WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator: Ryuu

Editor: Ilafy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ I Pulled Out Excalibur

Chapter 155

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The Essence of 300 Years (5)

Bernstein was a Royal Guard.

Though he could no longer attach the surname bestowed by the royal family to his name, and though everyone had forgotten him, he still considered himself one. That was all he had left.

As the blade approached his jaw, Bernstein brought his sword to meet it. Clang! The blades collided. He parried Najin's sword—defense and counterattack flowed naturally.

Grind. 

He gnashed his teeth, irritated by the situation.

In his mind, he’d merely listed facts and not spat insults. Who would call that monster a knight? Insults only held weight when the target has honor and pride to be stripped away.

An empty monster…

A deserter who was no longer a knight…

He had the right to insult that coward. His right being infringed upon, Bernstein felt displeasure. His sword swung nervously, the Sword Aura radiating from the blade burned like the sun.

The swordsmanship of the Royal Guard, a technique only granted to the most exceptional knights, unfolded from Bernstein's blade. It was a solar sword, modeled after the swordsmanship of Sir Gawain of the Round Table. In the dark lands of the Outland, the blade shone like the sun.

"What do you know?" His eyes wide, Bernstein’s blazing sun struck Najin's sword. "You said I insulted you? I was merely exercising my rightful privilege. What do you even know about that monster? Don't meddle in things you don't understand…"

"Ah, fuck." Najin furrowed his brows and cursed.

"What?" Bernstein's eyes widened. He was shocked not only by the insulting remark but also by how easily the boy had blocked his sword.

"Why do you talk so much?"

Kaaaaang!

Najin forcefully pushed Bernstein's sword away. 

Bernstein, startled, stepped back but couldn't create distance. 

Najin immediately closed the gap. "This is a duel. It's not a debate to argue right and wrong. It's a duel."

Their swords locked in a contest of strength, he leaned in close to Bernstein. His platinum eyes bore into the other man’s. "I didn't draw my sword to chat with you. Do you think you can beat me while being so relaxed?"

As the techniques that followed the contest of strength intertwined, Najin gained the upper hand and pushed Bernstein's sword away as he surged forward.

"Feel free to keep talking."

‘I'll shut that mouth of yours.’

Najin didn't voice the last part. Instead, he swung his sword. The fierce onslaught of strikes was troublesome even for Bernstein.

Grind.

Bernstein gnashed his teeth again. In the end, he had to shut his mouth. In silence, he parried Najin's sword and counterattacked. Only the sound of clashing swords echoed in the silence.

Najin had recently reached the stage of Sprouting. Now that he had ascended one of the three steps toward becoming a Sword Master, it wasn't just a change in Sword Aura—his senses had become sharper and more refined.

On top of that, he was learning swordsmanship from a Sword Master. He had learned a bit from the Sword Saint, but it was the first time he was being taught so thoroughly and for so long. Helmet Knight often muttered, "I'm not confident in teaching others," but he didn't see it that way.

He was an excellent teacher. Not just because Najin was a good learner, but because his teachings were intuitive and easy to understand.

It was time to show the results of that teaching to himself and to his watching teacher. 

Though Najin didn't know it, Helmet Knight's eyes behind his helmet were wide open as he watched Najin's swings with wide eyes.

"Really…" Helmet Knight groaned. "That damn brat."

Najin's sword carried Helmet Knight's swordsmanship. As he watched his own sword techniques reflected in the boy’s movements, Helmet Knight couldn't help but sigh.

The sword swung straight, symbolizing knighthood. It reminded him of days filled with victories and glorious returns. It was a glory Helmet Knight could no longer possess.

Humans desire what they cannot reach.

Just as the boy had said. Helmet Knight desired glory and the brilliant past. The more he couldn't have it, the more he desired it. 

Watching Najin swing his sword like he once did, Helmet Knight groaned.

"Kuh…!"

It wasn't just Helmet Knight who groaned.

Bernstein, recognizing Najin's sword, did the same. It wasn't because the sword was sharp and powerful, but it was because he knew whose sword it was. Perhaps it was a groun of lament.

‘Why did you pass on your swordsmanship to someone else? This sword was meant for one person only.’

It was a swordsmanship only granted to the Empire's hero.

‘Didn't you know the meaning of this swordsmanship better than anyone? After rejecting so many with those words, after never passing on your swordsmanship to anyone, do you now have regrets?’ 

Bernstein's mind boiled with anger. The sun at the tip of his sword burned as if it would swallow Najin whole.

He wanted to raise his voice and shout, but he didn't have the luxury. The onslaught of Najin’s sword blocked his words. The anger he couldn't voice was channeled into his sword.

Parrying Najin's sword, Bernstein slammed his shoulder into Najin and pushed the boy back, intending to create distance for a proper swing. The solar sword was most powerful when there was distance.

Bernstein had reached the stage of Blossoming and was on the verge of Full Bloom. In other words, he was a man close to becoming a Sword Master. At least, that was the case 150 years prior.

For 150 years, his mind had not fully bloomed because it had been tainted, and the man who had tainted his mind was none other than the boy before him. 

To Bernstein, Najin was an obstacle. He decided to remove that obstacle.

Grip. 

He tightly grasped his sword.

Since he didn't intend to kill the boy, he didn't unleash his Sword Aura… but he was determined to take an arm. In the Outland, such an injury would be enough to teach a lesson. 

Bernstein raised his sword vertically, his sword embodying noon. Though there was no sun in the sky, the sun rested at the tip of his blade. 

As he swung his sword down, a ray of solar Sword Aura shot straight toward Najin.

Chaaaaaaak!

Facing the incoming Sword Aura, Najin tilted his blade. Sword Aura compressed to its limit replaced the blade. 

Just as Helmet Knight's Sword Aura had done, Najin's Sword Aura coated the blade, turning the longsword into a mix of white and gold.

A golden star embedded itself in the white blade. It resembled Excalibur.

The cutting power of the compressed Sword Aura didn't falter against Bernstein's Sword Aura. Najin swung not the Sword Aura but the sword itself. Sssssk! 

With a splitting sound, the solar Sword Aura was cleaved in two.

As heat spread from the split Sword Aura, Najin charged at Bernstein. Breaking through the heat, he closed the distance and hurled his sword.

"…!" Caught off guard by the sudden action, Bernstein tried to deflect the thrown longsword with his own. 

In that moment, Najin, within striking distance, swung his fist.

Thud!

The sharp punch struck Bernstein's jaw. His head snapped to the side, and he staggered. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Barely regaining his balance, he glared at Najin with wide eyes.

"I told you I'd tear that mouth of yours." Najin pointed at Bernstein's jaw. It was indeed torn. "I considered doing it with my sword, but since you seem like an acquaintance of my teacher… I thought it best to stop here."

Najin raised his hand. The sword that had been knocked away and was spinning in the air fell precisely into his raised hand, not a single inch off. "If you want to continue, we can."

Najin's nose was unharmed, and Bernstein's mouth was torn. 

The outcome was clear—It was a humiliating defeat. 

Bernstein could have made excuses like, "I went easy on you. If I had fought seriously, your head would be gone, not just your nose," but that would only make him look worse, and he wasn't even sure he could have won.

Grind…

The sound of teeth grinding grew louder. Bernstein's jaw muscles bulged as he clenched his teeth. He trembled in place, then let out a long sigh.

"Why…" He glared at Helmet Knight. "Why, why…" He muttered as if groaning.

Najin seriously considered scolding him with, "The loser shouldn't speak," but he didn't. 

Helmet Knight stepped forward. "Bernstein."

"…"

"If you have something to say, say it."

In this humiliating defeat, where even mercy was shown, Bernstein couldn't bring himself to raise his voice and berate his opponent.

"Why… did it come to this?" In the end, he spoke as if groaning. "Why did you end up like this?"

Royal Guard Bernstein once admired a certain knight. That knight was the Empire's hero, a pillar of the Empire, the captain of the knight order that represented the Empire. Not just Bernstein, but countless knights admired him because he was a hero—the savior who brought peace to the chaotic Empire.

Those who lived in the same era as that hero, Bernstein and countless other knights, as well as aspiring knights, admired him even more than King Arthur. While King Arthur was a hero of the distant past, this knight was a living hero before their eyes.

When that hero left for the Outland, Bernstein willingly joined the expedition. He still had time to spare, but he wanted to stand alongside the hero. The Emperor himself gladly permitted Bernstein's journey to the Outland, urging him to aid the Empire's hero.

"Assist the Empire's hero in subduing the Carnival."

"Show the demons of the Outland the greatness of the Empire."

"Only victory. Glorious victory."

There was no victory. No glory. Yet, that was fine. What Bernstein couldn't bear was something else.

"Why… did it come to this?" He looked at the knight before him. "You were a hero. A hero, I tell you. I, the knights who fought alongside me, the soldiers of the Empire… we all idolized you."

He groaned as he looked at the worn-out idol."I can't even remember your name. I can't remember what feats you accomplished, which knight order you belonged to, or the name of the sword you wielded. I've forgotten it all."

"You were a shining hero in the past. A savior of the Empire, a knight who always returned victorious, but now, what are you?"

In Bernstein's mind, there was a hero. That hero was the symbol of the Empire, and the weight of the Empire rested on the sword he wielded. A hero who seemed destined to shine forever.

What was the reality?

Bernstein looked not at the hero in his mind but at the hero in reality. Rusted and broken armor; clothes that were little more than rags. How could anyone call that a hero?

"I've forgotten all your feats, but I remember clearly the sight of you kneeling and bowing your head before the Carnival. That damn demon! I remember the Empire's hero surrendering, crumbling, begging. You shouldn't have done that. You, of all people, shouldn't have…"

Beyond groaning, he screamed. Covering his face, he shouted at Helmet Knight. "We could have all lost! If it was with the hero, even that death would have had meaning. Even if the hero had lost, that battlefield would have had meaning. For my fallen comrades, for your subordinates, it would have had meaning."

Then why…

"Why couldn't you remain a hero until the end?"

"Why did you kneel? You were the Empire. Why did you show us the Empire bowing before a mere demon?"

In the end, Bernstein dropped his sword.

"Why…" he said weakly. “Why did you become the Carnival's clown?"