‘What in the world…’
Chief Crusader Johan stared at the Warriors of the Plains sprawled across the ground.
‘I don’t know about the others, but for them to fall so easily…’
The Great Land had dispatched a portion of its conquest army to the Southern Continent. To the Great Land, the Southern Continent was little more than a sheep ranch, and thus, most of the reinforcements they sent were ordinary warriors. Of course, even an ordinary soldier from the Great Land was a powerhouse equivalent to a disaster by the Southern Continent’s standards.
‘Just who are these sinners…?’
However, the three warriors who had just perished were no “ordinary warriors.” They were Warriors of the Plains, classified as elites even within the conquest army of the Great Land. They were special warriors who had each been personally granted a name by the Khan, their sun that would never set. They were beings evaluated as capable of rivaling a Proxy Warrior—the Southern Continent’s peak combat power—if they fought together.
And yet, such beings had died far too easily.
‘They weren’t meant to die here.’
There was only one reason why named warriors had been drafted as reinforcements: the anticipation that other continents would eventually reach out to claim the Southern Continent. The Great Land had willingly provided them to repel outside forces when that time came.
‘…Those things are not from the Southern Continent.’
Johan bit his lip hard.
To think an outside force had already approached this closely.
Moreover, to be capable of easily defeating a force comparable to a Proxy Warrior of the Order? Such individuals were rare even among the external powers. Johan, struggling to shake off the sand as he stood up, glared at the sinner before him.
‘I think I know who he is.’
He had heard the reports.
The betrayal of Ismael, the Proxy Warrior of Condemnation for the Crusader Order, had been a shock. But equally shocking was the news that a Proxy Warrior had been murdered in the peaceful port city of Vicente. The Order had investigated the one who killed the Proxy Warrior, and information hadn’t been difficult to obtain. The killer’s companions had been spreading the rumors themselves.
‘The swordsman from the Western Continent who appeared with the Golden Treasury of the Black Archipelago.’
He was the man whom the enemies of the Crusade, including the Holy Empire, had recently begun to revere like a hero. Though a young man not yet twenty, his track record was extraordinary.
He had crushed the legion of the Rhapsody family—one of the Great Five Families—in a head-on confrontation. As a Sword Walker, he had fought a formal Duel of Honor against a Knight who was a Sword Runner and claimed a legitimate victory. He had defeated a young dragon and even glimpsed the Azure Sky of the Sky Mountain Range, a feat all adventurers dreamed of. There were even rumors that an infamously arrogant witch and an orc were assisting him.
A truly heroic path. Furthermore, the fact that the one who achieved these heroic feats was not an elite but a young lord from a humble, backwater corner of the provinces made people tremble with excitement. People always love those who are born in the mud and shine like jewels. It is the reason why the protagonists of all chivalric novels begin as nobodies and meet their end at the highest peaks.
‘It’s him. Arhan. Lord Arhan Caravan.’
Johan was certain this man was the protagonist of those rumors.
The blond hair, the blue eyes, and the appearance of a beautiful young noble all matched. The moment he realized this, Johan bit his lip and pulled a small piece of iron from his breast pocket.
“You simply won’t leave us in peace.”
The Crusader Order had classified Arhan Caravan as a person of interest. His existence was fanning the embers in people’s hearts and obstructing the Crusaders’ plans. A heroic figure from the Western Continent had visited the Southern Continent, liberated the port city of Vicente immediately upon arrival, and even murdered a Proxy Warrior of the Crusader Order. The Order’s plans, which had been proceeding without a hitch, were being systematically dismantled ever since Arhan Caravan appeared. After the Proxy Warrior’s betrayal, the situation had escalated beyond mere disruption; the very survival of the Order was at stake. From the Crusader Order’s perspective, Arhan Caravan was an existence that could not be left alone.
“You shall pay the price for your sins.”
Convinced that the being before him was Arhan Caravan, Johan did as he had been instructed. The Papal See had anticipated that the Crusaders would eventually cross paths with Arhan while he remained in the Southern Continent. Though they didn’t know his ultimate goal, they expected him to clash with them at least once more since he was playing the hero. Thus, the Crusaders had issued a single item to every Chief Crusader fighting the Holy War, with one condition: use it if you encounter Arhan Caravan.
“Surviving brothers—!”
The piece of iron in Johan’s hand was not of the Southern Continent. It was an item received from “another power” that the Crusader Order had allied with, separate from the Great Land. An external power that had chosen the Southern Continent while seeking a “new exit” as their own nation’s existence was threatened by a violent war.
“I am opening the gate! Hold your ground!”
Machine Empire Laprien.
Their gift, a capsule concentrated with magitech, was held in Johan’s hand. A capsule that, with a single use, could tear open a Warp Gate connected to a distant location. And the place this capsule was linked to was the Papal See.
“Justice… shall prevail—!”
The place where the Crusader Order’s most powerful forces resided.
“For justice!”
“For the light!”
Hearing Johan’s words, the Crusaders prepared for battle with desperate resolve. Meanwhile, watching the scene from afar, the souls summoned by Splendor furrowed their brows.
“It looks like they’re trying another trick!”
“What is that? Some new gadget? The aura feels unusual.”
“…I don’t know what it is, but it seems it’ll be too much for the three of us to handle.”
Too much for the three of us to handle.
Mary the swordswoman and Berik the Orc Great Warrior agreed with those words.
The Ronin naturally looked back.
“We’re going to need our master.”
They needed Arhan.
If only the digestion process of Splendor would finish completely.
No matter what tricks they pulled, he wouldn’t be easily defeated. Never.
“And… our friends who were with us in the world of the sword.”
Mary and Berik nodded.
“True, I don’t really fit in a fight like this.”
“The old human holding a lantern would be more helpful.”
“And that adventurer uncle who does nothing but talk about his son.”
“And…”
.
.
.
“Yes, that loyal knight, too.”
*
Frey lived buried in books.
She could not return to the days when she was courted by men of high status or felt a sense of superiority and fulfillment while surrounded by naive girls harboring fantasies. Now, Frey could no longer laugh easily, no matter who she was with. Frey researched spirits. The actual nature of spirits was different from the common knowledge she had previously held.
It was said that spirits were beings born from the elements, and occasionally, when the boundaries of the world blurred, they would fall into the middle world to see the world before returning. One scholar had added a footnote: If there was ever a clean, innocent being that brushed past a corner of your life, it might have been a spirit.
Frey looked for ways a human could go to the spirit realm. Sometimes, when travelers visited, she would ask them. Seeing the change in the once-haughty Frey, several women who envied her mocked her, saying she had grown foolish.
Time passed.
Youth and beauty are not eternal. Frey’s dazzling beauty gradually withered before the years, and the people who sought her began to disappear one by one. The elderly Star Priestess spoke to Frey gently. “Frey, it’s alright if you don’t sing the Song of Stars anymore. Let’s leave it to the younger children who still hold dreams.” Frey immediately realized that the elderly priestess was indirectly telling her, “You are no longer beautiful.”
Only then did Frey look into the mirror.
Before she knew it, her beauty had faded, wrinkles had formed on her face, and her once-flowing hair had become brittle. Handsome men no longer sought her. If she were to encounter the Little Prince again in this state, she would feel pathetic. The Little Prince had been a boy, so he would be a fine young man by now, and the beautiful woman he had seen through his boyish eyes would be no more.
Frey applied thick powder to her face.
Since her beauty had not completely vanished, several men showed interest in her again after she powdered herself and dressed up. But Frey felt no sense of specialness in their praise. Specialness is something born when time is invested. Like the conversations she and the Little Prince had shared in front of the observatory, or the conversations they had while counting stars on the sand during desert nights.
Frey stopped grooming herself.
While no one paid her any attention, an old hag who had lived the longest in Antoine, the City of Stars, spoke to Frey, who was shut in her room. “Don’t be so miserable; go meet someone. Soothe your loneliness and sense of loss among people.” Frey replied:
“It’s the same kind of loneliness even among people.”
Frey shed tears. The old woman said:
“You are pining for that child who stayed here briefly and then left.”
“…I miss him.”
Why had she not realized his preciousness while he was by her side?
Frey regretted it. If she had known it would be like this, she would have built more memories. Instead of spending time with beings who couldn’t fulfill her in the slightest, she would have spent every moment with the Little Prince, who made her feel special. She wouldn’t have sent him away so coldly at the end; she would have clung to his pant leg, even if it meant weeping.
“He was a peculiar child.”
“He wasn’t peculiar; he was special,” Frey sobbed.
“Why was I so reluctant to express it? Why didn’t I even know it myself? The Little Prince was honest in every moment, expressing himself through actions rather than words. He listened to what I said more than anyone, laughed purely, and taught me so much. He brightened my heart. Why didn’t I realize that I would never again meet someone who could give me such sincere affection as the Little Prince?”
“That is just how humans are, you poor thing,” the old woman said.
“You were too young to know how to love something else. You didn’t know that love requires deep understanding and responsibility. Because you were young and immature, you didn’t even realize that you were ignorant of the most important thing.”
“…”
“For what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
The old woman stroked Frey’s hair.
“Poor child. What do you think it would be like if another pure child like the Little Prince appeared?”
“I would cherish them.”
“You would cherish them. But you wouldn’t be able to love them the way you loved the Little Prince. Because the reason the Little Prince is so precious to you is the time you spent for him.”
“…”
“The more time you spend considering something special, the more special it becomes; the more time you spend thinking something is precious, the more precious it becomes. To see something clearly, one must look with the heart, poor child. Countless people live their lives having forgotten this truth.”
They were wise words.
After hearing the old woman’s words, Frey went home and washed her body clean. After washing, she visited the Star Temple for the first time in a long while and saw a small girl scurrying about. The girl was walking around in priestess robes that didn’t fit her body. That tiny girl was not strikingly beautiful, nor was she as well-behaved as adults might like.
“Hey, when did you put those priestess robes on again!”
The running girl bumped into Frey.
The girl looked up at Frey and grinned, showing her teeth.
“Hello!”
Frey asked the priestesses about the girl. The priestesses said the girl was a child who had drifted down the water in a basket, an abandoned child. Frey asked for the girl’s name. Since the girl didn’t remember her own name, the priestesses said they had named her after a word written on a note found in the basket.
“Moses. Her name is Moses.”
Commonly known as the girl in priestess robes, Moses was an innocent child. Frey was no longer praised for her beauty, but she consistently offered prayers at the Star Temple. She lived diligently, hoping that one day she might meet the Little Prince once more, so that she could show him her proudest smile in that moment.
Moses laughed as she watched the young priestesses performing the Song of Stars, and Frey laughed too. Moses harbored the dream of becoming like them one day, while Frey reminisced about the dream of once being in that position. Looking at the same present, the girl saw the future, and the middle-aged woman saw the past.
Frey spent a long time with Moses.
The priestesses, who were supposed to practice the Song of Stars and enjoy their youth chattering with one another, were reluctant to look after the tomboyish girl. So Frey always looked after Moses, and that care was not a chore but a joy. They counted the stars in the pitch-black night, climbed the observatory during quiet hours to see the desert scenery, and laughed at each other after seeing the sauce on their cheeks while sharing well-grilled lamb skewers. Frey saw the Little Prince in Moses. She came to realize that untainted innocence was this beautiful.
To Moses, who said she wanted to become a Star Priestess, the other priestesses said: “You can’t be a priestess because you aren’t beautiful. Even if you become a priestess, you won’t be able to sing the Song of Stars.” Seeing Moses grow dejected at the priestesses’ words, Frey thought: Why do they say such a dazzling child isn’t beautiful? Thinking that, Frey smiled. To Frey, Moses was beautiful because of the time she had spent for her. Frey knew the way Moses laughed purely, she knew the moments she said cute, girlish things, and she knew the way the small child found joy. Tiny fragments of time had gathered to shine brightly upon this child.
“Don’t be disappointed, Moses.”
“You don’t need to comfort me.”
“It’s not comfort. I’m being sincere. You are beautiful.”
“Really?”
“Yes. At least to me, you are more beautiful than anyone.”
“But my eyes aren’t big, my nose isn’t sharp, and my skin isn’t fair.”
“Those things aren’t important. To see something clearly, one must look with the heart.”
“With the heart…”
“For what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
Frey never married.
Having missed her most brilliant period, Frey eventually grew old, and the elderly woman felt lonely among people. However, because of her brief time with the Little Prince, Frey had come to know what was truly important. What is truly important is not how one appears to others or what others gossip about. What is truly important is the eye with which I view the world. It is love and responsibility.
“I wish Priestess Frey could be my friend for the rest of my life.”
Moses said with an innocent smile.
Frey gave her the same smile.
“Of course.”
“Really?”
“Because one is responsible, forever, for what one has tamed.”
Frey thought her current life was good. She would be satisfied if she could watch this lovely girl grow up and shine beautifully. Even if she couldn’t shine, Frey would willingly tell the girl she was the most beautiful. She would do so not as a lie, but with all her heart.
And then.
“Priestess Frey!”
Frey realized once again.
“Don’t come, Priestess!”
Just as the Little Prince had left her.
Moments are not meant to be eternal.
“No, Priestess Frey! Don’t go!”
In the deserts of the Ferry region, sandstorms blow every quarter. Those sandstorms are ancient, but they are unpredictable. The sandstorm arrived just as the Star Priestesses were returning from offering prayers in the outer city. Amidst the blowing sand, little Moses was swept away and was soon being swallowed by a sand pit, sinking down. As if she had fallen into a swamp.
“You’ll die too if you do that!”
A flailing Moses sobbed and cried. The inside of the sand pit was teeming with scorpions. Creatures with venom that could snuff out a girl’s life in an instant. Frey ran toward Moses with a speed that surprised even herself. The priestesses failed to catch Frey as she dashed out. One elderly Star Priestess saw in Frey’s retreating figure the back of a mother. A mother running to save her dying daughter.
“Oh, Stars.”
Frey leaped into the pit and pulled Moses into an embrace.
In Frey’s arms, Moses was able to survive instead of suffocating to death buried in the sand. The swarming scorpions targeted only the middle-aged woman who shielded the small girl. When the brief sandstorm receded, Moses saw a bloodied Frey. Frey’s face was pale. Seeing the bloodless face, Moses wailed as if the world were ending.
“Frey, Frey!”
The priestesses who had barely held on nearby rushed to Frey as soon as the sandstorm stopped. Amidst the settled sand, in the center of the quiet desert, was the middle-aged woman holding the small girl. The rushing priestesses soon froze for a moment. It was because of the sight reflected in their eyes.
“…?”
A star rose in the broad daylight.
Above the head of Frey, who was clutching Moses, a star hung in the distant sky. Under the starlight illuminating her, Frey’s face looked like that of the Goddess of Stars from the scriptures. Beside the faintly smiling Frey stood a glowing boy whose face could not be discerned. While everyone else was frozen, Frey recognized the boy. It was a voice she had never forgotten for a single moment, even after all this time.
“Frey. My beautiful Frey.”
The Little Prince.
He, who had not appeared for so long, was before Frey. The small boy was imbued with light, but the more he spoke, the more the Little Prince’s light faded. Frey could tell why the Little Prince’s light was fading.
“…No, don’t do it.”
Frey knew what the Little Prince was trying to do.
From what she had read in books, spirits possessed another authority besides the element that formed their essence: pure life force. A great life force that could save all dying things. But a spirit who used that power would die, without fail.
“I missed you. So I kept staying by your side, but you couldn’t see me. No matter how much I chattered, you couldn’t answer; no matter how much I stroked you, you couldn’t feel it.”
He kept staying. Hearing those words, Frey shed tears.
The middle world is the lowest world. While one can see the middle world from the spirit realm, one cannot see the spirit realm from the middle world. Frey, who possessed no spiritual talent, could not perceive the spirit realm. The Little Prince had never left Frey. From the moment he departed until now.
“I shouldn’t have left you behind. I was too young then to know that you also considered me special and loved me. I should have looked at your actions, not your words. You gave me warmth, you gave me laughter, and you gave me joy. I should have known that was affection.”
“Stop. Stop it. You’ll die if you keep going.”
Frey was right. The Little Prince’s light was fading even now. From the moment he returned to the spirit realm until now, the Little Prince had waited for such a moment while staying by Frey’s side. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life, he had waited only for the moment he could face Frey and speak with her once more.
“Don’t cry, Frey.”
The wounds etched on Frey’s body were disappearing. Her life, which the sandstorm had claimed, and her vitality, which the scorpion venom had stolen, were returning.
“It will look like I’ve died. But that’s not it.”
The little spirit who had crash-landed in the desert had met a flower while playing in the middle world. The spirit who met the flower returned to his own world, but he could not forget the brief moment of the crash-landing. To the spirit, that instant remained eternal.
“It’s difficult to go back with a body, so I’m leaving my body behind. I’m going back far away.”
“Where, where…?”
“A dead spirit becomes a star, Frey.”
“Liar, that’s a lie. I’ve never heard of such a thing. It’s never been written in any book.”
“It’s not a lie. I’m going to become a star, Frey. Then, looking at the sky at night will become very pleasant. Because all the stars will look like me. Because no matter which star you look at, it will be pleasant. Because all the stars will be your friends, Frey.”
Frey reached out her hand to the Little Prince.
But her hand passed right through him.
“Promise me one thing, Frey.”
“What… promise?”
“Take responsibility for what you have tamed. The city you love, the city that loves you, the people you love and those who love you… and the girl you tamed, as well.”
The Little Prince pointed toward Moses.
“Can you do that for me?”
“I will. I promise.”
“Then I shall give you a gift, Frey. A gift that will allow me to return to you.”
Frey’s body was now completely healed.
In contrast, the Little Prince had become nothing more than a faint, flickering light. In that state, he offered Frey a small blade. The blade did not settle in her hand; instead, it passed through her skin and dissolved into her body.
“You become the only one in the world to me, and I become the only one in the world to you, Frey.”
“……”
“I may be invisible, but I will always be with you. If you ever feel too lonely among people, call for me. Then we shall play together, counting the stars as we look up at the night sky.”
“……”
“There is no need to rush back. I will be waiting.”
With those final words, the Little Prince’s light flickered out. As the light scattered and vanished, Frey lunged forward, sobbing, while the other priests held her back, shouting for her to pull herself together. The desert landscape grew distant, and the figures below became as small as dots, as if viewed from high above. The vast desert shrank until it looked small enough to fit in the palm of a hand.
That was the Little Prince’s final memory.
.
.
.
“…Whew.”
I slowly opened my eyes.
The digestion of the sword I had just consumed, Brilliance , had proceeded all at once without interruption. Curiously, the memories contained within this blade did not just follow the Little Prince’s perspective; they alternated between Frey and the Little Prince. Furthermore, the memories felt less like a first-person experience and more like I was observing them from the perspective of a third party.
「It is because of the unique nature of that soul.」
“What do you mean by that?”
「The blade known as Brilliance was not composed of a single soul.」
Liam explained in response to my question.
「You must have found many things strange. You thought it was a blade, yet it belonged to a being who had never swung a sword in his life. In the memories you peered into, there wasn’t a single instance of combat. They were, in fact, incredibly weak beings—so fragile that their lives were ended by nothing more than a sandstorm and a scorpion.」
“……”
「But, was that life insignificant?」
Insignificant?
No, I couldn’t say that.
「Young descendant.」
“Yes.”
「What is required to reach transcendence is likely different from what you imagine. Consider the essence of the sword. Swinging a sword harder or thrusting it faster—the peak the sword pursues is not found in such things.」
Liam’s eyes sparkled.
「There were Caravans who gained nothing even after devouring the blade of a man called a Sword Star, while others reached the level of Sword Master after devouring the kitchen knife of a housewife who had never once held a weapon. What matters is not the strength of the soul, but what that soul harbors.」
“……”
「Needle represents an unyielding will; Fang represents the freedom sought from the lowest depths; Wildness represents responsibility. If you truly wish to become strong from this point forward, you must look at the inner essence, not the outer shell.」
“The inner essence…”
「And.」
And?
「To don the Armor of Steel—to reach the level of Sword Expert—you must fully complete your own inner world.」
“……”
「A conviction so absolute it borders on being its own world, a stubbornness that will never break.」
Stubbornness.
It was a word that connected back to my master’s sword, The Maverick.
“It’s still difficult for me to understand.”
「I suppose it would be. However, you must have realized at least one thing.」
“What is that?”
「That you, too, can now hear the call of the sword. And that the blade calling out to you inevitably harbors the power you truly need.」
The power I need.
Yes, those words hit the mark.
If I had obtained Brilliance back when I first picked up a sword, it would have been an utterly useless piece of metal. But what about now?
“I see.”
Even if I had devoured the blade of a highly renowned swordsman, I likely wouldn’t have achieved the same level of growth I had just experienced.
“You’re back, kid!”
Clang! Mary, the swordswoman guarding me, cried out. The Needle in her hand hummed with a friendly resonance. I looked at the three dependable souls standing before me and broke into a grin.
“Yes, I’m back.”
Though we had never met face-to-face in life, I felt an intense bond with them. Because they were a part of me. Feeling a surge of pride in my chest, I looked toward the Crusaders still glaring at us under the pitch-black night sky. Behind them, a massive dimensional portal was opening. A Warp Gate—magic that connected different spaces.
‘They’re planning to call in reinforcements.’
It made sense; the forces they had now wouldn’t be enough.
I had known it from the moment I saw the Warriors of the Plains. The Crusader Order had already brought in outside forces, and the support sent by those outsiders wouldn’t be limited to ‘just that much.’
I could feel a presence beyond the Warp Gate.
A presence far greater and more numerous than those currently filling this desolate desert.
“Everyone.”
But there was no need to worry.
The digestion of Brilliance was now complete.
There is no limit to the number of souls I can summon with this blade.
And what does that mean?
“Let’s see everyone’s faces.”
It means I can call a whole lot of friends, too.
