Chaos had swallowed the Southern Continent.
The land once known for its tranquility was peaceful no longer.
Countless cities had been razed in the Holy War ignited by the Crusaders. Numerous orders were forced to tear down their own emblems, replacing them with the cross to offer false worship. The only orders still standing in the Southern Continent were the Star Order and the Sun Order.
Of course, the survival of the Star Order provided little comfort to the people. Most of its followers were adventurers or travelers—pacifists who spoke of forgiveness and harmony even in the heat of combat.
The only practical force resisting the Crusaders was the Sun Order. Only the Holy Empire and its Monks fought to preserve the old ways of the Southern Continent. However, the Crusaders were far too powerful for the Sun Order to face alone. It wasn’t just their military might; their very doctrine was inherently violent.
War was the perfect catalyst to swell the Crusaders’ ranks.
As the Holy War dragged on, the people of the Southern Continent, once steeped in peace, gradually began to crave vengeance. They hungered for the judgment of sinners—not through hollow words of forgiveness, but through the cold edge of steel. Some orders now served the cross with genuine fervor, and many defected even from the Sun Order.
Everyone said the Crusaders’ victory was imminent.
That was when the variable emerged.
Arhan Caravan. He was a backwater lord who had first made a name for himself on the Western Continent. But after appearing alongside the Golden Treasury of the Black Archipelago, the stranger’s fame exploded. He liberated the port city of Vicente and slew Great Warrior Ismael. Furthermore, with the Black Archipelago—masters of public manipulation—backing him, there was no one in the Southern Continent who didn’t know the name ‘Arhan Caravan.’
The orders unjustly oppressed by the Crusaders and the countless cities trampled and burned by them secretly prayed for a visit from Arhan Caravan. Even a Sun Priest from the port city of Vicente began preaching a radical new doctrine: “Only you can protect yourself.” This teaching spread like wildfire, sparking the emergence of resistance groups even in cities ruled by the Crusaders.
“Ignorant fools! Why do they worship some foreign swordsman?” those belonging to the Papacy shouted, slamming their tables in rage.
But a spark, once spread, is not easily extinguished. It was only natural. How could the peaceful Southern Continent block the expertise of the Black Archipelago, an organization that had conducted ‘war business’ countless times throughout history?
Thanks to Zeppelin Gold’s machinations, Arhan Caravan was now a household name in the south. Some blasphemous individuals even went so far as to claim that Arhan Caravan, given his humble origins and heroic deeds, might be a guardian of justice chosen by God. The Crusaders dispatched Inquisitors to hunt down those spreading such rumors, but the original source could never be found. Naturally, as it was all Zeppelin Gold’s doing.
People are naturally drawn to heroic tales.
When it isn’t an obvious ‘fake hero’ but a ‘true hero,’ the flames burn even faster. The stirrings in the Southern Continent could no longer be suppressed. The Crusader Order knew this as well.
Moreover, news recently arrived that the Monks training in the Sky Mountain Range had returned. Among them was said to be the greatest of all Great Warriors, the Sun’s Great Warrior: Monk Butcher. Now, the Crusader Order grew desperate.
If the Sun’s Great Warrior joined forces with the Holy Empire, the Crusaders could never win. To fight a Great Warrior, they would have to field one of their own, but they couldn’t possibly pit their newly appointed, inexperienced Great Warrior against the man called the strongest in history.
As their smoothly progressing plans began to crumble, the Crusader Order was driven to the brink of madness. There was only one way to reverse the situation: to kill Arhan Caravan, the man the Southerners were exalting, with their own hands. It would be perfect if the execution were carried out by the Crusader Order’s new Great Warrior.
If that happened, the new Great Warrior of Condemnation would immediately capture the world’s attention, and the Southerners harboring vain thoughts would meekly return to serving the cross. Yes, that would work. But then, what about the Sun’s Great Warrior? How would they deal with the Holy Empire once it regained its most powerful asset…?
“Is there any need to think so complicatedly?”
Amidst the confusion, a voice persistently tempted the Papacy.
“Accept my terms.”
The elders of the Papacy looked at the giant man sitting arrogantly before them.
“Accept the Great Land, you hothouse flowers.”
The massive man stroked a pitch-black stallion that let out a low snort. The horse, nuzzling against him, was as black as if it were fashioned from the darkness of the abyss. If the world’s darkest shadow took form, it would surely look like this.
“Weak and insignificant as you are, you can solve nothing. So, entrust your fate to me, the Great One. I shall trample and scorch this trivial land and hand it over to you in a state easy to consume.”
Yet even that ominous horse seemed like an ordinary beast beside the man. The elders of the Papacy couldn’t even meet his eyes, let alone bear the weight of his voice. From the moment they first encountered him, everyone had the same thought.
“A Holy War? A war for justice? No, what you are doing is not war; it is a mere gamble. I am dying to show you what a real war looks like. So, accept the Great Land, and I shall teach you the meaning of war.”
How? How could such a human exist in this world?
“The blue-eyed sorcerers of the Western Land, and those who call themselves the masters of the Machine Empire—they have already bowed their heads to us. They have agreed to pave the way for the warriors of the plains who will run endlessly under the sun that never sets. A road made of silk.”
“…T-That cannot be.”
“And why not? Did I ask you to surrender this trivial land? Or did I demand all your women? I have asked for only one thing. Why is that so difficult?”
The more the giant man spoke, the more the elders of the Papacy felt their breath hitch. He possessed an aura that seemed to aggregate all the world’s ill omens. He was a being akin to a calamity, making one wonder if this was what ‘violence’ would look like if it manifested in reality.
A war god had descended to earth.
The Descendant of Khan was there.
“You… intend to set… the world… on fire.”
Even the elders of the Papacy, who had already crossed the line long ago, knew. They must not accept this being’s terms. Never.
“Weak hothouse flowers.” The Descendant of Khan snorted. “Let me tell you one thing.”
“…W-What is it?”
“It is better to salvage ashes than to possess nothing at all.”
“…”
“Is it not better to grasp a world reduced to cinders than to dream of possessing it all and losing everything?”
The elders of the Papacy could not answer.
As they wavered, a Crusader rushed in and spoke urgently. “The Warp Gate has opened! It seems Chief Crusader Johan has found Arhan Caravan!”
“…W-We shall… continue this… discussion later.”
At the Crusader’s words, the elders of the Papacy hurried out. Watching their retreating backs, the Descendant of Khan sat still, tapping the table.
“Morons.”
The Descendant of Khan thought as he popped a piece of meat from a plate into his mouth. Human greed is infinite. Those weaklings would soon fail and realize the truth he had just spoken. That it is better to hold even ashes than to lose everything. Once those hothouse flowers realized that, they would eventually take his hand.
Humans are creatures created that way, after all.
“It won’t be long now, my friend. Look forward to it.” Stroking his favorite horse, the Descendant of Khan muttered, “Soon, you shall run to your heart’s content across the hateful Sky Empire.”
*
With a heavy thud, armored Crusaders emerged through the Warp Gate. Countless soldiers poured out, and in their midst, a middle-aged man carrying a cross walked forward, his blue eyes flashing. I knew instinctively.
That’s the newly appointed one.
The Great Warrior of Condemnation I had killed. I felt the same aura as Ismael.
“Stranger from the West—!”
A booming voice echoed across the desert.
“Under the cross! You uninvited guest from the outside who disturbs the Southern Continent where the righteous order is being established! You, with the foul name of Arhan Caravan—!”
The new Great Warrior of Condemnation was clad in brilliant armaments. He was different from Ismael, who had appeared without any particularly conspicuous weapons or armor. This man carried a long spear that emitted light, and wore armor, gauntlets, and a helmet made of White Iron—a rare material comparable to black iron. Furthermore, unlike Ismael who had appeared alone, the new Great Warrior was flanked by countless Crusaders, priests, and Inquisitors. Moreover—
Not just the Great Land, but even the Machine Empire has sided with them.
Beyond the Warp Gate, figures bearing familiar emblems emerged. Their attire was different from what I remembered, but it was certain. They were the War Mages of the Machine Empire’s Magic Corps.
“Ismael, the false Great Warrior, died by your hand. But that old woman’s faith wavered, and she died after her betrayal. I, Aaron, the sacred Great Warrior burdened with a noble duty and ultimately chosen by the Son of Sin and Punishment, shall never be defeated by a sinner—!”
I looked at Aaron, the new Great Warrior, as he spoke with such grandiosity. Honestly, it was absurd.
How can he be so confident when he’s bundled up like that?
Armed from head to toe in White Iron. If given such equipment, even a shepherd boy could achieve heroic feats in most wars. Arrows, swords, and spears—nothing would pierce it. Furthermore, looking at the ranks lined up around him, I was even more speechless. He clearly intended to receive the blessings of numerous priests and the magical support of the War Mages.
The Crusader Order must have been anxious.
Well, it made sense, given he was likely a Great Warrior appointed only recently. He was probably someone who had been doing nothing but offering prayers until not long ago. He would be far more inexperienced and weaker than Ismael, the terrifying old woman who had nearly driven me to death.
Of course…
With that kind of support, he might actually be stronger.
No, I didn’t just suspect it; I knew it. He was definitely stronger.
They say a master doesn’t blame his tools, but a true master knows that tools matter quite a bit. Besides, this guy wasn’t just using good tools; he was using good people, too. In contrast, I had a trash sword, trash armor, and not a single companion to help me.
「He is indeed draped in magical tools.」
“No, he calls me a stranger, but he’s the one who’s brought in all this foreign help.”
I said I’d call my friends… but I didn’t know you had so many friends.
“Now, try to cut me down! Stranger of the West—!”
The new Great Warrior Aaron clearly had thick skin. His voice was ear-splittingly loud, yet he didn’t take a single step forward, staying safely behind the Crusaders while shouting. He clearly intended to overwhelm me with numbers and kill me, then tell the world that the new Great Warrior had slain Arhan Caravan.
“Hmm.”
I didn’t want to see that happen.
『The stars are beautiful.』
Light erupted from my body.
The brilliant cluster of light soon took a single form, and Swordswoman Mary, who had been summoned previously, returned to my inner self. There is no limit to the number of souls 「Splendor」 can summon, but if a soul meets death in the Mortal Realm, they cannot be summoned for a while. Since Mary would be at a disadvantage in such a chaotic melee, I decided to put her back for now.
Then, who should I call?
『Because of a single invisible flower.』
First, I needed a soul who could shut that guy’s mouth. If there’s a difference in numbers, I have to break their morale first.
“…I didn’t expect you to call me.”
“Really?”
“The old man with the lantern would have been better. Isn’t he a sword who has seen his share of war? I’m just a bladesman who used to hide like a rat.”
“That’s why I called you.”
If his head is about to fly off… that mouth will stay shut.
“It’s night right now, isn’t it?”
“…”
“There should be a rat hole in the darkness.”
A desert night. In the pitch-black darkness, two sharp daggers gleamed. The curved daggers looked less like blades and more like the fangs of a beast. Lethal fangs.
“You’re telling me to lend you a friend’s strength.”
“Yes, isn’t this your time?”
“It’s a familiar task. Facing enemies stronger and more numerous than myself.”
The Assassin of the Free City.
The assassin, who had borrowed my eight pairs of wings, spoke quietly.
“It’s been a while since I’ve become the darkness.”
With those words, the Assassin of the Free City vanished into the night shadows. Now, he would become the most lethal fang at the most necessary moment and tear them apart. With the same blades that had made freedom ring through the Free City Crowde even back when he was a mere third-rate assassin.
And then.
“Then I…”
Just as I was slowly forming a plan.
“You dogs—!”
The people who had been huddling behind me stood up.
“Just how much! How much more must you trample us before you’re satisfied!”
“Damn you, you sons of the cross—!”
Insignificant people. People who had been constantly losing, their heads bowed. They began to rage.
At the same time.
“…Traveler.”
A warm voice spoke from nearby.
I turned my head to see a girl in priestess robes. No, she wasn’t just a girl in priestess robes. I knew her name now. Moses. The girl Priestess Frey had looked after.
“In the starlight Priestess Frey gave me, I came to know the will of the stars. The stars are not a helpless light that cowers in silence, enduring injustice and speaking only of forgiveness and harmony while being oppressed. The stars are a light that respects and loves those who step forward. And they are the brightest light that illuminates the direction for those who advance.”
The atmosphere around Moses was strange. She seemed to have become a different person from the girl I knew. Moses, harboring sacred starlight, looked at me with eyes that resembled the stars. A gaze that seemed to pull me in was there.
“Traveler, you are running at the very front for this city. You are running for those seized by fear and those who have lost their way. You are throwing yourself forward for those who have collapsed and fallen.”
With that, starlight poured down.
“The stars will be with you, Traveler.”
A starlight so bright it seemed it would blind me.
“Even in the darkest night, the stars remain.”
At the same time, I realized one thing.
“The stars do not disappear.”
It wasn’t just the swords helping me.
“Go, Traveler.”
The light Frey left behind as she gave her life. The girl she loved, the girl she tamed. The girl who loved her, the girl who was tamed by her. The people who love this city, the people loved by this city. Those who followed the stars and loved them, and those whom the stars followed and loved. In the dark night, all of them were shining.
“The stars will light the path you must take.”
Accepting the starlight, I thought to myself.
Those Crusader bastards.
I’m going to nail every last one of them to their own crosses today.
