The surface of the round table rippled, transforming the surrounding area into an expansive lake.
Standing on the water’s surface, Modred opened her mouth.
“Show your respect. You wouldn’t say you forgot, would you?”
“Well, I have quite a few things I’ve forgotten, so who knows…?”
I shrugged my shoulders, standing across from Modred.
While one could say I might forget the words, there was actually one thing that stood out to me.
The duel that was about to begin. If respect had to be shown beforehand, there was only one way to do it.
Sword ceremony.
This wasn’t knowledge about Historia but rather related to the god of knights, so I remembered it clearly.
The god of knights was originally the god of barbarism, an aggressive and mighty god befitting the cold north, where combat was sanctified, and strength was revered.
However, there was a pivotal moment when he transformed into the god of knights.
It was the advancement of civilization.
No matter how barren the north was, technological progress and population growth inevitably led to leisure.
As a result, battles weren’t happening as frequently as before, and the necessity for a strong protector of society faded.
Yet for the northerners, the fervent battles had already become an object of faith.
They began to fabricate battles out of thin air.
A highly personal war carried out in a peaceful era. The yearning for battle and the pride in what they had built themselves. And as it had always been, countless northerners picked up the swords they once laid down to protect what lay behind them.
In the meantime, various rules were added and discarded, and a form everyone found somewhat plausible was completed.
This led to fervent support from the northern warriors.
In the north, a warrior was, above all, a devout follower of the god of barbarism. The faith of such followers led directly to the god.
Just as the god colored humans with his values, humans too could twist the god with their beliefs.
The moment the god of barbarism cast aside his lifelong axe and grasped a sword.
The moment he raised that sword towards the heavens, reciting his oath.
The god of barbarism was reborn as the god of knights, and honor became as sacred as valorous combat.
Thus, for those who worship the god of knights, sword ceremony is a special ritual above all else.
Whenever big or small events unfolded, they proved their sincerity through the sword ceremony. It can be said to be similar to the oath of mana taken by mages.
Originally, it was customary to use a longsword… but it didn’t really matter what weapon was used.
As I was about to lift the Unicorn Dagger I had briefly put down, a thought suddenly came to mind and I hesitated.
Then, I locked eyes with Modred, who was also about to draw Excalibur from her waist.
“What’s the matter? You’re not here to say you’re scared of the duel now, are you?”
“Of course not… It’s just that I still can’t quite remember why I was exiled to Pangrave. I was hoping you could tell me before we begin.”
“It’s not that you don’t remember; it’s that you don’t understand. You weren’t the only one—it seems quite a few people find it confusing. Maybe if you were a distant branch of the family, things might have been different…”
With her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, Modred closed her eyes for a moment. Instead of continuing her words, she drew Excalibur.
Swish.
Excalibur was dazzling enough to live up to its title of divine sword. Naturally. The hilt alone was adorned with gold and silver. And right now, it was embellished with gemstones that had lost their luster.
However, Excalibur was ultimately a broken sword from the Divine War.
Even if it was called a divine sword, it wouldn’t have been easy to navigate through a battlefield where gods were falling like flies.
…Yet even so, it was still a divine sword.
Whir-
A golden aura began to emanate from the broken blade.
A brilliance as stunning as the morning sun rising at dawn. It was the color of Modred’s conviction.
The light, which seemed to captivate anyone who looked at it, slowly intertwined, taking on the familiar shape I knew.
A sharply defined blade. A straightened blade. And ancient characters engraved in relief.
I wasn’t sure of the exact principle, but thanks to being possessed, I could understand and articulate most languages, so I could interpret those sentences.
“Cross the heavens and seize divinity…”
A phrase hoping to be reborn as a god after being born in human form. Yet rather than saying to ascend or challenge the divinity, the use of the word ‘seize’ piqued my interest.
The god of knights, obsessed with combat, likely used this expression for a single reason.
That fanatic hoped a warrior would emerge one day among his followers, one who could match… no, surpass him.
Did I mumble that thought aloud? A flicker of interest shone in Modred’s eyes.
However, instead of responding, she focused on restoring the broken sword.
Thus, the dazzling golden aura sword was ultimately completed.
Both the purity of the aura and her mastery over it were praiseworthy in every aspect.
Though still young and lacking in physical prowess, Modred’s aura was more than sufficient for declaring herself a queen in the land of knights.
Indeed. Was this why Ellie tried to dissuade me? Having spent some time training in Historia, perhaps she understood due to her acquaintance with Modred.
…Perhaps during that time, Gahelis was imprisoned somewhere.
Ellie wasn’t the type to spin lies easily. Unless she was completely ignoring the truth, she wouldn’t have been able to weave such an elaborate deception against me until now.
As I lost my train of thought for a moment, Modred brought the restored Excalibur to her face.
One half of her face was obscured by the golden sword, while the other half remained uncovered.
With the sword in hand, she vowed in a voice that cleared away all enchantments.
“I swear by the conviction dedicated to Historia. This will be a duel without shame.”
The moment Modred finished her words, her aura reacted, wrapping around her body in a single wave before vanishing.
This was neither a vow to me nor to the already deceased god of knights.
It was a vow towards herself. Specifically, to the aura Modred possessed.
If she deemed the duel shameful, Modred’s conviction would shatter, and most of the aura she had built until then would evaporate.
It was essentially a promise tied to her life as a knight.
I also brought the dagger to my face.
The small blade was more than enough to cover one half of my face, given my own petite stature.
Now all that remained was to recite the words of the vow. With that, the sword ceremony would be complete, and at least a dignified duel acknowledged by all of Historia would follow.
“……”
But I found it hard to speak up.
The reason was simple. I lacked that kind of conviction.
Lydia had infused her aura with a belief to become as knightly as possible.
Modred seemed to possess a conviction to serve Historia as a ruler, though I’m not sure of the exact details.
Then how about me?
Did I have a conviction strong enough to declare proudly anywhere?
……No.
That’s why, despite the considerable amount of my aura, it retained a transparent hue.
A pure mass of power untainted by any conviction. My own miracle, yet not.
Yet I still couldn’t say just anything.
The sword ceremony was something one performed on oneself, so a false vow wouldn’t elicit a reaction from my aura.
“Gahelis. Why are you keeping silent?”
“……Well, please consider this my best effort.”
So, I decided to express the most sincere feelings I could muster.
“To make the world more beautiful.”
The world I created was incomplete, and the seeds I had sown to advance events had brought forth numerous tragedies.
Beginning with the Divine War of a thousand years ago, extending to episodes yet to occur.
All light in the Pan Continent originated from me, but all shadows also began with me.
I don’t regret it. At that time, I saw it as a mere creation, and I did my best.
However, now I understand.
The Pan Continent is real, and countless lives live and die on this land, experiencing joy and sorrow.
Then I must carry out at least the minimal duty. I must fulfill my responsibilities.
There’s nothing I can do about what has already passed, but I cannot let what lies ahead slip away either.
I don’t have some grand conviction. What exists is only a vague affection towards the world.
“I vow by this love. May it be a duel without a trace of shame, looking up to the heavens.”
Whir-
As my words came to a close, the vast lake, this unknown space, began to tremble. And then,
Wooooosh!
A pink light poured down from the empty sky, surrounding me.
Modred was aghast. Honestly, I was a bit surprised too.
How could the goddess of love, who was supposedly holed up in the depths of the labyrinth, wield such power?
Perhaps it had something to do with the peculiar nature of this space, which seemed connected to the god of knights.
As I briefly gave thanks to the goddess of love, who responded inwardly, the change did not end there.
A mana glowing softly in blue transformed into starry dust, falling onto my head.
The transparent aura remained transparent, yet it blended with other energies, amplifying its presence.
Though unable to color itself, it clearly asserted its existence by intertwining with other energies.
The sight of the miracle I possessed responding all at once.
I aimed the dagger at the dazed Modred.
“Is this enough?”
In defiance of the golden glow of Excalibur, a pure white energy sparkled from the Unicorn Dagger.
…
Isn’t this an instance of my nobility shining through? It’s not just shining out of pity, is it?
