First Horn, Triumphant Return.

Alderan Basaglia, the Empire’s foremost warrior, brought down his sword.

The sword, raised high enough to pierce the heavens, fell toward the earth. It was a pure strike, unaccompanied by sword aura, bearing no mental image and containing no magical element whatsoever.

Nothing but a single swing.

... Countless swordsmen and mages had relied on magical means to escape the laws of the world and transcend the limits of their flesh. Sword aura, mana, magic, and the like. But here stood one swordsman who asked:

Why would you need any of that?

A single sword was enough for a swordsman.

Originally, Sword Master was a term for those who had surpassed their limits with the single sword given to them. Then should they not be able to transcend something as ordinary as the limits of their flesh without relying on sword aura? Alderan Basaglia answered that question.

That went without saying.

To make the obvious truly obvious, Alderan showed the world his answer.

Triumphant Return.

There was no complicated principle behind the technique. No profound secret that penetrated the workings of the world, and the path traced by its tip could not have been simpler. It was an honest strike, brought straight down from above.

Honesty. To be upright and true.

That was the value Alderan Basaglia believed in. A knight must always be upright and true. The Empire’s hero must always win honestly. It was a value Alderan had upheld throughout his life.

Now he proved it through his sword.

The air trembled with every handspan Alderan’s sword advanced. The space around it warped as though crushed beneath something of overwhelming mass. Compressed and distorted, that space passed its breaking point and shattered like glass.

CRAAANG!

The landscape split along the sword’s trajectory. Dragging fragments of space behind it, the swinging blade touched the earth.

CRACK.

The earth split. The landscape split.

Alderan stood with his feet planted on the ground and swung his sword toward the earth, yet that single strike cleaved the clouds high above before plunging beneath the ground.

Sword aura burst from the tip of Alderan’s blade.

Not sword aura made from mana, but a tempest created by the swing of a sword—an aura formed by joining the shattered space back together. It was closer to a phenomenon than sword aura.

KRRRAAAASH!

Alderan’s sword aura advanced, smashing everything in its path. Like a ship’s bow breaking through ice to carve out a passage, it stretched endlessly forward.

Najin witnessed it all with his own eyes.

A strike with its intervening process cut away, leaving only cause and effect. Watching the sword strike approach, shattering space like a pane of glass, he found himself thinking how beautiful it was. A strike of unsurpassed beauty.

He wanted to lose himself in the sight, but he could not. That strike was aimed at him. In that instant, Najin did not consciously swing his sword; he moved on instinct. His intuition, sounding its alarm like mad, moved his body before he could think.

He could not dodge it. Could not deflect it. Could not withstand it in full. All he could do now was minimize the damage. Instinctively, he chose what to sacrifice.

TICK.

Najin’s sword aura touched Alderan’s. Within that endlessly stretched moment, he saw space split outward from the point of impact.

CRACK.

The fracture spread into his sword aura.

That strike shattered everything it touched. Whatever stood before it, it would smash through and open a path.

A kind of law inhabited the sword of a transcendent being, and no mere mortal could resist that law. Countless futures flashed through Najin’s mind. Scenes of his body shattering and splitting apart.

... Under normal circumstances, those should have become reality, not remained possible futures. But Alderan was not using sword aura now. He was not whole, and his technique carried no mental image.

Thus, Najin could resist that future.

And he knew how to escape it.

Not because he had gained enlightenment, nor because his eyes had found the answer. He had been taught. While training Najin, Alderan had explained his ultimate technique—and taught him how to counter it.

As though preparing for the day his pupil would face him.

Recalling that lesson, Najin moved.

「Don’t try to block it. You can’t. Don’t try to dodge it. You can’t. Deflect it? If that worked, my sword would never have sliced through the Emperor of Revelry’s heart.」

「Give something up. The part you need least.」

「Turn the repelling force of that strike—its impulse—to your advantage. Accept the damage, throw yourself into that force, and get out of its range.」

「That jester bastard Quixote countered it that way. Of course, he still lost an eye and his warhorse. But I’m much weaker now than I was then. Even you should be able to counter my ultimate technique that way.」

Alderan had laughed as he explained it, asking, ["Easy, right?"] But now that Najin had tasted the ultimate technique of the Triumphant Sword, he could not laugh at all. His damned master—what the hell was easy about this?

His sword shook. His sword aura split. The bones of the left arm holding his sword began to shatter. Najin chose what to sacrifice and what to protect. He threw himself into the opening bought with his left arm.

Repelling force. Tempest. Shock wave.

His body screamed the instant he plunged into them. Bones broke, skin tore, and blood sprayed. Inwardly, Najin cursed the hell out of his master for teaching him this as a counter. Caught in the aftermath, he was hurled high into the sky.

CRACK.

The last thing Najin saw was the world’s landscape splitting in two. The clouds had been cut away, and a deep, straight furrow scored the earth. He did not miss the trajectory of the sword aura as it swept past him and reached far into the distance.

Taking it all in, Najin fell.

2.

THUD! BOOM!

With each impact jolting his body, Najin slipped in and out of consciousness. Judging by his spinning vision, he seemed to have been flung high into the sky, fallen without properly breaking his fall, and was now bouncing and tumbling across the ground.

His vision flickered. After repeatedly blacking out and waking in that brief span, he barely managed to regain his senses. Amid the confusion, he raised his arm and drove it into the ground.

There was a sword in that hand. So he had managed not to let go of it through all that chaos? At least that was fortunate. The problem, if anything, was that the hand and arm holding it were twisted at grotesque angles.

SKRRRRSH!

With his sword plunged into the earth, Najin slid a long way before finally coming to a stop. He released the breath he had been holding, and blood gushed out with it. Blood was not all he coughed up. It seemed that something he should not be coughing up had come out as well.

“Ghk, ngh...”

He could breathe out, but drawing another breath was not easy. Only after coughing up the blood blocking his throat could he breathe again. Every inhalation sent pain through his lungs.

Excalibur’s healing power restored Najin’s body, but because it repaired his damaged senses and nervous system first, he had to endure excruciating pain.

Still, that pain cleared his head.

His numbed senses returned as well.

Najin raised his right hand and clamped it around his half-torn-off left shoulder. Lightning flashed before his eyes. Through pain that threatened to knock him unconscious, he concentrated Excalibur’s healing power on his left arm and shoulder.

“Hhh...”

He let out a long breath and lifted the corners of his mouth. They trembled, but he did not hide his smile. There were two reasons for it.

First, he felt he might finally understand the ultimate technique of the Triumphant Sword.

And second...

“...”

Najin looked ahead.

The billowing dust slowly cleared. As the aftermath of Alderan’s ultimate technique subsided, he emerged into view, staring straight toward Najin.

Alderan did not charge. He did not swing his sword at him. He simply waited.

The knight waited for the dust to settle, for his fallen opponent to rise again.

As though asking whether that was not how a fine duel ought to be. As though saying this duel must not end before both had shown their best.

Najin could not help smiling at the sight.

Even after losing his awareness, a knight remained a knight, then. Feeling something akin to awe, Najin slowly raised himself. Though he staggered, he stood on his own two feet and lifted his sword.

Only then did Alderan raise his sword as well.

Najin exhaled deeply, and his breathing steadied.

‘He really is strong. So damned strong.’

Though he used no sword aura and his worn-out flesh was on the verge of crumbling, Alderan Basaglia was stronger than any enemy Najin had faced.

Even pouring everything he had into the fight, Najin could barely reach Alderan’s feet. Using Excalibur might narrow the gap somewhat, but even setting aside the consequences, it was not a means he should use in this duel.

Najin could not control Excalibur. He did not wield it; it wielded him.

「A swordsman is one who wields a sword.」

「You must wield your sword with conviction, not let your sword aura or your blade wield you.」

That was what Alderan had told him during his lessons. Do not let it control you. If it did, how could that be your strength? He was right. This was also the last of Najin’s pride.

‘What a shame.’

At that moment, Najin felt regret.

He had wanted to fight Alderan on equal terms and win a complete victory in this duel.

He had wanted to surpass his master entirely and give him a satisfying end through their sparring.

But he was too weak to fulfill that wish. Far too weak. Only by raising his sword aura, drawing up his mana, and even calling on the starlight in the sky could he cross swords with Alderan. That fact filled him with regret.

‘But...’

Regrettable as it was, that made it all the more imperative.

‘I have to win. No matter what.’

Najin desperately recalled the ultimate technique of the Triumphant Sword that Alderan had just displayed. This was the first time he had seen its complete form, but not the first time he had seen the technique.

Having forgotten himself and been stripped of transcendence, the Helmeted Knight had tried again and again to remember who he was. He had desperately attempted to reproduce that forgotten technique. Najin vividly remembered the traces of his struggle, those agonized movements.

And he had watched the Helmeted Knight remember himself, regain transcendence, and become Alderan Basaglia... He had seen how the man’s sword changed at the same time, how he filled in what had been lacking.

Recalling it all, Najin tightened his grip on his sword.

He exhaled and raised it.

Najin could steal techniques after seeing them only a few times, but not Alderan’s ultimate technique. He understood it, yet could not reproduce it. He had not reached transcendence.

The gulf between a transcendent being and himself.

He could never bridge that gulf.

But giving up because he could not bridge it was not in his nature. Najin filled that gap with what he possessed. As he always had, he gazed at the star shining high above and reached out.

TAP.

Planting his foot like Alderan, Najin raised his sword toward the sky like Alderan. Of course, he could not split space and create tempest-raising sword aura with a mere swing as Alderan could.

A light flashed.

Instead, Najin had his own sword aura.

A constellation coiled around Najin’s sword. As Alderan had taught him, he wrapped the blade in sword aura. Compressed to its limit, the aura distorted the surrounding landscape. Najin’s stars in the night sky shone, strengthening it.

Sword aura. Mana. Starlight.

Mobilizing every means he possessed, Najin reproduced Alderan Basaglia’s technique. As though answering that effort, Alderan assumed his stance once more.

SPLAT.

Blood spilled whenever Najin moved. It flowed from his open wounds, but his stance did not falter. Here and now, he would surpass his limits.

CRUMBLE...

Whenever Alderan moved, his body turned to dust and drifted away. His flesh had already reached its limit when he unleashed the ultimate technique of the Triumphant Sword, but his soul had not yet yielded. He drove his exhausted body onward, moving beyond its limits.

The two looked at each other.

Master and pupil met each other’s gaze.

The swords of knight and apprentice knight shone.

The fallen star and the star yet to rise glittered.

First Horn.

Neither could be said to have moved first.

Triumphant Return.

The two brought down their swords almost simultaneously.

3.

Alderan Basaglia set an example, as he always had. He had always been an exemplary knight, an exemplary hero. Those who followed him ran along the path he opened. This time, too, he was simply setting an example.

Eight crumbled stars shone.

As always, Najin learned by watching the back of the one ahead of him. He walked the paths of the heroes who had once crossed the world, glimpsing their lives and learning their techniques. So that he could go farther than they had.

Three stars and a rising fourth star shone.

Najin swung his sword. Alderan Basaglia swung his sword.

The same stance, the same stride, the same breath, the exact same trajectory. Though the results those strikes produced were not identical, their forms were perfectly alike.

For the star yet to rise, the Star of the First Horn shines.

For the fallen star, the Dawnstar shone.