and never once looking back to see who followed.

“I wanted to become a hero like you.”

If he glanced back, he found that, to someone, he had already become a dream and a goal. The realization felt strange. “That is… a little unfamiliar.”

“Unfamiliar? What do you mean?”

“Truth is, I used to envy knights like you, Sir Jowel, those who had received a title. That was my dream.”

Jowel blinked. “Me?”

“To someone crawling at the very bottom, every knight glittered. Some were knights in name only, but you were not one of them.”

“That’s not true. You saw me screaming like a coward.”

“So you screamed. What of it?” Najin shrugged. “You bought time for your comrades. You became bait and ran. A noble choice, is it not?”

“I only wanted a grand end.”

“A knight seeking a knightly death makes you all the more a knight, don’t you think?”

Jowel exhaled a shaky laugh. “Was I not pathetic?”

“Not in the least.”

“I threw off my armor and fled. In that last moment, I decided honor and pride were worthless and doubted a knight’s worth.”

“What value is there in blind faith? When you doubt and still refuse to quit is where worth lies.”

“Doubt it yet refuse to quit… yes, that’s a fine turn of phrase.” The old knight smiled wryly. “I, who have lived a century longer than you, should be teaching you, yet I received the lesson instead.”

“Learning knows no age limit.”

“Indeed. Thank you for listening to an old knight’s grumbling; it eases my heart somewhat. May I ask one last question?”

“As many as you like.”

“Sir Najin, Free Knight among knights… do you still think I have the right to call myself a knight?”

The fire flared. Its light danced in Jowel’s eyes as Najin smiled. “Of course. You are every inch a knight.”

“Hahaha! My hero himself acknowledges me. Thank you, my heart is lighter already.” Jowel laughed heartily. “I’m ashamed to take up so much of your precious time. I should pack up and—”

“Sir Jowel.” Najin stopped him. The youth’s platinum eyes fixed on him. “You said you feared what comes after death?”

“Yes. Becoming a Forgotten One, losing myself, turning into a beast… that terrifies me.”

“I can ease that fear a little.”

“How?”

Najin clenched a fist, then opened it. Five stars orbited his palm—Challenge, Dragon-Slaying, Breakthrough, Indomitable, and…

“Requiem.” The Star of Requiem. “It’s my star.”

“Requiem… guiding the dead to their graves?”

“Yes, showing the departed the path they ought to walk.”

“Haha. Like the ferryman of the afterlife.”

“Something like that, though I would say I decorate the final moment.” The Star of Requiem glowed softly in his hand.

Jowel stared, entranced by its warm, gentle, restful light.

“Sir Jowel.”

Jowel remained silent in thought.

“Jowel of Drevy.”

“Y-yes? You called?”

“I intend to move you.”

“Move me? Where?”

“To the place where you ought to close your eyes.”

Jowel tried to grasp his words. ‘Move me? Why?’ Something didn’t fit. The gears felt misaligned, and something else was odd. Five stars? Why? Wasn’t it two? He had only heard a few days ago that the youth bore two stars.

A vague unease prickled him. Frowning, he looked at his own hand, and his eyes flew wide. The hand was rotten, crumbling—not the hand of the living. His gaze shook. Blinking, he looked up at Najin.

The youth held the Requiem Star in one hand and pointed at Jowel’s face with the other. “You can take off the mask now.”

Jowel felt his own face.

“You needn’t hide behind that.”

A clown’s mask, grotesque, clung there, not yet fully fused to his flesh. Touching it, Jowel let out a shaky laugh. “So that’s how it is.” He smiled bitterly. “I was never among the living to begin with.”

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