Chapter 19
The Becharisoi Beasts
"And at last, I have arrived at the City of Sunlight."
Einver muttered softly, a faint smile curving his lips. He then lifted his head toward the guards standing at the gate and said calmly:
"Would you kindly open the way for me?"
The old guard studied him at length. Before him stood a young man, his clothes soiled and covered in the dust of travel, his face marked by exhaustion as though the long journey had drained half his strength. And yet, in his eyes gleamed a mysterious light—an aura of strength and unshakable confidence.
Not only that—
The immense, terrifying, oppressive darkness that had weighed down upon the guard only moments ago had vanished in the blink of an eye.
The old guard had lived long and seen countless people in his time here.
The wise yet powerful.
The arrogant yet powerful.
The weak.
The overconfident.
And innumerable others.
He could usually read them all with ease.
But this boy…
No.
It would be unjust to call him merely a boy.
This being standing before him was something altogether different.
That darkness… the one that had made the old guard want to scream from the depths of his soul and run with all his might—
That terrifying presence.
That crushing weight.
All of it had dissolved in the instant the young man spoke, as though light itself had broken through a long, suffocating night.
The old guard struggled to steady his mind, having stood silently for some time, then lifted his gaze to Einver's face.
That gentle smile did not match those devil's eyes.
Those eyes told a wholly different story.
They gazed upon the old man from above, calm and unhurried—
As though they were the eyes of a sacred sovereign peering into the very soul of a man, ready to judge as he pleased.
Life…
Or… death.
The old guard lowered his head slightly, then spoke in a voice that was nearly steady:
"State your name, and the reason for your visit to Taiyo no Hikari."
Einver smiled serenely, as though the question had not surprised him in the slightest. He replied with confidence, his eyes fixed upon the old guard's:
"My reason for coming here?… Well, I am but a traveler, wandering across this world in search of knowledge and adventure. After a long journey, I have finally arrived at this radiant city, to see what secrets it holds and to rest a while before continuing on my path. Is there a problem with that, honored guard?"
His voice…
Strange.
Calm. Considerate. Gentle—so gentle that all fear and doubt melted from the old guard's heart. He glanced lightly at Einver and even smiled back, convinced by his words.
"There is no problem with that," the guard answered. "But it is our duty to examine you and confirm your identity first. These are basic security measures we cannot overlook."
Einver was about to respond when suddenly a cry came from afar. Two men came running toward the gate, waving their arms, and one of them shouted:
"Step away from the gate, boy! And you guards—open the way at once! The princess has arrived!"
Einver said nothing, merely stepping aside in silence. The guards, however, jolted upright, their bodies stiff with tension at the news. They hastened to open the gate, then aligned themselves sharply on both sides in rigid military formation. Mounted knights took position at the entrance, ready to receive the approaching entourage.
At a distance of about a hundred paces, all eyes fell upon a grand and splendid carriage drawn by four strange creatures.
Einver's breath caught for a moment when his gaze fell upon them, for he had never seen their like before. They resembled horses, yet they were not true horses. Each bore a long, gleaming horn upon its brow, and from its back sprouted small wings. Their hides were not soft with fur, but covered in pale crimson scales, hard and glistening—like beings born of blood and fire.
Einver spoke no word, merely observed in silence as the carriage advanced, surrounded by an escort of heavily armed guards. They were broad-shouldered men, their swords hanging at their sides, their spears gleaming in the sunlight, their marching steps like the drumbeat of war.
The carriage neared the gate, but before it could enter, one of the beasts suddenly froze, driving its hoof deep into the ground. It lifted its head and fixed a strange, piercing gaze directly upon Einver.
Einver, his head bowed as though lost in thought, felt that stare bore straight through him. The instant that creature halted, the others followed suit, stopping in unison as though bound by an invisible thread.
The driver tugged gently at the reins, urging them on. They did not move. He struck harder, but the beasts remained still, like stones rooted in the earth. The guards exchanged uneasy glances, sweat beading upon their brows, unease creeping into their hearts.
Just then, a small window of the carriage slid open, and from within came a soft, gentle voice—calm as a breeze:
"What is happening?"
The sound caught Einver's attention, and he slowly lifted his gaze to study the beasts, his thoughts whispering: What are they?
The Becharisoi Beasts—mythical creatures of great rarity. Despite their majestic appearance, they were by nature gentle and docile. Yet they possessed a dangerous gift: the ability to sense the aura of blood and slaughter. When such a killing aura reached them, they froze and fixed their gaze upon its source. Should the target so much as move, they would attack with an unstoppable fury. But if the target remained still, so would they—locked in a dreadful battle of wills, a game of nerves to the death.
That gentle voice spoke once more from within the carriage, calm yet now laced with quiet authority that stoked the soldiers' fear:
"What is happening?"
Faces grew pale, hands trembled upon spear-shafts. These battle-hardened men, who had stared death in the face on countless fields, now showed a fear none had seen before.
Einver, meanwhile, allowed only a small smile to form as he met the gaze of the Becharisoi Beasts. With one shared glance, a strange feeling washed over him—an uncanny sense of being read like an open book, his very soul laid bare before a hidden reader. Yet he knew this sensation did not come from the beasts themselves, but from the carriage.
There, upon its roof, a powerful and serene aura rested. But as it drew nearer, the expressions of the Becharisoi Beasts suddenly shifted, marked by sorrow and pain.
Moments later, their heads turned, and they resumed their march forward.
At once, the soldiers felt the overwhelming power radiating from the carriage—a force so immense it seemed to crush the breath from their lungs. They hastened to rouse their protective auras with all their might, erecting defenses against the tide of spiritual pressure.
But the old guard and the younger one beside him were too slow. They failed to shield themselves in time, their strength collapsing as sweat poured down their faces, fear etched upon their features.
The aura crept closer and closer to Einver himself, blazing before his eyes like a living flame. It was immense and suffocating, yet deep inside he felt only disgust—revulsion at its corrupted nature, despite its grandeur.
It pressed upon him faster now. In that moment, Einver recalled the words of the elder, Mon Fai, etched in his memory:
"There are auras bound to the essence of a person. With your current strength, you cannot resist them once they ensnare you. The only way is to confront them before they bind you. Strike them down with your pure power, or be devoured."
With that, Einver gripped the hilt of his sword and drew it in a swift motion. He unleashed a storm of strikes, his blade flashing tens of times in only ten seconds. Winds howled around him, his movements forming a small human cyclone that tore through the encroaching aura, scattering it like fog before a raging gale.
The two guards beside him collapsed unconscious to the ground. Einver, however, remained firm atop his horse, sliding his sword back into its sheath in calm silence.
He lowered his gaze to his palm, noting its stiffness. He had swung with tremendous force—
I used nearly all my strength to repel that aura. Had a normal man stood before me, he would have been cut into dozens of pieces.
The other soldiers stood frozen in shock, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had seen it with their own eyes: this young man had dispersed such a crushing power without the aid of martial skills or hidden arts—only his raw strength and his sword.
At that moment, an unsettling weight settled in Einver's chest. An ominous feeling, as though some vile calamity was about to befall him. He silently wished the incident would pass in peace. But fate had no intention of granting that wish.
For the carriage halted once more.
This time, at the explicit command of that gentle voice:
"Stop."
The driver obeyed at once, pulling the reins. The carriage stood still. A soldier hurried forward, bowing his head near the window, and asked in a hushed, reverent tone:
"Yes, my lady. Do you wish something?"
The reply came, delicate yet carrying a force that brooked no refusal:
"Who is that strange man?"
The soldier turned his eyes toward Einver, then returned to the window and answered:
"I do not know, my lady… If you permit, I shall inquire at once."
He stepped forward with nervous strides, stopping before Einver. His voice was stern as he demanded:
"State your name and purpose here, immediately, boy."
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