I Pulled Out Excalibur Chapter 139

The Lost One (7)

A truly beautiful duel leaves no regrets.

Such duels are free from variables, luck, or external interference with only skill and ability determining the victor—sacred contests. Cherished by countless knights, they are beautiful even in their conclusion.

The loser graciously acknowledges their defeat; the winner basks in the sweetness of victory.

There is no room for doubt in the result of such a duel—no space for excuses, no openings for regret.

The clean resolution brought a satisfied laugh from Helt Knight, echoing long and loud.

It was like rain gracing parched earth or chilled wine quenching the exhaustion of a long march—Helt Knight felt as though a long-standing thirst had finally been satisfied.

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt this drunk. Truly, it was a good fight. For soone so young, you’re quite skilled.”

“I could say the sa for you,” Najin replied. “That technique… What exactly was it? The mont I blocked it, I found myself airborne.”

“Ah, that? It’s a technique of the Golden Horn Knights. It’s simple, honest, and upright. The strongest things often are.”

“I see. ‘Stay true to the basics?’”

“You get it. That’s exactly right.” The murderous atmosphere from earlier had dissipated entirely.

The two n dragged themselves back to the campfire, chatting as they went.

Najin limped, and Helt Knight’s body creaked audibly with each step, but they were minor inconveniences.

The surrounding rocks were all shattered, the ground scarred with deep gouges, a splint covered Najin’s arm, and Helt Knight’s armor bore fresh dents. Even those things were trivial matters.

“How old are you? You don’t look a day over thirty, even being generous… To reach such a level at your age is remarkable. Your skills show the refinent of soone who’s been swinging a sword for decades. Have I misjudged you?” Helt Knight tilted his head with a thoughtful hum. “Really now, how old are you? Your ability is on par with soone well past fifty.”

“Eighteen.”

“Got it. Eighteen. Eigh—what?” Helt Knight’s head tilted further, his helt rattling. “You’ve got to be joking. I don’t appreciate lies.”

Najin rummaged through his belongings, eventually pulling out a certificate given to him by the Emperor himself. The docunt, enchanted for preservation, bore his credentials and age. He handed it over.

Helt Knight took the certificate, letting out a long sigh.

Though his face was hidden, Najin could feel the knight’s incredulous gaze seeming to say, ‘Are you insane?’ It wasn’t an unfamiliar look.

“You’re out of your damn mind.”

“I hear that a lot.”

“Reaching that level at your age is surprising enough, but to have already set foot in the Outland? That’s astonishing. Isn’t it too soon?” Helt Knight’s voice turned serious. “People co here when they can no longer live on the continent. They are worn down, spent, and have lived for at least a century. This place isn’t for soone like you.”

“I’ve heard as much.”

“Then why? You’re talented, no doubt, but it’s still too early. You could’ve trained longer on the continent. Even I’m stronger than you, and this land is full of people stronger than who’d hunt you down without a second thought.”

“I know.” rlin had warned him. Others had as well. ‘Stay longer on the continent. Gain more experience. Be patient. Don’t rush.’

He hadn’t listened.

“Then why? Why co here so soon?”

“Because this is the fastest way.” It was the shortest path, the right path; the path that King Arthur had walked. “I need to beco stronger. Quickly. I can’t afford to waste ti.”

“How strong?”

“The level of a Sword Master, at least.”

“Ha. Do you think transcendence is easy?”

“It’s not. That’s why I’m here—because it’s difficult; because it’s a lofty target. Isn’t that reason enough?” Najin looked up at the sky.

The stars glittered far above him, so far out of reach. They were the very stars that would intervene the mont he drew Excalibur.

In the Outland, even the stars of the Round Table would co into play, but it wouldn’t change anything. Their intervention would bring chaos, and he would be swept away in the current.

If the stars of the Round Table were to get involved…

rlin had told him to save their intervention as a last resort.

He gazed at the distant, shining stars marking the edge of the Outland: rlin’s star, and the stars of the Round Table.

Thanks to rlin’s explanation, he understood their role. Knowing that, he had no choice but to leave them as a final option.

In the end, it was simple… Even though he had grown stronger—even though others admired his skill—he remained dependent. There was a goal he could only achieve through independence.

“Why the rush?”

“I have a reason.”

“Can I ask what it is?”

“You’re the winner, aren’t you? A loser must answer the victor’s question.”

Crackle… pop…

The campfire spat embers into the night.

“I have two teachers,” Najin began, staring into the flas. “One taught how to wield a sword, how to swing it, how to run away, how to pursue, and the basics of being a rcenary.”

The rcenary of the underground city, Offen, had been his first teacher.

“The other taught how to live. Not just how to survive, but what to strive for.”

“And what was that?” Helt Knight asked.

“Honor. Pride. Stars.” The knight of the underground city, Ivan, had been his second teacher.

Najin continued, “He taught what it ans to be a knight, what pride is, and that, sotis, there are things more important than life itself.”

“Sounds like you had good teachers.”

“They were extraordinary.” Najin’s gaze darkened, and flas flickered in his eyes. “I have to avenge them.”

“…”

“The ones who ruined them, who trampled them, who tried to break —I will take my revenge on them using no one’s strength but my own.”

Only then would it have aning.

Ivan had told him, “I’ll stake my life on your star. I’ll stake my honor on your life.”

Only when Najin destroyed the Order would Ivan be proven right. No one else could accomplish that—it had to be him.

He carried that weight in his heart. Without vengeance, there could be no release. He had to see it through.

“They must be strong,” Helt Knight observed.

“They are.”

“Strong enough that you need to be a Sword Master to face them?”

“Yes. They are transcendents.”

“I see.” Helt Knight exhaled deeply. He instinctively understood it was a realm no one should intrude upon—it was Najin’s reverse scale, the fla in his heart. It wasn’t sothing anyone else could ddle with.

“Well, everyone has their reasons.” Helt Knight, too, had his own reasons and goals he had to fulfill in the Outland.

With a long sigh, he seed to co to a decision and fixed his gaze on Najin. “Earlier, you ntioned the victor’s rights. Do you know the rules of a duel?”

“I do.”

“You understand the winner can make three demands of the loser?”

“That’s the rule proclaid by the honorable duelist, Baermann.”

“Exactly. You’re well-versed.” Helt Knight pointed first to himself; then to Najin. “I’m the winner. You’re the loser. No argunt there?”

“None.”

“Good. Accepting defeat is a knightly virtue. I shall exercise one of my rights as the victor…” There was a mont’s pause. “I’ll use one of my three demands.”

The victor has the right to make demands of the loser, and the loser has the duty to comply. The more honorable the duel, the stronger these rights and duties beco.

That was why Najin accepted Helt Knight’s request. Besides, it wasn’t an unreasonable one.

The demand was simple: he was to accompany Helt Knight for a while. In return, Helt Knight swore not to target his life during their ti together.

“Ordinarily, I’d swear on honor and pride, but I no longer hold those as dearly as I once did.” He tapped his helt. “I’ll swear on this helt instead. It’s not just my honor, it carries the honor of the Golden Horn Knights. That makes it weighty enough, don’t you think?”

It was otherwise called the Horned Helm.

Najin gazed at it for a mont before asking a question. “You ntioned the Golden Horn Knights.”

“That’s right.”

“Could you tell more about them?”

“Of course. I could talk about the Golden Horns all day.”

“You’ve shared good wine, so I’ll share a good story.” Helt Knight muttered before beginning in earnest. “The Golden Horn Knights were an elite order of thirteen. Every mber wore a horned helt, and the most honorable knight bore the most radiant helm—the Horned Helm. This one.”

He ran a hand over his helt. “We shone brighter than anyone. The stars in the sky couldn’t compare. Carrying the lances of the Crossed Star, we stord battlefields, sounding our golden horn to crush the Empire’s enemies. We were always honorable, always proud.”

His voice took on a nostalgic, song-like tone as he recounted, “The Empire chanted our na. We always triumphed, and we did so gloriously. Our lances seed to pierce the horizon itself, skewering not just the Outland but even the cursed foes of Camlann.”

He gazed at his lance. “The technique you saw earlier wasn’t just mine. Every mber of the Golden Horn Knights could use it. So wielded it better than others, but all of us were proficient.”

“Imagine it,” he said, “thirteen knights, perfectly aligned. Clang! The sound of armor fills the air. Thud! We strike the ground in unison, taking our stances. Thirteen gleaming lances aim at one target, thrusting forward without a single error.”

It was a breathtaking sight and a mory he dearly missed. Helt Knight sighed wistfully. “Blow the horn. Pierce the Empire’s enemies. Grant glorious victory to the Empire, proud Golden Horn Knights! We march forever forward…” He sang of a dream that could no longer be.

Vitality and life infused his voice, but when his tale ended, it grew heavy, weighed down by ti and loss. “That’s all in the past now. Such a knightly order once existed, the strongest in the Empire.”

“…”

“I can see you’ve got questions. You’re wondering why a knightly order like that isn’t recorded anywhere, aren’t you?”

“Honestly, yes… I am.” Najin nodded.

As extraordinary as the Golden Horn Knights sounded, he had never heard of them. It wasn’t for lack of interest—he was well-versed in the history of knights and knightly orders; he had read countless texts and morized their maxims.

Still, he had never co across the Golden Horn Knights.

“Do you know of the fallen kingdom, Londinel?”

Najin nodded. The Outland Sword Master Kirchhoff had once told him about it. Londinel was a kingdom erased from history roughly 300 years prior, destroyed and forgotten.

“A damned constellation intervened, erasing Londinel from history. Only a few scraps of text remain. Even that was possible only because countless knights sacrificed their stars for it.”

Stars were offered; lives were given. Those sacrifices allowed a fragnt of Londinel’s record to remain.

“They barely preserved that much. Londinel was a special case and had soone extraordinary like Kirchhoff. Most aren’t so lucky. The Golden Horn Knights weren’t.”

His order suffered a similar fate with the sa constellation’s intervention—the power of erasure and obliteration.

Helt Knight’s smile turned bitter, as if recalling that day. “Believe it or not, it’s your choice, but the Golden Horn Knights existed. At least until 150 years ago.”

He touched his battered armor, his scarred helt, and the broken horn atop it. “Even if everyone else forgets, I rember. I rember the cheers of victory, the sound of the horn, the laughter of my comrades, the Golden Horns’ creed. I alone carry those mories.”

Lowering his hand, he added, “The Outland is full of such people… Forgotten heroes and erased figures. Among them, many have gone mad.”

“…”

“The Forgotten Ones aren’t just walking corpses. They are those who have lost everything, their places in history stolen. In that sense, I might as well be one of them.”

The campfire began to die as the wood burned out.

“The Forgotten Ones are those who have lost everything.” They were those forgotten by history—those who’d lost their place. “That’s why I’m curious. How will you survive in this land? You, who gave a fleeting taste of my forr glory. How will you face the many Forgotten Ones here? I look forward to seeing your resolve.”

Crackle… pop.

“That’s why I asked you to accompany .”

Crack.

The final ember flared and died. The campfire went out, leaving only silence.

Najin and Helt Knight looked at each other—a shining star and a worn one.

“Get up.” Breaking the stillness, Helt Knight rose to his feet.