The euphoria was fleeting, but for the first time since arriving at the Nexus, I felt genuinely victorious. Of course, Rachel had delivered the final blow, but I had guided her movements as if she were a video game character. Each action felt so fluid and natural that I could only assume this was Search V operating at its full potential.
"The obedience of your team depends on trust."
And today, I experienced what it meant to have blind faith placed in my command. Simply…
—It feels… powerful.
After the final strike, I was bathed in particles of light and transported back to the Connector's entrance. My breathing was ragged and exhaustion weighed on me, but all of it vanished the moment the particles left my body. Taurus, once etched before me, disappeared and left behind a simple yet overwhelming message…
[Mr. Nobody Rank UP! Welcome to Rank Steel]
I couldn't contain the burning emotion spreading through my body. It was pure exhilaration—this victory—and for the first time since arriving here, I thought I could perceive a scent. A delicate fragrance of roses, spring-like and fresh, captivating my nose. It was almost as if, for years, I hadn't smelled anything other than damp earth and blood.
But where was it coming from?
Ah… right.
From the beautiful girl who had removed her armor and was now clinging to me, her hair loose and flowing, wearing a fine one-piece dress in purple with golden and green details. A healthy, youthful neckline pressed against my arm.
—Tristan! —Rachel exclaimed, pressed against me—. Are you… are you really real? Are you Tristan of Arthurian legend?
Arthurian Tristan?
Damn.
My lie had gone too far, and although it had helped me form an honest bond with the princess, I couldn't keep pushing it forever. Truth be told, I never wanted to resemble that Tristan in the first place. I just wanted to steal the plot of Ice Emblem: Wrath of the Lethal Inferno, where yes, the character's name was Tris. Call me egotistical for identifying with a character who shares my name, but that was exactly what I clung to.
If necessary, I would bind myself to this lie with a burning cable just to survive.
So…
—You've found me out —I said in an overly dramatic voice.
Her eyes filled with admiration and intrigue as she continued.
—It's just… it's very hard to recognize you. You don't have a sword or armor, you look more like a servant than anything else…
—Forgive me. I had gone many years without fighting before being dragged here.
—That explains many things… forgive my doubts, but—she stared directly into my eyes, as if trying to unravel my truth—could you tell me something only the real Tristan would know? Perhaps something about… Isolde.
I felt something inside me crack.
For anyone else, this would be dangerous territory. But damn it—I'm Tristan, a self-proclaimed lover of myths and legends.
I cleared my throat, put on my best puppy-eyed expression, and began narrating the saddest love story ever told in Arthurian legend… after Guinevere and Lancelot, of course.
—Oh, my beloved Isolde… though I must admit that the love potion lost its effect in the Nexus, the passion with which we loved transcended any magical draught. If there is anything to regret, it would only be…
—What? —she asked, pressing even closer to me, as if personal space had ceased to exist.
—Whether the flag was white… or black.
In the myth of Isolde, Tristan was gravely wounded. He sent for his beloved to heal him with her magic. He asked that, if she agreed to come, white sails be raised; if not, black ones.
In the original version, his lawful wife deceives him and orders black sails raised, condemning him to die more from sorrow than from his wounds.
I tried to maintain the theatrical tone befitting a knight of legend. I feared I was overacting and that my façade would crumble—but when I looked at Rachel, I saw exactly what I expected.
She was far too innocent. Or perhaps too trusting.
Moved, her eyes glassy with tears, she pulled away to wipe them with the sleeve of her dress.
—It's you… it really is you —she concluded, overcome with emotion—. Then… you are the real Tristan —she whispered, a mix of awe and excitement—. I can't believe you're not with the rest of the Knights of the Round Table in Platinum rank—or worse, that you lost your name and everything for love.
—Well…
The hamster in my head started running at full speed, searching for a convincing answer, and the only thing I could improvise was:
—As I told you, the betrayal of my lord weighed heavily on me. In my final years, I changed my name so often that I eventually used the moniker "Nobody." Perhaps the system simply took the last name I used to refer to myself… or maybe it reflects my mental or emotional state. I couldn't say.
—I understand —she interrupted softly, her gaze lowered.
—On top of that, I believe I was among the last to die… or perhaps not. I heard my former lord went to war with his nephew, but I couldn't learn more. I had my own troubles with my uncle.
—Then the Battle of Camlann happened during your death!
—So that's what it's called… I suppose so —I played along, since there's no real consensus on the timeline anyway. Thanks, Rachel, for filling in the gaps.
—I see. After all, neither you nor Bedivere had reached the Nexus. Time works strangely here —she said, dispelling any lingering doubts.
—Tell me about it. I spent who-knows-how-long floating in empty space with an axolotl before arriving.
—Haha, I think we all go through that.
—Lady Rachel, from now on, if we can form a party, I would be honored to assist you —I concluded, using the most knightly voice I could muster.
—The honor will be mine.
She extended her hand delicately. Without hesitation, I took it, sealing a firm alliance with the young princess.
—Please, call me Tris.
—It's a pleasure to meet you, Tris.