Book Rabbit
The Ambiguity of Death for Constellations
For constellations, death is a nebulous concept.
They are immortals, undying, and at the same time, transcendents. Living for 100, 200, 500 years—approaching a millennium—the distinction between body and soul becomes blurred.
Aged transcendents often come to regard not their physical form, but the constellation in the sky above as their true self. Isn’t their life story contained there? The body is merely a shell confining the soul. That’s how they see it.
If they consider the star above as themselves,
If their tale is retold through others’ lips,
If someone remembers the story within the constellation,
If they do not lose their sense of self,
Then, under these conditions, a constellation may not die even after losing its physical body. This is what the world calls “ascension.” Among long-lived constellations, quite a few transcendents have reached this state.
The Martyr of the Thornbush is no exception.
She lost her physical body long ago, yet her soul remained untainted, and her followers did not regard their deity’s death as annihilation. Thus, the Martyr of the Thornbush ascended.
Ascension isn’t all that great.
Here, a certain constellation speaks.
Without a body, you can’t directly interfere with the world. You can’t move to perform miracles; all you can do is watch.
She shrugs.
You can only influence the world through accumulated starlight or through your followers. How frustrating is that? Moreover, you can’t grow any further. From the moment of ascension, you become an “unchanging” being.
It’s like being preserved.
In a way, it’s dreadful, she murmurs.
But.
But, she adds.
Even so, there are things one must achieve, enduring all that.
With a somewhat melancholic gaze, tinged with pity, Merlin looks at a certain constellation. It is the constellation of the Martyr of the Thornbush. Even after ascending, she has not ceased her quest to slay demons, to exact revenge upon them.
Poor child.
You are still dreaming.
Merlin murmurs thus.
The Domain of the Demon King of Lamentation
Upon arriving at Carpe Diem’s stage, Yuel’s actions were simple and brute.
“Let’s break in.”
Entering an already unfolded constellation’s stage is exceedingly difficult, but Yuel did not hesitate. She possessed a tool to punch a hole through the stage.
“Incarnation.”
“…”
With a sigh that seemed to sink the ground, the Incarnation reluctantly raised her hand. The moment her constellation aligned, Yuel lifted her sword.
Crack.
She twisted the sword embedded in the stage’s curtain. A small gap formed, and as the crack began to mend, Yuel shouted.
“Now.”
“Aurora (極光).”
A pillar of light crashed down. The curtain blazed white with the flash. With a shatter like breaking glass, Yuel and the Incarnation entered the stage.
The stars of Heavenly Slaughter (天殺) and Polar Night (極夜) shone.
Falling through the shattered stage curtain, Yuel looked down. She locked eyes with Carpe Diem, who gazed up at the uninvited guests on her stage.
A stage lined with inverted crosses.
A stage echoing with screams.
The master of that stage, the Demon King of Lamentation.
As she fell from the sky, Yuel narrowed her eyes. In an instant, she assessed the battlefield and decided what she must do, where to strike. All that remained was to act.
Flash.
Starlight infused her sword. It wasn’t Yuel’s starlight, but that of her deity, the Martyr of the Thornbush. What she was about to do was open a passage. As Yuel swung her sword, a small passage formed.
Unlike the last battle with the Festival of Pleasure, this passage was small and feeble. It had to be. Too much starlight had been expended then.
Now, the passage the Martyr of the Thornbush could open was barely large enough for a single star to pass through. Not even a transcendent could traverse it—only a few Sword Seekers at best.
At this, the stage’s master burst into laughter.
“A meaningless act!”
Carpe Diem sneered.
The intervention of Yuel and the Incarnation was surprising, but only to that extent. What difference would a few Sword Seekers make in a battle of transcendents? She mocked their futile expenditure of starlight.
“Now.”
But the Martyr of the Thornbush did not laugh. Neither did Yuel, nor the Incarnation. They did not consider this act meaningless.
For they knew.
Who would be summoned through this passage.
“Najin.”
The moment the small passage opened, someone kicked off the ground beyond. With a boom that shattered the earth, a figure streaked past Yuel and the Incarnation.
The star of Dawn (黎明) intervened in the battle.
The cloak of the Free Knight fluttered in the wind. Spinning mid-air, Najin infused his spear with rotation.
Charging Horn (衝角).
As the spear tip unleashed a storm, it burst through the horde of clowns threatening to engulf the Sword Master. In that moment, creating a significant shift in the battle... the Demon King of Lamentation could no longer sneer.
As Carpe Diem widened her eyes and swung her hand toward them, Yuel and the Incarnation moved in unison.
A guillotine-like sword energy and a brilliantly shining pillar of light fell upon the Demon King of Lamentation. The Incarnation and Yuel joined Gerd, while Najin joined Karon.
The stars of Heavenly Slaughter, Polar Night, and Dawn.
With the intervention of these three stars, the battlefield was overturned.
2.
Joining Karon, Najin saw.
Clowns surging like waves. And beyond them, the Praising Horn reattaching his arm.
“…”
Silently, Najin looked at Karon. There was no time for discussion. Karon wordlessly took the left, and Najin the right. That was all.
Boom.
Karon kicked off the ground and began to run. With each step, the wave of clowns parted. His white sword energy cleaved through the tide. Watching this, Najin stepped forward a beat later.
As Karon carved through the left flank, clowns flooded in from the right to fill the gap. Steadying his breath, Najin swung his sword at them.
Flash.
Sword energy resembling a constellation sliced through the clowns, burning and shattering them. Yet they were infinite upon the stage; for every ten he cut down, twenty more emerged, trampling their fallen.
A wave. Truly, a wave.
A human not yet transcendent cannot part a wave with a single sword. Even if cut, the water flows back to fill the space.
Swish!
But before him was a swordsman who parted the wave. With each swing of the Sword Master’s blade, the wave split. The space remained unfilled, littered with clown corpses. Watching his back, Najin gritted his teeth.
The distance between Karon and himself.
He gauged the gap to Karon, who forged ahead. That was the chasm between transcendent and mortal. Until now, he could only watch, but not anymore. Najin’s lips curled into a smirk.
The Sword Master entrusted me with the right flank.
He ran ahead, as if to say, “Follow me.”
Najin judged.
Now was the time to run.
Steadying his breath, Najin kicked off the ground and charged. He plunged into the clowns, where twenty rose for every ten he felled. To an observer, it might seem a suicidal leap, the act of a madman heedless of life.
But Najin was neither.
Flash.
His sword gleamed, flashing repeatedly. If one strike couldn’t part the wave, he’d strike twice; if not twice, then ten times. He swung with abandon.
Twirl, stab.
He threw his sword forward and drew his spear.
Charging Horn (衝角).
The storm parted the wave. Clowns caught in it burst like balloons. His sword flew far, carried by the gale, but Najin paid it no mind.
Blue Hydrangea.
Swinging his spear like a rake, the storm’s direction reversed, surging back toward him, grinding the clowns. Amid the carnage, his sword cut through the wind, returning.
Grab, he snatched it and swung.
Pouring all his techniques, Najin pursued Karon. The distance remained, but it was no longer unfathomable. It was within sight.
And as Najin took another step,
“Ha!”
Karon’s laughter rang out. He glanced back at Najin, his lips curling into a smile, as if to say, “That’s how a swordsman dreaming of transcendence should be.”
“Coming.”
Karon said curtly.
Immediately after, light flashed beyond the clowns. Najin couldn’t react in time, but Karon did. His swung sword deflected the beam.
Boom, Kwaaang!
The beam struck elsewhere, booming loudly. Watching the beam pierce through the clown horde, Karon clicked his tongue.
“Merciless even to allies.”
“That’s…”
“The Praising Horn’s attack. Seems he’s reattached his arm. Best to avoid it.”
Avoid that? As Najin blinked, Karon laughed.
“An unreasonable request, I know.”
Thud, Karon stamped the ground.
“Just one question.”
Karon trailed his sword behind him.
“Can you cut the Praising Horn?”
“…”
The question: Can you cut a transcendent?
Najin remained silent. At this point, defeating a transcendent was near impossible for him. But then, he recalled—the Praising Horn was a clown, deeply tied to the Festival of Pleasure.
“I can’t cut a constellation, but…”
Najin shrugged.
Pointing his sword tip at the Praising Horn.
“A clown, I think I can cut.”
“Indeed.”
Karon chuckled. Without needing to specify, it was clear the “clown” wasn’t the horde before them, but the masked one beyond.
“Then run.”
He gestured to Najin. Take the lead. Najin didn’t question.
How? Alone?
Instead of asking, he kicked off the ground and ran. Ignoring the clowns’ spears and the Praising Horn’s beams. The Sword Master said to run. Najin wasn’t foolish enough to miss the meaning.
“Duck.”
He simply ducked.
“Thousand Swords (千劍).”
A brief command.
A concise cutting sound rang out.
Yet what unfolded before Najin was anything but simple or concise.
Hundreds of clowns lost their heads in a single strike.
The dozens of beams fired by the Praising Horn, the applause filling the stage, the screams, the crosses—all were cleaved in an instant.
Thus, a momentary silence was created.
“Run.”
Karon said.
“I’ll clear the path.”
3.
Karon is the Sword Master.
The title “Sword Master” signifies the pinnacle of the Order of the Sword, one who has reached the extreme of swordsmanship. Karon was not ignorant of the weight of that name.
To be called the Sword Master is to be a master of the blade.
Karon learned every form of swordsmanship. Any technique involving a sword, he absorbed without exception. To him, every swordsman was a teacher, every manual a lesson.
Countless techniques and styles.
Honing all manner of swords into his own, Karon pursued efficiency. He sought simplicity, refining his skills to close the distance to his foe.
‘If our swords can clash, I win.’
Reaching a distance where breaths intermingle was his utmost priority. That was his path to victory.
Yet, paradoxically.
The ultimate technique he developed wasn’t for closing distance. It was the opposite—a sword swung after standing still, calming his breath. Far from the extreme he sought.
Nevertheless, it was his signature move.
‘Inevitably so.’
In the abyss, he glimpsed the First Sword Master, Siegfried’s technique. A place where a thousand swords and ten thousand weapons were embedded—that swordsmanship took root in his mind.
From that day, that moment, Karon could envision no other extreme.
“Thousand Swords (千劍).”
Karon imitated the First Sword Master’s technique.
He wielded a sword not yet fully his own.
A thousand swords, ten thousand stances.
The Thousand Sword Star (千劍星) unleashed the Thousand Swords (千劍).
Everything in sight was cleaved. Clowns were beheaded, beams split, and the Praising Horn’s hastily reattached arm was severed once more. Leaping hundreds of meters, Karon’s sword cut the Praising Horn.
Yet, he couldn’t fell him with one strike.
That realm remained distant.
‘But even if I didn’t cut him down…’
The path to the Praising Horn was open. Najin sprinted through the parted clowns.
Six stars followed behind him.
Though not yet transcendent, Najin, bearing stars equal to one, flashed his sword. His blossoming sword energy dyed his surroundings platinum.
Where the stars shone, that was Najin’s stage.
Hi. I’m Designer of Blog Magic. I’m CEO/Founder of ThemeXpose. I’m Creative Art Director, Web Designer, UI/UX Designer, Interaction Designer, Industrial Designer, Web Developer, Business Enthusiast, StartUp Enthusiast, Speaker, Writer and Photographer. Inspired to make things looks better.
0 comments:
Posting Komentar