The Magician of the Lake, Merlin.
A constellation as serene and beautiful as a lake with gentle ripples. But now, that same constellation was boiling wildly, like water in a pot over a raging fire.
She gripped the back of her neck, which was flushed with heat.
"Who the hell is this crazy bastard?"
Stars listen to the voices of humans.
It was a widely known fact, but the reality was a little different. There was one more condition attached.
Stars listen to the voices of those who are gifted.
Not every human voice reaches the stars. Most voices become mere noise, brushing past constellations, and only the voices of those with the right qualities can become meaningful sentences rather than noise.
'And even that sounds like a very small muttering···.'
It was certainly supposed to be like that, but why was it different?.
Merlin recalled the voice that had echoed in her ear just moments ago. The voice was so clear, beyond the level of a meaningful sentence, almost to the point of being able to discern the mocking tone.
The first clear voice she had heard in hundreds of years.
It was the unmistakable will of one who possessed the qualities of a hero.
And the will that voice conveyed was enough to make the quiet lake of Merlin boil. The voice directly denied King Arthur's achievements. It ridiculed King Arthur, the king Merlin served, as a 'man of the times.'
"Are you really crazy?"
Merlin eyes became bloodshot.
The constellation of Arthur's epic, the constellation of Selection, was the one with the most followers across the entire Black Continent. No one could have been unaware of that fact.
And yet you insult Arthur?
With such ridiculous words?
Did they want to die or were they out of their minds?
Merlin opened her eyes wide and looked down at the ground. Her gaze could extend to anywhere the starlight could reach. She quickly rolled her eyes to find the owner of the voice that had just rang in her ear.
But she couldn't see anyone.
When I heard a voice in my ear, I thought I saw a very arrogant boy... but no matter where I looked, I couldn't see the boy's face.
'Did he hide somewhere where the starlight doesn't reach?'
It didn't matter.
Let him hide for the rest of his life.
"Just wait until I find you."
Merlin clenched her teeth and stared, her bloodshot eyes darting rapidly. As if she would miss even the smallest trace.
"You won't die easily, brat."
Whether the boy was a rare genius with the qualities of a hero, an apostle of another constellation, or a sword master's cherished disciple, none of that mattered to Merlin.
All that mattered was teaching him the price of insulting her king.
The Magician of the Lake swore by her constellation. She would find that arrogant brat and make him pay.
2.
"Wow, what is it?"
I rubbed the back of my neck.
Suddenly, I felt a strange tingling sensation in my back. It felt like someone was swearing to the heavens that they would catch me and beat me to death.
'Who is it?'
Actually, I had a lot of enemies, after all. I had built up quite a few grudges. Maybe it was the pickpocket, Tooth, who broke my arm a while ago, or the drunkard, Belga, or...
Anyway, it didn't seem like a big deal.
"Phew…"
I shook off the random thoughts and opened my eyes, which I had closed for a moment.
"Offen, does this meditation thing really work?"
I turned my head and looked at a corner of the empty lot. There was a man in a shabby outfit sitting there. He seemed like a teacher who taught me how to use a sword. He slowly opened his mouth to my question.
"Of course. Meditation to calm your mind is fundamental. If your mind wavers, the tip of your sword…"
Here we go again.
I shook my head and drew my sword.
"Forget that, just watch me swing the sword."
"Tch. Show some respect for your master, you little bastard."
"Then why don't you put down the bottle of alcohol you're holding in your mouth?"
I looked at Offen, who had been drinking alcohol since early in the morning, with pitiful eyes. He was clearly a mercenary who had a good reputation in the upper town before being banished to the underground city... Every time I saw him like that, I began to doubt the reputation.
A rough beard that has not been groomed.
Sloppy clothes and drunken eyes.
Because anyone who saw Offen would probably mutter, "Hmm, he's a drunkard," and move on.
'But still···.'
I took a stance and swung my sword.
'Because I'm sure his skills are solid.'
As soon as I swung my sword, a sharp voice echoed through the empty space.
"It's too hard. Relax. Keep your elbows in more."
It was Offen's advice.
I adjusted my stance to his suggestion. The effect was immediate. The sound of the sword cutting through the air became heavier. By relaxing, the sound became more solid, and I couldn't help but let out a brief admiring sound.
Hoo.
I continued swinging my sword, and Offen gave me a brief word or two of advice. Offen's teachings were always like this. He didn't show me how to swing my sword or give me a stance, but he did give me advice.
'and....'
That advice was true.
At first glance, he may seem like a drunkard, and he really is a drunkard... but at least when it comes to talking about swords, Offen becomes extremely serious.
"Lower your stance."
Just like now.
"Keep your eyes wide open."
A sharp voice.
"Breathe. Exhale. You're using too much strength."
His eyes, no longer dull from the alcohol, had become sharp.
"Don't press down with your weight. What you hold in your hand is not a blunt weapon. It's a blade for cutting. Don't slam down, but swing it as if you're skimming."
Listening carefully to his words, I swung the sword for a long time. Sweat ran down my back.
"Put strength into your legs and step forward. Don't swing with force. Watch where the sword swings until the very end."
I listened to his advice and thought to myself.
Maybe, this last swing would be my final one for today. I had a lot to do.
'The ending has to be neat.'
I adjusted my grip on the sword.
I took a deep breath, engraving the advice I had heard today in my head. Offen's voice lingered in my ears like an auditory hallucination.
'Take a wide step.'
'Take a deep breath, keep your body still and look straight at the tip of the sword.'
I exhaled and swung my sword.
A basic swing, from above to below, a simple diagonal cut. But the moment I swung the sword, I felt something different.
It wasn't like usual.
Swoosh!
The sound of the blade cutting through the air rang out clearly.
"Cough, cough!"
I don't know why, but the breath I inhaled felt hot. I coughed dryly in embarrassment at the hot air and turned my head towards Offen.
"Offen, wasn't that pretty good?"
A clean cut, even I was surprised.
With a hint of excitement, I asked, but Offen was staring at me with a strange look. He opened his mouth and closed it again.
"What…?"
After a brief moment, Offen muttered, absent-minded.
"Wasn't it good?"
"What kind of vague answer is that?"
"Ah, well, it was fine. Clean, I guess."
"Right?"
I laughed softly, wiped the sweat off my forehead, and sheathed my sword. As I was cleaning up, Offen threw me a question.
"Where are you going? It seems like we'll be finishing earlier than usual today."
"Where would I go? Just work."
"...Who's it this time?"
"Trixie."
"Trixie from the Lilac Tavern?"
I nodded, and Offen clicked his tongue.
"Looks like that bastard finally crossed the line."
"He took some kids, split them open, and got caught by Ivan. What can I do? I have to clean it up."
"You?"
"Of course. I'm Ivan's hunting dog, after all."
Muttering under his breath, Offen took another drink.
"Ivan, that bastard, makes you kids do all the dirty work. That whole organization is doomed."
"You're part of Ivan's family too, Offen."
"That's because he begged me so much... ugh, whatever."
Offen waved his hand dismissively.
It was clear he wanted me to leave.
I chuckled softly and began walking away.
"Najin."
How many steps had I taken? At the sound of my name, I turned around. There stood Offen, looking straight at me, the empty bottle of alcohol discarded on the ground.
"Come again tomorrow."
"You don't even need to say it. I'll be here."
3.
The empty lot where Najin disappeared.
Offen slowly got up. He walked toward the spot where Najin had been swinging his sword just moments ago.
"..."
Offen silently gazed at the traces left behind by Najin. His gaze lingered for a while at the place where Najin had last swung his sword.
"Phew..."
Offen let out a long breath.
Before he was stuck in this underground city, he had been a mercenary with a name to his reputation, and a swordsman who knew how to handle a blade. He wasn't strong enough to take on real powerhouses, but...
At the very least, he could tell the level of his opponent.
Offen chewed over the trajectory of Najin's last swing of the sword. That damn brat probably didn't even know what he had swung at the end.
'He must have heard it.'
The sound of a rustling.
It was probably just ignored. Even though he swung through the air, Offen had heard a sound as if something had been cut. There was only one reason for that. Offen carefully touched the ground where the sword's trace had left its mark.
The ground was hot.
He could feel the heat radiating from it.
When he dug through the dirt, the gravel mixed in with the soil had melted and stuck together. There was no way this could happen with just an ordinary swing of the sword. A twitch ran across Offen's lips. He knew exactly what this was.
Mana, and a sliver of sword aura.
"You crazy bastard. You're sitting here learning something you were never taught."
Offen let out a bitter laugh as he realized his prediction had been right. It had been two years since he had taken a look at Najin's sword skills, all because of a request from his old friend Ivan, who was also Najin's employer.
Two years—plenty of time to gauge a person's talent.
Offen knew long ago that Najin was a man with a lot of wisdom. He was a man who could learn ten things by teaching him one thing, and there were more than a few times when he would realize things on his own without being taught.
'I knew he was a genius, but...'
I didn't think it would be this much. Offen, who was considering Najin's talents, made a sour expression.
"Tsk."
He clicked his tongue briefly.
Because he knew the value of that talent. And because he knew that in this damn city, such talent would never shine.
"This damn city..."
Even in this trash of a city.
Even with nothing but trash around in this damn city.
Children born with light still appear.
And everyone in this city, not just Offen, knew what would become of those children. No matter how brilliant their talent, no one could leave this city. That was the rule.
In the end, that kid, Najin...
Would lose his light and slowly rot away in this city. To put it another way, he would die. Slowly decaying in a landfill, surrounded by piles of garbage. Knowing this, Offen sighed deeply.
Crunch.
Offen stomped roughly on the ground.
While erasing the traces of the sword's aura, he thought to himself that he could use a drink. Maybe just a little more than usual.
He had intended to leave, but then—
Offen suddenly raised his head. He had remembered a rumor he had heard when he lived as a mercenary in the upper district. It was about those who had talents shining bright enough to reach the stars; wherever they were, they would be noticed by the stars.
"..."
The sky was filled with ore instead of stars. Offen, who was looking at the ceiling of the underground city, let out a laugh. For a moment, he found it funny that he had thought, "What if?"
"That's just foolishness," he muttered to himself.
It was a delusion.
Why would the constellations in the night sky waste their attention on a mere brat in this underground city? After all, rumors were just rumors. No matter how grand the dream, it would only lead to misery.
"Phew..."
With a sigh of resignation, Offen grabbed an empty bottle of liquor and left the empty lot.
[The Constellations, the Staff of Selection, screams.]
[The Staff of Selection swears upon its star to catch that arrogant brat and make him pay!]
Unaware that the constellations in the night sky, consumed by obsession with Najin, were boiling with rage, their fury simmered in the heavens above.