WeTried Translations

Translator: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 455

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Sword Saint, Siegfried (7)

Two swords clashed.

Each of them swung a single blade, but the instant those blades were swung, they were no longer one. Compressed bursts of lightning, constellations of condensed starlight, were unleashed in the moment of collision.

Thousand Swords, Ten Thousand Forms.

A thousand swords, ten thousand shapes.

Thousand Stars, Ten Thousand Radiances.

A thousand stars, ten thousand rays of light.

The roots were the same, but the direction each blade swung and the lives those blades carried were worlds apart. They could not be the same, nor should they be. Every life lived and every experience earned must differ from all others.

Lightning struck. Stars blazed.

From the single straight line Siegfried drew, the Thousand Swords spread outward—a thousand blades at once.

They began with the strikes of his good-for-nothing stepfather, who had beaten swordsmanship into him with a rod during childhood. From there they branched: the sword of a mercenary scraping by day to day, the sword of a wandering swordsman, the sword of an old man who could not let go of his love for the blade even in his dying moment, the swords of the dead who had lost themselves but never lost their grip on a weapon.

From the lowest places to the highest.

These were the swords he had witnessed, learned from, and made his own. The trajectories they carved stretched endlessly outward. That was what Ten Thousand Forms meant, literally: a sword strike that could become anything and cut through anything.

Crashhhhhhhhhhh!

Light came first, sound came after. As a storm of sword strikes slashed the surroundings apart, Najin's blade detonated starlight at the exact same moment.

From the single line Najin drew, the Thousand Stars burst outward like fireworks.

Stars he had seen in a place where no stars should be visible. Starting from that first star, countless others rose in its wake—those who had faced Najin, who had rested briefly in his life, who had, through him, found themselves again or reached the end they had wanted, those who had called Najin a hero and entrusted their lives to him freely. All of them shone.

So many stars, all of them shining.

Najin's Sword Aura took the form of a constellation. That meant the more stars that linked the constellation's lines together, the further the Sword Aura could reach and the more shapes it could take.

Ten Thousand Radiances. The stars drawn in by the Dawning Star scattered their light in every direction.

And so sword met sword. Lightning and starlight collided. A thousand swords and a thousand stars—or perhaps a thousand lives—crashed into one another, and the air groaned under the strain. Neither gave an inch; each gnawed at the other and flung light in all directions.

An instant passed that felt like an eternity.

Gramr is a sword that cuts through all things. Excalibur is a sword that nothing can shatter. When two weapons with diametrically opposed legends meet in a single moment, the outcome refuses to come easily. Each cancels the other's Authority.

Gramr's cutting force, Excalibur's acceleration, both wielders' Future Sight, the starlight each possessed—all of it cancelled out, and what remained were two swordsmen and nothing else.

In that moment, the balance broke.

One of them had already met death a thousand years ago. A ghost, dead yet unable to die, drifting through this land on instinct alone. The other was still alive, still standing on this earth as a human being.

A dead man's story ends there.

A living man presses forward until the end comes.

Siegfried could break through Najin's defenses and find ways around him, but that was nothing more than moving sideways from where he stood. Najin, by contrast, ran forward. Even now, in this very moment, he never stopped moving.

"What a tenacious wretch, scraping out every last drop."

A master who had once taught Najin had said something like that. And sure enough, it was true. Even in the instant of unleashing an Absolute Technique, Najin grew. In that split second he took one more step forward. He absorbed the sword he witnessed before his eyes and stored it among his own stars.

Siegfried's sword melted into Najin's.

Cut. Break. Cut again and break again, cut and cut, and cut once more. The equilibrium that had held at a draw shattered. Imperceptibly, by the smallest of margins, the scales tipped toward Najin.

Fssssht.

Tens of thousands of sword strikes cancelled each other out entirely. Severed starlight, fragments of cut-down Sword Aura, scattered and drifted through the air. Through those fragments, Najin thrust his blade forward. Tens of thousands of sword paths had cancelled out and snapped apart, but one path still remained open to him.

To the very last, Najin swung his sword.

Najin and Siegfried crossed past each other. Their positions switched. They had crossed, but only one of them was cut.

Thwud.

Blood burst from Siegfried's body.

As droplets of blood scattered through the air, he stared up at the sky. Stars filled everything around him. Starlight that could not be seen in the Land of the Abyss—starlight he had been longing for.

Siegfried's body tilted.

2.

"Siegfried."

Once, long ago.

"Do you have a moment?"

"That came out of nowhere. And what's with that tone? Don't you usually say something like, 'Might you spare a moment, Siegfried?' That sort of thing?"

"Well, one has to maintain decorum."

"Decorum, please."

"Many people watch me and look up to me. A certain minimum of dignity is necessary. The person they admire cannot be some foul-mouthed delinquent who drops curses every other sentence."

Once, long ago, he had a conversation like that with Arthur. He could not remember exactly when. Only that he could never forget how she had been that day.

"A delinquent? You don't look much like one to me. And what do you mean by cursing? I've never once heard you swear."

"That's because I hold it back even when it's unbearable."

"......"

"What? Surprised? I know how to curse too. The first time you were flapping your mouth in front of me, I nearly bit back with something vile, but barely managed to keep it down."

"That is unsettling."

"The great Siegfried, unsettled?"

Arthur burst out laughing. It was nothing like her usual manner—not a shred of decorum anywhere in it. The kind of sharp, unguarded laugh you might hear from any woman her age.

"If you are performing this to tease me, I will say it worked. I was caught off guard."

"That was not entirely my intention. But I won't deny it."

Arthur was perched on the worn stone battlement Siegfried was always leaning against, swinging her legs.

"You said it yourself," she said.

"Said what."

"That you wanted me to become your partner. You confessed quite passionately—in front of the knights, no less. You should have seen Mordred's eyes go wide that day."

She propped her chin on her hand and looked at him.

"You're the first person who's ever confessed to me."

"I wouldn't have expected that."

"No? Then again, I suppose I am rather impressive. Beautiful, too. Honestly, I wouldn't lose to anyone in looks unless it was Merlin."

"Merlin? That squawking little mage is beautiful? The world must have gone blind."

Arthur laughed again, a low chuckle.

"You're the first, and it was the first time anyone has ever confessed to me genuinely. So I gave it a great deal of thought. The result of all that thought is, as you can see, this."

An easy smile. An easy expression.

A woman laughing at nothing in particular.

Not Arthur the great hero, revered by all, but a woman who could curse like anyone else and crack an ordinary joke—and she stood before Siegfried that way.

"This is what I really am. You confessed to Arthur the Knight King, I'd imagine, so what do you make of this? I am not as noble or as bold as you think. I'm just an actor playing a role I have no business carrying."

Arthur pointed at herself.

"What is the Knight King, really? What is the great hero? I don't know anything about any of that. It's just that there are certain things I can't stand to look at, and those things keep blaming the state of the world as their excuse, so I'm trying to take that excuse away from them. That's all this is."

Something she had never told anyone else.

"As you can see."

She looked straight at him.

"This is what I am. Well? Different from what you imagined?"

"Certainly different."

"So drop it. I'm not the kind of woman worth taking as a partner. And you'd regret getting involved with me."

"Why?"

"Because I can't give you a single thing you'd want. I'd only ever ask things of you, and I would leave your side before I could give back anything you asked of me."

That was not a proper relationship, she said. Between a knight and a liege it might be acceptable, but it had no place between two people promising each other a lifetime.

"Disappointing, isn't it?"

Arthur shrugged.

"So that's the end of it. I won't be showing you this side of me again, so don't worry. I can't accept your offer, but I will at least try to live as the ideal you hold in mind."

"That's amusing."

"Well, you can be disappointed, it can't be helped..."

"Sorry, Arthur, but I don't particularly like your usual self. I think you're misunderstanding something."

Arthur tilted her head.

Siegfried let out a small, amused breath and pointed at her.

"It wasn't because you are flawless, because you are a great hero, because you are some ideal existence, that I confessed. It's the opposite."

"The opposite?"

"The side of you that shows itself sometimes. Like right now."

He listed them out: the way she had crushed the convictions of the Fatalists, the way she had kicked aside the fools who blamed the world, who blamed their circumstances, who never once considered changing themselves. He described those moments of hers, that streak of principled defiance.

"That is what drew me to you."

"......"

"Well? Did that land?"

"Yes. And I dislike admitting it."

"So then. My offer still stands. Any chance you'll become my partner?"

"Didn't you hear me? I told you it would end with nothing but requests on my end."

"I don't mind."

"What?"

"I said I don't mind. Did you think I hadn't prepared myself for that much, just for the chance to be with someone like you? Ask whatever you want. Whatever you ask of me, I can do it."

Siegfried snorted.

"I am Siegfried. The only human alive who surpasses you."

"You lose when we fight."

"Half and half. Out of ten fights I win five."

"......"

A short silence. Then Arthur spoke.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot give you an answer."

"A refusal, then?"

"I suppose that is what it amounts to."

"You say that with an expression dripping with regret."

It was not that she disliked him and was pushing him away. She had things left undone, and because of that she could not yet choose to live as an ordinary person rather than a hero. That was why she could not answer.

"I see."

Siegfried, having understood this, said it plainly.

"Whatever you are doing seems to be standing in the way of your choice."

"That's not wrong."

"Then once that work is finished, you'd be able to give me an answer?"

When Siegfried said that, Arthur only smiled—a slightly bitter thing, as if the question made her uncomfortable. He only understood the meaning of that smile later. On the day the Round Table fell apart, the day Arthur left everyone behind and disappeared.

Siegfried came to understand everything.

"Yes."

He began to walk.

"That is the kind of person you were, Arthur."

The Knights of the Round Table had served Arthur as their liege. They had seen her as a hero. Siegfried, by contrast, had seen her as a person. A person no different from himself. He remembered how she had looked that day on the battlements.

That was why he understood what choice she was trying to make.

Why she had left the Round Table behind.

Why she was walking into the Abyss alone.

He understood all of it. Because he understood, he moved without hesitation and followed her.

"Stand aside."

"His Majesty departed alone. That was the king's choice, and you have no right to interfere..."

"I said stand aside."

The Knight of Betrayal blocked his path. Several Constellations moved to bar the way. Siegfried met them with a dismissive snort.

"Move. Unless you want to die."

No one other than Arthur could stop Siegfried. He cleared everything in his path and walked toward the Abyss—toward the hell where the Witch of the Abyss raged and the Dragon of the Abyss screamed.

One reason was enough to walk into hell.

She was there.

"...Why."

"Figured I'd find you here."

"Why did you come, Siegfried?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

"I told no one to follow. I suppose my warning didn't sound like one. Go back, Siegfried. This is not your stage. It is not the place where you should be buried."

Siegfried shrugged.

"I am not your knight, Arthur."

A short answer.

"I have no obligation to follow your orders. No reason to, either. If it were a request, that might be a different matter."

"Then it is a request. Not an order."

"A request, is it. Then I decline. Requests are for the listener to decide, so you won't hold it against me?"

Arthur's expression twisted. "Why," she said, and pressed her lips together.

"...One of me would have been enough."

"Oh, dropping the formalities, are we? Well, that's probably more useful for persuading me."

"You didn't need to get caught up in this. You have no conviction. No great cause. You had no reason to be here."

That was not entirely wrong.

But it was not entirely right, either.

"What do you mean I have no reason?"

Siegfried pointed at Arthur.

"My reason is standing right here. More than enough."

"......"

"Ask something of me. I'll do it."

"Leave this place."

"Anything but that."

There was no persuading him. Siegfried was that kind of man. Arthur pressed her lips together, bowed her head, and finally let out a long breath and lifted her eyes. The expression she wore in that moment was one Siegfried had never seen on her face before.

"You stubborn, infuriating man."

A thoroughly unruly expression.

With a grin like a troublemaker's, Arthur drew back her fist and drove it into Siegfried's chest. There was real force behind it.

"Kill the Dragon of the Abyss."

"That is a request I can grant."

"Don't die."

"That one too."

They stood back to back. No long speech was needed. Arthur charged toward the Witch of the Abyss; Siegfried charged toward the Dragon of the Abyss that stood in her way. Both of them kicked off the ground and ran.

He had made a promise.

Siegfried did not keep it.

He could not kill the Dragon of the Abyss. While Arthur fought the Witch of the Abyss, he managed to hold the dragon in place, but in the end he was swallowed whole.

'I cannot die.'

He had failed, but he could not close his eyes, either.

'I must not die.'

She had asked it of him, and so Siegfried could not die. He survived. Neither dead nor alive, he was cast into the Abyss. What he saw in the end was Arthur, who had met her death, and the Abyss sealed at the cost of her life.

"...To the very end."

Siegfried held onto his scattering reason.

He had watched Arthur complete her great feat to the very last. He had seen the mark she had carved into this world. Looking at it, he let out a laugh he could not hold back.

"Going ahead of me, right to the end."

Damned woman.

Damnably captivating woman.

"Yes."

Siegfried chose to stay in the Abyss. Remaining there, he traced the marks Arthur had left behind. He stood before the achievements she had built, and for a long time stared at the place where her story had ended.

"If this is where you stopped."

And then he raised his sword. With sword in hand, there was only one thing left to do.

"Then this is where I belong, too."

The Sword Saint swung his blade. To fulfill the promise he had failed to keep that day, to finally cut down what he had been unable to cut then, he swung it.

A year. Decades. Centuries.

He challenged the dragon.

Again and again he was swallowed and spat back out. Through that, he became one of the dead—neither living nor dying. His brilliant stars fell. His will wore away. His soul began to crumble.

"I am here."

Still he did not stop.

"I am, here."

At some point even the chance to challenge had been stripped from him, and still he did not stop. He swung the sword, and swung it again.

Like that.

A thousand years passed.

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