Who was the most famous Constellation?

Ask that question, and nine out of ten people would answer that it was the Sword of Selection, of course.

Then who was the Constellation known as the Sword of Selection?

Most would answer that he was King Arthur, the protagonist of The Life of Arthur. Scholars who had studied the empire’s history would call him the king of old who laid the foundations of the present empire.

And knights and seekers walking the path of the sword would answer thus: the Sword of Selection was the proudest of knights, the greatest of swordsmen, and a hero.

Records of the Sword of Selection could be found everywhere, regardless of the field: in imperial histories, swordsmanship manuals, works on politics and kingship, monuments recording the war against demons...

A name found everywhere.

The first constellation one saw upon looking up at the night sky.

King Arthur already enjoyed unrivaled recognition among the Constellations, but one event raised his fame still further: the trial the Sword of Selection had bestowed upon this land hundreds of years ago.

The Trial of the Stars: Selection.

A trial held for thirteen days every thirteen years.

All humanity was eligible.

Its challenge was almost absurdly simple.

“Draw the sword embedded in the stone.”

There were no other conditions.

Countless challengers undertook the trial.

Swordsmen hailed as once-in-an-age geniuses, seekers of the sword, heroes whose names appeared in history books... So many people reached for the sword embedded in the stone.

Hundreds of years passed that way.

Century after century, the sword remained undrawn.

Not a single person

was chosen by the sword.

2.

His head felt particularly heavy today.

Najin sighed, pressing his thumbs firmly into his temples. Well, he had been sleeping poorly these past few days. No wonder his head felt heavy. Several days had passed since he watched the sword fall into the square, but he still tossed and turned at night.

The image of the holy sword kept hovering before his eyes.

The brilliant starlight it had radiated.

And the single sentence filling his mind.

‘Draw the sword.’

That sentence would not leave him.

Far from leaving, it was now threatening to become two sentences instead of one. “Draw the sword” was followed by the ridiculous assertion, “You can draw the sword.”

Draw it? Like hell he could.

Not even those illustrious Sword Masters could draw it.

He knew it was a baseless delusion, yet the words showed no intention of leaving his mind. Two sentences had taken deep root. It felt as though someone had stirred up everything inside his head.

“Phew...”

With a long sigh, Najin leaned back against the bench.

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the square, he gazed toward its center. The square should have been bustling with people coming and going, but it was deathly quiet. At its center stood those responsible for the silence.

The soldiers sent from above.

Clad in armor that gleamed coldly, they stood guard beside the holy sword. Thanks to the cloth they had draped over it, not even a trace of starlight escaped.

‘It’s not like looking at it will wear it out...’

They were being damn stingy.

Najin had been wandering around the square in the hope that, even if he couldn’t see the holy sword, he might at least see the starlight spilling from it. This was a bitter disappointment.

Sticking around here wasn’t going to give him a glimpse of the holy sword. He was about to leave the square when he stopped. Something had caught his eye.

Two young children sat together in the shade at the square’s edge. They had laid out goods on a scrap of wood that barely deserved to be called a stall and were looking around. Suddenly, one child’s eyes met Najin’s.

He walked toward them.

“What are you selling?”

“Oh, um...”

Crouching in front of their stall, Najin examined the items they had laid out: scraps of newspaper and assorted junk. In answer to his question, the children pointed toward the center of the square.

“We picked up things those people threw away.”

“Don’t point at them.”

Najin covered the child’s outstretched finger with his palm. They probably wouldn’t be that touchy, but there was always a chance. Catch a foul-tempered soldier’s attention the wrong way, and you might get a thorough beating.

“Then I’ll buy this newspaper. How much?”

“Two copper coins. No, three.”

Najin placed three coins in the young boy’s outstretched palm. Accepting them carefully with both hands, the boy met the eyes of the child beside him and laughed.

“We’ve met our quota,” he said.

Najin had been about to take out a few more coins, but at those words, he closed his coin pouch and stood. A little later, he returned with something simple to eat from a street stall and set it down before the children.

“Eat.”

“Th-thank you!”

The children wolfed down the food.

They must have been starving. Najin smiled bitterly. It looked as though they lived under a “parent” who set them quotas. He knew all too well that giving children like these food was better than slipping them a little money.

The money would only be taken from them, but there was no way to make them spit out food that was already in their stomachs.

‘Brings back memories.’

He had lived just like these children before he caught Ivan’s eye. As he watched them eat, remembering his own past, Najin suddenly frowned.

He had heard mocking laughter.

Snickering, derisive laughter. It came from the soldiers standing in the center of the square. They were pointing at Najin and the children, talking loudly.

Look at those things. Picking up our trash and selling it... What else do you expect from bastards living in a shithole like this?

Though the soldiers openly pointed their way and spoke at the tops of their voices, the children did not dare even meet their eyes. They lowered their gazes, pretending not to hear what they heard or see what they saw.

Groveling and humiliation lasted only a moment.

Arms and legs broken in a beating would last a lifetime.

Najin was not so different from the children himself. Clicking his tongue inwardly, he stood.

“Be careful not to make eye contact with those people.”

“Okay, Najin!”

“Huh? You know my name?”

“You’re really famous among us.”

The child smiled brightly.

“Lots of kids save up to buy swords because they want to be like you. Dad gathers the fast runners separately and trains them to swing swords, too...”

“I want to be like you, too, but Dad says we can’t because we’re slow runners.” Najin fell silent as the child mumbled those words.

What good would being like him do? Going around killing people wasn’t exactly an upstanding way to live...

He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Back when he had rummaged through garbage bins and survived on other people’s discarded leftovers, Najin had envied Ivan’s men, just as these children envied him now.

‘They get three meals a day and sleep in beds...’

That was certainly worth envying.

Najin smiled bitterly.

“Is that so?”

He tousled the child’s hair and walked away. As he went, he unfolded the newspaper. It was filled with stories about the holy swords that had flown into the various cities and the challengers undertaking the trial.

「The empire’s Sword Master, Sir Gerd Izavalt.」

「Announces his intention to undertake this Trial of the Stars as well.」

「This will be his fifth attempt in total.」

「Scheduled to undertake the trial in Camelot, the imperial capital, on its thirteenth and final day...」

A story about an old Sword Master undertaking the trial.

「Seeker of the sword, Sword Saint Karon.」

「Makes the holy sword embedded in the stone shift.」

「The sword moved far more than it did thirteen years ago, prompting speculation that he may draw it in the next trial.」

A story about the Sword Saint, a seeker of the sword.

「Yuel Razian, executioner of the Order of Starblood.」

「The hilt shakes violently the moment he grasps the holy sword.」

「Though he failed to draw the sword, it is unusual for the hilt to shake as though rejecting its wielder.」

「The Order of the Starbody expresses displeasure at Yuel Razian’s actions, harshly criticizing him: ‘This is no sword for a blood-crazed hound to lay his hands on’...」

A story about an order’s murderous fanatic.

The newspaper contained accounts of countless other challengers, too. As Najin read the brief descriptions of their backgrounds and their attempts to draw the sword, he found himself smacking his lips.

... He wanted to try, too.

The thought flashed through his mind.

Najin closed his eyes and pressed firmly between his brows. He chewed down and swallowed the thoughts rising alongside words like if, just possibly, and perhaps.

Don’t cross the line.

Live the life you’ve been given.

Don’t dream above your station.

Don’t dare try to see what you cannot even look up at.

Ivan’s warnings, and his advice. Najin mulled over the words Ivan uttered almost as a habit. Yes, reaching for something beyond your grasp could only end in misery. Didn’t all the people who had fallen into this city prove that?

“...”

Najin folded the newspaper.

His eyes, which had shone briefly as he read, had already returned to their usual state. Clouded, dim, indistinct... Dull eyes suited to the underground city of Atman.

Najin looked back at the square one last time.

Still, he could not see the stars.

3.

Still, the boy was nowhere to be seen.

GRIND

Merlin ground her teeth, her arms crossed. Her brow was deeply furrowed, and the fingers tapping her upper arm were a picture of irritation.

“Phew...”

She let out an exasperated breath.

For the past few days, Merlin had scoured the surface, eyes wide, searching for the brat who had insulted Arthur. Her clairvoyance allowed her to see anywhere her starlight reached.

She had been certain that finding one utterly insolent brat would be trivial, and punishing him would be no great difficulty, either.

At least, that was what she had believed a few days ago.

Several days had passed since she heard the insults that made the back of her neck burn, yet she still had not found the boy. She could not begin to understand it. How was this possible?

‘Is another Constellation hiding him?’

No, that would have made him easier to find. If someone tried to conceal something with starlight, that patch of space alone would appear distorted.

‘Then does he live somewhere starlight can’t reach?’

Camlann, the abyss where stars fell.

Merlin considered a few other domains, then let out a hollow laugh. No human could possibly survive in such places. Even the constellations hanging in the night sky crumbled there.

Then why on earth couldn’t she see him?

Had he dug himself a tunnel somewhere and hidden in it?

If he had spent an entire week hiding in a tunnel he had dug without so much as poking his head outside, that would be remarkable in its own right. Sighing heavily, Merlin brushed back the hair that had fallen across her face.

“... Tsk.”

Merlin clicked her tongue.

She had so much to attend to, yet she felt as though she were wasting mental energy on the wrong thing. Really, when she thought about it, wasn’t it ridiculous for a transcendent being who had lived for over a thousand years to be so thoroughly led around by a mere brat’s provocation?

Forget it. Just forget it...

Merlin closed her eyes and repeatedly drew in long breaths, then let them out. She tried to calm her anger that way, but it did not work as she wished. That voice kept echoing in her ears, saying things like, [“Arthur was just a darling of his era who happened to live at the right time...”]

Words she could let pass.

An insult she could simply ignore.

Yet Merlin could not do so because she knew another story much like the boy’s casually tossed insult. She dwelled on someone’s prophecy, which had since become her sorest point.

「Excalibur will choose a new master.」

「Without fail, even if it takes decades or centuries.」

「It will select one with the makings of a great hero.」

The prophecy left by the traitor of the Round Table.

「A true hero, unlike the likes of Arthur, a hero created by his age. One who will become greater than Arthur.」

「Ah, that person is the savior of Britain!」

「The true king and guide who will lead us beyond Camlann, to the end of the world we dreamed of!」

「Merlin, you blind woman with open eyes! Can you not see this radiant future?」

Merlin’s expression twisted at the memory of the prophecy.

It overlapped strangely with the boy’s words, particularly the part about Arthur having lived at the right time. Merlin frowned and clicked her tongue. The right time, her ass. Did they have any idea how hard Arthur had struggled to reach that position?

“Arthur didn’t ride the tide of his age,” Merlin muttered.

“He made that tide, you fucking morons.”

For hundreds of years, no one had been able to draw the sword Arthur left behind. That alone proved how great he had been. Merlin snorted and looked down at the surface.

The Trial of the Stars was underway in places far and wide.

She could see countless swordsmen undertaking it. And she could see every one of them leaving without drawing the sword.

“See?”

Merlin snorted.

“Who’s going to draw the sword?”

No one could draw it.

Therefore, no one could become greater than Arthur. Therefore, both the traitor’s prophecy and the unknown brat’s mockery were nothing but nonsense.

Having put her thoughts in order, Merlin exhaled.

At last, she felt a little more at ease.