Chapter 13: The Crystal Knights
The boy with short, light blue hair leapt onto his bed, the worn leather cover of The Theory of Life Before Menma pressed tightly against his chest. The room, bathed in the dim amber glow of a flickering lantern, was silent save for the gentle rustling of pages as he flipped through them with practiced fingers. The wooden walls, lined with shelves overflowing with books and scattered parchments, held the faint scent of aged paper and ink—an aroma that mingled with the crisp night air seeping in through the slightly open window.
Fulan, sprawled on his own bed, rested his head against the cool frame, his dark eyes drifting toward the vast sky beyond the glass pane. His voice finally broke the quiet.
"That book you're reading..."
For a moment, the only reply was silence, thick and contemplative. The blue-haired boy remained absorbed in the words, his pupils shifting rapidly across the lines, as if unraveling a mystery too enthralling to abandon. Seconds passed, then minutes, before he finally spoke—his voice steady but laced with an undeniable intrigue.
"The Theory of Life Before Menma, written by Knight Mahiro Junior," he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing the embossed title on the cover. "He claims that over 1,601 years ago, civilizations existed that reached the pinnacle of progress and development. He speaks of artifacts he unearthed in the outside world—things so complex and foreign that even he couldn't determine their purpose."
Fulan listened with a quiet attentiveness, his gaze still fixed on the sky. A gentle breeze whispered through the cracked window, carrying with it the distant scent of rain, though the clouds had yet to break. His voice, when he spoke, was casual—unmoved by the grand implications of the book's content.
"In short, they're just ancient relics from past civilizations," he remarked, as if dismissing the weight of history with a single breath.
The boy finally lifted his gaze from the book, his expression calm yet firm. The candlelight flickered against his sharp features, casting delicate shadows across his face.
"Mahiro suggests that we are the ancient civilization, not them," he countered, his tone carrying the weight of conviction. "To us, these artifacts may seem meaningless, but to them, they held immense significance. Their functions were intricate, their purposes beyond our comprehension. It's all because of that Virus.'
A lingering silence settled between them, stretching into the night. Fulan's fingers drummed absentmindedly against the wooden bedpost before he spoke again.
"An advanced civilization, wiped out by a single virus?" His voice held a note of skepticism, though his eyes remained distant, lost in thought. "I wonder if people back then lived without slavery or wars… If they had truly achieved a utopia." A brief pause, then, with mild curiosity, he added, "Anyway, this Mahiro person—I think I've heard his name somewhere before."
At that, a faint tension rippled through the blue-haired boy, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. The air in the room grew heavier, as if the conversation had shifted into something more than mere idle talk.
"Huh?! You don't know who Mahiro Junior is?"
Fulan's reply was immediate, unwavering.
"That's why I'm asking. I've heard his name before, but I can't quite remember where."
The boy exhaled sharply, shutting the book with a decisive snap. Without hesitation, he lifted it, turning the cover toward Fulan as if the mere sight of it should trigger recognition.
"He's written countless historical books, each more astonishing than the last! His works describe the outside world in vivid detail—secrets, dangers, discoveries that most people wouldn't dare imagine. Even adventurers trained at this academy make sure to study his writings before venturing beyond our borders. Some professional explorers have admitted that Mahiro's books saved their lives out there." His voice, usually composed, carried an undeniable urgency.
Fulan finally shifted his gaze from the window, his dark eyes settling on the boy with a quiet intensity. His tone, however, remained as unshaken as before.
"That's not what I meant," he said, the lantern's glow reflecting in his eyes. "I've heard Mahiro's name in a different context—not as a famous author, or anything like that."
A spark of excitement flickered in the blue-haired boy's eyes, quickly spreading into a wide, almost childlike smile. He shot up from his bed, his movements filled with energy, and placed his right fist over his heart in a salute brimming with admiration. The dim candlelight caught the silver thread embroidery on his sleeves, casting faint glimmers across the room.
"Mahiro Junior is one of the Nine Crystal Knights," he declared, his voice carrying a mix of pride and awe. "They're not just the nine strongest soldiers in the kingdom—they're the nine strongest men in the entire world! What truly terrifies people across the globe isn't the Saita Kingdom's army, its wealth, or its status. The real reason the Saita Kingdom is feared is because of the Nine Crystal Knights. Even someone like me can tell that those individuals are on a level so far beyond my own that I could train my entire life and never reach their strength."
The air seemed heavier with the weight of his words. The flickering candle cast long shadows on the wooden walls, its glow struggling against the vastness of the night outside.
Fulan had already acknowledged the boy's impressive speed and power, but the sheer reverence in his voice made him realize that the Crystal Knights were an entirely different entity. A force beyond mere skill or training. He remained composed, his voice as steady as ever.
"The Nine Crystal Knights? What sets them apart from ordinary knights?"
The blue-haired boy exhaled, his excitement momentarily cooling into a more composed state. He sat back down on his bed, leaning slightly forward as if settling into the role of a storyteller. His voice was relaxed, yet firm with conviction.
"It's clear you're not from the Saita Kingdom," he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "What I admire about this kingdom is that, unlike others, it accepts everyone. It doesn't matter if you're black or white, strong or weak—as long as you're in Saita, you're safe."
The soft rustle of fabric filled the space as he shifted into a more comfortable position. Beyond the window, the night stretched endlessly, the distant hum of crickets barely audible.
"Anyway," he continued, "there are four main ranks of knights. The Black Armor Knights—you see them everywhere, patrolling the streets, guarding the gates. They form the backbone of our kingdom's defense. Then, there are the Silver Armor Knights. Their numbers are also large, and while their duties aren't much different from the Black Armor Knights, they're occasionally sent beyond the kingdom's borders on missions. They're stronger, more disciplined."
A soft gust of wind brushed through the open window, making the candlelight tremble for a brief moment before steadying once more. The boy's eyes gleamed as he went on.
"Next come the Gold Armor Knights. Their total number doesn't exceed 300, and their strength is in an entirely different league. They're powerful enough to take down wild, raging beasts—monsters that would tear an ordinary soldier to shreds. These knights only move when a mission is classified as Rank A, whether inside or outside the kingdom."
His voice lowered slightly, as if speaking of something almost sacred.
"And then… there are the Crystal Knights."
A pause. The weight of those words hung in the air.
"As I mentioned, there are only nine of them. They are the king's personal guards, acting solely on his direct orders. The presence of a single Crystal Knight in the kingdom is enough to make it secure. No one would dare invade or attack. Imagine having nine individuals of that caliber in one place! It's said that sending just three of them could bring an entire kingdom to its knees. And if an army of a thousand men dared to challenge them?" He leaned back slightly, his voice carrying a hint of something almost fearful. "A single Crystal Knight could crush them all… and still stand as if they had just warmed up."
The room seemed to shrink under the weight of his words. Outside, the wind had died down, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake.
Fulan sat in silence, absorbing everything.
These knights… he had never accounted for something like them. His entire goal—the mission he had trained for—depended on speed, precision, and complete avoidance of unnecessary obstacles. His plan was simple: eliminate the king before anyone could react. But now, an entirely new challenge had emerged.
Descriptions weren't enough. Rumors were just rumors.
If the Nine Crystal Knights truly held such power, he needed to see it for himself.
A shadow of determination passed through his eyes, though his expression remained unreadable. He leaned back against the bed frame, his mind working through the grim reality before him.
Even if I spend three full years gaining trust, becoming a knight, earning the chance to meet the king...
His fingers tapped lightly against his knee, his thoughts sharpening.
If even one Crystal Knight is with him, they could protect the king regardless of my speed. Not only that, but they'd kill me instantly.
The realization was stark. Cold.
That bastard knew all of this already… yet he still sent me on this impossible mission.