WeTried Translations

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 430

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Traitor, Mordred (3)

"Mordred."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"You place too much faith in me."

One day, the King had said that.

"'Too much' does not apply here. A knight shows loyalty by placing trust in his lord, how can there be excess in loyalty?"

"That is precisely what I mean."

"What do you..."

"I am not as great as you believe me to be. I am not some transcendent being."

He was not a man who let weakness show. Always the one at the front, leading his knights, never hesitating and never looking back. Why would he speak like this?

Perhaps because of what lay spread before his eyes right then.

A war had been fought. A great war. They had won, but countless men had died. His gaze grew heavy as he looked out over the battlefield soaked in the blood of their comrades.

"I am different from how you imagine me. I am surprisingly timid, and there are moments I regret ever choosing this path. There are times I want to throw it all away and run."

"......"

"You probably had no idea. That I was this kind of person. Apart from Siegfried, that insufferably arrogant man, I have never shown my true feelings to anyone."

The King exhaled slowly.

"In the end, the path I choose is not always the right one. And even when it is right, that is only clear in hindsight. The road you must walk to reach that outcome is not beautiful."

Perhaps, he said.

"Perhaps, no. I will say certainly. I will force cruel choices upon you all."

What choices, I asked.

"Choices that are cruel in the plainest sense. You would think it kinder to simply order someone to fall into hell."

"Is that so."

"Yes. Even if there is reason for it..."

"Then give the order."

At my words, the King blinked. He tilted his head as if asking whether I had understood him. I found myself smiling without meaning to.

"Give the order. I will carry it out, whatever it may be."

"You will not ask the reason?"

"There will be a proper reason."

"It will be an order to fall into hell."

"That does not matter."

And it truly did not matter.

"I was born in hell. I lived there for more than a decade without even knowing it was hell. And it was none other than you who pulled me out of it."

I had lived in hell. I had lived without knowing the purpose or reason for my own life. A creature that would be used as a doll and die as a doll, something that had never truly been alive to begin with.

"You gave me life."

But not anymore. When I recalled the things I had experienced since meeting you, smiles came to my face without my knowing. I, who had barely known how to smile, could smile now.

"Now I know what beauty is. I know the brilliance of shining stars. I know the smiles that the people I saved give me. I know the joy of walking through land wrested back for humanity and speaking of tomorrow."

I had seen so many things.

Experienced so many things.

In other words, I had lived a life.

"Now I understand."

I had become capable of understanding.

"All of it was taught to me by you."

Because you were the one who taught me.

"Whether Your Majesty is a perfect being or not does not matter. What matters is that you gave me life. I have not forgotten the star I saw that day."

Recalling the star I had seen that day, I said:

"So give the order."

"......"

"I am your knight. I have been until now, and I will be from here on. If I may be so bold, what you need to do for me is not persuade me."

"Then what?"

"Give the order. You do not need to persuade me. I do not doubt your words even slightly."

I had no intention of debating right and wrong. No intention of resenting the choice. If it could be of help to him, I would gladly offer even my life.

So give the command.

The King looked at me and then gave a bitter smile. Dragging a hand down his own face, he let out a long breath.

"You are too good for me. I have always thought it, you are all far too good for me."

"Not at all."

"Mordred."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The King looked toward the distance, as he always did.

"You will deny me three times."

Denial.

"You will go against providence."

Defiance of heaven.

"And you will place a period at the end of my story."

The final curtain.

"And."

The King pointed to Mordred's heart. Pointing to the mark of the Round Table engraved there, he smiled bitterly.

"You will go against the role given to you."

You will commit treason.

"Even so, will you walk that path?"

It is not too late even now. Since it is not too late, leave my side. I do not want to force this upon any of you. The King looked at me as if he wanted to stop all of it. His eyes were asking to be refused.

"If I do."

I asked.

"If I do, can we win?"

The King did not answer. He only looked at me. There was no clearer answer than that.

"Then there is no reason not to do it."

2.

The Star of the Round Table shone.

One star shining, but the starlight it poured out was not of a single kind. Starlight that resembled the sun, starlight shaped like an arrow, starlight that cut straight and true, every manner of starlight came streaming down.

There was no need to ask whose starlight it was.

It belonged to the Knights of the Round Table.

As suited heroes who had lit up that dark age a thousand years ago, their stars shone brilliantly even in the Abyss. Gazing at the stars rising in the middle of the battlefield, Najin swallowed hard.

So that is how it is.

By nature, for a warrior, their weapons and armor are no different from half of themselves. Objects used for a long time come to hold life within them, and for Transcendents, life is often interchangeable with the word star.

Objects in which a star dwells are called Sacred Objects.

The lives of the Knights of the Round Table, their Sacred Objects imbued with starlight, were shining. Sacred Objects drawn to the Star of the Round Table were trying to recreate past glory.

So these are the weapons you have.

This place deserved to be called an armory. Najin groaned at the heat filling the battlefield. Galatine, Gawain's sun sword, the arrows of Tristan, six swords moving on their own, a battle hammer, all of them pouring out starlight one after another.

Shweeeeeeee!

A weapon flew in from his blind spot. Another weapon added. Another burst of starlight added. It was blinding now. Eyes straining, Najin exhaled. He revised his read of the situation.

What he was facing now was not Mordred alone.

All eleven Knights of the Round Table.

Eleven knights, everyone except Merlin and Arthur.

The age a thousand years ago that had given birth to so many heroes, and among them the eleven mightiest knights were here.

Shoooooooosh!

Absorbing their attacks, Najin slid across the battlefield at a run. He could not get a feel for how to handle this. He could see no opening anywhere.

Each one individually has openings.

When Galatine, the sun sword, gathered heat, an opening inevitably appeared. The moment he tried to thrust into that opening, a battle hammer crashing down and crushing the air blocked the way. The gap that followed the heavy weapon's large motion was also filled by a shortsword flying in from somewhere.

Where power was lacking, Bedivere's spear.
When defense was needed, Galahad's shield.
On the offensive, Lancelot's Arondight.

The weapons changed with each situation. Each filled the others' gaps. An opening would seem to appear and then vanish in an instant. From the attacker's position, no answer was in sight.

"......"

Merlin bit down on her lip.

"I never imagined I would see this again."

It was a fighting style she knew well. The Knights of the Round Table had been strong. Individually strong, but when all of them gathered together, there had truly been nothing to fear. It was a cherished past, but she could not simply sit and reminisce.

"You know what I'm trying to say?"

Of course.

"Right, then..."

Merlin smiled.

"Run."

The binding seal on Camlann, which she had been gripping with both hands, she released one hand for a moment. A brief moment would be fine. With one hand she snapped her fingers toward Najin.

Blue mana wrapped around his body. Shielding him from the solar heat, it formed a faint bluish membrane. The same magic Merlin had cast over him when he had fought Mordred before.

Tsssssssssss!

Water evaporated and steam rose. Through the steam, Najin lowered his stance. Running away and hunting for openings while dodging would not work against the Round Table. And that was not how he wanted to fight.

This was the Round Table. The Round Table's own knights.

He had no intention of simply admiring them as he once had. The distance between them and himself no longer felt all that great. Najin had grown stronger, he had defeated even Lancelot, and he had carved out feats that stood equal to the Round Table.

Thud.

He stood on the same ground as them. Even before them, Najin did not lower himself. He did not lose his confidence. He thought of who he was.

Free Knight.

A knight who makes knights into knights.

If that was who he was, and if he needed a strategy to face knights, surely there was only one answer.

Atanga's swordsmanship.

Crush them from the front. The instant he planted his foot and came to a halt, Najin's eyes saw an entirely different path. The sword path that Atanga's swordsmanship traced spread before him. The path of the sword told him:

Charge in.

Into that pit of fire.

Into the falling sun, into the heat that would cook him alive, it was telling him to leap into that? Madness. Pulling the corner of his mouth up, Najin kicked off the ground and ran.

Crack.

He swung the sword in his grip. Splitting through the flames, Najin plunged into the sun. The magic Merlin had cast bought him a few seconds. Body wrapped in the steam rising from evaporating water, Najin gritted his teeth.

Cut.

Excalibur shone.

From the front, break through.

The Star of Challenge, the Star of Breakthrough shone. Slicing through the heat, Najin burst out. Facing the pouring starlight, Najin did not step back.

The platinum sword aura was still.

Sword aura compressed to the limit. Trailing sword aura with sharpened cutting power, Najin watched. He swung toward a shortsword flying in to fill a gap. He chose to cut it even if it meant taking a stab somewhere on his body.

Thud, one more step forward.

Mordred hurled a spear. Bedivere's spear cut through the air and shot out in a straight line. Tristan's arrow supported it from the side. The moment Najin deflected those and a gap opened, Mordred would leap high and bring the hammer crashing down.

He would not dodge this either.

Najin drew a breath and drove his sword downward. He batted the head of the spear flying at terrifying speed and slammed it into the ground. The earth caved in with a boom. Tristan's supporting arrow he took with his body.

He gave up his calf. Protecting only his heart, Najin sprayed blood and linked the sword path together.

The sword he had driven down, pulled back up.

He wove Atanga's swordsmanship into his own. The moment he collided with Mordred dropping from the sky, blood burst from Najin's body. Even as the shockwave rattled every bone in him, Najin's eyes stayed wide open.

He had no intention of coming through with every limb intact.

He knew he could not.

If you are forcing a war of attrition on me, I will gladly oblige. Before my life runs out, I will send your head flying. Teeth grinding, Najin shoved Mordred back. He did not stop there.

Pushed to the extreme, Najin recalled it.

The state he had briefly touched in his fight with Siegfried, and again in his fight with Lancelot.

Flash.

In a burst of light, Najin's body accelerated. Platinum particles bloomed over him. He could not sustain it constantly yet, but a single instant of acceleration was within reach.

"......!"

Mordred's eye-light contracted. Najin closed the distance in an explosion of platinum particles and swung his sword. A sword strike of unmatched sharpness surged up.

Sksssh.

The armor layered with multiple coatings of starlight was cut. Cut without any resistance at all. The side of the breastplate was sliced away, exposing the mechanical devices packed inside. Steam erupted with a hiss, and Mordred put distance between them.

"...Ha."

Najin did not immediately give chase. He exhaled slowly, spat out the blood pooling in his mouth, and pulled the corner of his lips up.

Thud, he drove his foot into the earth and settled his stance.

No tricks. No feints. Nothing but a sword strike charging straight at the opponent head-on. The future Najin's sword would carve was visible to Mordred too. He could see it, but it was a sword he could not evade.

Fast. Impossibly fast.

Just as Mordred had forced it on Najin, Mordred was being forced in turn. I will break you from the front. You will have to receive me from the front as well.

Crack.

Mordred grabbed at the air. Recall. The weapons embedded all around flew back toward him. With a single weapon he was outmatched by Najin, but with the Round Table at his side, Mordred held the advantage.

Break through if you can.

As if saying exactly that, Mordred and Najin sprinted toward each other.

3.

They collided head-on. The exchange that followed was equally, almost painfully, straightforward, all the more remarkable given that both were Transcendents who could see moments into the future.

Neither of them dodged.

They traded blows. Weapon against weapon, again and again. Neither stepped back, as if each was willing to sacrifice an arm to take the other's head.

Clang clang clang clang!

The sword scraped against armor. Sword marks were carved into the armor that felt to Mordred no different from his own skin. More than carved, portions of the armor had been sliced clean away. The hoses replacing veins were cut, and dark red mana sprayed out.

Crack.

Mordred's hammer, and sometimes a fist shooting out from a blind spot, slammed into Najin's body. The shockwave rocked him from head to foot. Bones broke, and through Najin's lips came a blood-soaked grunt.

Still he did not soften.

When shoved back, he immediately kicked off the ground and drove in again. Mordred too kept venting steam and driving forward.

It was closer to beasts fighting than anything else.

Use it.

The mechanical device embedded in Mordred's heart overheated. Flesh cooked by heat he could not expel in time. Even as his own body burned, Mordred moved faster.

All of it. Pour it all out.

Whether to Najin or to himself, the words were the same. The stars rotating around the Blight Star embedded in his heart began lighting up one by one with a deep, resonant boom.

Each time a star lit up, the load increased.
Each time a star lit up, the speed climbed.

The steam blasting out furiously to cool the heat packed inside was now thick enough to blot out even Mordred's own vision. The two of them moved through the dense curtain of vapor.

And then.

Punching through the steam, Najin's accelerating sword drew a platinum arc. Fast. Najin's sword was faster than Mordred's descending battle hammer.

Sksh.

Percival's battle hammer was cut. The sword path that swept through the hammer's shaft did not stop there. Shooting out like an arrow, the sword pierced through Tristan's crossbow.

The Sacred Objects shattered.

Two of the Stars of the Round Table went dark. But Mordred showed no sign of alarm. The instant the hammer broke, he extended his now-empty hand toward Najin. Steam erupted from his shoulder, from his elbow, alongside jets of flame.

Acceleration.

With a grinding crunch, Mordred's hand seized Najin by the side. A chunk of flesh was torn away. A wound like something bitten out by a beast was carved into him. In plain sight of Najin's wide-open eyes, Mordred closed his fist.

The flesh he had ripped away burst apart with a wet smack.

Fingers creaking as they spread open again, Mordred beckoned to Najin. A taunt. Giving up flesh to gain bone is not something only you do. I have climbed this far using the same strategy as you.

Between them, nine weapons remained unbroken.

Would the nine weapons shatter first, or would Najin himself crumble first.

Both of them moved to win.

Now there was no place left to retreat.

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