WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 142

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The Holy Fire Guard Knights (3)

It is often said that a person’s Sword Aura reveals the life they have lived. Najin found himself agreeing with that notion, though only to a certain extent—and only when it involved an opponent at least at the level of a Sword Seeker.

A Sword Seeker’s Sword Aura contained their Imagery. Imagery, after all, was the landscape imprinted upon the heart—the scenes a person considered the most important or striking in their life.

For Najin, it was the stars; for Klaus Aten, it had been the green plains where he charged alongside the Blue Wing Cavalry; for the Knight of the Arbenia Ducal House, it was a field of thorns.

For the man standing before him?

The answer was clear—his blade burned red-hot, ablaze with fire. Flames, after all, were his Sword Aura and his Imagery. The fiery Sword Aura, seemingly modeled after the holy fire burning behind the man, radiated even heat like a living flame.

Sword Aura infused with Imagery often shared the traits of the Imagery it depicted. A Sword Aura evoking flames naturally carried the heat of fire. It was much like Najin’s star-like Sword Aura being particularly effective against demons.

Fwoosh!

When their swords clashed, a wave of heat surged toward Najin, making him wince. He instinctively began to step back but halted mid-motion.

It was hot, searingly so, but…

“I can handle this.” The heat, while intense enough to melt bricks, was bearable for him. As long as the flames didn’t physically touch his body, he could endure the heat radiating from their clashing blades.

- That’s because of your star’s story.

Merlin’s whisper reached his mind.

- You’ve resisted the flames of the Witch of Flickering Death, leaped into the maw of a dragon as it spewed its breath, and even shattered a dragon’s heart while your entire body burned.

It was the story his star carried, the feats he had achieved.

- With all that, this level of fire should be manageable, don’t you think?

She was right. 

Instead of retreating, he took a step forward. Flames rippled dangerously close to him, but he didn’t flinch. It was not he who would retreat—it was his opponent. If it was to be a contest of strength, he wasn’t about to lose.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The sound of their colliding Sword Auras echoed through the fortress. 

As the clash intensified, a sense of wrongness pricked at Najin’s instincts. Narrowing his eyes, he suddenly withdrew the force from his blade, shifting his stance and stepping back.

Swoosh!

With no resistance to meet it, the man’s blade sliced through empty air.

Najin sidestepped and lowered his sword; his expression twisted into a scowl of offense and displeasure.

“What the hell are you doing?” Najin spat the words like a curse. “Why are you pretending to be a Forgotten One when you’re not?” He raised his free hand, pointing to the man’s eyes. 

The man’s right eye was vacant, lacking focus, but his left eye was clear. Yet, the man was looking at the world through his blurry right eye. 

Despite being capable of conscious movement, he let his instincts guide his actions like a Forgotten One.

What was he trying to pull?

When the man performed the sword salute, he was a rational human, but as soon as their blades crossed, he relinquished control to his instincts, fighting like a Forgotten One. Though he could remain human, he chose to act as though he weren’t.

The realization deeply offended Najin. Wasn’t it just the equivalent of running away?

He lowered his sword. 

The man silently stared back and closed his unclouded eye entirely. With only his vacant eye open, he lunged like a wild beast.

“So that’s how you want to play it?” Najin let out a hollow laugh. He hadn’t chosen the grueling, straightforward path to face a mindless Forgotten One. The direct confrontation was a deliberate choice by him and Helmet Knight—a show of respect and honor toward their opponent.

Their declaration was clear: we will fight you not as a Forgotten One but as an equal adversary.

Stubborn and foolish as it might seem, there was a sense of romance in the decision. His opponent must have understood that, and yet, if that was how he wanted to respond…

Najin had his own thoughts on the matter. Gripping his sword tightly, he adjusted his hold into a completely new stance, one he hadn’t used before. 

Lowering his blade until it scraped the ground, Najin muttered under his breath, “Let’s see if you can keep this up after this.”

Schlain Beigelmann, Protector of the Holy Fire, Captain of the Holy Fire Guard Knights.

The world had once regarded Schlain as a pure, honorable knight who valued his pride and integrity, but Schlain himself did not see himself as a particularly proud knight. He simply believed himself to be a man fulfilling his duty.

He lived to protect the holy fire and keep the flames burning—that was his obligation. 

While he wasn’t so devoted to chivalry as to sing of honor and pride, neither was he so bereft of it as to shirk his responsibilities. 

Schlain was an ordinary man who simply did his job to the best of his ability.

“Why do we protect the holy fire?” Schlain had once asked his predecessor. 

His senior, far from being offended by the blunt inquiry, had laughed as he answered, “I don’t know either, honestly.” The retired captain sipped his drink as he explained. “You’ve heard that this fire has been burning for over 200 years, right? That’s a lie. It went out about 100 years ago, and it even went out once while I was the captain.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It’s not a sacred fire. There’s no star within it. It’s just an ordinary flame.”

“Then why do we protect it?”

“Because people believe it’s holy fire.” The former captain set down his glass. “For centuries, people have seen that flame as holy fire. They’ve drawn solace from its light, even in the fiercest blizzards. Even if it’s just an ordinary flame… to the people here, it’s holy fire.”

He thumped his chest with his fist. “It’s also our order’s pride.”

The drunken captain recited the words like a song. “As long as the holy fire burns, we will never yield. Just as the eternal flame burns, so too shall our pride endure. Protectors of the Holy Fire, rise!”

The drunken ramblings lacked weight or solemnity. They were far removed from anything noble or serious, and yet, inexplicably, those words had rooted themselves deeply in Schlain’s heart.

In time, Schlain came to see them as a curse—an eternal curse binding him. That realization struck him about ten years after he became captain.

“Ah…” The land once protected by the Holy Fire Guard Knights had fallen for a simple reason: the shifting boundary of the Outland had swallowed their territory. 

Trapped within the Outland, the inhabitants of their domain either became monsters or were devoured by them. Only the knights, resilient to erosion, survived.

“…” The surviving knights’ eyes were hollow.

Knights who failed to protect their charge could not lay claim to honor or pride. They had failed their duty. Could one even call such individuals knights?

The moment doubt crept into their minds, the knights began to erode. One by one, his comrades turned into Forgotten Ones, and Schlain was forced to make a choice. 

He was the captain, after all.

Schlain’s gaze had turned to the brazier of holy fire. Though it should have been brightly burning, it had gone out. Staring at the extinguished flame, he made his choice…

He would rekindle it.

He ignited the brazier with his own Sword Aura; the holy fire burned once more. Raising his blazing sword high into the sky for his fallen comrades to see, Schlain shouted, “The fire is still burning.”

Perhaps he was shouting for himself. “As long as the holy fire burns, we will never yield.” That day, Schlain and his knights became warriors of fire and tragedy. “We shall endure, just as the eternal flame endures. Protectors of the Holy Fire, rise!”

The flame’s true nature—whether it was the holy fire or merely his own Sword Aura—no longer mattered. What mattered was how those who saw it interpreted its light.

“Forward.” Leading the holy fire, Schlain ventured deep into the Outland, his knights following behind. 

They had no home to return to. If they could not protect their charge, if they failed in their duty, they would at least take responsibility by fighting to the end. They chose to remain knights.

Years passed… Ten… Fifty… A hundred…

Their journey had no end.

Schlain often looked back to see his comrades, transformed into Forgotten Ones. Time had eroded them—100 years was far too long to sustain ideals. Honor and pride had long since abandoned them.

What drove them forward was neither pride nor honor. Rather, it was duty and obligation.

Even as Forgotten Ones, they could not forget the holy fire. As long as it burned, they followed Schlain’s orders. As long as it burned, they remained knights.

“…” In the present, even Schlain’s mind was fading. His star had eroded entirely, and yet, he kept the fire burning.

If he, too, became a Forgotten One, if the flame went out entirely, then his comrades, his order, would descend into mere monsters. That was the one thing he could not allow.

So he kept the fire burning.

He hunted humans; he consumed their hearts; he killed countless innocents. In doing so, he abandoned his pride and honor, but something more important than pride and honor remained: his duty. 

His duty to protect the flame devoured him.

He no longer remembered his name. Even consuming hearts could only stave off erosion temporarily, and his mind grew hazier with time.

At some point, he began to wish for an end—to let go of it all.

The duty that bound him like a curse refused to release him, so he continued hunting. Over time, he found himself moving like a Forgotten One more and more. Not out of necessity, but because it was easier to let instinct take over. 

When he surrendered himself to the forgotten half of his existence, there was no need for guilt or torment.

After centuries of hardship, the man began to choose the easier path. Time passed and passed again, and thus, after 200 years, he faced the opponent standing before him.

The boy was a formidable foe, and the starlight in his heart burned intensely. 

Brilliant, dazzling, beautiful… it was a light too radiant for someone like him, a Forgotten One, to extinguish.

Still, Schlain had to keep the fire burning. Even then, he no longer knew why he had to protect it or why it had to burn. He simply moved because his duty demanded it.

“Ah,” he groaned. The boy’s star shone too brightly. It felt as though it questioned him, asking if his path were the right one. That torment made him close his eyes. 

Surrendering to his instincts, he swung his sword.

Clang!

The clash of blades scattered sparks. Even as the impact jolted his body, he kept his eyes shut. 

Like so many humans before him, he turned his gaze away to avoid confronting his ugliness.

The boy wouldn’t let him. When he took his stance, Schlain was forced to open his one good eye.

“Finally looking this way, I see.” The boy smiled.

At some point, their positions reversed. Standing with the holy fire at his back, the boy raised his sword toward the flame; the fire leaped onto his blade, igniting it.

Then, the boy performed a sword salute—the sword salute of the Holy Fire Guard Knights.

Schlain’s eyes widened. It wasn’t just the salute… The boy’s posture, footwork, grip, and even his breathing mirrored that of the Holy Fire Guard Knights. It wasn’t mimicry—it was recreation.

Whoosh!

When the boy swung his sword, the flame left his blade. After all, the boy’s Sword Aura wasn’t fire-based, but to Schlain, the boy’s blade still seemed ablaze.

With his sword, the boy perfectly recreated the knights’ techniques—his stance was proper, his approach honest, and he advanced as a true knight. 

The boy swung his sword, illuminating with his blade all that Schlain had long since lost and carrying what the Holy Fire Guard Knights could no longer hold.

Schlain felt as though he would go blind just by watching the radiant sight, and yet, even if it blinded him, he wanted to keep looking. 

It was a light worth seeing: a sword infused with both the brilliance of starlight and the honor of the Holy Fire Guard Knights—nostalgic.

Through the boy, he saw the glory of the past, the days when the Holy Fire Guard Knights shone brightly, the days when they all stood tall with honor. 

Remembering those days, Schlain wasn’t a Forgotten One but a man.

“Ha!” He let out a laugh and opened both eyes fully as he received the boy’s strike. Sliding backward, he adjusted his grip on his sword. 

That time, the boy didn’t press forward immediately. Instead, he raised his sword and pointed it at Schlain.

“Najin,” the boy said, introducing himself.

Schlain understood the meaning. He, too, had once been a knight. For the first time in centuries, he recalled his own name.

“Schlain.”

Schlain Beigelmann.

Schlain’s stance changed. No longer driven by instinct, his sword moved with firm intent; his blade struck like fire spreading across a field, steadily narrowing the ground Najin could stand on.

Their swords collided. Sparks flew, and the clash of their Sword Auras created resounding echoes. Each exchange sent cracks spidering across Schlain’s armor.

With a sharp tear, he slid back and tore off his tattered armor. Casting it aside, he faced Najin directly.

The battle had reached its peak—their blades had done enough speaking.

Though no words were exchanged, both seemed to understand the other’s intent as they prepared for one final clash.

The light of their Sword Auras flashed brightly, and two stars shone atop the fortress.

“Haah.” The brilliance even reached Helmet Knight below as he swung his lance against the Forgotten Ones. Glancing up at the fortress’s peak, he let out a wry chuckle. “Really, they’ve got to shine so damned brightly…”

The light was bright enough to blind an observer. 

Under that light, Helmet Knight muttered, “That’s going to be such a pain.” 

He knew from experience that the boy’s sword, the starlight he wielded, forced his opponents to face reality. It thrust before them all they had forgotten, lost, or abandoned, leaving them no choice but to confront it.

‘Don’t run away. Don’t look away. Face me head-on. If you were ever a knight, show me your pride, and if you cannot, I will make you.’

Helmet Knight shook his head. That damned kid forced his opponents to become knights once more. He made those who’d already given up dream again and offered them one last chance to sing their pride and honor.

Did the boy even realize how merciless that was?

“Poison. That boy’s blade is a potent poison to the Forgotten Ones.”

At the same time, it was a magnificent drink.

Even if the price for indulging was steep, one could not deny the taste. Lifting his lance toward where Schlain stood, Helmet Knight gave a small tilt of his weapon—like raising a glass in a toast.

“Drink up, Schlain.”

Even if it was poison, it was impossible not to take a sip.