“Did you say that man over there was your comrade?”

Najin pointed at the headless knight wandering among the skewers. He wasn't sure that thing could really be called a person, but since he had been the Helmeted Knight's comrade, Najin decided to show a minimum of courtesy.

“Yes. He was the deputy commander of the Order of the Golden Horn.”

“Didn't you say he broke the horn on your helmet? I naturally assumed there was bad blood between you.”

“There is, in a sense, but he smashed the horn after he turned into that.”

The Helmeted Knight leaned his head against the boulder. His helmet clattered against the stone.

“I tried to stop him once. He was still my deputy commander, after all. What sort of commander can't stop even one of his subordinates from going astray? So I tried. I did, but...”

“But?”

“Well, I failed miserably. I told you, didn't I? To kill one of the Lost who reached great heights in life, you need pure starlight.”

“You did.”

“My star is already stained. No matter what I tried, I couldn't kill him. Cut off his arms, sever his legs, run him through—he'd get right back up and charge at me like a beast. After a while, I realized I couldn't keep doing that to him, so I stopped.”

Stained starlight could not lay the Lost to rest. Hacking them apart again and again with overwhelming physical force might render them immobile, but that was far from peace. A soul dwelled in even the tiniest fragment, and over decades or centuries, it would inevitably regenerate.

Immortality. Deathlessness. Regeneration.

The Outer Lands never granted rest to those who had fled death. Had you chosen to live forever? Then go on—endure eternity. Anyone who set foot in the Outer Lands had to steel themselves to do just that.

Shine forever, or lose their light and fall.

There were no other choices.

“And what's more, he's a Constellation.”

The Star of the Horn, a Constellation who had possessed six stars.

“Once a Constellation falls and becomes Lost, you can't call them human anymore. Flesh torn off? Arms severed? Body ground to pieces? Physical means like those can't even stop a fallen star, let alone kill one.”

The Helmeted Knight pointed at the Star of the Horn. Black veins pulsed in his armor.

“The closer a person comes to becoming a Constellation, the less their soul is bound by their body. All they need to do is fill in the missing parts with starlight. Unlike other Lost, even their hearts become meaningless.”

Najin looked at the Star of the Horn. There were six hearts in his body. Those were the stars he had possessed in life. Fallen, stripped of their essence, stained black and no longer shining, they were embedded in his armor.

“Physical death doesn't exist for a fallen star. Repeated damage to their bodies just makes their forms more monstrous. Monsters that move even without hearts or heads.”

“...”

“The only ones who can grant them rest...”

The Helmeted Knight raised a finger and pointed at Najin.

“...are other stars. Novas with pure stars, like you. Of course, the problem is that it's nearly impossible for a newly risen star to take on a Constellation who once had several.”

“But,” the Helmeted Knight continued, pointing at himself, “with my help, things are a little different.”

He shrugged.

“Who am I? A former Sword Master, a former transcendent being, and the commander who led the Order of the Golden Horn, once the Empire's finest knightly order.”

“Former being the operative word in all of that.”

“The experience is still there, is my point. I wouldn't fall short against most Sword Masters, you know.”

“I'm not exactly reassured...”

Despite his grumbling, Najin stood.

“Still, it's the victor's demand, so the loser has to obey. Do you have a plan?”

“Of course. I was just about to explain it.”

“Before that,” the Helmeted Knight said, “can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“What's the name attached to your star? I realized I hadn't asked you yet.”

“Dawnstar,” Najin answered. “The star that heralds the end of night.”

2.

Najin walked through the wasteland, the Graveyard of Stars. As always, a sword was fastened at his waist, but it remained sheathed. It was not yet time to draw it.

TAP.

Walking forward, Najin looked straight ahead. There stood one of the Lost who had missed his time to die. A forgotten star who had forgotten himself and no longer shone. Even as Najin approached, he merely wandered among the spear shafts without showing any wariness.

Najin had not yet set foot in his territory.

The Star of the Horn guarded his territory. He attacked indiscriminately anyone who entered it. In other words, as long as they did not intrude, he would not attack first.

TAP.

Najin stopped at the edge. Beyond this line lay the Star of the Horn's territory. The Star of the Horn had stopped as well, turning toward Najin as though ready to attack the instant he took a single step across.

Then Najin drew his sword.

SHING.

Holding the drawn blade upright toward the sky, he closed his eyes. It was a brief sword salute, a stance he had learned from Ivan, and a ritual he went through when drawing forth his mental image with particular intensity.

Sword aura rose from Najin's blade, taking the form of a constellation.

Over the earth where fallen stars lay buried, over a graveyard filled with stars that could no longer shine, the boy's sword aura shone pure white. Holding his constellation-wreathed sword upright, Najin stepped forward.

He crossed the line. He entered the Star of the Horn's territory.

At that instant, the Star of the Horn moved. The black stars embedded in his armor pulsed like hearts, and a black star rose above the empty space where his head should have been. He was about to blow his horn, just as his star's name declared.

BWOOOOOO.

A horn sounded from somewhere.

The Star of the Horn froze briefly. He turned toward the sound. There stood the Helmeted Knight, holding a horn.

“Hey, Krünbel.”

He waved the horn.

“Have you forgotten? Blowing the horn first is the commander's privilege. There's an order to everything, you insolent brat.”

THUD!

The Helmeted Knight slammed his spear shaft into the ground.

“Blow your horns, Golden Horns!” he shouted, tossing the horn toward the sky.

A hundred and fifty years ago, twelve notes had followed the moment he threw his horn into the sky. The sound of every member of the Order of the Golden Horn blowing their horns, the vibrations of those notes, had filled the battlefield.

When the horns echoed, the Empire's enemies were stricken with terror, and the imperial army knew victory was assured. Blowing their horns, the Order of the Golden Horn had charged gloriously into battle.

All of that was now in the past.

No one stood behind the Helmeted Knight now. All twelve knights who should have been at his side had become Lost. The man who would have blown his horn with the greatest enthusiasm stood not behind him, but before him, aiming a spear at him.

And yet, even so, silence did not settle over the battlefield.

BWOOOOOOOOOO.

Just as it had a hundred and fifty years ago, the sound of horns filled the battlefield.

As if answering the Helmeted Knight's words, the Star of the Horn blew his horns. The horns embedded in his body vibrated in unison. It was not because he understood the Helmeted Knight. Having become Lost, the Star of the Horn had no reason left. Only instinct remained.

His instinct cried out.

Blow the horns.

Answer that note.

Though he had lost his reason, he was still the star that blew the horn. That essence, at least, he had not forgotten. And so, amid the echoing horns, the Helmeted Knight could not help bursting into laughter. Even reduced to that, had he still not forgotten?

TAP.

The Helmeted Knight took his place beside Najin.

“Ready?”

“What more preparation do I need?”

“Honestly, this is why I can't stand gifted bastards.”

The Helmeted Knight took his stance. Najin also bent his knees and drew his sword back behind him. At the same time, the Star of the Horn pulled out a spear shaft and roared.

“What a racket he's making.”

“Looks like he's angry at seeing the man who stole his spear.”

“I told you, I didn't steal it! I borrowed it. Borrowed.”

“Didn't you say he gave it to you?”

“Minor detail.”

Even as they traded silly jokes, neither wavered in their stance. As the Star of the Horn charged at them with a roar, the two kicked off the ground and rushed to meet him. Turning their backs and fleeing a charging enemy was not conduct befitting a knight.

3.

Blow your horns, Golden Horns.

Pierce the Empire's enemies.

Bear the Empire's banner and advance.

We shall triumph gloriously and march with pride.

The sound of horns lingered in his ears. Scenes of racing across the plains while blowing a horn flashed before his eyes. He had no ears, no eyes, not even a head left with which to recall anything, yet those scenes would not disappear.

The Star of the Horn blows his horns.

Because he remembers nothing else.

He could not understand what any of these actions meant. He did not even know what he was doing. Just as a beast attached no meaning to each of its actions, neither did he. His actions had no meaning. No value, either.

Simply because it was all he had left, the Star of the Horn blows his horns.

Blowing his horns, he thrust his spear. With every thrust, the sound of something bursting echoed out.

SPLAT!

The human impaled on the shaft had burst, unable to withstand the impact. Flesh and blood scattered.

CRACK.

Earth that the spearhead had not even touched split and burst, sending up clouds of dust. Every movement of his body gouged another crater into the ground. Though he had forgotten himself, the techniques engraved in his flesh had not vanished.

The Star of the Horn was a knight who had once attained transcendence.

With a single spear, he had reached the rank of Master and faced countless stars. His techniques, which had pierced even the stars in the night sky with that one spear, had not been lost, though his flesh had been ruined and his stars had fallen.

CRR-RRRRACK!

When he moved his spear forward a handspan, the earth within a radius of several meters split and overturned. The crude spear shaft in his hand broke before it could withstand even a single full technique, but that did not matter.

THUNK.

He needed only to pull out another spear.

This was his stellar domain. Every spear shaft densely planted in the ground was a weapon for him.

CLAAAANG!

The moment Najin parried the thrusting spear, his knees nearly buckled. Even withstanding a single technique was an ordeal. Sliding backward, he steadied his breathing.

Was a transcendent being still a transcendent being, after all?

Though the Star of the Horn had fallen and grown weaker, even Najin found his techniques astonishing. A mere thrust gouged up the ground and raised a storm. It was not hard to imagine what a formidable knight he had been in life.

'But even a knight like that fell.'

The Helmeted Knight had said that countless heroes had fallen in this land. That they had met ends worse than death. That this was not a place where stars were born, but the Graveyard of Stars, where stars died and lay buried.

Najin understood why he had described it that way, but he did not much care for the expression.

In fact, he disliked the Outer Lands themselves. He hated this environment that mocked human nobility, drove people to their limits and corrupted them, and would not even permit them death. Was this not an insult to the heroes who had set foot here?

Heroes deserved ends worthy of them.

At the very least, their final moments should be worthy.

Was it because the knight who had shown him a star had shone at the end? Because he had grown up reading tales of heroes? Because he admired them? Or was that simply the kind of person Najin was?

It could not be reduced to a single reason.

He simply wanted them to shine, at least in their final moments. They deserved that much.

'So...'

Najin adjusted his grip on his sword.

As the Helmeted Knight advanced the distance Najin had retreated and bought him time, Najin steadied his breathing.

'The same goes for you.'

Najin said it as he looked at the Knight of Silence—or perhaps the Helmeted Knight. He still knew little about the Star of the Horn, who had turned into a beast. He knew neither what great feats the Knight of Silence, Krünbel, had accomplished nor what had led him to become this.

Then shouldn't he begin finding out now?

'Only a pure star can bleach a fallen star clean.'

Najin closed his eyes and focused inward. The wavering scenery of the underground city. A star hanging low and a star hanging high. A blue star and a platinum star. Seated there, Merlin smiled at him.

“See?” she whispered. “I told you you'd get the hang of it in no time, didn't I?”

Trailing his sword tip low, Najin sprinted forward. The constellation gathered at its tip flickered. Above, his two stars twinkled in the sky.

The seeds planted in the boy's mental image were on the verge of Sprouting.