Black Badger

Chapter 251: Carrot-Carrot! (2)

Hildebert handed his phone to him.

“Keep this with you.”

He smiled gently.

“My senior bought it for me, so I’d rather it not break.”

Kairos accepted the phone.

And he quietly observed the person sitting across from him. Across the table sat someone pretending to be tipsy after downing his fourth glass of plum wine.

It was impossible to tell whether he was actually drunk or only pretending.

They would eat and drink like this until the hologram performance began on the first floor.

The red-haired handler pushed a neatly cut piece of steak into his mouth.

‘I can’t taste anything.’

With his Captain pushing forward such a ridiculous plan, it was only natural that he had lost his appetite.

The Captain....

Hildebert Taleb.

The man who had taken the unprecedented position of Second Knight Commander. And the one who carried out that role flawlessly until the world fell.

Kairos had known him for a long time — since before Hildebert had even become captain of a small squad, let alone a Knight Commander.

After their tribe knelt before the Emperor.

Kyle, once the pride of the tribe, became an ordinary knight, and one day introduced Hilde to the tribespeople.

Back then, Hilde had been a little sensitive, yet gentle, and carried a subtle aura — as if he might disappear at any moment into some far-off place. As if he had never truly put down roots anywhere.

Kairos remembered how that floating, unanchored aura only faded when Hilde stood before Rei, the nobleman’s son.

And then someday, he began to smile brightly in front of Kyle as well.

Years passed, and that drifting aura vanished entirely. Kairos never knew what events had led to such a transformation. He was never close enough with Hilde to know.

“That’s the swordsman Badger from the video, isn’t it? Oh, thank you as always.”

“Hello.”

Hilde smiled warmly at the people approaching the table.

“Hildebert,” he said politely.

“Let’s take a picture together!”

“Yes, sure.”

He shifted his body and offered the camera a bright smile.

“Didn’t you bring your sword today?”

“I’m off duty.”

That fluffy lamb came to mind.

The lamb.

As a child, Kairos had been obsessed with Creatures.

He had always known he was an odd one.

He was born among people who raised children on endless plains, teaching them to ride horses before they were weaned. Among those who believed you had to conquer something to survive.

In his tribe, the greatest virtues were excellent horsemanship, skill in combat, and skill in hunting.

They took pride in the fact that they had long maintained independence against the Empire.

But Kairos had never cared much for such virtues.

What he wanted were Creatures.

The unity he felt when fighting side by side with a Creature he had tamed.

The poison-like thrill of the matches, the dizzying euphoria of victory.

He liked the tribespeople, but he had never felt deep belonging to the tribe.

Which was likely why he had never grown close to Kyle.

Not that their relationship was bad.

‘Here. Your prize money for this time.’

‘Thank you, as always.’

Every time he won a tournament, he handed over his prize money to the tribe.

‘I’m sorry. I rely on you too much.’

‘Not at all. It’s for the tribe.’

Kyle had been deeply grateful for that. They maintained polite, formal relations, exchanging routine greetings.

But nothing more.

Instead, at some point, he began encountering Hildebert far more often.

‘Handler!’

Whenever he got into trouble with tropical drakes, Hilde would appear and call out to him.

‘Once again you couldn’t stand the boredom, it seems.’

The man with long white hair flowing in the wind, walking toward him with unhurried steps.

The Empire’s Second Knight Commander.

‘Commander! Ah, sorry about this.’

‘I’m tired of hearing that apology.’

Even as Hilde spoke gruffly, he never once snapped in irritation.

‘If you want to run wild so badly, just join the unit.’

Hilde had plenty of admirers following him then.

Kyle and Hilde both enjoyed popularity rivaling Kairos’s. Charismatic, fiery black-haired Knight Commander and the ever-calm white-haired Knight Commander — each had devoted supporters, and their fans frequently clashed.

The two themselves didn’t care. [N O V E L I G H T] They were close, and the Emperor used them differently.

Kyle often went to conquer and suppress.

Hilde usually went on rescue missions, search missions, and guarded the royal family.

When the Emperor’s health declined, Hilde was the one who entered the Emperor’s chambers the most, helping with the transfer.

Kyle and Rei never learned that fact.

‘You look tired again today.’

‘Kairos.’

Because Kairos often visited the palace, he often saw Hilde emerging afterward, looking exhausted.

‘I heard you helped the purification team last time. Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it. By the way, did you do the transfer again today? You seem to go in far more often than the others. Aren’t there many other Children of the World Tree?’

‘You really have no fear.’

The white-haired commander gave a flustered smile.

‘You never know where listening ears are.’

‘I think it’s a fair question.... Kyle and Sir Rei are incredibly busy and probably not as easy to work with as you are, but still — there are more than just three Children of the World Tree, aren’t there?’

‘Well.’

Hilde lowered his gaze and murmured.

So quietly that even the wingbeats of the little pterosaur perched on Kairos’s shoulder almost drowned it out.

‘I almost never performed transfers, so it seems they consider the nutrients I provide cleaner than the others’.’

Kairos still remembered how he had blinked in shock.

And how Hilde had wrapped up the conversation with a smile and sent him off. Likely Hilde had focused all his efforts on the Emperor’s care until contamination finally arrived at the palace door.

Until the world fell.

“Your eyes are beautiful. Did you get an iris color-change procedure?”

“Something like that. I don’t even remember what color they used to be.”

Hilde had fully turned his body toward the crowd gathered around him.

“What’s that you’re holding? It looks good.”

Kairos had been only slightly closer to Hilde than to Kyle in the Empire.

But he didn’t see Hilde as his superior until after they came to Earth.

The memory suddenly rose — Hilde commanding the confused survivors when they had first crossed over.

Those bloodshot eyes.

He had later learned those tears had not been for the Emperor.

“Have a drink! Oh, there’s some interesting alcohol here.”

“It’s plum wine.”

“Would you like this one?”

“That’s good too, but vodka is fine as well.”

“You really know your drinks!”

Those tears had been for Sir Kysis, for Chancellor Jacques — and for the subordinates Hilde lost.

It had been a grief born of the severance from the World Tree.

Children of the World Tree loved the World Tree.

“During Christmas season, this tree gets decorated like crazy!”

“Did you see the star they put on top last year? It was enormous.”

“That’s a shame. I should’ve come last year.”

“The lights around the branches right now are beautiful too.”

People chatted warmly.

Hilde rose from his seat, leaned his arms on the railing, and gazed at the tree below.

Someone had opened a window somewhere; night wind drifted in. The cool breeze stirred people’s hair.

“Blackjack!”

Someone called to him from below.

Well, many people were calling him, but only now did he pretend to respond.

“Hilde. I’ll go greet someone.”

“Oh, okay.”

The man leaning against the railing looked over his shoulder and smiled softly.

His eyes were half-glazed.

“Go on.”

“And drink moderately.”

“Alright, alright.”

Hilde laughed foolishly.

“I’m doing great, aren’t I?”

Whether he truly was or whether he was actually drunk....

From the fourth floor to the third, then second, then first.

He greeted the owner of the diamond mine. While making small talk at one of the first-floor tables, Kairos traced the shift in his own emotions.

When had he first decided that he would follow him?

Human affection and loyalty were different things — yet he, in some ways, was a man who placed no one above himself, even more so than the knights did.

Finding the answer wasn’t difficult.

Those sharp eyes.

Eyes that, no matter what happened, never once looked away from reality — those eyes had captured him.

“It’s a shame. I was truly a fan.”

“Thank you. I enjoyed that time as well.”

If only Hildebert had been a handler.

Then they could have been great rivals.

“Especially that final season! I got chills. Your skill was incredible.”

“I think I drove well that year.”

Those eyes — the ones that sometimes grew as keen as the sword he carried — stirred something deep inside Kairos. It was the feeling he always had when facing a worthy competitor.

Some would surely call that being a battle maniac.

It frustrated him that they weren’t on the same field. It angered him that he had failed to realize Hilde’s talent before the world fell.

After coming to Earth, during that period when Hilde was immersed in books, he had once asked him outright:

‘Ever think about becoming a handler?’

‘Out of nowhere?’

The Captain had lifted his head with a puzzled expression, then smiled gently at him.

‘No. I like the sword.’

Back then, seeing him up close had always left Kairos with a faint sense of regret.

That peaceful time came to an end...

And then Kairos reached his own moment of choice.

Until then, he had belonged to neither side. Unlike those who unwaveringly supported Kyle or Hilde, he coldly weighed his options.

And he chose Hilde’s side.

Because it was the right choice.

Kairos had been too busy conducting his own investigations to know the finer details — that the night before the war, Hildebert had cried endlessly, or that he had knelt before Rei and Kyle, begging them to trust him.

He only learned all this later, through You.

After Hildebert disappeared.

And Kairos, who had never been good at noticing things around him, only realized Hildebert’s absence long after.

A bond not deep, but long — and its loss shook him violently.

“What made you change your mind?” someone asked him once.

Just how violently that loss had shaken him.

“I thought it wouldn’t be bad to follow an old friend,” he had answered.

The exhilaration he felt when the man returned decades later had been overwhelming.

Even if the Captain had forgotten everything.

“And I didn’t want to regret it again.”

And so Hilde came to the circuit.

Truthfully, he had planned to ignore him completely. They had grown used to suppressing their instincts — erasing their presence to blend in among humans.

And from the sound of it, Hilde had forgotten even what intuition was.

If they just pretended not to see him, pretended not to feel anything, they would avoid provoking You.

He thought he would visit Hilde later, somewhere else, pretending to remember nothing here.

“But do you regret it now?” someone had asked.

...Until Hilde began pouring out emotion.

“No. I don’t regret it at all.”

Raw emotion.

Just like what spilled off an opponent after a fierce match — raw longing, expectation, hurt...

Relief.

The deep, warm joy of seeing Kairos living a happy life.

Who could refrain from breaking after facing that?

[Attention, please.]

A clear voice echoed through the banquet hall.

Conversations broke off. People lifted their heads.

Kairos lifted his as well.

[The performance will begin shortly. Guests on the first floor, please take your assigned seats. Once again, the performance will begin shortly. If you are seated at a first-floor table, please move to your assigned seats.]

People on the first floor rose all at once.

It was time.

Kairos steadied himself and headed to the second-floor terrace.

A new seating arrangement had appeared. Event staff rushed out and quickly removed the tables and chairs near the tree.

Within moments, the performance space formed — the area around the tree emptied instantly. Guests sat in the designated seats beneath the terrace, and people dressed in black stretched white boundary lines between stage and audience.

The previous music faded.

The orchestra began another piece.

Carmina Burana.

O Fortuna.

The banquet hall lights went out.

A circular band of white light ringed the base of the tree.

The light encircling the conifer like a crown began to pulse up and down with the shifting pitches.

Soon the light shaped the Goddess who changed like the moon, the monstrous face of fate, humans drowning in ice-like destiny as it melted.

Holographic glow washed across people’s faces.

And at the center of that white light — the towering conifer.

The giant tree filled with light was beautiful.

“Like the World Tree,” Kairos murmured without realizing.

“The parent the golden-eyed children loved.”

The one they relied on.

The one who imprinted light into their eyes.

Blessings hide like light, grace hides in tender leaves,

and they flow down your curved back...

“May the great World Tree’s grace be upon us...”

***

Children of the World Tree loved the World Tree.

When they got tipsy, they would climb to the rooftop and stare endlessly at the place where the World Tree — bearing golden spores — once stood.

They missed the golden seeds that had filled the world.

They missed the towering majesty of life whose end you couldn’t see even with your head thrown back.

You had always thought so whenever he encountered them on the roof.

Every time they drank, they climbed up, gazing at the glowing city, because of that.

So he ran toward Hildebert — who was leaning past the railing, reaching out toward the tree beyond it.

He caught Hildebert by the back of his neck as he began to fall forward.

Thunk.

At the same time, someone grabbed his wrist.

A strong pull twisted his body forward.

“You.”

As his body toppled beyond the railing, the strategist saw glowing eyes in the darkness.

“Got you.”

Golden eyes.

Bright like the World Tree’s spores.

Sharp like a forged blade.

And together, they plummeted straight down.