WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 147

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The Star That Blows the Horn (2)

“Did you say that person over there is your companion?” Najin pointed at the headless knight wandering aimlessly among the stakes. 

Whether it could still be called a “person” was debatable, but since it was said to have been a companion of Helmet Knight, he decided to maintain a minimum level of respect.

“Yes. He was the vice-captain of the Golden Horn Knights.”

“That horn on the helmet, you said he broke it? I thought they must have been bitter enemies.”

“If you call it a grudge, it was indeed a grudge, but breaking the horn happened after he turned into… that.” Helmet Knight leaned his head against the rock.

The sound of the helmet clinking against the stone echoed faintly. “I tried to stop him once. After all, he was my vice-captain. What kind of knight commander can’t rein in a subordinate who goes astray? I tried to stop him, but…”

“But?”

“Well, to my shame, I failed. Didn’t I mention it already? To kill a Forgotten One who reached a high level in life, you need pure starlight.”

“You did mention that.”

“My star is already tainted. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t kill him. Cut off an arm? Sever a leg? Pierce his body? He always rose again, charging at me like a wild beast. Eventually, I realized it wasn’t something I could do, so I gave up.”

Tainted starlight could not grant rest to the Forgotten Ones. While overwhelming physical force could perhaps immobilize them, true peace was out of reach. Even the tiniest fragment of their being retained a part of their soul, which would regenerate over decades or centuries.

Immortality. Undeath. Regeneration…

The Outland offered no solace to those who fled from death. Choose eternal life? Then endure eternity. Those who stepped into the Outland had to be prepared to withstand eternity—to shine forever, or to lose their light and fall.

No other choice existed.

“Especially since that one is a constellation.”

A constellation who once held six stars—The Hornblower.

“When a constellation falls and becomes a Forgotten One, they can no longer be called human. Flesh rotting away? Arms severed? Body shredded? Such physical means can neither kill nor even stop a Fallen Star.”

Helmet Knight gestured toward the Hornblower. Black veins pulsated on its armor. “The closer someone is to a constellation, the less their soul is bound to their body. Any part of them that’s destroyed can simply be replaced with starlight. Unlike other Forgotten Ones, not even their heart holds significance.”

Najin stared at the Hornblower, whose body contained six hearts. They were the stars he had carried in life. After falling and losing his essence, the blackened stars, no longer shining, were embedded in his armor.

“Fallen Stars do not experience physical death. As their body sustains repeated damage, they transform into shapes closer to monsters. Even without a heart or a head, they continue to move.”

“…”

“The only ones who can grant such beings rest…” Helmet Knight raised a finger and pointed at Najin. “Are new stars like you, those who are pure. The problem is that a freshly risen morning star facing constellation who once carried multiple stars is nearly impossible.”

Helmet Knight pointed to himself. “With my help, the story changes.” He shrugged. “Who am I? Once a Sword Master, once a Transcendent, and the commander of the greatest order in the Empire, the Golden Horn Knights.”

“All of that is in the past, isn’t it?”

“The experience remains. I wouldn’t falter against just any Sword Master.”

“That’s not very reassuring…” Grumbling, Najin stood up. “Well, it’s the victor’s right to make demands, so the loser must follow. Do you have a plan?”

“Of course. I was just about to explain.” Helmet Knight added, “Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“What is the name of your star? I realized I hadn’t asked until now.”

“The Star of Dawn,” Najin replied, “the star that heralds the end of the night.”

Najin walked through the Graveyard of the Stars, the desolate wasteland. As always, a sword was strapped to his waist, but it remained sheathed. The time to draw it had not yet come.

Tap.

He continued forward, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Before him loomed a Forgotten One, someone who had missed their chance to die. The Forgotten Star no longer shone, having lost its identity. It wandered aimlessly among the spears planted in the ground, not even registering Najin’s approach.

He had yet to step into its domain.

The Hornblower guarded its territory fiercely and indiscriminately attacked any who dared enter its domain. Conversely, as long as one stayed outside, it did not strike first.

Step.

Najin stopped at the boundary. Beyond that line lay the Hornblower’s domain. The Hornblower, too, halted and turned toward him, as if daring him to take a single step farther.

Sching.

Najin drew his sword. Holding it aloft toward the sky, he closed his eyes. It was a brief sword salute, a posture taught by Ivan, one he used whenever he drew deeply upon his own Imagery.

Sword Aura radiated from his blade in the shape of a constellation.

In that graveyard of buried stars, where their light no longer reached, his sword shone brilliantly, its aura forming a constellation. Holding the radiant sword, he stepped forward and crossed the boundary, entering the Hornblower’s domain.

The Hornblower moved. The blackened stars embedded in its armor pulsed like hearts, and atop its headless body, a black star began to rise. It was as if the Hornblower, true to its name, was preparing to blow its horn.

Bwooooooo.

The sound of a horn echoed.

The Hornblower’s body froze momentarily before it turned toward the sound. 

There, standing with a horn in hand, was Helmet Knight.

“Hey, Crunbelle.” He waved the horn. “Did you forget? Blowing the horn first is the privilege of the commander. Even when drinking water, the hierarchy must be respected, you insolent bastard.”

Boom! Helmet Knight planted his spear into the ground. “Blow the horn, Golden Horns!” He tossed the horn into the air as he shouted. 

One hundred fifty years prior, when he had done the same, twelve tones had followed in unison. The entire Golden Horn Knights had blown their horns together, and the battlefield had resonated with their sound.

When the horns echoed across the battlefield, the Empire’s enemies were struck with fear, and its soldiers were filled with confidence. Blowing their horns, the Golden Horn Knights had charged forward in glory.

That was all in the past.

No one stood behind Helmet Knight any longer. The twelve knights had all become Forgotten Ones; the man who had once blown his horn most fervently was aiming his lance at Helmet Knight from the other side.

Yet, even so, the battlefield was not silent.

Bwoooooooooooooooo—

Just as it had been one hundred fifty years ago, the battlefield filled with the sound of horns.

In response to Helmet Knight, the Hornblower blew his horn. The horns embedded in his body vibrated in unison. It wasn’t because he understood Helmet Knight’s words. As a Forgotten One, Crunbelle had no reasoning left, only instincts.

His instincts screamed for him to blow the horn and respond to that sound. Even if he had lost his mind, Crunbelle was still a star built on the horn. That essence, at least, he had not forgotten. 

When the horn’s sound echoed, Helmet Knight couldn’t help but laugh. “Even after ending up like that, you still haven’t forgotten.”

Helmet Knight stood beside Najin. “Ready?”

“Is there much to prepare for?”

“Honestly, you arrogant kids…” Helmet Knight adjusted his stance. 

Najin also bent his knees and pulled his sword back. 

The Hornblower pulled out his lance and let out a ferocious roar.

“That’s one hell of a racket.”

“Looks like he’s angry about the lance you stole.”

“I didn’t steal it, damn it! I borrowed it. Borrowed it.”

“Didn’t you say he gave it to you?”

“Minor details.”

Even as they exchanged pointless banter, their stances remained firm. Against the charging Hornblower, the two of them sprang forward. A knight never turned their back on an enemy.

Blow the horn, Golden Horns, pierce the Empire’s enemies, raise the banner of the Empire and charge forward, claim victory with glory, and march on with pride.

The sound of horns rang in his ears. The image of galloping across the plains while blowing his horn flashed before his eyes. He no longer had ears, nor eyes, nor even a head to recall such memories, yet those scenes remained.

Crunbelle blew his horn because there was nothing else he could remember.

He could no longer comprehend the meaning of his actions. He had no understanding of what he was doing. Like a beast that acted without assigning meaning to its movements, so too did he act. His actions had no meaning. No value.

That was simply all that remained to him, and so, Crunbelle blew his horn.

Blowing his horn, he thrust his lance. With each thrust, there was a sickening thud as something burst. The bodies impaled on his lance couldn’t withstand the impact and exploded, scattering flesh and blood.

Crunch.

The ground shattered and fissured beneath a lance that hadn’t even touched it, dust rising in its wake. With every motion of his body, a crater was left in the ground. Though he had lost himself, the techniques engraved in his body remained intact.

Crunbelle had once ascended to Transcendence as a knight.

He had reached the pinnacle of mastery with his lance, one weapon against countless stars. Even after his body deteriorated and his stars fell, the skills honed during his lifetime endured.

Drdrdrdrdrdrdr.

A slight movement of his lance split and overturned several meters of ground. The crude lance he held shattered under the force of his skill, but that didn’t matter.

Thud.

He simply pulled out another spear. This was his domain, filled with countless lances, all weapons at his disposal. Each time one broke, he merely grabbed another.

Clang!

When Najin intercepted one of Crunbelle’s strikes, his knees nearly buckled from the sheer force. Just receiving a single technique was grueling. Sliding backward from the impact, he steadied his breath.

It was clear: Transcendence was Transcendence.

Even weakened after his fall, Crunbelle’s skill remained extraordinary. Each lance thrust carved into the earth and whipped up storms. It was easy to imagine just how formidable Crunbelle must have been in life, a knight whose mastery pierced the heavens.

Even a knight such as that had fallen.

Helmet Knight once said that countless heroes had fallen in that land, their fates were worse than death. The Outland was not where stars were born, but where stars went to die—a graveyard of stars.

Najin understood the reasoning behind that description, but he couldn’t bring himself to like it. In truth, he disliked everything about the Outland: the way it mocked human virtue, pushed people to their limits, corrupted them, and even denied them the peace of death—it all felt like a mockery of the heroes who tread this land. Wasn’t it an insult to the legacy of those heroes?

A hero deserved an ending befitting their greatness. At the very least, their final moments should shine.

Perhaps it was because of the knight who had once shown him the stars, or perhaps it was because Najin had grown up reading tales of heroism, admiring those heroes, or maybe it was just who he was at his core.

There was no single explanation. He simply wished for their final moments to shine—they deserved that much.

Najin adjusted his grip on his sword.

While Helmet Knight charged forward to buy time, he steadied his breathing.

‘You deserve no less.’ As if speaking to Crunbelle, the Silent Knight, Najin steeled himself. He still didn’t know much about the Hornblower, about the star that had turned into a beast, nor did he fully understand the deeds of Helmet Knight, Crunbelle, or the journey that led them there.

He was there to figure out precisely that. Only a pure star could cleanse a fallen one.

Closing his eyes, he delved deep into his own Imagery. Flashes of the Underground City, Artman, filled his mind: a low-hanging star, a high-hanging star: a blue star and a platinum-colored star. Perched amidst them, Merlin smiled faintly.

- See? Didn’t I tell you you’d get the hang of it in no time?

With his sword lowered, Najin sprinted forward. Constellations shimmered faintly on the blade’s edge, and in the heavens above, two stars shone brightly—Najin’s stars.

Within the boy’s Imagery, the seeds planted long ago were on the verge of sprouting.