“What's a knight of Atanga, old man?”

The boy's question came out of nowhere. Old Hogel stopped hammering, raised his head, and shot Najin a sidelong look. The sword was not finished yet, but he had called Najin to the smithy to check his build and the way he gripped a sword.

'I've taken all his measurements. He could just clear out, but instead he stays to chatter.'

Though the interruption to his work left him looking rather displeased, the boy's question contained a name he remembered fondly, so Hogel set down his hammer for a moment.

The knights of Atanga.

Those noble knights were worth putting his hammer aside to talk about. Hogel wet his throat with a glass of water, then spoke. His long years had taught him much, and he was not one to begrudge sharing those stories.

“Atanga. Now there's a name I've missed. Why, did that fellow Ivan mention Atanga?”

Najin nodded. Hogel was inwardly astonished. It must be exceedingly rare for Ivan to speak that name.

“So what is Atanga? The name of some famous house?”

“Atanga isn't a house's name, you greenhorn.” Old Hogel chuckled.

“Most knights belong to a house and give its name when introducing themselves... but those who belong to Atanga are different. Atanga is a fighting organization of sorts—an order of knights.”

The Atanga Knight Order.

“A knight is one who upholds honor and pride. Without honor and pride, a knight cannot exist, and must not exist.”

They were people who observed the ancient knightly code.

“Hundreds of years have passed since the age of heroes, and the meaning of the word 'knight' has changed a great deal. These days, even someone without honor, someone who knows nothing of pride, can become a knight as long as they're strong enough.”

“It's an age when the title of knight carries little weight.” Having muttered that, old Hogel spoke with emphasis.

“The Atanga Knight Order stands in outright defiance of that age. They insist that anyone who fails to uphold pride and honor cannot be called a knight. They invoke the ancient code and set the definition of a knight right.”

Some called the people of Atanga idealists. Others said it was a place only the finest of knights could belong.

“They haven't a scrap of flexibility. Upright, rigid, and sometimes downright foolish. But that's precisely why you can't hate them.”

“You sound like you've met a lot of them.”

“I did meet plenty. Forged any number of swords for them, too.”

The old man's gaze grew distant as he recalled past glories. A faint smile rested on his lips as he lost himself in memories.

“Well, that's what the people of Atanga are like. They live and die for pride and honor. Just like knights out of a storybook.”

“That does sound pretty impressive.”

“Whatever they're like at other times, they are impressive when they speak of their honor and pride.”

“Though more often they just look foolish,” Hogel muttered, picking up his hammer again.

“Your sword should be finished in another three or four days. Come collect it then. If you need a sword to use in the meantime...”

“Oh, I'm fine for that.” Najin cut him off, rising to his feet and tapping his waist.

“I can use this for now.”

Hanging where Najin pointed was Ivan's sword—the masterwork Hogel had forged over ten years ago. Seeing the sword that ought to have been at Ivan's waist hanging at Najin's instead, Hogel widened his eyes in surprise.

Ivan, who almost never entrusted his sword to anyone, had handed it over to someone else. Hogel was not so ignorant as to miss what that meant.

“Well...” Hogel smiled. “Looks like you've met Ivan's standards.”

“I am rather impressive, aren't I?”

“Conceited little bastard.”

Hogel laughed as Najin left the smithy with that joke. It was the first hearty laugh he had enjoyed in a long time.

2.

“So what did you do?”

Offen's question left its object unspoken. Ivan's hands paused as he tended his sword, but only briefly. He resumed his work and answered, understanding what Offen was asking.

“I decided to try teaching him.”

“That's a surprise. Why, did you see something?”

“I did. Probably the same thing you saw.”

Ivan grinned. At that smile, Offen shrugged as though he had known it would turn out this way. Anyone who had walked the path of the sword could hardly fail to recognize Najin's talent.

'A radiance that must not be buried in this city.'

It seemed Ivan had witnessed that radiance too.

Ivan spoke with a mixture of bitterness, pleasure, and excitement on his face.

“I was thinking of cutting his shoulder so he couldn't hold a sword for a while, but the brat produced sword aura. He used it to block my sword. Pushed it back, even.”

The swords had shattered, ending the clash. But for one brief moment, Najin's force had driven Ivan back.

“Crazy bastard. Producing something I never even taught him.”

“A fragment of sword aura at eighteen.”

“The youngest ever. Even Sir Karon, the Sword Saint they called a once-in-an-age genius, is said to have first produced sword aura at twenty-three.”

In other words...

“If they find out, it'll turn the world above upside down.”

“Exactly. A genius like that isn't supposed to emerge from an underground city like this.”

It also meant that Najin had become an unmistakable “risk.” Had he been born elsewhere, he might have been hailed as a once-in-an-age genius and received every kind of support.

But Najin had been born in the underground city, and everyone born here was a sinner.

Heretics who had reached for something they must never touch, no different from the filthy, accursed things of Camlann. If it became known that such a heretic possessed a brilliant light, those above... especially the religious orders, would make certain to bury Najin.

“Which means,” Ivan said, “we have to make him so valuable they can't bury him—so valuable they wouldn't dare snuff him out.”

If those above were determined to suppress someone merely at the level of Sword Expert, they could do so easily. Such a person could not resist them. But what if Najin reached the next level?

Sword Seeker.

Powerful swordsmen standing between Sword Expert and Sword Master, between humanity and transcendence. Seekers of the sword who wandered in search of the path to transcendence. If Najin attained that realm, which only a tiny fraction of Sword Experts could reach...

Even those above could not bury him quietly.

Eliminating someone as powerful as a Sword Seeker would require an enormous fighting force. If they tried to bury him despite those losses, it would inevitably cause a stir, and someone would notice. They would no longer be able to deal with the matter quietly.

“If he can just get that far,” Ivan said as he tended the sword he had wielded in his days as a knight, “we'll be able to negotiate with the world above. They'll have to listen to what we have to say.”

And Ivan and Offen would sit at that negotiating table as the teachers who had raised Najin. As a knight and a mercenary, not as the underground city's trash, cast down for their sins.

“That won't be easy.”

“Difficult, but not impossible.”

“Succeed and we go back up. Fail and we die. That's one hell of a gamble.”

“But one worth taking.” Ivan grinned.

“The brat produced sword aura without being taught a thing. Doesn't that give us more than enough reason to bet on him?”

His attitude was entirely different from what it had been at the tavern the night before. Offen let out an incredulous laugh.

“That's not like you. I thought you didn't take gambles like this.”

“I didn't. Not since I lost an eye and fell all the way down here.”

“But,” Ivan continued, “what am I supposed to do now that I've seen it?”

The boy's radiance. A radiance far too beautiful to rot away in an underground city like this. That light was enough to awaken the dream Ivan had once abandoned.

“Who could see something like that and not feel their heart race? Fucking cheeky little brat.”

Ivan, too, had once been a swordsman who dreamed of the pinnacle, a knight who yearned for the stars. And the radiance Najin had shown him was like the starlight he had forgotten since being cast into the underground city.

Remembering that radiance, Ivan smiled. It was not the murky smile of a ruler who held the underground city in his grip, but the clear smile of a knight who had pursued the stars.

“You haven't changed either.” Offen smiled bitterly at the sight of him.

'So this is how it turned out after all.'

When Offen had first witnessed Najin's radiance, he had pitied the boy's fate. He felt sorry for Najin, doomed to rot in this city for the rest of his life. That was why he had said what he did to Ivan over drinks: why not take a chance on Najin?

An impulsive remark, made without any plan. A suggestion born of pity for the damned kid.

Ivan had accepted that suggestion. He had begun fleshing it out and making plans. Watching him was like seeing Ivan in his days as a knight—a sight now unfamiliar, yet sorely missed.

“Whew...”

With a slight smile, Offen let out a long breath. It was not his usual alcohol-soaked breath. Completely sober, he laid a hand on the sword hilt at his waist. It was his cherished sword, one he had wielded countless times as a mercenary.

“We're going to be busy.”

“We are. We'll have to work out how to teach him, too.”

“Well, there's that, but...” Offen tilted the sword he had drawn. “First, let's work out what to do about those.”

His sword tip pointed toward an entrance into Horse's territory. Not the front entrance in old Hogel's smithy, but the back entrance through the mine tunnels.

Naturally, there were guards watching it.

Ivan lowered his gaze, erasing his knightly smile and narrowing his eye. After inspecting their gait and the condition of their equipment, he ran his hand over his sword hilt.

“Four grunts and one officer.”

“Is that one strong? I've never met him.”

“Not especially. He can use mana, but he's not Expert level. The Fourth Leg, I think. Probably.”

“Traps?”

“None I can see right now.”

“Then we're set.” Offen jerked his chin. “I'll take the three on the right.”

“Then I'll handle the officer's side.”

That ended the conversation. The two men, who had been looking down at the tunnel entrance from a hill, pushed off the ground together. Yet no footsteps could be heard.

Offen had completed countless contracts as a mercenary, and Ivan had taken part in countless operations as a knight. Though they could not match Rangers, who specialized in covert movement, infiltration, and assassination, they too had infiltrated places and assassinated key targets more times than they cared to count. They had not reached the level of Sword Expert by swinging their swords at a wall. They had practical experience to spare.

TAP.

By the time a footstep rang out, Ivan and Offen were already right in front of the guards. As their eyes widened and they tried to shout, Offen's sword cut a guard's throat.

Blood sprayed. Slicing through the spray, Offen's sword shot forward like an awl.

“Ghk...”

Another guard's neck was pierced.

As the guard collapsed, choking on blood, Offen pulled his sword free of the man's neck and took a long stride forward. Another guard finally sensed him and hurriedly turned around. Offen reached for his mouth, clamped a hand firmly over it, and slit his throat.

Three men died without managing a single scream. Having dispatched them in moments, Offen exhaled and looked back.

“Ghk, ghrk...”

The officer was crawling along the ground, clutching his throat. But even that did not last long. Ivan brought his sword down on the crawling officer's spine.

A brief convulsion. Then the officer moved no more.

First cut the throat to prevent a shout, then finish the target off. That was their method. Ivan pulled his sword out of the corpse and pointed into the tunnel: a signal to go in.

TAP.

The two walked toward the tunnel shrouded in darkness.

3.

Late that afternoon, Najin patrolled the streets. Very few members of the organization knew Ivan was away, and what could possibly happen during an absence of only a few days? Still...

'You never know.'

The atmosphere in the underground city had been ominous lately. A spy from Horse's side whom they had yet to catch might cause trouble. That was why he was patrolling the streets, but he found nothing out of the ordinary.

“...”

His patrol had brought him near the square before he knew it. Najin cast an idle sidelong glance at the soldiers guarding its center. Come to think of it, hadn't they said Excalibur would disappear at midnight tonight?

The Trial of the Stars lasted only thirteen days. And today was the thirteenth day.

Najin had kept visiting the square over the past thirteen days in the hope of catching a glimpse of the sword. But apart from that first day, he had not seen even the light it gave off, let alone the sword itself.

'All I got was a good long look at the armor of the soldiers guarding it.'

Najin smiled bitterly.

Still, he would no longer have to loiter around the square. By tomorrow, the holy sword would be gone, and once it disappeared, so would the voice ringing in his ears.

Draw the sword. You can draw it.

Mulling over the words he was almost growing fond of now, Najin dragged his reluctant feet away. Just as he was about to leave the square...

“Najin!”

Someone called his name.

Najin turned his head. A member of the organization was running toward him—one of the few who knew Ivan was away.

'Zek the collector.'

Apart from Offen and Najin, he was the highest-ranking person in Ivan's organization.

“What's wrong, Zek?”

“Hah, whew... Well, it's...”

“Catch your breath first. What is it?”

Zek panted heavily, winded from running. After a long exhalation, he spoke.

“There's a guy from the Spider's organization causing a scene outside Daisy Tavern right now. He says to bring Ivan immediately. Says he has something to tell him.”

“... What?” Najin blinked.

“Is he insane? Why do that in someone else's territory? We should tie him up and wait until Ivan gets back...”

“We can't tie him up,” Zek interrupted.

“There's about fifteen men trying to hold him down right now, but they won't last long. He's an officer. Arnold, the First Leg, at that. I think you'd better come.”

Arnold, the Spider's First Leg. The strongest of the eight Legs and, according to Ivan, a fighter approaching the level of Sword Expert. Najin's eyes narrowed as he listened.

“Let's go. I'll head over first. Follow me.”

“All right. I'll catch my breath and follow.”

Najin started running toward the tavern where the First Leg was causing trouble. He was heading there for now, but he could not shake the feeling that something was off.

'Why on earth?'

The question circled in his mind.

Arnold, the First Leg, was known as the second-in-command of Horse the Spider's organization. Why would someone like that come into Ivan's territory and cause a scene?

'Did he realize Ivan was going to strike first?'

No, too many things about that did not add up. If he had realized Ivan had struck first, shouldn't he be protecting Horse in his own territory instead? He certainly would not come all the way here and rampage about, demanding that they bring Ivan because he had something to tell him.

That peculiar sense that something was wrong. And above all...

“...”

The air in the streets was different from usual.

Najin rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. He frowned at the foul smell in the air. He had smelled it before, but he could not remember exactly when.

“...bring him here!”

A voice rang in his ears. He had reached the tavern. There stood Arnold, the First Leg, shouting as he shook off the organization members lunging at him.

“Bring Ivan here! I have to tell him!” he shouted. “That Horse and I were both just being used!”

Arnold screamed at the top of his lungs, his eyes bloodshot red.

As though he were high on drugs.