Star-Embracing Swordmaster (Full)

Arriving Alongside the Fading Twilight

It came along with the fading twilight.

Silent and stealthy, hidden within the reddening sky.

"That is..."

By the time the guards stationed at Bastopol noticed the small dot rising against the sun, it was already too late.

Because that small flutter, which began as a dot, had suddenly grown into an enormous shadow, casting itself over the Iron City.

"What is that?"

Roaaar-!

It approached at such an astonishing speed that it was almost impossible to follow with the eye.

As fast as light, it was already hovering above the castle walls, its red breath looming.

"It's an attack! Sound the alarm!"

"Damn it! It's too fast!"

"The ballistas can't reach it!"

The Iron City, Bastopol, awoke abruptly under the golden radiance descending from the sky.

However, the city's aerial defense system, designed to combat wyverns, was no match for a dragon.

"...By the heavens."

A massive world against which a city's walls, now without their ruler, could not stand alone.

Yet, by the time the soldiers realized the enormity of what they faced, the dragon's breath had already been unleashed violently.

"It's its breath!"

"Run for your lives!"

Kraaaash-!

The breath released was so powerful it seemed capable of toppling the city walls with sheer force.

The heat accompanying it was even hotter than the twilight descending on the horizon.

- Aaaah!

- It's burning! Save me!

The sun was setting alongside the soldiers' screams.

But today, the setting sun didn't descend in the west, but in the north, along the city's walls.

¡Roooaaar!

The terrifying sight of molten red-hot steel, melting along with all manner of corpses.

It was a scene reminiscent of countless worlds long ago, trampled by the most perfect dragon.

- Bastopol! I will finally burn this city to the ground!

Bastopol, the city that had held out until the end alongside the first Emperor of the Empire.

But now, this rusted city could no longer be the last hope of humanity.

***

"...We've just received a report that Bastopol has fallen."

At Peter's softly spoken words, a heavy silence began to fill the hall in Deirmar.

It was a place where numerous knights had gathered, not only from the North but from all regions and races, but the silence was so thick that none could find the words to speak.

"It has only been five days. Five days since Sarnus left the battlefield at Achiuk."

It had taken only five days to travel from the central city of Achiuk to Bastopol, the northernmost city of the empire.

Some of the knights let out barely-contained gasps of astonishment at the news that the distance, which should have taken more than a month, even for winged beings, had been crossed in just five days.

"Such speed defies all logic. Perhaps we have gravely underestimated the remnants of the fallen dragon."

The most perfect remnants of the dragon that the Master of the Sword, the Emperor of the Empire, and the pinnacle of swordsmanship had personally divided.

However, the dragon that had survived the longest among the broken pieces was now attempting to recreate the nightmare by piecing together perfection.

"With this, three of the five fragments the Emperor divided have fallen into Sarnus's hands."

One piece belonging to the imperial family.

One piece Frausen had hidden from the world, along with his retired self.

And the fragment of the Lord of Iron that had just been seized.

"So now only one remains in this land, the fragment of Bayezid that I possess."

Excluding the fragment of the black moon floating in the sky, there was now only one fragment left that Sarnus could target.

It once belonged to Ravnoma, but now it was the only piece held by Bayezid.

"Then, where is the fragment the Count guards now?"

A tense silence began to form among the knights at the question someone asked.

This fragment was humanity's last hope, and its fate would determine the outcome of the battle.

"The fragment has left Sturma."

Peter's command baton, which had pointed at Bastopol, slowly slid toward another city.

Passing through the snowy plains, crossing the Lindworm Nest, and traversing the eastern North until it reached a city known as the Lighthouse of the North.

"It is currently passing through Soara."

Soara, the city of Bayezid's county.

A trade hub in the northwest and a place of dark alleys that never sleep.

And the city where the boy was born.

A quiet tension began to form in Vlad's blue eyes as he gazed at Peter's baton pointing toward the city of his birth.

"The problem is that Sarnus is closer to that fragment than we are."

However, there wasn't enough time for the piece to fully descend and reach Deirmar, where the knights were gathered.

Because the distance between Bastopol and Soara was much shorter than that between Bastopol and Achiuk.

"...So someone here will have to meet it."

To secure the fragment, someone had to go and meet it.

Only then could we obtain it faster than the speed of the oldest dragon's flight.

The knights' eyes all began to focus on one spot as they heard that someone would need to meet the descending fragment.

"..."

Vlad of Soara.

A name now known across the entire continent.

All the representatives of the continent focused their attention on the knight who carried such illustrious names on his small banner.

***

A man was walking alone through a long, narrow corridor.

He had walked that path so many times now that he knew his way without needing guidance in the Deirmar mansion.

However, Vlad hadn't forgotten that the first time he entered this mansion, he had been accompanied by a young man with somber eyes.

[Count Peter's judgment is correct. The Allied Northern Forces should not move from here right now.]

Although the threat of the dragon loomed dangerously close, no one could stop the war that had already begun.

Since it was no longer easy to trust them, their worlds were so divided that it was safer to eliminate each other.

[A true dead-end. It seems this had been planned all along.]

As Kihano had said, someone was laughing between the cracks.

Seeing how the divided worlds clashed and yelled at one another, an old knight could not help but feel disheartened by the current era's inability to stop the dragon.

"What can I do?"

A golden army was advancing northward.

And an ancient dragon was heading for Soara.

However, the Allied Northern Forces, unable to abandon either of them, had no choice but to accept the flying swords as they offered themselves to all sides.

"We can only do our best."

A small light shone before Vlad as he exited the narrow corridor.

The exit to the low hill of Deirmar now felt like a familiar alley to Vlad.

"Are you here now?"

But there, waiting for him, was someone who had arrived before him.

The man leaning casually against the entrance to the outside was someone with a color that felt both familiar and nostalgic to Vlad.

"Sir Rutiger?"

"Yes, it's me."

A man with the same hair color as Joseph, the one he missed dearly.

Though his appearance was different, the person smiling from afar bore a striking resemblance to Joseph's smile, the one Vlad had longed for.

"Do you really plan to come with me?"

"Who else would go if not a dragon hunter to hunt a dragon?"

A northern knight who felled the toughest of dragons.

The name Rutiger, also inscribed on the list of Dragon Slayer Knights, was probably enough to represent the North.

"We made a good team, or was that just my imagination?"

"But."

Vlad hesitated for a moment, seeing Rutiger shrug as if nothing had happened, but Rutiger wasn't the only one waiting for Vlad on Deirmar's hill.

"We meet again in a familiar place."

"...Lord Pablo."

"Count Arnstein sent me ahead. Luckily, I'm not too late."

The man who first awakened the world of the children. Pablo of Arnstein.

Seeing his imposing figure, Vlad's face softened with a smile.

"I'm glad to see you well."

"Lord Rodrigo."

"Ah, I'd prefer to be called Captain of the Imperial Guard now. I've been promoted, you know?"

The men who extended their hands to Vlad were all knights sent by Count Arnstein.

"We saw each other in Bastopol. I'm Ralph of Maringen."

"I'm Ernst of Podmills."

And the knights representing the North, those he had fought with in the Iron City, were also there.

"Land sickness is terrible after so long at sea."

"Soara holds a special meaning for me, too. What was that drink called?"

Even the dwarves from the Nidavellir Liberation Front, whom Vlad had helped, had joined.

"It is our custom as elves to extend our hand first before asking for help."

Even the elves of Ausurin, born in the same place as the sword he wielded.

"...With so many knights leaving this place, who will protect Deirmar?"

Waiting for Vlad as he exited the long, narrow corridor were so many knights that they filled the hills of Deirmar.

All those he had seen, helped, and fought were knights who volunteered to join Vlad against the legendary golden dragon.

"My father has summoned the old riders."

"Old riders?"

"Retired knights."

Deirmar, where the elites of the allied forces were escaping, would literally be like a wall with holes.

However, despite Vlad's concerns, Rutiger simply opened his mouth and crossed his arms as if there were no problem.

"We're relying on the strength of the previous generation. I'm sure that if they have working arms and legs, they're rushing here as we speak."

But that post was reserved for knights who had already retired.

The knights of the previous generation, thirsty for forgotten glory, gathered under Bayezid's banner to prove they were still useful.

"Lord Ramund will likely come as well."

"Yes. That old man will probably be the first to arrive."

It was a corridor Vlad had walked alone, but in the end, there were countless knights waiting for him.

The young spirits in the tree, who had been watching this, waved their small hands at Vlad, asking him to look their way.

"It's snowing."

"...That's not snow."

The hills of Deirmar had always been filled with loneliness.

But seeing the countless worlds gathered there, only then could Vlad smile.

"Where in the world does snow fall in spring?"

The white serpent singing and the crackling roots of the World Tree.

And the blessings of the young spirits, dancing to the rhythm, fell like white snowflakes and seeped into the knights' armor.

- Why does it snow in spring?*

- It's a good omen. They say snow during a departure brings luck.*

However, only Vlad, with his left eye, could see the small spirits and the tree bowing toward him.

"Let's go to Soara."

That's why Vlad waved his arms as hard as he could toward the tree above.

The gesture of Vlad's arm, which made the knights around him seem puzzled, was an expression of gratitude on behalf of all the knights here.

***

"The expedition has departed, Count."

"...I understand."

Behind Peter, who kept his hands behind his back, a black crow landed.

A nameless crow with a face full of scars silently bowed its head toward the small coffin that Peter was gazing at from above.

"Are you really sure? With only the retired knights and the walls of Deirmar, it will be difficult to stop the Duke of Gold's army."

"Even so, we must try."

Inside the coffin lay a young man with somber eyes.

Watching over the coffin, Peter, with a trembling hand, gently stroked his son's face.

"Someone has to watch our backs."

Joseph Bayezid had finally found a peaceful rest.

A father who, despite knowing his son would die, had sent him to the front. Now, Peter tenderly caressed his son's face, his body lying cold.

"He had to fulfill his duty in his place. My son, who did what was right."

The blood of nobles is blue.

Yet, cold blood from birth doesn't exist in this world.

"...I'm proud of you, my son."

Joseph's hands were carefully placed on his chest, holding a sword.

It was the knight's sword his son had longed for since he was young.

With the father's tears, the knights departed in silence.

They were seen off by the lord of Deirmar, the sleeping knight, and the young dancing spirits.

Gathered from across the continent, crossing regions and races, their destination was the northern city of Soara.

The golden hair of the young man returning to his hometown fluttered in the wind as he ran.