WETRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

Editor: Reeters

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 204

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He Who Forgot (6)

The Outland held a certain phenomenon known as “Erosion.” It struck those who continuously lived beyond the world’s set boundary for humankind—beings nature counted as errors. Possessing bodies hardened for eternity, their spirits lacked the durability to match, so the affliction eventually blossomed.

Najin had met many who suffered from Erosion during his journey through the Outland. Some had already worn away, becoming Forgotten Ones or even Forgotten Stars—Schlain, Crunbelle, and Aldaran…

Compared to them, something about the Azure Spear felt inconsistent.

‘Why has the Azure Spear never eroded?’

Erosion came when one lost memories, lost a star, or had their convictions and deeds denied until the self collapsed. By that logic, the Azure Spear should have become a Forgotten One long prior. As a being who lost every memory each day, who could be more vulnerable to Erosion than him?

Despite it all, for at least three centuries, the Azure Spear had not eroded. Even when his memories vanished, his sanity remained. Najin therefore assumed the Azure Spear possessed some hidden method—like Gerd, Yuel, or the Lighthouse Keeper—to evade Erosion.

‘I thought so, anyway.’ Najin looked ahead.

There stood the Azure Spear, staring back with hollow eyes. Worse, cracks—the surest sign of Erosion—were spreading across his body.

“Who… are you?” The Azure Spear had forgotten his creed and how to read the words he once penned.

Why should Erosion surface only then, and so suddenly? Frowning, Najin pressed a thumb against the bridge of his nose. He thought he knew the reason. It wasn’t the first time—Helmet Knight had suffered the same sudden collapse, and the circumstances matched.

Najin had learned that it hastened when their lingering regrets began to fade. As for how it worked, he couldn’t say. He could guess that, in the same way parents grew old after their children were raised, passing treasures to another and “resolving regret” brought Erosion closer.

‘Was I wrong? Did I choose the wrong path?’ Confusion within him. Perhaps the course he believed righteous was mistaken.

– That isn’t your judgment to make.

Merlin, silent until then, spoke.

– You’ll only know by asking the person concerned, won’t you?

‘But look at the Azure Spear now…’

– Did you forget already? You own a star meant for moments like this.

“Ah…” Najin sighed. Only then did he recall what he had overlooked. He closed his eyes and focused. His fifth star, high overhead, bent to its master’s will—the Star of Requiem. He opened the fist clutching the star; its light washed over the Azure Spear, and color flickered inside those empty eyes.

Clutching his temple, the man groaned in dizziness, then scowled and fixed Najin with a look. “What… is this? Who—no, who are you, sir?” He was using honorifics again.

Najin exhaled in relief, yet he knew full well that the Star of Requiem could delay or briefly roll back Erosion, but never forever. He sensed that the moment of decision was close.

“First”—he pointed the bewildered Azure Spear to the journal—“read today’s entry. We’ll talk after that.”

The Azure Spear nodded and flipped the hourglass. Cracks already laced its glass, and sand leaked through them.

“I am Najin, a Free Knight.” Who knew how many times he had spoken that introduction? “This is a letter your yesterday self left for you.” Once Najin delivered every word, and they exchanged a few more, silence fell. Ordinarily, he would then swing his spear to prepare for the next day… but things were different.

At last, he spoke. “Azure Spear.”

“Yes, Najin?”

“I’m learning the spear from you.”

“I know. It’s in the journal, and yesterday’s me asked you to tell me.”

“Does that give you pride?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I forget everything each day, yet I can leave something behind. My life doesn’t end today, it carries on into tomorrow. How could I not feel proud? I am grateful to you.” He smiled.

Najin could not return the expression. Unsure how to begin, his face stiffened.

Seeing it, the Azure Spear gave him a gentle look. “Najin.” His voice and expression were both tender, like an adult soothing a child. “As I said, I’m grateful. I know you’ve spent long hours and great effort for me. I don’t take that lightly. Please speak freely.”

Najin remained silent.

“Whatever you say, I won’t resent you.”

“Learning your spear and reading yesterday’s words to today’s you are hastening your Erosion.”

“What is Erosion?”

“It strips away even your foundation, until the body and soul crumble and you become a monster.”

The Azure Spear stroked his chin, then nodded. “Ah, so like when I belittled you before the starlight touched me?”

“If the Erosion deepens, you will attack me to steal my stars as nothing but a beast that covets starlight.”

“Mm. I would rather avoid that.” He grimaced in distaste, but no fear colored him. In the same calm tone, he asked, “How long do I have?”

“If we continue as we are… three days, at most.”

“Three days. Three, eh?” he muttered, then broke into a wide grin. “That’s plenty.”

“Plenty?”

“Yes, quite enough. Najin? Don’t trouble yourself. Don’t doubt that your way is right.” He rose, spear in hand. “If the journal is true, and by your account, I’ve spent at least three hundred years in this desert, each day I lost my memory, swung a spear whose meaning I forgot, died with the sunset, and was born again with the dawn.” He chuckled, bittersweet. “I’m not sure you can call that ‘living.’ I don’t know what my past self thought.”

He spread the journal before Najin—the pages written since they met. “After meeting you, I’ve begun to feel alive. The writing changed. I’m no longer listing bare facts; I’m recording what I feel.” The handwriting was anything but neat. Lines were crossed out; words written over, but unread, the page pulsed with life. “I am alive. I feel alive. I don’t fully grasp Erosion, but if it only visits the living, then it’s proof I’m breathing in the way people grow old and die.”

“But—”

“It fits that Erosion reaches me now, this very moment, after three hundred years. I’ll regard this as evidence that I’m alive. That’s not a bad thing at all.” He laughed, bright and clear.

Najin could only let out a faint, incredulous chuckle. “Azure Spear…” He stood. If the man himself could speak so, then he had no right to remain seated. He did what he must and what he could. “You have two paths.”

“Yes, tell me.”

“One: I leave you as you are. The Erosion won’t grow worse, and the cycle you’ve repeated for three hundred years will continue.”

“And the other?”

“I master your spear and resolve your lingering regret.”

“And once my regret is gone?”

“You’ll die, almost certainly.”

The Azure Spear looked Najin squarely in the eye. “One question, Najin.”

“Ask anything.”

“Where will you go with my spear? What will you achieve? What is your goal?”

Najin answered, speaking of where he began and where he aimed to reach.

When he finished, the Azure Spear nodded in satisfaction. “That is enough.”

“Enough?”

“I’m content. I cannot be sure, but my past self surely…” He opened the journal, searching for a passage. Halfway through, he stopped, chuckled quietly, and closed the book. “I am sure.” Then he said, “I lived to serve as someone’s soil. Now, seeing the flower that will bloom from that soil, I understand.”

In the barren desert where not a single weed could sprout, the Azure Spear beheld a blooming flower, and thus could say, “It was worth it.” He chose what he would leave behind. “My heart would pick the second path without hesitation… but I doubt this is mine to choose alone. I’m uncertain.”

“About what?”

“I blamed my past self. I said otherwise, yet I did—I resented the self that threw everything away, even memory. I’d rather not do so at the end. Ask the same question of my tomorrow-self, the one who knows nothing. That will be my final letter.”

Sand spilled from the cracked hourglass, returning to the desert. So the grains imprisoned three centuries flowed home, night fell over the dunes, and morning dawned again.

The first light glimmered. When dusk’s veil still lingered and every grain glinted like starlight, the Azure Spear opened his eyes. They were empty. Remembering nothing, he stared forward.

A young man sat there.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

The youth replied, but not to that question. “You lose your memories every day. You remember nothing. This is your three-hundredth year.” The youth explained the man’s plight—the life he had repeated. He spoke only what was needed, then he posed a question. “You have two paths.”

After hearing both, the man asked again, “Who are you?”

“Najin. A Free Knight.”

“Najin, eh?” He thought for a moment, then spoke. “I don’t know what my past self believed. I don’t even know myself, but I do know one thing…” He smiled. “An endless life seems worthless. Living yet not living? That is death. I’d sooner live a single day in truth. You said I was your teacher?”

“I learned the spear from you.”

“Then give me one promise.”

“What is it?”

“Use me as a foothold and climb higher.”

Najin could not help but laugh.

“Why laugh?”

“Ask yourself. You’ll know quicker.” Najin gripped the Star of Requiem.

Recalling his creed, the Azure Spear understood at once why Najin laughed and joined him. “Even stripped of every memory, of every creed, I still think the same, do I?”

“You are remarkably consistent.”

“No wonder you laugh. Very well, the time is short, so let’s begin.”

“Begin what?”

“What else?” The man who chose to be the Azure Spear hefted his weapon. “Today’s training. One mustn’t skip the routine.” In the heart of the desert, the Azure Spear swung. Winds churned sand, yet the traces of his spear never faded, and neither did the footprints he left, for someone followed him.

Najin mirrored the Azure Spear’s swings, walking in his tracks.

By sundown, Najin and the Azure Spear stood side by side.

“Najin”—the Azure Spear offered what would be his last farewell—“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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