Chapter 1 : Knight Burson’s Diary

Chapter 1: Knight Burson’s Diary

[Continental Year 1337. March 11th] The sky was burning.

It had perished.

The knightly kingdom of Banroa, with its 500-year history.

I had failed to protect it.

The capital was in flames,

His Majesty the King, Her Majesty the Queen, and His Highness the Crown Prince had all passed away.

Unable even to die, I barely managed to escape while carrying only the Second Prince.

When I arrived at the predetermined escape route, I found the last remaining young lords and ladies of the ducal, marquis, and count houses gathered there. About twenty knights from each family, soaked in blood, stood guard around them.

They were all so young.

Most were between 3 and 8 years old. The oldest among them were 12, 13 at most.

Including His Highness the Prince, there were a total of 16 boys and girls. Perhaps because of what they had witnessed, they were too stricken to cry, their faces pale with fear.

Of all days, today had been the Second Prince’s 13th birthday.

Having seen the death of his parents and siblings with his own eyes, His Highness said nothing, merely gazing up at the burning sky.

[Continental Year 1337. April 1st] A storm rages.

We succeeded in smuggling ourselves past the border of Roxium.

We are now leaving Gloryland and heading for Roberland.

A lawless land where criminals and fugitives from all over the world gather.

A continent ruled by robber-counts who knew no honor.

Such a place, ironically, may be safer for us.

Outside, the storm raged, and the ship’s hull creaked.

Under the dim lamplight, small shoulders huddled together tightly.

Now, His Highness Ransen, the Second Prince, had become the sole legitimate heir.

And with him were the last successors of two ducal houses, three marquis houses, and five count houses.

We had to protect them.

Even if what awaited us was nothing but disgrace and misery.

(Smudged ink, heavily blurred)

…Because of the internal injuries I sustained during our escape from the palace, my insides are troubling me somewhat.

[Continental Year 1337. August 23rd] It is raining.

It has already been two months since we arrived at Kushan City, ruled by Count Kxias.

On our way here, many knights perished, and now only 12 of us remained, myself included.

We are living hidden away in an abandoned ruin.

To avoid any possible pursuit from the Empire, we chose this den of beggars.

It was by no means a place fit to serve such noble personages, but perhaps because they were still so young, the young lords and ladies adapted quickly.

There were vagrants of the city and abandoned children who had already been living in these ruins.

The noble children soon mingled with those orphans and played together.

The knights went out to do hard labor to earn our living expenses, though at least 4 or 5 always stayed behind for protection.

“Sir Burson… Is this truly all right? To let such noble personages live in a place like this…?”

That was also how I felt when the knights asked me such questions, but I comforted them. Until we felt it was safe, we had to lie flat and endure.

His Highness the Second Prince.

And the young lords and ladies of similar age continued to train in swordsmanship.

The knights of each household took on the role of teachers.

Unless the younger noble children pestered them to play, they always swung their wooden swords.

When night grew deep, the noble ones fell asleep while holding and comforting each other.

Watching them like that, emotions welled up in me.

Never before had I so desperately wanted to protect someone.

And yet—

The wounds I had sustained refused to heal.

I was growing weaker and weaker.

That truth frightened me.

[Continental Year 1337. December 1st] Snow falls.

His Highness the Second Prince decided on proper titles.

Until now, we had whispered “His Highness the Prince,” “Young Count,” and such in secret, but His Highness insisted that we could not live that way forever.

“Uncle Burson. From now on, I’ll call you like this. You must also call me by my name. Ransen. Like this. And speak informally.”

“How could I….”

“Come now. Try it.”

The knights, myself included, struggled, but we managed to let the two syllables, Ransen, pass from our lips.

“Well done. All of you too. From now on, call me brother. I’ll also think of you as my younger siblings.”

At first, the young lords and ladies found it difficult, but soon they began to call out, “Brother Ransen! Ransen oppa!”

His Highness the Prince… no, Ransen, emphasized that the new titles must be followed, so it seemed I should also record him as Ransen in this diary.

Honestly, I was moved.

So young, and yet so brilliant.

His swordsmanship also improved by leaps and bounds with each passing day.

Fortunately, as the former captain of the Royal Guard, I had mastered the secret swordsmanship of the royal family… The sword of Banroa would not be severed, but continue to be passed down.

Even though my wounds had hardened, and from once being at the peak of Expert, I was now only able to use aura at the level of a low-grade Expert… still, as long as there was something I could do, I would accomplish it.

[Continental Year 1339. May 27th] Clear and bright.

It had been nearly two years since we began living here.

We who had once been knights were now more accustomed to being called “Uncles.”

Ransen and the other children lived together in such harmony that they seemed like true brothers and sisters.

Ransen even took in the orphans he had befriended as part of our family.

We “Uncles” also followed his words.

Yes. If we raised those orphans as knights, they could protect our noble ones as well.

Ransen swung his sword whether it rained or snowed.

Already, his sword was imbued with aura.

To be standing on the threshold of mid-grade Expert at only fifteen years old…

Even in Banroa, famed as the kingdom of knights, such a genius was rarely found.

Ransen was our hope, our pride, and our honor.

[Continental Year 1341. August 1st] The cicadas cried endlessly.

Ransen spoke.

“By now, the Empire surely can’t find us anymore.”

He had a plan.

He said it was time to put an end to the life of surviving through manual labor.

He declared with conviction that it was time to raise a power of our own.

That we should become retainers under Count Kxias, the ruler of this city.

“The people will be me, Roy, Aihas, Ilia, Zerona, and about ten of the Uncles.”

To note it down after so long,

Lord Roy, the young duke, was the same age as His Highness Ransen, seventeen. And Lord Aihas, the young marquis, Lady Ilia, and Lord Zerona, the young count, were sixteen.

“Uncle Burson and Uncle Ibsen, you stay behind and watch over the children.”

Ransen led fourteen in his group and returned from the Count’s manor.

The look on his face when he came back was very bright.

“From now on, our Ilneon Family belongs to Count Kxias. Let’s try living a little more comfortably.”

The ruins we lived in were called the Ilneon Dungeon. That was why we became the Ilneon Family.

It felt like everything was finally going smoothly.

Ransen’s swordsmanship had already surpassed mid-grade Expert and was looking toward high-grade Expert.

Sword Aura.

His sword was now thoroughly imbued with a deep blue aura.

Blue-black, the symbolic color of Iron Heart, the secret method of the Banroa royal family.

Whenever I looked upon that beautiful light, rekindled anew, my throat tightened for no reason.

[Continental Year 1341. November 28th] Overnight, the air grew cold.

The missions Count Kxias gave us were mostly the subjugation of demonic beasts or assassinations.

At times, he seemed to order things that were dishonorable, but Ransen paid no mind.

He always emphasized that what mattered most was our family.

Thanks to that, our circumstances improved by the day.

Each time Ransen completed a task successfully, the Count handed over thriving businesses or granted lucrative tax-collecting districts.

We decided to build a new mansion beside the ruins.

Perhaps because he constantly fought in real battles, Ransen’s swordsmanship was advancing brilliantly.

At the age of seventeen, he was already a high-grade Expert.

[Continental Year 1344. March 11th] The scent of spring lingered in the wind.

Ransen was a genius.

Perhaps the greatest genius in the history of the Banroa Kingdom.

It was Ransen’s twentieth birthday.

From his sword, Aura Threads rose.

The aura overflowing from the blade stretched out like threads, wavering in the air.

The proof that he had ascended to peak Sword Expert.

The realm I had only achieved near my thirtieth year, despite being called a prodigy myself… Ransen had reached it at the mere age of twenty.

I did not know how to put this overwhelming feeling into words.

[Continental Year 1348. May 12th] The scent of flowers lingered.

Today, I witnessed it.

The Aura Blade that burst forth from Ransen’s sword.

A storm arose, driven by its sheer force.

There was no doubt.

He had become a Swordmaster.

At only twenty-four years old.

This was something on an entirely different level than reaching peak Expert.

It should not even be called an achievement, but an ‘evolution’—a monumental leap.

Even for me, I had only reached peak Expert at twenty-nine, and now, at forty-five, I had still not overcome the wall of Swordmaster.

Was it not the curse of peak Expert—that many knights who had been called geniuses died without ever escaping it?

And yet, a Swordmaster.

Even in Banroa, overflowing with brilliant knights, there had only ever been four Swordmasters.

A realm attained only by a handful of true geniuses, shining like stars among stars.

The proof of a great knight.

The power to rule a region single-handedly.

This was the final ember of the Banroa Kingdom, born only after years of disgrace and endurance.

Ransen spoke.

“We can begin again, Uncle Burson. No… Knight Burson.”

It was the first time since the day the kingdom had burned that I saw such a refreshing smile.

Yes.

If it were him, he would reach it.

Beyond Swordmaster, to the supreme realm of Grandmaster.

When that day came, I would… once again be able to call Ransen not only His Highness the Prince, but His Majesty the King, with pride.

[Continental Year 1348. June 1st] The sky was overcast.

Something had gone wrong.

It was right after Ransen had departed on Count Kxias’s orders to subjugate demonic beasts.

The Count’s men stormed into the mansion and took all the children.

Weakened as I was, there was nothing I could do.

A bad omen.

They said it was “an invitation from the Count,” but it was endlessly ominous.

Damn it. We had just finished preparing to leave Kushan City. Could they have noticed?

Even so, after more than ten years of loyalty, surely not…?

It was my fault.

My fault.

Should I have resisted, even if it meant shattering my Aura Core?

[Continental Year 1348. June 5th] It rained.

The children who had been “invited” to the Count’s mansion still had not returned.

When Ransen came back from the subjugation, he listened to the situation, then went straight to the Count’s mansion.

His face when he returned was dark.

When I asked what had happened, Ransen did not answer.

It was Roy, who had gone with him, that told us.

Ransen had been given a mission by Count Kxias.

To kill the Blood Count, Delkash.

That bastard, Kxias.

The children were hostages.

It was to make the refusal of this suicide mission impossible.

[Continental Year 1348. June 6th, Dawn] It was still raining.

Kashu City, ruled by the Blood Count Delkash, lay east of the Kushan City where we lived.

Because their interests overlapped and clashed, Count Kxias and Count Delkash had always been bitter enemies.

The problem was Count Delkash’s power.

Count Kxias too was a Swordmaster, renowned throughout Roberland, but Count Delkash was no less.

He was a powerful vampire of true blood, and under him were countless vampire clansmen, many of whom were high-grade Sword Experts or greater.

That must have been the reason.

Why had Ransen tried to leave at dawn without telling anyone?

He had intended to stake his life alone.

Fortunately, we were not so oblivious.

We had all remained awake, and we caught Ransen at the entrance of the mansion.

I poured out words in fervor to stop him.

“It is far too dangerous. You must not go. Your Highness’s life is worth more than all of ours together.”

But Ransen shook his head.

“If my siblings are gone, then I have no reason to live either. And those siblings are now in the hands of Count Kxias.”

There was argument, but in the end it was decided that fourteen would follow Ransen.

Only two knights remained behind.

Useless me. And Sir Ibsen, who was still relatively young.

“If we don’t return, Uncle Burson… no, Knight Burson. You must take care of the siblings. But don’t worry. We’ll win and come back. Then everything will return to its rightful place.”

As always, His Highness smiled with confidence.

I found myself wanting to believe in that smile.

O heavens.

Please, guard His Highness Prince Ransen, Lord Roy, Lord Aihas, Lady Ilia, and Lord Zerona.

And if mercy still remains, look kindly as well upon my longtime fellow knights…

[Continental Year 1348. June 8th] Cruelly, stars glittered in the sky.

I could not endure it any longer.

I resolved to disobey.

Through the night, I rode, and at last I arrived at Kashu City.

Drawing my sword, I cut down the enemy soldiers who barred my way.

My Aura Core, already gravely injured, began to shatter completely, yet I only squeezed it harder.

At last, I reached Count Delkash’s office—only to find hell.

Blood. Wherever I looked, there was red blood.

On the crimson floor lay familiar figures, torn into pieces.

The young duke, the young marquis, the young counts… none of them had been able to close their eyes, drowned in pools of blood.

The fellow knights who had followed with loyal hearts until this very day were the same.

Count Delkash too was dead, his eyes wide open, but such a thing did not even enter my sight.

I saw His Highness Prince Ransen, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath.

His right wrist was gone, and from shin to toes, his left leg had been utterly crushed.

Perhaps his Aura Core had cracked as well. The aura that had once overflowed with vigor was now feeble beyond words.

The eyes with which His Highness looked at me seemed utterly hollow.

“It’s all over, Burson….”

At that voice, my soul crumbled.

What was over?

The dream of preserving the Banroa royal line?

The vow to at least try to live happily?

Our pride, our hope… was all of it… truly ending like this?

I carried the unconscious Highness on my back and escaped from Kashu City.

It reminded me of that day, eleven years ago, when we had fled the kingdom, and blood-tears would not stop flowing.

When I reached Kushan City, my fragile Aura Core shattered completely into pieces.

I was now utterly useless.

[Continental Year 1351. February 25th] It was still cold.

Knight Ibsen had died.

Now, the only knight left was useless me.

The ruffians of Kushan City constantly stirred conflict, trying to take the few businesses we had left.

Count Kxias only watched from behind or encouraged it.

Since that day, Ransen had remained the same.

He gave up, and gave up again.

He told me not even to dream of avenging Sir Ibsen.

He lived only to protect the family.

Nothing more.

When I looked into his eyes, they seemed utterly empty.

Day after day, the repetition of losing all over again.

[Continental Year 1351. April 6th] Flowers bloomed once again.

What in the world happened today?

A miracle?

Yes.

A miracle had come to His Highness Prince Ransen.

A miracle that had leapt through time.

<From Knight Burson’s Diary>

<Escape Route>  

<The Five Oceans, The Six Continents>

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