* * *

When Limon suddenly picked up the violin, the Ink Dragon Unit couldn't understand why. But they didn't find it strange or question him. Whatever he did, no matter how outlandish it looked, they all assumed unconsciously that he had a good reason. He was the Sword Lord, after all—a Sword Master who had slain even a god, and whom even their ancestors, his sworn enemies for centuries, had been forced to revere.

SCREEEE.

“...!”

But once he began to play, they forgot all the reverence they held for him. It wasn't because the melody was so beautiful it sent shivers through their bodies.

They were the Black Dragon Clan's strongest combat unit. Whether they beheld a peerless beauty, tasted the finest delicacy, or gained a mountain of treasure, they had been trained to control their emotions. To them, any music was ultimately just sound. Even the melody Limon had created by striking the avatar in time with the violin and their ensemble had failed to move them.

Yet at this moment, one thing shocked the Ink Dragon Unit so deeply that their minds went blank: the overwhelming weight in his playing, so heavy it stole their breath just to hear it.

Wh-what is this...?

A beautiful melody? Virtuosity impossible to imitate? Neither was anything compared to the history contained in his playing.

If sound could have color, this was a gallery filled with every color in the world. A flood of hues steeped in memories of hundreds of colors, recollections of thousands of shades, and emotions of tens of thousands of gleams.

SCREEEE.

There was sorrow for those he could not save. Longing for those he could never meet again. The bitterness of betrayal. Regret for what he had lost. Lament for what had passed. Emotions so deep and heavy that an ordinary person might never experience even one of them in a lifetime surged in and ebbed away, wave after endless wave.

Most piercing of all was loneliness. The emptiness of a solitary absolute being who had lived an eternal life alone forced open the gates of their emotions.

Tears streamed down their cheeks.

The Ink Dragon Unit tried to deny it. This wasn't real. Their feelings had only been stirred by the profound emotions in the melody and mistaken those emotions for their own. But despite every effort, they finally burst into tears.

And it wasn't only them. Yu Na-gyeong, familiar with Limon's playing, the seasoned martial artist Yo U-in, and even Lee Cheon-gi were no different. The flood of memories made their hearts ache as though they would tear, left them stifled and breathless, brought something surging up inside them, and rendered everything hollow.

Limon Aspelder, the ageless Sword Master who had lived a more turbulent life than anyone in history, was engulfing them in a melody made from nearly a thousand years of experience.

Only two people withstood it.

This really is... too much.

Li Qingyu clutched her chest with one hand, as if she wanted to tear out her heart. Though her face was full of sorrow, she did not shed a tear. And Eugene watched Limon as though she couldn't bear to miss a single moment, wearing an agonized smile.

... Partner, you liar.

Unlike the others, who were overwhelmed by the sheer depth of feeling, she was listening to Limon's melody as well. That was how she knew: the playing she'd believed had already reached the pinnacle of technique hadn't been the real thing. Compared to this insane melody, which conveyed every moment of the centuries Limon had lived without the slightest alteration, everything he'd played before had been mere amusement.

You said you didn't know what soul was, but you're overflowing with it.

The wondrous melody set emotions ablaze, while the richness of its sound made the music seep into the mind like poison. Only Limon, a Sword Master with a superhuman body who had lived through those vast centuries, could give such a performance. So beautiful. So entrancing. The music was beyond anything she had imagined, and hearing it made her feel as though she could die with no regrets.

You're so cruel.

And precisely because of that, Eugene's misery at being able to do nothing but listen to that beautiful soul was all the more acute. If she could sing now—if she could do it just once—she would have given even her soul. No matter how many times she died and was reborn, she would never again have a chance to sing to music like this.

But Eugene couldn't. She had sold her soul long ago.

A single tear fell.

The anger and sorrow of that truth finally brought a tear from Eugene's eye. Even if she'd been tortured to the most horrific death right here, she would have died laughing. Yet Limon's playing awakened regret for the first time in a heart she'd thought had none.

She shouldn't have made that contract. However desperate she had been, she should have chosen her constellation more carefully, or found another way to regain her voice.

But that had been impossible. Players were, in the end, the chosen ones—actors playing for the stars, with no freedom to choose their own constellation. She knew that better than anyone, yet her despair ran so deep that she couldn't help regretting it.

I didn't want to learn like this that my whole life was a mistake.

She had lived for nothing but song, yet the fact that she could not sing when it mattered most seemed to negate her entire life. Eugene floundered in grief so fierce it felt as though her long-gone heart were being crushed. Unable to shut out the melody, she shed another tear.

That was when the change began.

SCREE.

As Limon played the violin, his body began to glow faintly. Then light began to flow around him, as though he stood in a lake gathering the Milky Way—or in a furnace melting stars. Starlight streamed from his body, circled through the air in time with the melody, and passed through the violin to be absorbed into him again. Watching the radiance grow clearer with each cycle, Eugene realized the time had finally come.

As a great fire swallows a small breeze, the faint remnants of power that had stood in for her missing heart turned to motes of light and flowed out of her, as if answering that mighty current.

Ah.

Was the sigh that escaped her an expression of lingering attachment? Or regret? Though she'd expected this outcome, she let out an involuntary lament. Then Eugene closed her eyes so she could listen to the melody a little longer.

How much time passed like that? At last, the violin fell silent. All the starlight had completed its cycle except for one final speck, smaller than a fingernail. Then a low voice reached her.

“I'd say I've done more than enough to grant your request. What do you think?”

It was enough. So much more than enough that she almost resented him for it. But she wasn't shameless enough to voice that resentment after hearing a performance like this. And above all, she knew she had little time left. So she asked,

[Partner, is there anything precious to you?]

“What the hell are you talking about?”

[It's important. Is there even one thing you absolutely want to protect?]

“... I can't say there isn't.”

Perhaps it was because Eugene was wringing the last of her life from herself that Limon answered the question despite how sudden it was. She sent him a faint telepathic message.

[Then find them.]

“Find what?”

[The Seven Arcs.]

“Arks? You mean vessels?”

[Yes. Seven arks that hide the secrets of the stars.]

It was the Liberation Brigade's greatest secret, one she would normally have been forbidden even to mention, let alone leak. Only now, dying and bereft of her constellation's power, could Eugene circumvent the restriction enough to speak of it.

[Whatever it takes, don't let ‘us’ take them. Gather them, protect them, and awaken them.]

As her consciousness faded along with the last of her life, Eugene slowly turned her eyes.

[Like that one.]

The object that had enabled Bellows to accept a constellation's power, however forcibly, and had completely assimilated the fragments of starlight lodged in Limon's body. An object closely tied not only to the constellations' powers, but to their very source. The Liberation Brigade's highest-priority target. One of the seven hidden arks.

Eugene took one last look at Limon holding the Violin of Deepest Black and whispered,

[It'll be hard, but...]

With nothing but faith in him and a wish to encourage him, she squeezed out the last of her strength.

[If anyone can do it, partner, you can.]

Still smiling, Eugene's head fell.

A moment later, the last handful of starlight that had lingered where her heart should have been quietly flowed out and seeped into the violin and Limon. So ended the life of the berserker who had committed countless crimes as a ghost of the Liberation Brigade—a foolish sinner who, to the very end, could not give up being her partner's friend.

* * *

He was in trouble. He truly thought so.

What was the problem? Frankly, it would have been harder to find something that wasn't one.

The ‘Giant,’ whose ability to temporarily cloak itself in divinity had made it one of the strongest fighters among all constellations, was gone. The ‘Great Tree,’ whose countless spreading roots had given it vitality second to none, had likewise vanished without a trace. Worse, far from obtaining the ‘Ark’ they had sought, they had lost three vessels. Given how exceedingly rare vessels capable of containing them were now, the loss was enormous.

And the cause of it all was clear: Limon Aspelder. Humanity's last Sword Master. The only human capable of cutting down constellations that should, by rights, be immortal. If he hadn't interfered, things would never have gone so badly. Limon was a troublesome obstacle who had to be dealt with.

Yet the trouble he faced right now had nothing to do with Limon. Where was he? What was this thick darkness? How could he get out? Not knowing any of those things was the greatest difficulty before him.

Ordinarily, such a thing would have been impossible. But after the fierce battle and all the ways he'd overextended himself, even finding his way through the darkness was difficult. It was harder still because he was suppressing his power to avoid being discovered.

But there was a limit to that, too. Having lost his vessel and wasted so much time, he grew anxious as his existence began to collapse beyond the limits of the Star Spirit Machine. At last, unable to bear the anxiety, he was about to draw on his power and force his way through the darkness when—

“Using your contractor and even your comrade as bait, then turning tail the moment things look bad? That's a pretty ugly thing to do, isn't it?”

He froze. A voice had sounded out of nowhere, and the sight of a white-haired man stepping from the darkness filled him with shock.

“The bastards who boast about making laws always seem to do the dirtiest things behind closed doors... but you picked the wrong opponent.”

Limon raised his sword lightly. He gave the statute book floating in the air a cold smile. This was the one who had cleverly used the 『Sacrificial Rite』 and 『Avatar of Wrath』 to stuff another constellation into his own vessel and flee alone.

“Stern Judge of the Law.”

As though finally recovering from his shock, the statute book hastily sent countless pages flying to block Limon and tried to escape in the opposite direction. It was pointless. Before he could even move the Star Spirit Machine that housed him, Limon had already taken a step.

“Remember this as a parting gift.”

One step through the darkness. One step past the pages. One step as he swung his sword at the statute book. In just three steps, he cut down the book floating in the air. Fragments of starlight burst forth, and Limon sheathed his sword amid them as he quietly finished:

“Any old fool can break the law, but nobody can escape a Sword Master.”