I Pulled Out the Excalibur

Chapter 123

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Two Stars (3)

Najin pointed at a particular epithet.

『The Star of Dawn.』

The name combined the word for “dawn,” symbolizing the faint light of morning breaking through darkness, with “star.” Though the Grey Tower Master, Nayuta, had dismissed it with a note and called it, “Too plain to be suitable.”

Najin found its simplicity appealing. ‘It’s miles better than something like The Death Slayer.’

That wasn’t the only reason. He genuinely liked the name “The Star of Dawn,” especially the descriptive phrase attached to it:

『The Star of Dawn, herald of the end of night.』

The word “dawn” didn’t just signify the early hours of morning. It also symbolized the end of a long night, the arrival of a new day, hope, or even the beginning of a new era, depending on context.

– It reminds me of Arthur’s epithet.

Merlin’s voice echoed softly in Najin’s ear.

– Sure, these days, he’s more famous as The Sword of Selection, King of Knights, or Great Hero, but it wasn’t always like that. His very first epithet carried meanings like “beacon” or “hope.”

Such a detail couldn’t be found in the stories.

– When Arthur and I were adventuring, it was the darkest age in human history, often called the ‘Era of Chaos’. He was the one who placed the first star in the night sky for humanity. To people back then, Arthur symbolized hope and the beacon of resistance.

He’d been a light to drive away the long darkness and a beacon heralding humanity’s counterattack. Considering the state of that era, the name suited Arthur perfectly.

– This “Star of Dawn” carries a similar meaning. How did this name come about? It doesn’t seem directly tied to the feats your stars are based on.

‘That’s what I’d like to know.’ Najin raised his head and looked at Nayuta.

The Grey Tower Master frowned as she eyed the epithet Najin had chosen. Her expression screamed, ‘Did you really have to pick that one?’

“Nayuta?”

“Huh? Oh, yes? Something you want to ask?”

“Could you tell me where the name originates from?”

“There’s nothing I can’t explain, but compared to the other names, this one feels half-hearted. Are you sure you like it? Don’t you think something like the Death—”

“I like this one.”

Clicking her tongue in mild frustration, Nayuta reluctantly began her explanation. “You know about the Malefic Star that appeared the night you hunted the Red Dragon, right?”

Najin nodded. The Malefic Star, a black-and-red star belonging to the Witch of Camlann, had appeared in the night sky that night. Najin vividly remembered it.

“It was the first time in a thousand years that the Malefic Star rose, and that terrible presence caused a stir in the heavens. The other stars dimmed and hid themselves in the darkness.”

The Witch of Camlann was a star hunter. She had swallowed, extinguished, and cast down countless stars before her constellation was sealed in the Abyss. As if recalling those past nightmares, the stars fell silent the moment the Malefic Star rose.

“The night sky, bereft of starlight, became dark and cold; suddenly, two stars appeared.” Nayuta spread her hands, mimicking the stars’ emergence. “They were your stars. Even as the mighty constellations dimmed their light in fear of the witch, two tiny, fragile stars—ones not even part of a proper constellation yet—shone brightly in defiance.”

Two stars had blazed against the darkness. Tiny, delicate stars that couldn’t yet be called constellations.

“Those small stars burned so brightly in opposition to the Malefic Star that it seemed to shame the larger constellations into reigniting their light.”

Though Najin had been too focused on the battle with the Red Dragon to notice, his stars had spurred the other constellations to light up again, as if inspired or provoked by the light they emitted.

“The rekindled constellations drove away the darkness cast by the Malefic Star. It was a breathtaking sight.”

“Was it really?”

“Indeed. To my eyes, it looked as though dawn was breaking and banishing the night. That’s why the word ‘dawn’ came to mind, and I reflexively named it…”

Nayuta trailed off, fidgeting with her fingers as though embarrassed. “Honestly, don’t you think it’s a bit underwhelming? Star names should be grand and majestic, but this one feels too plain. It lacks the philosophical weight a name should carry.”

At first, Najin had been quietly impressed by Nayuta’s explanation, thinking, ‘So this is why she’s the Grey Tower Master.’ As she continued, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of regret.

– Hmm… It’s not that she’s bad at naming things, but her sense of grandeur is a bit off, isn’t it? Why is she so obsessed with flashiness?

Merlin’s sentiments echoed Najin’s own thoughts.

“This is the one I’ll go with. The Star of Dawn. I like it.” Despite Nayuta’s continued protests, Najin held firm in his decision.

Nayuta’s naming methods clearly had their own philosophy and conviction behind them, but agreeing with those philosophies was a different matter. After all, it was his epithet. If people were to address him as The Death Slayer, He Who Divides Death, Najin didn’t think he would be able to walk around with his head held high.

“Well, if that’s what you want…” With a final, reluctant sigh, Nayuta circled ‘The Star of Dawn’ on her list.

“Najin.” While she packed her belongings to leave, she turned to Najin one last time, her tone weighted with something unsaid. “It’s not something I should be telling someone who’s only just gained their first star, but do you know how many stars have fallen?”

“Fallen stars?”

“Yes. As many as the stars shining in the night sky—perhaps even more—have fallen. People speak of stars as symbols of eternity and constancy, but is there truly anything eternal in this world?”

Nayuta, the mage who had devoted her life to observing the stars, continued, “Countless stars fail to become constellations and fall. Sometimes they decay, sometimes they become corrupt, and sometimes they simply shatter. The place they call the battlefield of stars… such is its nature.”

She smiled bitterly. “One day, your shining stars may also dim and fall. It’s a real possibility. I’ve seen countless New Stars disappear after burning brightly.” Nayuta exhaled softly, opening and closing her eyes.

Though her appearance remained as unkempt and somber as when she had arrived, something in her gaze had changed. “I hope that won’t happen to you.”

Her eyes were different. They sparkled with the stars she had observed for a lifetime, their light deeply etched into her soul. Whether that light was her own or borrowed from the stars she watched, Najin couldn’t tell, but he thought her eyes were beautiful.

“I hope you gain many more stars; I hope your light never fades; I hope you connect those stars to form a constellation.” Finally, she added, “I hope you come and find me as a full-fledged constellation.”

Nayuta smiled—a smile akin to that of a mother gazing fondly at her child. “When that day comes, I’ll rename your constellation.”

“Something flashy and grand?” Najin asked.

“Of course! You can look forward to it. I’ll think up the most extravagant name for your stars.”

Najin chuckled bitterly.

‘I’ll politely decline that offer, really.’

With Najin’s epithet officially decided, time moved on, and the news spread across the Empire like wildfire. It plunged the nation into yet another frenzy—just one of many in a year already marked by chaos. Monumental events, the kind that typically occurred only once in a century, seemed to erupt one after another.

Someone had pulled Excalibur…

Arthur’s constellation had stirred…

The youngest Sword Seeker in history had appeared…

The Witch of Camlann had made her move…

And someone had claimed two stars at once.

Even excluding events happening in the Outlands, the mainland had already seen its share of unprecedented happenings. Newspapers struggled to keep up, frantically printing new editions, while others, overwhelmed for entirely different reasons, cried out in frustration.

“This year, what kind of curse is upon us?”

“How many times must we revise the historical records? Where do we even begin or end? Who am I, and where is this?”

“The youngest! The youngest! The youngest! How many more damned ‘youngest’ records must we document?!”

“Has the world gone mad? Does the heavens’ will not understand the meaning of ‘unparalleled in history’?! Unparalleled! Something so rare it’s nearly nonexistent!”

The Empire’s historians cried out in anguish.

Tasked with documenting history and revising records to reflect significant events, the scribes found themselves at their wits’ end. Many were pulling at their hair as they stared at the insurmountable task before them.

“A Sword Seeker at just 18 years of age.”

If such a storyline were written into a novel, it would have been scoffed at with reviews like, “What nonsense is this, author? Do you think this makes any sense?” Reality, as it so often does, was stranger than fiction.

“18 years old, the youngest Sword Seeker.”

“At 18, he simultaneously gained two stars.”

The historians could only laugh bitterly. One among them joked, “Why not add that he pulled the Excalibur while we’re at it?” Even that joke felt uncomfortably plausible. The scribe quickly clamped his mouth shut, fearing his workload would double if such a thing turned out to be true.

“Is this upstart aiming to break the record for giving historians premature baldness, too? What’s the youngest age on record for complete hair loss among scribes?”

“Twenty-six. And at this rate, that record won’t last long. The hairline of our department’s youngest scribe receded ten steps in mere months.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-one.”

“…”

“…”

The scribes fell silent, bowing their heads in a moment of solemn reflection.

Of course, the scribes’ grievances were their own, and the general populace of the Empire reacted far more enthusiastically to Najin’s rise.

The Star of Dawn, herald of the end of night…

Looking up at the new star in the night sky, the people were jubilant. Across all eras, the birth of a hero inspired celebration among the masses. While Najin had yet to achieve feats worthy of being called a hero, his actions thus far painted a promising picture for his future.

Interest in Najin grew day by day, and at that point, a single question began to take root in the minds of many: could that boy have been the one who pulled the Excalibur?

Some couldn’t help but entertain the possibility.

The timing was suspiciously close. Najin began making his mark on the world not long after the Excalibur was drawn. Coincidence? Perhaps, but wasn’t the alignment of events just a bit too perfect?

“Surely the Imperial Court and the great constellations are not blind. They must know who drew Excalibur. Besides, that boy is no transcendent.”

“Conspiracy theories! Baseless speculation!”

“Didn’t His Radiance personally confirm it wasn’t him?”

“Still, judging by his actions, it’s not entirely implausible.”

“Consider the unique nature of Excalibur.”

Debates swirled. Some argued Najin couldn’t possibly be the one, while others found the theory intriguing enough to keep the question alive. It was difficult to dismiss outright since the logic wasn’t without merit.

“Well then, who pulled Excalibur?”

No one could provide a definitive answer.

Months had passed since Excalibur was drawn, soon approaching a full year, yet not a single credible sighting of its wielder had surfaced.

“Perhaps one of the three Sword Masters mentioned as potential candidates is keeping it a secret.”

“I’d wager it’s Sir Karan. He has an unparalleled connection with the blade. No one in the history of the Order of the Sword has displayed talent like his.”

“Imperial Sword Master Gerd would maintain complete silence if he were the one. That man’s entire existence is enigmatic.”

“Could it be the Executioner from the Starblood Sect? If anyone else had drawn it, that butcher wouldn’t remain idle.”

The question of who wielded Excalibur remained unanswered.

Speculation about the wielder reignited, and the same three Sword Masters—Gerd Isabalt, Karan, and Yuel Razian—once again found their names at the center of the debate. Unlike a year prior, a fourth name entered the mix…

The Star of Dawn, Najin.

Najin’s name was mentioned alongside the great Sword Masters. Though still lacking in experience compared to them, he was no longer dismissed as insignificant.

“Najin.”

He was a boy born in the Underground City. A boy who had once been a nobody was carving his name into the very heart of the Empire. He was no longer a nameless figure. The two stars shining brightly in the night sky were proof of his existence.

One year had passed since Najin left the Underground City.

And in less than a year, the world changed completely.

As Najin’s reputation soared to unprecedented heights, two people were especially keen on capitalizing on his fame. One was Marquis Edelmar, the lord of Trebache County.

“Bravo! Bravo! Ack, gah!”

“Marquis! Please breathe!”

“Breathe, My Lord!”

Even as he was carried off by his knights after nearly choking in his excitement, the Marquis wore a smile so wide it nearly split his face, and he had every reason to smile.

A month prior, Marquis Edelmar had launched a tourism business based on the story of Najin and Dieta’s adventure in Trebache. Thanks to Najin’s newfound fame as the youngest Sword Seeker, the business was thriving.

With the new buzz surrounding Najin’s dual stars, the Marquis’s venture exploded in popularity.

Noble families and curious commoners alike flocked to Trebache, eager to visit the place where the youngest Sword Seeker and the Twin Stars had supposedly kindled a romance, and with each visitor came a trail of gold coins.

Trebache was experiencing an unprecedented boom. From the Marquis’s perspective, the situation was a dream come true.

“I must write a letter to Najin! Trebache will forever be his ally and steadfast friend! Tell him he is always welcome here, and I shall host a grand feast for him!”

Marquis Edelmar wasn’t the only one reveling in Najin’s newfound fame. Someone else enjoyed the benefits even more—Dieta.

“Pasion, have you seen this?”

“Yes, Miss. What seems to be the matter?”

The Snake that Swallows Gold trembled as she pointed at a newspaper, her hand shaking.

The front page showed a chart displaying a line curving upward in a dramatic, almost vertical arc—the stock performance of Dieta’s trading company.

Dieta gazed at the chart soaring to seemingly unreachable heights, her lips quivering with joy. “Isn’t it beautiful? My goodness, where else in the world can you find a masterpiece like this? Compared to this, any painting hung on a gallery wall is just a scrap of canvas. This curve… this curve is art!”

No celebrated work of art had ever brought her so much bliss. A rapturous expression on her face, Dieta gently stroked the newspaper before turning her eyes to the accompanying headlines.

-The Financial Genius, Dieta.-

Unlike before, when she would have basked in the glory of such titles, she felt a twinge of guilt whenever she saw them. True, she had believed Najin would succeed, but she had never expected him to soar so high, so fast, and with such brilliance.

The trading company’s stock price wasn’t merely climbing—it was smashing through the metaphorical ceiling.

At that point, even Dieta herself felt a little afraid.