An offer and a threat.

Ivan looked at his longtime senior.

A knight who had once stood beside him on the battlefield, only to betray Atanga and surrender himself to the will of a god. Ivan wanted to roar at him, to ask how someone who had abandoned both honor and pride dared speak Atanga's name. But he knew he could not.

He was no longer a knight of Atanga either.

He had lost his honor that day ten years ago.

“His Eminence wants this matter resolved as quickly and quietly as possible. The stars and the other orders have yet to notice... but there's no guarantee that will last.”

Whether Berlo knew how Ivan felt or not, he continued.

“That means time is short, Ivan.”

He held up three fingers before Ivan.

“I'll give you three days. Bring him before me within that time, alive or dead.”

“... Sir Berlo.”

Ivan broke his silence. Though he knelt, though he had only one eye, unmistakable anger burned in it.

“Does the Order not serve the stars?”

“I don't recall giving you permission to ask questions.”

“Is it not the Order's doctrine to respect and uphold the will of the great stars—”

Ivan never finished.

Berlo kicked him in the jaw.

THWACK!

Ivan's head snapped to the side.

“Listen, Ivan.”

Berlo seized his hair.

“Does my consideration for old times' sake make you think I'm a joke? A sinner who profaned the will of the stars dares question a knight of the Order about that very will? Get a grip, my friend.”

Berlo dragged a hand down his face in apparent exasperation.

“Know your place. I can't have you trampling on my goodwill like this.”

“... I spoke out of turn.”

“That's right. Now we're finally seeing eye to eye.”

Ivan lowered his head, while Berlo held his own high and looked down at him.

“Not a single Constellation has grasped this situation. Even the Lighthouse That Illuminates All Things, the patron deity of the Order of Star Radiance, has failed to comprehend what has happened.”

“Do you not understand what that means?” Berlo asked, then continued.

“It means this is clearly an error. If even the Lighthouse failed to notice, then this was something that should never have happened. When something that should never happen does happen, making it as though it never occurred is the loyalty the Order offers him.”

Though an order that served the stars was meant to regard every star as noble and sacred... even among them, clear priorities existed.

The Constellation, the Lighthouse That Illuminates All Things.

Berlo stroked his armor, engraved with the constellation of the patron deity of the Order of Star Radiance.

“I won't say this twice, Ivan.”

Berlo glared at him.

“I swear upon my loyalty to the great Lighthouse. The offer I have made you here will be honored without fail. For I make it not as Berlo the individual, but as Berlo, knight of the Order of Star Radiance.”

A knight who had chosen a god over honor and pride.

That knight had sworn upon his devotion to his god—the weightiest oath Berlo could make. Ivan knew that refusal would mean losing his head on the spot.

“... I thank you for this opportunity, greater than I deserve. I will do my utmost.”

Ivan bowed his head.

His lowered forehead did not touch the ground. That was the last of his pride, but Berlo firmly pressed a hand against the back of his head.

“This is how you express gratitude.”

Ivan's forehead touched the ground.

Berlo whispered in his ear.

“Get moving. Before my patience runs out.”

* * *

Once outside, Ivan stuck a cigarette between his lips.

He lit it and inhaled deeply. His expression was rigid as he exhaled the murky smoke.

「I'll help you regain your standing in Atanga.」

「I mean I'll let you reclaim the honor you lost.」

The offer from Berlo, former knight of Atanga.

Of course Ivan knew a knight's honor could not be recovered this way. Weighing profit against loss and wading into a mire of schemes would win him nothing but filthy power.

That was not what he wanted. Honor gained that way was worthless to him.

And yet he had been unable to refuse Berlo's offer because of a natural desire every human possessed: the desire to live. Unlike Offen, Ivan still clung to his life.

'I can't die yet. I want to live longer.'

He did not want to meet his end in this underground city beyond the reach of starlight, a broken knight who had lost both his eye and his honor. If he survived, might another opportunity someday come? Ivan could not help thinking so.

He had to kill Najin.

Only by killing him could he survive.

With that simple, clear proposition hanging over him, Ivan chain-smoked. Beneath the dim glow of the ore lamps, his eye grew clouded.

“Hah...”

The knight within him asked whether there was any meaning in such a wretched life.

Ivan answered that he still wanted to live, even like this.

Everyone put their own life first. In the face of approaching death, a person could become endlessly selfish, endlessly cruel. Ivan was no different.

No different, and yet...

He could not readily take that first step. His eyes met Offen's as the man emerged from an alley, and even though he guessed Offen had helped Najin, Ivan did not move at once.

Just a little.

Just a little longer.

Ivan took out another cigarette and put it between his lips. He lit it and exhaled smoke. He did not move until he had smoked every cigarette in the full pack.

2.

The Order's hounds: its covert operatives.

Those among their ranks had fallen short of knighthood, but had come close. They could not manifest sword aura, yet their command of mana rivaled a knight's. Rather than knights, they were closer to Rangers.

Ambushes, clandestine operations, pursuit, assassination.

Covert operatives specialized in such dirty work. Having sworn an oath of silence to keep this incident from leaking, they scattered to track the boy.

The boy who had reportedly drawn the sword had fled a day earlier.

Their unfamiliarity with the underground city's terrain and his one-day head start put them at a considerable disadvantage... but the covert operatives did not consider such things any impediment at all. Was he not merely a back-alley boy who had never received proper training?

He was exceptional in that he had drawn the holy sword.

But put another way, that was all he had.

Indeed, if the boy used the holy sword when they encountered him, that would be the end of it. The moment they spotted the burst of light, every scattered operative would converge on that spot. So they needed only to find him and provoke a fight.

With that reasoning, the pursuers operated alone.

“...”

One pursuer, moving silently through a narrow alley, narrowed his eyes. He had sensed someone deeper within. Slowly, he followed that presence.

There were unmistakable footprints on the ground, just the size a boy might leave.

As he followed them, the pursuer tensed at the sharp sound of a footstep echoing through the alley. Had the boy noticed him? He kicked off the ground and sprinted toward the sound.

But all he found when he arrived was an ownerless shoe. A shoe that seemed to have been thrown down from above. Only then did the pursuer realize what had made the sound.

The shoe was bait.

His life was the target.

The pursuer hurriedly drew his sword and swung upward—a response made possible by his heightened senses. The moment he swung, metal struck metal.

CLANG!

Najin, who had leaped down to ambush him from above, landed smoothly on the ground.

In the darkness blanketing the alley, the boy's sunset-colored eyes gleamed eerily. Chilled, the pursuer drew up his mana and sharpened his senses. The eyes shining in the darkness shifted for an instant.

TAP!

With the sound of his foot driving off the ground, the boy vanished for a moment. A blade flashed in the dark and flew straight for the pursuer's throat.

CLANG!

Barely knocking the sword aside, the pursuer drew back.

'Not fast, but dangerous.'

This was not the skill of someone who had cut down only one or two people.

The boy lacked the exceptional speed of a mana user, but he was troublesome. He was quite adept at slipping into blind spots.

“... Tsk.”

Clicking his tongue, the pursuer closed in on the boy this time. He deliberately swung his sword in a wide arc to force the boy back, then threw a concealed weapon drawn from his sleeve.

A black throwing dagger.

Anyone but a covert operative accustomed to seeing in darkness would struggle even to spot it. He pictured it piercing the retreating boy's throat, but...

Najin snatched the flying dagger firmly out of the air.

Having spent his entire life in the dark underground city, he was naturally accustomed to seeing in darkness. Throwing the dagger back at his pursuer, Najin kicked off the ground.

「Hide your full strength.」

「You only need to move quickly for a single instant, when it matters.」

「That's how you make them careless. That's how you create an opening.」

The flow entered the boy's body, and for one instant, he accelerated.

By the time the startled pursuer knocked the dagger aside, Najin was already right in front of him. The unexpected speed delayed his reaction, and Najin did not miss the opening.

SLICE!

The pursuer's arm was severed. His eyes widened, and just as he tried to swing his sword with his remaining arm, Najin seized his wrist.

Once you seize the advantage, never let it go.

Following Ivan's teaching, Najin gripped the pursuer's wrist and pulled. He dragged him off balance, then swung his sword across his throat. That was the end. Najin dragged the pursuer's limp corpse in the opposite direction from the one he intended to take.

Something he had learned from Offen the mercenary: blood trails made excellent bait.

Putting everything he had learned to use, Najin moved on. There were quite a few pursuers after him, and he instinctively knew that heading straight for his destination would be dangerous.

'... If they discover where I'm going.'

They would swarm there.

So for now, he would pretend to wander, as though he were hiding here and there without any destination. To do that, he needed to hunt down and kill one more pursuer.

His decisions had to be quick.

His movements had to be quicker still.

Feeling as though he were walking a tightrope, Najin raced through the alleys. He could not allow himself even a single mistake. That was what Offen and Ivan had taught him.

'Found one.'

Najin spotted a pursuer nearby.

The pursuers maintained consistent spacing, repeatedly moving apart and drawing closer at regular intervals. After confirming the pattern, Najin waited until the distance between them was wide enough.

The covert operatives must have thought themselves hunters chasing their prey, but the reality was the reverse.

The boy was hunting his pursuers.

3.

“... Four have been taken out?”

A day and a half after the boy's escape, Berlo frowned at the report. The covert operatives had confirmed four casualties, but there could be more—a report startling enough to give Berlo pause.

Though they had fallen short of knighthood, the covert operatives were by no means opponents to underestimate.

At the very least, they were not people a boy raised without proper instruction in an underground city like this should be able to face. From the information he had obtained, Berlo knew the boy was called Ivan's hound and served as his organization's executioner, but...

This was strange.

It went beyond mere skill at killing people.

Familiarity with the terrain, ambushes, and other strokes of luck might let him kill one. But four deaths could not be dismissed as luck.

Moreover, the locations where the operatives' bodies had been discovered indicated that the boy had not simply dealt with pursuers while fleeing. He had sought them out and killed them.

“What a crazy little shit.”

Hunting his pursuers while being pursued?

Berlo gave an incredulous laugh. Hearing that the boy had drawn Excalibur, he had expected talent, but this went beyond merely being talented.

He already had some control over it.

He was beyond being a novice at the mercy of his own talent.

Berlo had originally intended to act once they had closed in sufficiently, or to follow the light if the boy drew Excalibur. But now he would have to move himself. Rising from his seat, he questioned his subordinate.

“What about Ivan?”

“He's operating alone. Ah, and...”

The man pointed toward the door.

“Someone wishes to see you, Sir Berlo. He introduced himself as a mercenary and says he'll help with the task if you pay him a suitable price.”

“... A mercenary?”

“Yes. It seems he commanded a mercenary company before being cast down here.”

A mercenary. A mercenary, then.

A blade that followed money and power was easier to wield than any other. Berlo jerked his chin.

“Send him in.”

Presently, the door opened.

The man who entered was steeped in drink. With an air of utter frivolity about him, he bowed his head to Berlo.

“Offen, mercenary.”

“Tell me if there's anything you'd like done.”