"This…"
Teeth clenched hard enough to shatter any moment.
Fists tight enough to draw dark red blood.
Trembling and convulsions that couldn't be controlled.
Anger enough to turn his hair white.
Red. Everything was red. Everything before his eyes was stained scarlet with blood.
The lush green mountain peak was stained blood-red; its very nature was swept away in a single day.
Death. All that was left was death.
What purpose did all this bloodshed serve?
Christian clawed at the hilt of the sword embedded in his shoulder, drawing out the broken length of the Lily Blade.
His left arm was gone—only the torn scraps of his sleeve flapped in the wind. His legs were unwounded, yet he could barely move. His stomach gaped open with a hole the size of an infant's head.
And yet, Christian couldn't feel the pain.
The pain of his body was nothing compared to the turmoil in his heart.
"…Brother Julian." He discovered the discarded corpse of Julian of the Order of the White Peak.
Why was it so unfair? Why were the dead unable to even close their eyes?
"Brother…" Brother George's bisected body haunted him.
"Students…"
Everyone was dead.
All of the Order of the White Peak's best and brightest, who had promised to climb the mountain together, to safeguard their territory, to spread their names far and wide, had departed to a place from which they could not return.
And their students followed them.
Christian clenched his teeth.
Theirs was a noble sacrifice. Their death was just and glorious.
But who would dare praise their deaths? Who would dare!?
Christian's gaze locked on to the perpetrator, the one who had roused his unfathomable rage.
The Shadow from the skies, the leader of the Abyssal Cult: the Dark Sovereign.
The sight of this despicable man sat cross-legged in the sea of blood and gore evoked strange emotions in Christian. Even in this hellish scene, the Dark Sovereign appeared supremely serene.
No, "serenity" didn't suit him now. Dozens of swords pierced his body, and two spears pierced his stomach. Everyone had spent their lives to topple that monster.
The battle between the final squad, consisting only of the elite of the orders, and the Dark Sovereign ended in annihilation.
Was it satisfactory? Would the dead rest peacefully?
They would not.
Even if they did, Christian couldn't. It took everything he had left to stop the rage from stealing his rationality.
The Dark Sovereign's pale, empty eyes opened to gaze into the blue sky.
"…Order of the White Peak." Three words spilled from his lips.
The words eternally inscribed on Christian's heart now emerged from the villain's mouth.
"How unfortunate, knight of the White Peak. If only you could get out of here, you could boast of your achievements."
"…Shut your disgusting mouth."
"You can still be proud of your actions. With the help of countless people, your sword finally reached my body."
"Shut up!" Christian's stomach churned just from hearing the name of his order from that wretched mouth.
"How unfortunate." The Dark Sovereign was dying. Even as the greatest evil in all of time, he cannot survive his core breaking and his organs being ruined.
Terminal lucidity—his appearance was nothing more than his last gasps of life.
But why? Why did a dying man seem so relaxed!? Malphas was incomprehensible to Christian.
"If I were given just one more day, I would have truly become a being worthy of the name 'Dark Sovereign'. This is fate as well."
Christian gripped the sword he'd pulled out of his shoulder. The sharply forged blade cut his palm.
One step.
Another step.
At the end of a long and terrible war, Christian limped towards the Dark Sovereign.
"Remember this, knight of the White Peak." Malphas's eyes seemed devoid of emotion, even as Christian approached. "This is not the end. The Shadows will return. And when that happens, the world will be conquered by the Abyss. The Shadows can never be stoppe—"
The Dark Sovereign's head fell to the ground.
Christian crushed the head of the Dark Sovereign, eyes still open.
"It's…"
The war was over. The world would remember their victory. But Christian knew: there was no victory here. No one won this war.
Finally, Christian no longer had the strength to stand. His inevitable death was coming.
Christian raised his head to the sky. Even after such bloodshed, the sky was still blue, as if indifferent to the happenings of earth.
What will happen to the Order of the White Peak? Everyone who climbed the mountain was dead. Even if anyone had survived, they were probably on their last breaths. No group had suffered as much as the White Peak.
"Brother Julian… I told you."
"Don't give your all in every task," he'd said. Now the Order of the White Peak would be buried on this mountain. All the disciples had followed their masters to death. All that was left were the children, who knew nothing about the White Peak.
And… regret. It was regret.
Was there any meaning to what happened? Did the spilled blood of the White Peak mean anything?
"I don't know anymore. Brother Julian…" Christian fell onto his side.
His pure white robes, painted with a five-leaf lily, splayed out before his eyes.
Innocent death.
A lonely end, with no witnesses. The great Lily Knight of the Order of the White Peak was dying like a dog.
"…But your death was better than mine." Because there was someone to weep for you. Christian weeped for them.
I'm sorry, Brother Julian. Christian's vision faded.
If he had devoted a little more of his time to training, would he have been able to save at least one person?
If he had listened to his teachers and their scolding…?
If he had truly mastered the White Peak Blade instead of the Lily Blade?
No regrets… But it was all regret. All he had left was regrets.
And worries for the order.
Lilies are meant to fall, and after the cold winter comes spring.
White Peak…
The thirteenth knight of the Great Order of the White Peak, the Lily Knight, Christian, who slayed the Dark Sovereign at the summit of the Iron Mountains, drifted into eternal sleep.
This short anecdote was his only legacy.
The 13th knight of the Order of the White Peak, one of the greatest swordsmen of his generation, the Lily Knight: Christian. After defeating the Dark Sovereign and ending his reign of chaos, Christian breathed his last on the summit of the Cult's mountain.
Hundreds of years passed, and he was revived as a child.
But… What was that? The Order of the White Peak has fallen? What kind of bullshit is that!?
Was he supposed to just live his life knowing that?
"Fallen? Who said that? That doesn't matter!"
The lilies fall? After a cold winter, spring comes and the lilies come into full bloom once again.
"But before the Order of the White Peak returns, I need to be there first! Even if it's in ruins, there has to be something left there—Ugh, those people in there!"
And so began the struggle of the Lily Knight, Christian, to save the fallen Order of the White Peak.
A dream. No, he didn't know if it was a dream or a memory or a hallucination as he danced on the edge of death. He didn't know if he was already dead, dying, or still alive.
All he could see was the past.
Childhood memories: his appearance from when he first entered the Order of the White Peak; the scenes of training with Julian; the time he'd fled the strict rules and gone to see the world.
"Before a warrior, you are a seeker. You must realize that power without ethics is just violence."
Nagging.
Constant nagging.
It bored him. While he was a member of the White Peak, he didn't fully follow the teaching. Despite his natural talent, which earned him the title of "Lily Knight", he was but a mere beginner in the Order of the White Peak.
Why didn't he realize earlier? Even when the teachings didn't make sense, even when he felt out of place… everything that made him him he owed solely to the Order of the White Peak. That was why he admired the order so much.
He realized too late. Too late for regrets.
If only he'd paid a little more attention to the teachings, if only he was a little bit stronger, he might have been able to change that bitter ending. If only he…
"Do you regret your decisions?" Christian heard the soft voice of Brother Julian. His father, his older brother, his family—this man was Christian's goal. He wanted to follow him until the very end, but it was too late for that too.
Yes, I regret it. I regret it so, so much, Julian.
"There is no need for regret." His voice exuded warmth. "It is the Order of the White Peak, after all."
…Julian. It seemed to Christian that Julian was chuckling. Forever warm and benevolent.
"Because it is the Order of the White Peak."
Tak!
Even then…
Puck!
Huh? What?
"Aggggggggggggghhh!" It hurts! My head! I don't get it! What kind of pain is this? Is this what it feels like when your limbs are cut off?
"Dark Sovereign?" Is that bastard not dead yet? Christian instinctively raised his hand to protect his head. If he wasn't dead yet, these attacks would finish him off for good.
"Dark Sovereign?" But the voice that answered him wasn't the Dark Sovereign, but a thick, sniveling voice he didn't recognize.
"Huh?" When he opened his eyes, the face was equally unfamiliar.
A beggar? Beggar. A beginner—judging by the knot tied around his waist, he'd just started. A beggar among beggars.
The beggar with the grumpy, scruffy face eyed Christian.
What is it? He couldn't understand what was happening.
"'Dark Sovereign' – yeah right!" The beggar's face flushed red with irritation. "You lazy bum, still sleep talking! Everyone else has gone off to beg, but you're still here sleeping like you did something great! Hey! Do I make you laugh, huh?" The beggar hefted his bamboo stick.
Hold on… Is this kid threatening me right now? So that's how it is.
"Huh?" The beggar was startled by Christian's sudden smirk.
It was an odd situation, but he didn't feel like he needed to bother with context. Just who was Christian, after all? He handily ranked among the top three of all the numerous swordsmen in the world. People praised his sword style as the true essence of the Order of the White Peak and dubbed him the Lily Knight – the two other Great Swordsmen weren't worthy of being his opponents. Even the Dark Sovereign, in his final moments, acknowledged Christian's swordsmanship. Knights and lords alike bowed before him.
But this beggar was making a threat? A threaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
"Huh? Ungh? Are you laughing now?"
"Look here, kid."
"'Look here?'"
"I'm struggling to understand the situation, but for starters you can put that thing down."
"Ha. Hahahahaha. Hahahahahahahaha!" The beggar could only laugh.
Christian scowled. How dare he react to him like this?
And then the beggar smacked Christian with his bamboo stick.
Huh. Christian was dumbfounded. How dare a mere beggar do something like this, knowing who Christian was? No matter what happened, he was going to fix this beggar's attitude before the day was up.
First, he had to stop that baton! Christian raised his right arm…
…What?
Huh?
Slow? Why were his arms so slow?
The baton was fast, but why were his arms reaching for it so slowly? It made no sense—with his speed, he should already be holding that stick.
Ah! Maybe it was because of his injuries? Then all he had to do was move on to his instincts…
Uh? What's that? On the edge of his vision, he saw a small hand appear, moving towards the baton at a snail's pace.
Too slow and…
…too short?
Huh? Hands that small couldn't stop it! This wasn't going to work!
The stick landed squarely on Christian's head.
Christian collapsed to the ground, convulsing. All of his thoughts were driven away by the skull-splitting pain.
"Kuaaaaaa!" Christian clutched his head and rolled over. Even his arm being ripped off hadn't hurt like this!
"You bastard!" The beggar laid into him in earnest. "Situation? Understand the situation? I'll do that! But I'll make sure you understand the situation first! If you go crazy, you go crazy! Stupid bastard! Did the heat rot your brain? The medicine for heat is getting hit, you bastard!"
"Ack! Ack! Ack! You crazy beggar! Stop right now, if not… ack!"
"Die! Die!"
"Ah—it hurts! Ack!" Christian's cries changed little by little as he was beaten.
"—You bastard! I won't let this go! I'll make sure to rip you—"
Smack!
"—Stop! Stop it now, please, you jerk!"
Smack!
"—Ack! Accckk! Why are you hitting me! Ack!"
Smack!
"You– beggar– ah, ack! Sorry!"
The whipping continued with no remorse.
"…save…"
Smack!
"Spare meeeee!"
As if to tell him there were no free second chances, Christian was immediately beaten to a pulp.
"…Ack. He hurt my pride." Christian pulled out the piece of cloth he'd jammed into his nose.
"Ah, ahhh." The moment he saw the red stains, Christian's face fell.
A nosebleed! Not even a nosebleed from internal injuries, but a nosebleed from being beaten! How did that even make sense? It wasn't just the nosebleed—nothing had made sense since he'd opened his eyes.
To say nothing of his bruised eyelids, it felt like nowhere on his body was left untouched; beating someone that thoroughly had to be something of an art form. If someone hadn't stopped him, he would have just kept going!
Had he ever been hit like this in his entire life? Despite all the pranks he'd pulled off in the famously strict Order of the White Peak, he had never been beaten this badly.
To suffer such humiliation for the first time at the hands of a beggar…!
"I am going to mess him up… That bastard! I'll tear him down." The anger and irritation roiled inside him.
Christian laid on the ground. If he acted on a whim, he would only hurt his battered body.
"No, rather than that…" Christian heaved himself up and stared into the river.
An unfamiliar young face greeted him. When Christian contorted his face, the young man did too; when Christian sighed, the young man did too.
"…How did this happen?" Why was there a different kid's face in the water?
No, it was a nice face. The change in his face didn't bother him—after all, the younger the better no? But it was too young. Although, better younger than older.
Besides, no matter how much he compared them, this face was a lot more charming and handsome than the old Christian. He had no complaints about this new face.
But he was dissatisfied with the fact that his body was younger too.
Short. The limbs were short – not because he was naturally short or something, but because he was a child. Even worse, he was all skin and bones. Even now, he was too tired and hungry to lift a hand.
Ah, whatever!
"So…"
In summary…
"This means I'm alive."
Maybe "I" wasn't appropriate. No matter how hard he looked, this kid looked nothing like the Lily Knight, Christian. The Lily Knight was gone: his soul, and all of his memories, now resided in the body of a child beggar.
"This must be a devil's work."
Or maybe it was reincarnation? Had he known this beforehand, he would have joined the Cathedral instead of the Order of the White Peak.
He wondered if the Dark Sovereign had used some kind of disgusting magic on him. But if he could perform such feats, he would already be ruling the entire world.
Christian didn't really care what had happened, but he had to admit that everything around him was real. This was neither dream nor fantasy. His entire body throbbed with pain – the more he thought about it, the angrier he became.
"Nothing will change if I keep sitting around and thinking about it. First, I need to figure out what's happening, and what exactly happened." Christian hopped up and ran to the beggars' tent.
Or he tried to run, at least.
"Kuk!" Within a couple of steps, he fell.
"You beat me hard, you bastard!" Christian's eyes rolled angrily. "No matter what happens, I'll make sure to pay you back for this."
Death wasn't about to fix his dirty personality.