Slave Game (2)

‘Battlefield of the Gods’ Year 5, January 1.

Previously the square would have been swarming with representatives, but that day not a single one could be seen.

Not only those who moved in small numbers, but even the groups led by Benialis and Violentia did not show up.

All the representatives had holed up where they stayed and did not come out.

The continent-dwellers who had been anxiously watching them only learned why they were hiding after the rumor spread.

The representatives’ training period was over!

They could die too.

A newly built inn near Exorsus Square. A group began to gather in this new inn, which had not yet opened.

They all had one thing in common: they were continent-dwellers, not representatives.

Aside from that, their professions, ages, and genders differed. There were even different races, so anyone could see they had come separately.

“I lost my daughter to a representative bastard.”

“My wife… was assaulted and then killed herself.”

“My son……”

“My mom and dad were taken away. They never came back.”

At just about ten years old, the words of a child who should be receiving parental love drew everyone’s gaze.

Then a couple who had lost a child came forward and held the child tightly in their arms.

“You don’t need to step up too, little one.”

“…I want to do it too. Mom and Dad suffered a lot.”

At the child’s calm, clear words, some stared at the ceiling to hold back tears, while others wept openly.

As they shed their sorrow in different ways, the expressions on their faces shared the same thought.

Are those people truly the messengers of the gods?

The revived grief poured fuel on the flames of grievance in their hearts, making them burn hotter.

“In three days.”

The innkeeper stood and spoke. The gathered people all nodded in unison.

“In about three days those vile bastards will surely slink out. That will be the day our inn opens. Let’s decide our roles.”

“Then I’ll be the one to cut throats at the end and pick fights.”

A burly, muscular man raised his hand and declared his role.

“No. You must never pick fights. Even if the representatives are cowed now, they are still strong. I’ll make you a ‘non-poison’ poison. If you take one, there’s no problem, but if you take two or more at once, it becomes a deadly toxin.”

“Then I’ll do the cooking.”

“I’ll do the serving.”

“Th-then I’ll guide the representatives to this inn.”

Even the child found a role.

Thus another storm was beginning, led not by representatives but by the continent-dwellers.

I watched Proy Rium sitting on the floor, coughing up blood. I still hadn’t decided his fate.

A moment ago, Martial Star’s attack had swooped through the air like a bird and struck with the force of hundreds of falling boulders.

So, even though it wasn’t time to reveal everything, I had to block it with full force.

He was gradually realizing the art of emptiness. He was definitely remarkable.

I think the path to getting stronger is a repeated cycle of emptying and filling.

If he’s now starting to empty, then perhaps I’m finishing a cycle of complete emptying and refilling.

Yet that was why he impressed me.

Even while emptying, he maintained a certain order.

Unlike when I first saw him, the ragged look he later wore seemed less like collapse and more like a struggle to break a limited shell.

After living with him for a few days, the Proy Rium I saw had become someone else.

Even now his attacks weren’t clean or stylized like Martial Star from his previous life. In every gesture—between steps, even when floating through the sky like a bird—there was order, an evenness to the momentum in his hands and feet.

Did he call me a genius?

Isn’t it like a true genius envying a slowpoke who claws his way back from death to improve?

A man smiled faintly while coughing blood. He had asked me to show him my best technique. At the same time, the narrow jealousy of a mediocre man toward a genius mingled in.

I clicked my tongue lightly and drew a spear from my inventory.

Deicide and Destruction couldn’t be drawn yet.

I drew the breaker and overlaid it with black energy.

The spear shaft trembled, stained darker.

The shaft lurched and vibrated like a fishing rod with a gigantic fish thrashing on the line.

‘Go!’

As the rough vibrations settled into a pattern, I thrust the spear.

Paang― Deeeeng―

An almost inaudible resonance tore through the air, like metal striking wood.

There are only one—no, two people who could intervene in such an attack.

“What are you doing now?”

I asked, looking at Bioss, who had stepped in front. Unintended thorns laced my words.

Bioss’s face didn’t look right. It wasn’t his usual mocking, grumbling expression.

“You’re my disciple.”

“…Yes.”

There was an unfamiliar weight in Bioss’s voice as he addressed me. I couldn’t help but answer.

“How about letting this guy live?”

“……”

“I know what you worry about. It’s the same worry old man Talis and I have. But no—that’s why you should keep this child by your side even more.”

Bioss spoke in an oddly puzzling way, like a man posing a koan.

Perhaps my confusion showed plainly; Bioss looked at me and smiled softly. It was the first sincere smile I’d seen from him.

“You brat! For now, shouldn’t you keep this one close and watch him? If you’re going to catch Manus, a covenant contract won’t do. Go get a god-word contract from your patron god or those Creator fangirls over there. That will be enough.”

“I understand what you mean, but the decision will be mine alone.”

From Bioss’s explanation I felt I could understand his intent.

But this place is not a sect from a martial story, nor a spirit territory from a fantasy novel.

This is the Battlefield of the Gods. A place where representatives can turn their backs at any time. That’s why someone like Bioss, who has received considerable favor, can speak such harsh truths.

And Bioss fully knew and recognized that. He nodded gladly and stepped back outside the training ground.

“I thought you were an uncertain existence. You’re almost the opposite of me.”

“Maybe.”

“Yes. I felt that in our fight just now too. I thought, this man is not someone who can be captured.”

“Is that so…? Hahaha. There’s nothing more pleasing than being recognized by a strong person I acknowledge.”

He nodded with genuine satisfaction and laughed loudly. Blood spattered from his mouth as he laughed, but Proy Rium didn’t care at all.

“But you know, I had this thought. Maybe there’s no need to capture you. I’ll only get stronger from now on. No need to watch you and try to catch you. I can just confine you.”

“Rea…? Huh?”

“I’ll confine you. I’m stronger than you, so forcibly.”

At my words Proy Rium’s face shifted in an instant. He looked up at me with an expression that was neither smile nor cry.

“Are you saying you’ll let me live?”

“Yes. That was my intention from the start.”

“What if you stab me in the back? No, even if not you, what if those members over there are harmed?”

He was serious and solemn, but I couldn’t help laughing at what he said.

“Ah? Puhahaha! Maybe not me, but those beautiful ladies over there won’t be easy either. One might be manageable, but if two gather, you’re dead. I’m serious. And I told you—I’ll restrain you with my strength. Four times a year, unless on a special expedition.”

“So, that means……”

“I’ll spar with you once every three months, a match where you can pour out everything. So get strong. And submit to me.”

Kwoong―

divine power sank heavily, sending dirt and dust billowing across the training ground.

When Arun used magic to clear the dust, an unbelievable scene unfolded before everyone’s eyes.

“Will you lead me to the end of nothing?”

Proy Rium knelt on one knee, his face crusted with blood, and looked up at me with eyes full of determination.

“No. As far as I know, even the Creator does not know that end. But I’ll always be at least one step ahead of you.”

“……”

The kneeling Proy Rium sprang to his feet. Had my words failed to satisfy him?

Proy Rium fidgeted and then faced me again, his clothes neatly arranged.

He bent at the waist.

But as he bowed, Proy Rium gradually disappeared from my sight.

His knees bent, his forehead touched the ground, elbows and the backs of his hands rested on the earth, and his palms faced the sky to show he held nothing.

“My name is Proy Rium, and I began martial arts in the Sericum school. After wandering without a home in search of the martial way, I reached this ‘Battlefield of the Gods.’ From now on, as long as my heart keeps beating, I will defend Kim Han’s back. It’s insignificant, but I put my heart into this.”

A small bowl had been placed before his bowed head; I couldn’t see when he set it down. It happened too fast to stop.

He was already pale from coughing blood. Then, summoning his remaining strength, he deeply cut his opposite hand and let blood pour, growing even paler.

“Tsk. I didn’t want that ceremonial display. I wouldn’t have doubted you with a single word. However….”

That’s the end of the scolding. It’s true. I have an unavoidable power called ‘confirmation,’ and because of it I decided to accept Proy Rium.

Drip—drip, drip, drip.

With practiced skill, I used my empty-space craft to mix the blood and split it in half. About a shot-glass’s worth of blood floated and flew toward Proy Rium.

“Ah……”

He watched the approaching orb of blood with a dazed fascination.

He confirmed it, opened his mouth, and drank. Proy Rium then sprang to his feet and staggered.

“Will you teach me this too?”

“No. Learn to steal it on your own.”

“Thank you.”

Those were the reasons I decided to accept Proy Rium—why I agreed and entered the spar before Bioss even spoke, and why I refrained from any lethal attack even during the spar.

It was his status window—checked only before the spar—that made the thought occur to me.

His affinity was, for some reason, the highest rank, and Proy Rium had learned ‘Training’ as a skill.

I don’t think he learned that in his previous life, but this time he had acquired ‘Training,’ a sub-version of Heavenly Strength.

Just as Merus followed me under the influence of Eyes That Oversee the Battlefield, won’t Proy Rium follow me under the influence of Training?

“Hmph! Perverted bastard!!”

Bioss’s grumbling voice drifted from afar.

Then Arun shouted ‘Party!’ and cheers erupted.

There was no need to stop it, nor should it be stopped, so I nodded. The cheers grew louder and the residence became lively.

No matter how tied up in a legion or how remarkable their results in a Monster Wave, how could they not be anxious?

I was the same in my previous life. I couldn’t leave the house for a week.

There was no trace of the pre-spar anxiety in Arun, who was excitedly shouting ‘Party!’; in Merus, laughing with an arm around his shoulder; in Mae Young-ryeong, treating Proy Rium; nor in Hazel, Lee Hyo-ju, Naruan, or any of the other members who had gathered.

‘Battlefield of the Gods’ Year 5, January 1.

We spent the first day of the new year in a festive party.

In Exorsus, only at Kim Han’s residence did laughter and cheers erupt.