「Path」 and 「path」 tangled and collided.

The straight paths twisted into curves as they intertwined, scattered chaotically, then converged once more. Meken walked slowly toward me, sword in hand.

It was not me facing Meken.

At this moment, the one holding 「Twilight」 was not the boy Arhan Caravan, but this sword's original owner: the honorable knight Petel. A noble knight who silently faced his enemy with his hair neatly swept back, his mouth stubbornly shut, and his characteristically rigid stance.

My hands became Petel's hands, and my arms became Petel's arms. Whole, untouched by the disease that had consumed him, the knight Petel was a harder man than I had ever known.

["Young Lord Arhan."]

This was not a Caravan line.

At this moment, a different 「path」 was unfolding in my heart.

["I wanted to leave a little more of my mark upon this world."]

["That, too, must be greed."]

It looked strange to my eyes.

I could not tell whether that path was a means fashioned from the Mana scattered by a 「sword walker」, or the footprints left by the life of a man named Petel.

["Even if the world forgets, I hope you will remember, young lord."]

One thing was certain.

["Remember that one knight struggled against this cruel world until the very end of his life."]

That path was hard enough to rival the Caravans'.

At the same time, surging memories filled my mind.

Petel's final memories.

["I won seventeen duels of honor. I protected you on battlefields where flaming arrows and bombardments from mages rained down, and I held the castle gate alone when five hundred starving refugees came."]

["I devoted myself to you."]

["And as a reward for my devotion, the world bestowed an incurable disease upon me."]

* * *

I barely won the duel of honor I had begun solely for you. Afterward, other knights challenged me, declaring that they would make me pay for my crime. I won all seventeen duels of honor. Everyone called me a vicious bastard.

"Do you think you can protect that fallen noble bitch by doing this? You'll regret it."

"..."

"The continent's mighty call knights dogs and quietly look down on us. They're half right. Without the shelter and food our masters give us, we're nothing but dogs reduced to hired blades."

"..."

"Change sides already. Why cling to a master who can't give you food or shelter? Find yourself a new master, you ignorant fool."

The words were barbed, but hard to refute.

I ate meager food and lived in a corner of a shabby inn room. Whenever money ran short, I put on a mask and took mercenary contracts to cover my living expenses.

It was far from the splendid life of a knight I had dreamed of.

But I could not leave.

"Sir Petel. Leave, please."

Even when she was caught in the bloody struggle the Iron Kingdom's princes had begun over the throne, forcibly conscripted and thrown onto the battlefield, I could not leave.

"Why won't you leave? Why?"

A battlefield where flaming arrows and bombardments from mages rained down. Even on that wasteland, where trained soldiers' blades and spears clashed and lives crumbled amid screams and cries, I protected you.

In the chaos of battle, even atop a swaying horse, you pushed me away and said:

Leave, Petel. You can live.

Even if I die here, you are already an honorable knight. Many knightly orders would welcome you. Your life would be worth far more than a pointless death in a place like this.

Abandon me.

And live your own life.

"Petel, please..."

I still remember you weeping outside the stable, amid its restless stirring, by the barracks in the silent wasteland after the war. You looked at me, covered in blood and scorched by the mages' bombardments, and cried like a child.

Just as you had so long ago, when you fell while learning to ride and sobbed your heart out.

"Why? Why do you keep staying by my side?"

The war destroyed your family. Your father, my employer, was caught up in it and killed, his head mounted on the enemy's standard, his dead eyes wide open. Your mother took her own life after being captured, and your siblings died buried beneath the earth.

You could no longer be called a noble.

You could not be called beautiful.

You no longer had any right to command me as my mistress.

The contract your father had held when he hired me long ago had already been burned, and it had been a long time since you could pay the wages you owed me.

But I did not leave.

I spoke to you as you sobbed outside the quiet barracks.

"Because I am Petel the Loyal."

You survived the war. The fresh, delicate beauty that had so suited your name, Daisy, faded amid its cruelties. Your smile disappeared, your once-soft skin grew rough, your unwashed hair became disheveled, and small scars remained on your face.

In return, you regained your rights as a noble. Through good fortune, you became a countess in the purge the second Iron Prince carried out to strengthen his authority. You were no longer a fallen noble, but Daisy of a count's house.

You did not seem happy with your elevation to countess.

You were plagued by your duties and forced to bear the anger over the war the princes had waged. Some inhabitants of the territory granted to Daisy pounded on the castle gates, intent on raiding the granaries.

I faced five hundred refugees alone and held the gate. I could not slaughter the starving, so I stood silently in my armor, enduring their stones, fists, and insults. If this would soothe their anger, I thought, I would gladly accept it.

Only after they had beaten me nearly to death did I trudge back to you. You had returned from your duties looking exhausted, and before you I willingly bent the knees that had not bent before five hundred people.

"Petel."

You no longer needed to call me "Sir Petel."

You were a lawful noble again, had regained the wealth to pay my wages, and were a countess with a proper territory and castle.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Petel."

Yet why did you still cry like a child?

I still could not hate you as you embraced my hard armor and covered yourself in my dust and blood. I watched you sob and stroke my back.

As you buried your face against me, I wanted to open my arms and hold you, too. I briefly raised my hands, then stopped. Instead, as always, I spoke in my clumsy way.

"... I am so very glad I became your sworn protector."

You used your newfound wealth and connections to heal my scars and repair my battered equipment. Then you even found me a position in a respectable knightly order.

Peaceful days continued.

But my swordsmanship would not advance at all.

The step to 「sword runner」 was far too high. Those who had become knights at the same time as me, and even those who had taken up the sword later, gained wings and soared, while I remained where I was.

More and more knights came to protect you. Every one of them was a proven swordsman, a 「sword runner」. Even so, you kept me closest.

"They're fucking."

Malicious rumors about you multiplied.

Still, you did not distance yourself from me. You were becoming an ever more remarkable person, while I stayed in the same place, unable to improve. All I did was grow old.

Perhaps that was when it began.

When the inferiority that ate away at my heart first took root.

"I don't know why that woman keeps that useless dog by her side."

I was no longer your only protagonist. At your side were many accomplished knights worthy of that name, and people born with dazzling talent.

Having overcome adversity, you had become the protagonist. I, who had stood along the way, was an ugly spectator who refused to exit and stubbornly remained in place. Someone who ruined the mood, deserved the audience's jeers, and had no right to stand upon the stage.

The only thing I could give you was to never betray you.

That was all. It made me feel so insignificant and pathetic.

"..."

I think that was why I became even more obsessed with the sword and wings.

And all the while, afraid you would abandon me, I devoted myself to you as if struggling for my life, harboring the foolish, inferior thought that perhaps you might cast me aside.

Perhaps the god I served found that struggle so ugly that he sought to take my life.

Enough now, Petel.

Something like that.

Translated into human language, those words were these:

"I have no idea what disease this is. All I can tell you is that you have little time left, sir. The spots will gradually consume your body, Sir Petel, and there is no way to stop them."

"..."

"I'm sorry. I don't think there is anything I can do to help."

The world sentenced me to death.

Not death after a knightly duel, nor a glorious end protecting you, but death from a wretched, terrible disease.

For three days, I passed the hours in a daze, without sleeping a wink or eating a meal. The knightly order treated me as a diseased man and expelled me. High-ranking priests and healers barred me from entering, fearing that I might be contagious.

Even the villagers I had helped did the same.

The healer who had taken my money to diagnose me spread the word that the knight Petel was diseased, and everyone who heard treated me as a plague victim. Overnight, the world changed, and my life was ruined.

That evening, Daisy came to see me.

For the first time, you said:

"Don't leave, Petel."

Don't leave, Petel.

Even if you die like this, you are the greatest knight to me. I will use everything I have to find a way to cure you, and even if you die, I will give you the highest honors. So please don't leave alone. Stay by my side until the end.

Don't leave me.

Let us adorn your life together.

You, who had always told me to leave, asked me to stay with you when I was at my most wretched. With the eyes not of Countess Daisy, but of the girl Daisy I remembered.

"I love you, Petel."

Perhaps it was a feeling we both already knew. Perhaps those were the words I had waited for all my life. Perhaps it was something I had buried in a corner of my heart, though it was deeply dishonorable, something no knight should harbor.

Perhaps, had I not fallen ill, I would have kissed you.

Perhaps I would have cast everything aside and spent that night with you.

But I must not.

You were shining so brightly, while I had already been swallowed by darkness.

My role was finished.

To remain here any longer would dim your light, the light of the protagonist. A character who has served his purpose must leave the stage. That is the most beautiful ending.

I still remember you looking at me with affection.

And I remember the sunset behind you, beautifully coloring the world scarlet. The twilight I saw in the city that day seemed to signify my life.

I could not draw you, a rising sun, into my twilight now.

After twilight, only the dark night remains.

So I decided to leave.

Because I was Petel the Loyal.

Because, to you at least, I wanted to be remembered forever as a protagonist.

After you returned to the mansion, I left quietly.

Murmuring to myself where no one could hear.

"I loved you, too, Daisy."

I left the territory and wandered through the Iron Kingdom's remotest villages. I sought places without people, places as empty as I could find. Since you shone as brightly as ever, news of you occasionally reached me.

"They say Countess Daisy is getting married. To the White family of the north, no less."

"But have you heard the rumor? Countess Daisy is spending a fortune desperately searching for some knight..."

I had to find somewhere with no one around.

Alone and lonely, without troubling anyone.

I wanted no one to see my corpse.

I did not care if I was buried in the earth and became food for animals. I did not want you to see my wretched state and have that become your last memory of me.

Throughout that long journey, I tried to forget you.

As I went about my daily routine, evening was the only time I thought of you. When the scarlet sunset colored the world, for just a brief moment, I would remember your affectionate gaze.

Then I reached a village.

There was an unusual boy there.

"I never again want to surrender to fear, to give up before I have even fought."

For some reason, I found it difficult to take my eyes off him.

His sword and his hard heart were remarkable, but most remarkable of all was the resolute will in his eyes. A shining will far better suited to the word "protagonist" than anything in a man like me.

And so I became a neighbor in a certain village.

Time passed swiftly.

The spots slowly gnawed away at my life, clouded my once-clear mind, and ravaged my body. As I crumbled, again and again, I saw a knight arrive.

I saw that the boy was in danger, and decided to take his crime upon myself.

"I killed him."

In truth, that was driven more by my own selfish desires than by any goodwill meant to protect the boy.

"Didn't you hear me? A former knight of the 「Green Stags」, victor of seventeen duels of honor, the man who always upheld his honor, 「Petel the Loyal」. I killed him. That deserter knight of yours."

Because I thought it would make a fitting end for me.

Because the sight of that knight's wings had plunged me into inferiority once more. Because I thought it would not be so bad if this life's wretched end were decided by the sword of someone with the wings I had wanted all my life.

Because I found it laughable that, even looking at those wings, I was still thinking of you, Daisy. Because I thought that if I had possessed wings, remaining at your side a little longer would not have been ugly. Because it felt as though all this wretchedness had come from my inadequacy, from my failure to gain wings.

So I took up my sword.

Of course, as I had always known, the world was cruel.

"I like twilight."

I died without even seeing the duel's end.

"After the day ends and before the dark night comes, it colors the whole continent scarlet. I thought that was beautiful. It is like us humans, trying to leave our mark after our splendid youth ends and before dark death approaches."

In truth, I liked twilight because it reminded me of you.

I looked at the boy and smiled. I felt sorry that I could not tell him the whole story. But I could not bring myself to speak honestly to another person about you and my feelings.

I had always been a foolish man, rigid, frustrating, and reluctant to speak of myself. It was all right if the boy remembered me as a wandering knight abandoned because of an incurable disease.

Still, if I had one final selfish wish, it was for someone to remember my struggle.

Surely that much was all right.

"Please, take my sword."

I saw death in its entirety.

Looking at the distant sunset and the world turning scarlet, I still thought of you. The warmth of your hand, your floral scent, your fresh smile and voice, your sobbing face as you told me to leave, and the affectionate eyes with which you held me tight and asked me not to go.

Your flushed face as you whispered your love.

Foolishly, as I died, I thought of you and smiled with relief.

Perhaps, just as you had still possessed a girl's face at that age, some part of my heart had remained in boyhood.

I, the boy Petel, had dreamed of becoming a protagonist.

But after leaving boyhood and becoming a young man, I did not become one. At the end of a wretched death, I saw light. The sunset was beautiful, as always.

Like you.

That

was the end of a knight named Petel.

"..."

Countless 「paths」 intertwined, over and over.

The swordsmanship Petel's memories brought me was as hard as it was honest. Rather than being beguiled by the countless paths, my 「Twilight」 unfolded its own.

Meken's paths broke, one by one.

It looked less like a swordfight than proof of a life.

Like the times he had won seventeen duels of honor, protected his mistress amid war, and held the castle gate alone while refugees beat him nearly to death.

It looked like the will of a man who had now left this world, standing his ground unbroken and fighting for what he had to protect. The 「paths」 extended, farther and farther. Stretching in every direction, they soon merged into one, as many branching roads ultimately lead to a single destination.

The many winding paths became a slender thread the moment they joined as one.

The instant I saw that thread, shaped like a ray of light, I drew breath with all my strength.

"Hoo..."

I inherited the 「path」 Petel's life had shown me.

Through Caravan blood, the inherited path took on the properties of steel, hardened beyond anything else, and soon became a single line.

Following that line, I gripped Petel's sword, stepped forward, and charged as though flying through the sky, swinging the sword with ponderous force. With a crude, unsophisticated stance, as though swinging a heavy axe rather than a blade.

Then, for a brief moment, my mind went blank, as though I had lost consciousness.

"Hah..."

When I came to, I was standing behind Meken.

Red blood was spattered across the dirt.

THUD

Meken's sword rolled across the ground in pieces. Above the broken sword lay two severed arms.

"Aah, aaaaaagh!"

Meken had lost both arms.

I steadied my ragged breathing and looked at the screaming Meken.

Then I faced the knights gathered around the outside of the dueling ground, staring at me in disbelief. I raised my sword high and drove it into the dirt.

THOOM

The ground reverberated.

Squeezing out what little strength I had left, I spoke.

"Announce the winner of the duel of honor."

I saw the knight-in-training standing with his mouth hanging open. Above him floated Liam's face. Liam was grinning.

「Excellent.」

I had proven that my kind neighbor's life had been right.

Yes.

"Go on."

The Caravan way.

* * *

「Name: Twilight」