Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION Opening the Stage Curtains “…‘Now, boy. Our young king. On this most holy day of our Lord and Savior, you must pull this sword from the stone,’ said Merlin.” There was something unusual about this night. Surveying the scene, one could see the countless skyscrapers towering over like gravestones and feel the dry wind weaving through darkened silhouettes. The white moon gleamed in the sky like a skull. The bone-chilling air drifted past, sometimes seemingly holding its breath, as though it, too, dreaded something sinister. “‘With all due respect, Lord Merlin,’ began Sir Kay. ‘It is by the will of God that whoso pulleth this sword shall not be but the rightwise king of this realm,’” recited a Japanese boy, around sixteen or seventeen and wearing a school uniform. He was of medium height and build with cropped black hair, a straight, shapely nose, and intense almond-shaped eyes. A bold, sarcastic smile played at the corners of his mouth. “‘Therefore, it is inconceivable that God would give it to my squire and stepbrother, Arthur.’ At Sir Kay’s words, ‘Nay,’ responded Merlin.” The boy held a worn book open in one hand. It was a copy of Last Round Arthur, a first-edition book, published by Cornaliver Press—written in 1884 by John Sheep, a scholar on English folklore. He continued to balance it in one hand as he dramatically recited its contents to himself. “‘Ye there, Sir Ector, must understand this already. This boy had been born to this world the rightwise king of Britain and ruler of the entire world.’” Not a single person was there to hear his performance, read like a true balladeer. That was because he stood on the roof of a skyscraper—on its ledge, to be exact. “‘Ye lord, ye knight, bear witness. Christ, born onto this night, will show us a miracle to point at who the rightwise king of this realm is to be.’” Even with the whole city sprawling out below him, he didn’t seem fearful as he stood alone, illuminated from behind by the silver moon. “At Merlin’s wishes, Arthur grasped the handle of the sword in the stone and pulled it out with ease, so all the people therewithal proclaimed in shock, ‘We must make Arthur our king. It is God’s will that he be king.’” Satisfied, he slammed the book closed. “…Arthur became the true king of the nobles and common people, sworn to rule thenceforth with justice. Thus, the curtains drew open to the adventures and battles of Arthur—rex quondam, rexque futuras—the once and future king.’” As he finished, the boy placed the book at his feet. Then he glanced down with stony eyes and eyesight that far surpassed any normal man. Soon, he narrowed in on his target in the streets—inky in the night like the bottom of the sea… He smiled ever so slightly. “Well…guess it’s time to start…” Then—he jumped. From the roof of the skyscraper, he dived right into the darkness below. At first glance, it looked like he was committing suicide. But as he plummeted down, pulled by the force of gravity, there was no trace of sorrow or hopelessness that one might expect in the face of a person attempting to die. “This is where the dream continues—the battle to become his successor!” As he hurtled through the sky, his cacophonous laughter echoed and echoed through the night.