At its core, Battering Ram was a thrust.

A thrust that sent the spear forward while rotating its shaft. The principle itself was simple, but mastering Battering Ram was anything but. The technique demanded far too many things.

An explosive burst of strength and perfect posture.

An understanding of the spear.

The shape of the aura wrapped around its tip.

To wind the air around the shaft and release it at the spearhead, every one of those elements had to be flawless. That was precisely what had astonished the Helmeted Knight while teaching Najin Battering Ram.

Even members of the Order of the Golden Horn, a gathering of the Empire's most extraordinary talents, had to spend a full year practicing that single technique to learn it. That held true even for those whose primary weapon was a spear.

But Najin was different.

He had understood Battering Ram after seeing it just a few times. His execution was imperfect because he was unfamiliar with the spear, but he understood perfectly how the technique worked, which movements required force, and at what angle he needed to thrust.

Understanding naturally led to taking things apart.

Every movement of Battering Ram was broken down in Najin's mind. Split into dozens, then hundreds of frames, the movements flashed rapidly through his head.

'Ah.'

Najin looks ahead.

There is a perfect Battering Ram before him. A technique of a higher caliber than the Helmeted Knight's demonstration, truly approaching perfection. Now that he has witnessed Krünbel's Battering Ram for the second time, Najin knows what he must do.

With bloodshot eyes, Najin sees it.

A gap in the raging storm.

It is literally thread-thin. So small and narrow that not even a needle seems likely to fit through it. Until now, Najin would have been unable to slip his sword into that opening. Even if his eyes saw it, his body would not have kept up.

Now, things are different.

The moment Najin swung, his blade was a handspan farther ahead than usual. A mere handspan. But that handspan was enough to decide the contest. His sword pierced the currents of the storm.

TICK, TICK-TICK...

Something catches on the tip of his blade. The storm begins to split along Najin's sword. Dividing to either side, its raging winds batter his body. He can endure it. Swinging his sword, Najin steps forward.

One step, then another.

To Najin, every movement feels endlessly slow, but that is only his perception of time. From outside, his movements are almost too fast for the eye to follow. He feels as though he is walking, but to anyone watching, he is running.

His sword cleaves the storm. He advances, cleaving the storm.

Tiny blood vessels burst in Najin's eye. One side of his vision turns red, but he pays it no mind. Color does not matter. As his sword splits the storm, he even feels as though sparks are flying inside his head.

His senses seem to expand, his world to widen. It is not merely a feeling. His mental image is truly expanding. A shoot emerging from a seed planted beneath the earth splits the soil and lifts its head aboveground.

Sprouting.

One of the three steps toward becoming a Sword Master.

Najin has taken his first step toward transcendence.

Najin's sword aura shone snow-white. Even the gold mixed into it was bleached white, for the knight he envisioned had shone even without a star.

THUD!

Najin stamped hard against the ground. Now, even to his own senses, he was running forward.

He races through the storm, cleaving it apart.

The arc traced by his sword as it swings through the wind is, naturally, a technique worthy of being called Najin's best.

The sword of Ivan, knight of Atanga.

Of course, the technique Ivan had performed was not perfect. Though he had approached the level of a Sword Seeker, Ivan had been a Sword Expert, and the technique he had completed then had its flaws. Filling those gaps fell to his disciple, Najin.

Having surpassed Sword Expert to become a Sword Seeker, and now racing toward still greater heights, Najin uses his own experience to fill the gaps in the technique, bringing Ivan's sword closer to completion.

'I will defeat you head-on.'

You are worthy of that.

That is the meaning held within the technique.

By coincidence, it also aligns with the tale embodied in Najin's first star, the star of challenge. Unconsciously, Najin drew upon his star's tale.

「Only head-on.」

The star propelled Najin forward. He took what would be his final step, swinging his sword as he did. The instant the arc of his blade became complete, he stood directly before Krünbel.

The storm had split.

Krünbel swept his outstretched spear sideways as though to shove Najin away. Najin brought his upraised sword down. Krünbel moved faster, but Najin's technique had been designed with a second strike in mind from the outset.

A technique that broke the enemy's technique with the first strike.

And cut down the opponent with the second.

From the instant the sword swept upward, the blade had been waiting only to fall. Najin swung it down. His sword was faster than Krünbel's spear. Only by a handspan... but victory and defeat were decided by such tiny differences.

SH slash!

Sweeping diagonally downward, Najin's sword cleaved Krünbel's body in two. The blade entered his shoulder and emerged from his flank. No blood sprayed. What spilled from the long sword wound was snow-white light.

Untainted, pure-white light.

The white starlight burned Krünbel's body.

The heavens acknowledged the boy's great feat. One more new star rose into the night sky.

The six stars embedded in Krünbel's armor.

The blackened stars were bleached clean. Like filthy water washing away, like soot flaking off, Krünbel's stars began to turn white.

No, they were not changing color.

They were regaining their original color.

At the same time, Krünbel's body began to crumble. First came the helmets clinging to his armor. Then his flesh, which had fused with the armor, also turned to dust and scattered.

The whiter his black stars became, the faster his body collapsed. Releasing the breath he had held, Najin panted as he watched Krünbel. Krünbel, too, was watching him.

"..."

Krünbel slowly took a step back.

Half his body had already crumbled away. With the arm on his remaining half, he gripped his spear shaft. It was not to swing it, much less to threaten Najin.

THUD!

He drove the shaft into the ground.

He said nothing, for Krünbel was the Knight of Silence. He believed some things could be conveyed without words, that a single second of silence could convey more than a hundred words. Thus, he gave silence great weight.

The Knight of Silence offered a salute.

Though he had lost his head and even half his body had collapsed, respect for his opponent was clear in that salute. It was not offered to Najin alone. It was also for the Helmeted Knight, who had come to his side.

Having forgotten himself and lost his identity, he had wandered the graveyard of stars for decades. He had spent days far removed from silence, shrieking like a beast and blowing his horn.

But in his final moment, he could be the Knight of Silence. His end was quiet.

His newly white stars crumbled softly along with his body. Only a single spear remained where he had stood.

"You've finally taken the discharge you put off for eighty-seven years, Krünbel."

The Helmeted Knight smiled bitterly.

"Well done."

He gave Najin's shoulder a light pat.

Those words were for Najin, and for Krünbel as well. The Helmeted Knight approached the lone spear, then knelt before it on one knee.

"His name is Krünbel. His epithet is the Knight of Silence, the name given to his stars is the Star of the Horn, and he belongs to the Order of the Golden Horn."

The Helmeted Knight spoke with his head bowed.

"He was the next commander of the Order of the Golden Horn, its deputy commander, and a knight braver than any other. Though the commander who should have led you sank to the ground, you advanced alone. You challenged ceaselessly, marching onward as you blew your horn. I would call that entire journey noble."

It was a eulogy for Krünbel.

"You knew the value of silence. You knew courage. You knew honor and pride. In your final moment, you were a knight. So..."

The Helmeted Knight gripped the spear shaft.

"Rest easy, Krünbel."

There was no need to wrap a new banner around his body.

The innermost banner, bound most tightly of all, was already that of the Order of the Golden Horn.

"Thank you."

The Helmeted Knight spoke before the campfire.

His voice was more subdued than usual. At its low rumble, Najin looked up.

"You sound like a man about to die."

"Do I?"

"You look a little more at peace, too."

"Well, sending off my last remaining knight has put my mind somewhat at ease."

The Helmeted Knight shrugged.

"Of the thirteen members of the Order of the Golden Horn, he was the last one left. Now that I've sent him off, well... I feel I've done everything I needed to do, at least."

"The last?"

Najin tilted his head, then raised a finger to point at the Helmeted Knight.

"You're still here."

"Calling me a knight would be a bit much."

"What are you talking about? You told me to call you the Helmeted Knight."

"Not a knight in a helmet. 'The Helmeted Knight.' Have I done anything to deserve being called a knight? A nickname is about right."

A nickname based on his outward appearance.

The Helmeted Knight seemed to think it was enough if that nickname alone allowed him to be called a knight. Najin responded with disbelief.

"You live more like a knight than anyone, and you're saying you aren't one?"

"It's not something you can say so easily or simply—"

"Don't fuss over the little things."

Najin chuckled.

"Doesn't that just make life exhausting?"

It was something the Helmeted Knight said almost by habit.

He burst into laughter, as though Najin had landed a blow.

"You're right."

He let out a long breath.

"Krünbel was supposed to come after me. He was to succeed me as commander of the Order of the Golden Horn. Honest and steadfast, that one. I thought I could trust him with it. Never imagined he'd leave the service before I did."

He ran a hand over the spear he held.

"Najin."

"Yes?"

"Interested in using this spear?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You're the one who defeated Krünbel and won the duel, aren't you? A victor ought to be rewarded."

"It seems a little too large for me. Besides, my primary weapon is a sword."

"A secondary weapon can come in handy in all sorts of ways. And this spear is a little special... It'll shrink to fit your hands. It's something like a Masterpiece."

The Helmeted Knight handed Najin the spear.

It did not change when Najin gripped it.

"It's not changing."

"Try channeling starlight into it."

Najin did so. The shaft vibrated, and the spear grew a little smaller—just the right size for him to hold and wield.

"Not bad, eh?"

"It's nice, but... what will you use, then?"

Najin gave the Helmeted Knight a doubtful look. Wasn't this just like a man disposing of his belongings before he died? The Helmeted Knight chuckled at that look.

"Don't look at me like that. I've no intention of dying. Until I've put a hole in the head of the bitch who reduced the Order of the Golden Horn to this, I'll be too bitter to die."

"Is that so?"

"That's how it is."

Najin ran a hand over the spear, then looked at the Helmeted Knight.

"You thanked me just now."

"I did."

"If you're grateful... that must mean I did better than you'd imagined. Honestly, I think I did pretty well myself."

"Annoying as that is, I can't deny it. Yes, you did better than I'd imagined. It wasn't simply a demand I made as the winner of our duel. It was half a favor I was asking of you."

The Helmeted Knight was grateful to Najin, who had charged on without retreating despite his grievous injuries and finally granted Krünbel rest. He had allowed the knight's deputy commander to die as a knight, accomplishing what he himself had left undone.

Najin knew he was grateful. And because he knew, he gave the Helmeted Knight a mischievous smile.

"Then I'll cash in what you owe me for that extra effort now."

"Well, I can grant you one wish."

"Teach me swordsmanship."

He pointed to the sword tied at the Helmeted Knight's waist.

"You're a Sword Master, aren't you?"

"To be precise, I used to be a Sword Master."

"You still remember the techniques, don't you?"

"... I can't claim I've forgotten them."

"Then teach me those."

The Helmeted Knight could not answer immediately.

Najin knew he was reluctant to draw his sword. He also suspected that drawing it carried a weighty meaning for him.