Chapter 371 |
Strongest Knight of the Round Table (1)
May tomorrow be better than today.
May tomorrow be more peaceful than today.
That had been the wish of the heroes imprisoned in this tower, the belief that had made them willing to cast their lives aside. To them, Najin was the future, and so what he had to do was simple.
Tomorrow, bright tomorrow.
He would shine, just as they had wished.
Najin stood atop the history they had built. A present that had climbed upon the past had to press forward toward a better future. He was now a hero who stood for this age, and he had an obligation to do exactly that.
"......"
Galahad fell silent at Najin's answer. He said nothing, only stared at the sword aura blazing around Najin's blade. Platinum-white light, a color that stirred something in memory. Recollections flickered through Galahad's mind.
The faintest hint of a smile crossed his face. Laughter leaked through the gaps of his half-shattered iron mask.
"Indeed."
For the first time, Galahad smiled. This figure who had seemed no different from an emotionless stone statue showed feeling. He let out a long breath, then looked around.
The top floor of the tower.
From the highest point, Galahad gazed down over the Sanctuary of Oblivion, a pool formed from the accumulation of memories and records, a space where the most radiant and beautiful moments had been preserved. Change was coming to a sanctuary that had always remained rooted in the past.
Boooong, booooong...
The bell chime that had rung from this place was now echoing through the entire sanctuary. As if responding to Najin's star, two constellations rose within it.
Kirchhoff's and Yuel's.
The Nation and the Commoner had each chosen their representative of their own will.
What remained was finding the one to represent the Hero.
Galahad looked ahead. There stood a successor, shining brilliantly. Watching someone speak of a better tomorrow, Galahad smiled.
Look, Your Majesty.
It turned out just as you said, didn't it. Galahad recalled the king's last words and exhaled a long, quiet sigh.
"Ahh."
For those who had challenged this place, it had been the past. For those who had lived here, today was drawing to a close. And as for himself...
"......"
He slowly lowered his arm. The mana rising around his armor began to fade. Then the Cross Shield fell to the ground.
A heavy thud rang out.
Najin's brow creased. The duel was not decided yet. The momentum had been tilting toward Galahad, but that gap had been steadily narrowing. It was too early to call a winner. And now he had dropped his weapon?
"What do you think you're doing?"
Najin snapped.
"The duel isn't over yet."
"Indeed, it is not settled."
"Pick up your shield."
"I would like to, but I have no time left."
Galahad raised his arm. At that, Najin's breath caught. Everything below Galahad's elbow was gone. Cracks that had begun at his fingertips were spreading across his entire body.
"You..."
"Control of the sanctuary has shifted. Thanks to your companions' efforts, no doubt. You yourself proved your right to be here by reaching the top floor of the tower."
Galahad shrugged.
"It seems tomorrow has finally come to this land as well."
"......"
"And tomorrow does not wait for the past to catch up to it. Tomorrow is like a visitor who arrives without warning."
The entire sanctuary began to shake. Its outer shell was crumbling, and its core was about to be laid bare.
Crumble.
Galahad, too, was a being that belonged outside the sanctuary. He felt his own flesh beginning to dissolve. As the sensation of his existence unraveling washed over him, he looked at Najin. Najin stared back with a complicated expression.
As if to say he had not wanted it to end like this.
"What will become of you?"
"I will be absorbed back into the original. He denies it, but I am a part of him."
Even as his being fell apart, Galahad's face was perfectly serene.
"Najin, you said your name was."
Turning the name over, Galahad looked at his shield. The Cross Shield was scratched. Over a thousand years it had not permitted a single mark, yet now Galahad traced the scar left on it with his fingers.
"You intend to surpass it all. Me, the Round Table, the history built up from ages past."
"Naturally."
Naturally, Najin said. Is that so. Is it natural. Not a moment's hesitation, those words made Galahad laugh despite himself.
"Yes. That is enough."
He gave a small nod.
"I would have preferred to witness you surpass me, but unfortunately I have run out of time."
"That almost sounds as though you had planned to lose to me."
"I do not mean I intended to throw the fight. I am a being that stands still, while you are one that moves forward. Given enough time, you would have surpassed me without fail."
Galahad smiled.
He stepped aside.
"As the keeper of Argo, the vessel where the memories of heroes gather, I acknowledge you. It should be you who leads this ship, not me."
A path opened. Najin stared at the passage ahead, his expression unreadable.
"I still have not received an answer. You never managed to refute what I said."
"Regrettably, no."
"This is not a satisfying conclusion."
"Well, naturally, it isn't over yet."
Galahad raised his hand.
"The duel left unfinished, the conversation left incomplete."
His crumbling arm pointed to what lay beyond the passage.
"Settle it with me on the other side."
I will be waiting for you there.
Not as Galahad.
As Lancelot.
With those last words, Galahad vanished. As the collapse of the sanctuary accelerated, Najin stood at the tower's peak and looked out over it all. The Nation, the city of Commoners, the tower of Heroes, all of it was coming down.
...It was not disappearing.
Only the one who would carry them had changed. Najin gripped the banner tied to his shoulder. He let out a short breath and moved his feet.
Deeper into the Sanctuary of Oblivion.
Toward the innermost depths where this sanctuary's true owner resided.
2.
Forgotten and erased memories and records form the outer shell of the sanctuary. What, then, lies at its center? On the path leading into those depths, Najin found the answer.
Beneath his feet ran a river.
A vast current that cut through the whole of the Sanctuary of Oblivion. A river that wove together every memory regardless of era or origin and set them flowing as one. Najin followed it as he walked.
At the end of that walk, he arrived at an open plain.
Rivers that had spread in every direction like the roots of a great tree gathered again on the plain and formed a single pool. The source and terminus of every river, what Galahad had called the final current.
The innermost depths of the Sanctuary of Oblivion.
Najin was not the only one who had arrived there. Three paths converged at this place, and two others had reached it by different routes and different means.
Grand Culmination, Kirchhoff.
Yuel Razian, the Inheritance Star and the Star of Heavenly Slaughter.
And standing at the center of the plain, between those three, was her. A witch with long white hair. Guinevere, the owner of this domain, had her gaze fixed on Najin.
"So you come this far after all."
She rose from the rock where she had been sitting. The moment she took a step forward, the sanctuary trembled around her at its center.
Guinevere, the Constellation of Oblivion.
Over a thousand years she had devoured countless memories and swelled her own existence. Her tier and authority were dreadfully, immeasurably vast. Her mere presence blurred the memories of any who drew near.
The closer one approached, the more one forgot, why they had come, what their purpose was, and eventually even who they were. Across a thousand years, countless people had been erased from history in exactly this manner.
Najin felt his own stars grinding against something.
This was why they had kept the assault force to the bare minimum. No matter how powerful a Constellation, without a means to resist oblivion, there would be no getting close to her. Najin drew up his starlight.
He had a means to resist oblivion.
Guinevere's authority was formidable, but even she could not interfere with Excalibur. The story of Najin inscribed on Excalibur could not be damaged by any means. And so Najin's memories would not be erased.
A flicker.
The Warden of the Sealed City had protected Yuel with the Star of Transmitted Knowledge. The Star of Transmitted Knowledge, which stood as the opposite of oblivion, would not allow her to forget herself.
"I am."
And Kirchhoff.
"The last knight of Londinel, and..."
He drove the Blue Spear into the ground. The flag of Londinel tied to it billowed.
"The most noble knight, Blue Spear Kirchhoff."
A knight who had resisted oblivion for three hundred years had reclaimed every memory. A knight who carried his teacher, his lord, and Londinel on his shoulders would never forget himself.
All three had their own way of resisting oblivion.
But even with the means to resist her, Guinevere was a ten-star Constellation and a witch, a race beloved by magic. And more than anything...
Bwooooom!
Something crashed down from the sky. Beside Guinevere, her knight appeared. He wore the same armor as Galahad, yet carried an utterly different air, deeply, darkly fearsome, as he took his place to protect her.
Guinevere's knight.
The former Strongest Knight of the Round Table, Lancelot.
Two constellations of ten stars each rose into the sky. Beside Guinevere with her flowing white hair, a knight clad in jet-black armor, her complete opposite, raised his shield.
All the central players of this drama had taken the stage.
There was no narrator for this play, and no one needed to announce its beginning. Najin glanced at Kirchhoff, then at Yuel. A brief exchange of looks was all it took. They each knew what they had to do.
"Merlin."
"Yeah."
Merlin materialized. Guinevere's eyes narrowed. Her lips moved, involuntarily mouthing "Merlin," and in that instant Merlin moved.
...The assault force had pushed through the Sanctuary of Oblivion.
They had not broken all the way to the innermost depths, but they had earned the recognition of the memories forming the sanctuary's outer shell. They had taken from Guinevere a share of the dominion she held over this space. Guinevere was no longer the sole god within it.
Commoner, Nation, Hero.
Yuel, Kirchhoff, Najin.
All three surrendered every piece of the dominion they had won, passing it to Merlin. Borrowing that dominion, Merlin began interfering with the sanctuary. The moment her interference began, all three charged toward Guinevere.
Boom.
Lancelot set his stance and stood between them and Guinevere. Under his protection, Guinevere began to chant her spell, the same strategy she had used a thousand years ago against countless demons and corrupted stars. The combination of a mage and a knight who shields her: simple, but powerful precisely because of its simplicity.
So then.
Najin tightened his grip on his sword. He steadied his breathing as he looked at Lancelot, who had raised his shield toward him.
Bring him down.
Najin drove Excalibur into the ground. Just as Alderaan had done before him, he unleashed the Horn Charge beneath the surface. The plain lurched and the earth across the area was heaved up into the sky.
Craaack.
But the instant Lancelot stamped his foot, the trembling ceased. He raised his foot and drove it down, the shaking stopped, and every clump of dirt that had been flung skyward came crashing back. Najin watched without concern.
He had known this would happen.
And the real aim came after.
"Now."
With a portion of the sanctuary's dominion transferred to their side, Merlin could intervene in the sanctuary. She could not touch its most essential parts, but...
Booooom.
Reshaping the sanctuary's terrain was another matter. Najin sprinted across the heaving earth. Into the ground made unstable by the Horn Charge, Merlin's magic seeped. The earth began to split.
And then, crack.
The Sanctuary of Oblivion was divided. Torn in a way designed to separate Guinevere and Lancelot, one half sank while the other rose. Lancelot moved to rejoin Guinevere, but the attempt fell through.
"And where do you think you're going?"
Kaaaaang!
"You're falling with me."
Najin had closed the distance in an instant and slammed down onto Lancelot's shield. They locked together. Najin plunged with Lancelot to the sanctuary's lowest floor.
3.
"Guinevere and Lancelot need to be kept apart."
"They're each strong on their own, but together they get considerably more troublesome. We'd need to call out my True Form to make a proper fight of it, and we can't do that here."
"So what do we do? Split them up."
Once the dominion transferred, the sanctuary could be divided. The next question was where each would fall. While Najin had still been climbing the tower, Merlin had walked him through the plan.
"From what I can see of this place's structure, there's an abandoned space at the very bottom of the sanctuary. Probably a dumping ground for memories or records not worth keeping, things they truly wanted to forget."
"That's where I'm going to drop you."
"I think I'll need to stay on Guinevere's side for the fight to work... but are you really going to be alright?"
Merlin, Yuel, and Kirchhoff would handle Guinevere.
Najin would face Lancelot alone.
That was the outline of the operation. Najin, who had always fought with Merlin at his side, would now face an enemy alone, the same as he had against the Carnival King.
"It's not a question of whether I can."
Can you handle it?
That was what Merlin had asked, and Najin's answer had been this.
"It's something that has to be done. So I'll do it."
The divided earth dropped with a deep boom and struck the sanctuary's lowest floor. The moment it landed, Lancelot swung his shield and threw Najin off.
Shwaaaaaash!
Najin skidded back and caught his breath. He steadied his stance and fixed his gaze on Lancelot. Lancelot did not look at him. His eyes were on the ground floating far above, the half that had risen. Was he worried about Guinevere?
"Lancelot."
Najin said the name. Only then did Lancelot look at him. Najin gripped Excalibur and pulled up his sword aura. Platinum-white light blazed.
"We still have an unfinished duel to see through."
The place said to be where worthless memories had been discarded.
Ironically, it was filled with memories that symbolized Lancelot. Ruins, emblems of the Convict Unit, battlefields, weapons rusted and caked in blood. Among all of it, Najin leveled his sword at Lancelot.
"Draw your sword."
The difference between Galahad and Lancelot was not only the atmosphere each wore. The shape of the shield was subtly different as well. Unlike Galahad's, Lancelot's Cross Shield had a sword hilt planted in it.
Pointing to that hilt, Najin spoke.
If Lancelot wanted to return to Guinevere, he would have to defeat Najin first, and to do that, he would have to draw his sword.
"......"
Perhaps he sensed the weight in Najin's resolve. Lancelot said nothing and raised his arm. His hand closed around the sword hilt lodged in the Cross Shield with a firm, solid grip.
Flash.
As if in response, the ten stars carved into the Cross Shield blazed with light. Then, with a fierce grinding sound, the sword aligned with the constellation began to pull free.
The sword bearing the Mystique of Unfailing.
Arondight shone.