King Kong and the Hybrid Clash (9)
A Mystery was the name for that unknowable power scattered here and there across the continent.
Some called it a demon's blessing. Others called it a blessing bestowed by gods, or by fairies.
Mystery is nature's blessing. It is nothing more than a portion of the infinite energy born in the cycle of nature, seeping into us.
That was the theory the academies were presently pushing hardest, and not without cause. Was the Mystery wrought by great nature not plain to see in Vulcan, the dormant volcano that harbored one, and in the North's Eternal Snow—cold, and yet not cold? People believed the great sage's hypothesis as if it were settled fact.
And yet that same great sage had also said this.
Mystery is not a power given for free. Rather, it is a power that demands a price cruel enough to be called merciless.
Mystery was not a power given for nothing.
One had only to look at those called the mystery-races. Barbarians were born with monstrous strength and a warrior's talent, yet their wits fell short. Beastkin were born brave and grew swiftly, yet they had no gift for living among others. Dwarves might be born with clever hands and long lives, and still the roots of their hair failed them in their teens. Whether one was born to a Mystery or came to obtain one, every Mystery exacted a price. There was no power given without a cost.
And so—
"Guhhk—!"
A Mystery that let a man pilot a colossal monster such as the Mother Worm demanded a price past enormous. A price no mere human could dare to pay.
Blood welled and burst from No. 4's mouth. Bloody tears poured down his face. He looked, quite literally, like a ghost strangled on a grievance—no different from a man of blood who had already given up on living.
But what else could he do?
Death! Death to our enemies...!
No. 4 no longer had a mind left that could hold on to reason. All that remained was killing intent toward the enemy.
Twelve years! Twelve whole years I endured in these filthy Tunnels, swallowing my pride to humor that disgusting priest—and this is the time I survived...! You ruined all of it!
For fully twelve years he had lived in these damned Tunnels, solely to devote himself to the organization—no, to the Black Moon—with the single resolve to fulfill their long-cherished wish.
A wish no mere knight has any right to ruin!
No. 4 ground his teeth.
"Fourth Apostle. You need to fix that hot-blooded temperament. Correct only that, and you might already be fit to eye the Second Apostle's seat."
It was something he—No. 4, the man who bore the name of Fourth Apostle—had often heard from the First Apostle. The leader who in practice commanded the Black Moon, and the man nearest of all to the Great Apostle. Advice from such a First Apostle was not a thing even a fellow apostle could easily let pass.
"I'll make the effort."
"Effort alone won't do it. You were born hot-blooded, and you've had an ogre's tendon grafted into you, so the monster is influencing you whether you know it or not. Changing that temperament of yours is probably impossible."
"...Are you mocking me?"
"Not mocking you. Making you look at the facts. And while I'm at it, I'll give you this advice."
"Advice?"
"Yes. If you ever see someone whose skill rightly stands above yours, run. No exceptions. Meet a skilled opponent and that temperament of yours will send you charging in like a moth to a flame. I worry."
"Ah, even so—running away? There are things one may say and things one may not..."
"Remember. We have a long-cherished wish we must fulfill, even if we bend our pride to do it."
"!!"
"Right now, inside the Blood Cross Army, the Black Moon's standing is low beyond measure. Most likely because we foolishly botched our work in the past. There are plenty who already find it displeasing that we so much as use the name of Apostle. So, Fourth Apostle—no. Drak."
"......"
"If the wish is to be fulfilled, we need every apostle we can keep. Meet a dangerous enemy, and you run. Save as many of your subordinates as you can. We still need a great deal of manpower."
"...Understood."
The First Apostle almost never called them by their true names. At those words, Drak had nodded and said he understood. He would keep as many of their people alive as he could—and he himself would live.
But now.
First Apostle! I'm sorry. I can't keep your word!!
Drak ground his teeth, forced to admit the First Apostle had seen his temperament with perfect accuracy. Yes. He was hot-blooded—the kind who could not calm until the fury banked in his chest was spent.
I'll kill him! I'll kill him, no matter how!
Because of one man, the foundation he had raised over twelve years was crumbling, and the soldiers he had gone to such trouble to train were dying. Some were already being buried in the Tunnels, dying even as he looked. A man who could see that and not grow angry might deserve to be called a saint. Unfortunately, Drak was no saint.
Which was why he had gone and loosed even a monster's reins.
Drak had driven a single needle into the crown of the Mother Worm's head. It was a huge needle, roughly the height of a man, and that needle was precisely the organization's hidden hand for controlling the Mother Worm: the Beast-Control Mystery.
A Mystery that took the user's lifespan as its price. At the same time, the monster under that Mystery grew larger and stronger the more sacrifices it ate, and there was no telling how many trials and errors had been spent to reach this day. Their original plan had been to raise the Mother Worm to twice its present size, bring the Tunnels down, and go further still—to invade the kingdom itself. Had they hurled not only the Mother Worm but prisoners armed for war into the charge, the kingdom would have taken a massive blow. It was only one piece of a plan into which they had poured more than twelve years, and yet a single slippery troublemaker had already ruined roughly half of it.
And so—
The knight who ruined our wish—him, at least, I will kill without fail!!
Even if he had to offer his entire lifespan to the monster, Drak, steeped in killing intent, charged toward death together with the Mother Worm, as if he no longer cared whether the Tunnels collapsed.
Fwoooosh!!
…He certainly had been.
SPLUUUURCH!!!
!!!?
"??"
Drak, the monster-rider mad with rage, forgot even his rage in that instant and went blank—because the Mother Worm's neck had been pierced dead center.
"What do you call that technique?"
"Piercing-One Spear."
"Oh-ho. A technique I'd like to take, once."
"I could let you experience it right now."
"Haha. Then I won't decline."
The spear the hateful knight had kicked drove clean through the Mother Worm's neck. The body lost its head and halted its charge where it stood. Drak could not follow what had just happened, but he could not afford to stay dazed.
Whssh!
"So long as you don't die, that'll do."
"!!!?"
A huge man, with no telling when he had closed the distance. He had already seized Drak by the shoulder, and Drak swung his blade on instinct to tear the man off.
Crack!
"Not a bad level of skill. But you trusted your talent and neglected your training. A shame."
The man—Maximus—lightly struck the blade aside, shattered the sword like glass, and crushed Drak's shoulder besides.
"Gyaaah!!"
In raw physical ability, Drak had been confident he would yield to no one. Unfortunately, his opponent was not a man who merely possessed a reasonably strong power, as Drak did.
"This is how you use strength."
KRA-BOOOOM!!
He was a man with the power to shake a mountain itself.
Might enough to overturn a mountain, and a spirit to cover the age.
Maximus's strength held, quite literally, the might to overturn a mountain. It was nothing a hybrid of barbarian and ogre—creatures that merely clung to a mountain and lived—could withstand. At a single blow Drak's limbs were ground to powder, and he fainted where he stood. For a man who bore the name of Apostle, it was an exceedingly empty end.
"There. The nuisance is gone. Shall we continue the fight?"
"...If you'd grabbed him and run, I don't think I could have chased you."
"Haha. Where in the world is there a knight who would pull a cowardly trick like that?"
"Aren't they all over the place?"
For having just finished one colossal monster and one skilled fighter, Lee Han and Maximus were remarkably unmoved. They had only the calm of men who had swatted a mosquito whining at their ears—as if, now, they might fight with nothing left in the way.
And watching the two of them—
"I-I mean, there's no reason to keep fighting now, is there?"
Derek gave voice to a perfectly obvious doubt, yet he could not bring himself to press the point upon them. Step between those two, and he had a bad feeling about the ugly shape he would be in. A rogue class, making a wise choice.
Was it chance? Or was it fate?
The skill Status Appraisal is available for use.
Like a revelation from heaven, the alarm sounded as the skill's cooldown ended, and Derek instinctively used Status Appraisal.
Ding.
Status Appraisal
Name:Maximus Iron de Lionel
Race:[??]
Northern Great Warrior (Lv.8)
A trait obtained only by one who has won a thousand life-and-death duels. One grows through struggle, and upon meeting the strong an additional correction is applied to physical ability. When facing a cowardly villain who fights without honor, or a warrior worthy of recognition, [Berserker] activates and physical ability doubles.
Strength to Overturn Mountains (Lv.8)
A trait granted when one has moved a mountain alone. Quite literally, it is obtained by overturning a mountain by oneself, and upon the earth one gains stamina and strength that do not tire. Overuse, however, risks the collapse of the body.
Heavenly Martial Body (Lv.7)
An innate trait possessed from birth by only a vanishing few, granted at a chance of one in ten million. Strength, stamina, and recovery that transcend one's race are given, and one possesses the most perfect and ideal body among all human physiques in existence. Permanent physical enhancement is guaranteed.
Tactician (Lv.6)
A trait granted to a commander who has conducted excellent command across a thousand battlefields. One may possess a beast's heart and a sage's judgment. An additional correction applies when in combat.
Monster Hunter (Lv.5)
A trait granted to one who has hunted ten thousand monsters alone. Against monsters one holds the advantage, and strength and recovery are amplified.
Scion of the Black King (Lv.3)
A trait possessed by the descendants of the Black King, guardian deity and land-god of the North. They live long and without illness, yet their inborn belligerence sets them at odds with their own blood. If the level of one who bears the trait is extremely low, however, it is possible to get along amicably with every kin of the line.
Derek was aghast.
He had already known, through his detection skill, that the man was Hero Class at Lv.8. Seeing the contents of those traits, he lost the power of speech. The race line coming up a question mark again was startling enough on its own, but he could not even spare a thought for that now.
What were these? Traits so splendid they had passed splendid, grand and frankly broken beyond belief.
N-Northern Great Warrior? That's a trait only the strongest champion of the North can possess! The one with an acquisition rate of 0.000003 percent...!
It was not merely the trait Great Warrior. A modifier like North meant a champion who represented an entire country—a top-tier trait, in practice, that only those who had fought with their lives laid down could obtain. And that trait was level 8.
What astonished him even more were Strength to Overturn Mountains and Heavenly Martial Body.
There are traits I've never even heard of...
The condition for Strength to Overturn Mountains was extreme enough. That someone had actually met it made his head spin, and the benefit that came of it was so insane the word rose on its own. He already received a permanent correction to every stat through Heavenly Martial Body, and on top of that, still more corrections. Nor was there only one trait tied to physical ability. Of six traits, five were abilities concerned entirely with the body.
Was this man Xiang Yu born into a fantasy—the conqueror who tore mountains from the earth—no, Heracles?
First I've heard of them, but I get it. Those traits are top-grade. No question.
A strength correction? What is this, bolting a jet engine onto a truck?
The amplification numbers aren't displayed properly, but the average amplification a top-grade trait gives is 45 percent. And if Northern Great Warrior is a base amplification of 50 percent, and—excluding Scion of the Black King—the other two traits are 35 percent each...
A combined correction of 210 percent.
The man truly had strapped a jet engine onto a body that was already absurd. Dizzying. Where had a monster like that even come from? An irregular character, through and through. If that had appeared as a boss, it would be no different from being told not to clear it. Speak plainly, and it had to be a bug character born of a system error.
Feeling that dizziness, Derek looked at Lee Han with worry. No matter how strong the instructor was, if he fought a bug monster like that, he would not come out unscathed—
KRA-BOOOOM!!
"—."
With a thin, tearing shriek, the whole area became a vacuum for an instant. The moment the two knights collided, an enormous concentric ring covered a radius of dozens of meters and warped the air. Derek could not endure the shockwave. He was blown straight into a wall.
"...Khk."
Blood ran from his nose, burst by the impact, but Derek did not even think of wiping it away. He only wore a dumbfounded look, and toward Lee Han—
"...Status."
—he activated the skill, and he saw. Quite literally.
Status Appraisal
Name:Ihan Turtle
Race:[??]
Adamant Monk (Lv.8)
A trait only a monk who has shattered his own body and survived an ordeal in which he staked his life may possess. Physical ability rises. The more one regards women as stone, the more lust is converted into durability.
+ Against those of evil alignment, one holds the advantage. When a person one has marked as an enemy stands before one's eyes, physical endurance rises greatly.
Strong Regeneration (Lv.6)
A trait only one who has succeeded in refining the body may possess. Regeneration increases throughout the whole body—skin, bone, muscle, nerves, and organs—and the more one repeats painful physical training, the tougher the body becomes.
+ Even under a great impact, a portion of the force is shed away.
NEW — Hypersense (Lv.7)
A trait in which a beast's wild instinct and a veteran's intuition have fused. A sensory ability close to Mystery, manifesting miraculous perception. In combat one's movements grow more precise, and one instinctively sees through an opponent's weaknesses.
NEW — Extreme Poison Resistance (Lv.5)
A trait in which one's original poison resistance evolved upon meeting the Ghost King's poison. It grants resistance to poison, and more: poison can be absorbed as if it were food, and even stone, iron, and the like can be digested.
Founder's Aptitude (Lv.8)
A trait granted to one who gives birth to a new martial study and spreads it. Of great help in creating an independent martial art. It supplements a lack of technical talent.
+ The precision of technique is strengthened. In combat, one's stats are amplified.
Spell Butcher (Lv.6)
A trait granted to one who has completed the quest of being a mage's natural enemy. It confers mana resistance, and instills psychological fear in mages.
+ According to one's mage-loathing value, the trait [Berserker] activates.
NEW — Indomitable (Lv.5)
A trait granted to a warrior who does not give up, and keeps fighting, even against a foe overwhelmingly stronger than himself. Physical stats are strengthened and amplified. Even if one suffers a wound that ought to end in death, so long as fighting spirit does not break, one can fight on without dying. Can link with Berserker.
......Stats that made one wonder whether that was a person at all.
"........."
Derek was so shocked he thought he might faint.
He knew that Lee Han, the Ghost King's elixir included, had passed through a crisis that came with death in the ordeal of crossing into Lv.8. He had expected additional traits to appear. But this—
I-insane! Indomitable? The one that only appears when all three traits—The Enduring One, Madman, and One Who Enjoys Pain—have been born...!?
Originally they were traits where surviving the elixir's agony and gaining even one would have been fortune enough. Did this mean all three had been generated on the very day he drank it? That alone was enough to stun him, and when Derek confirmed Hypersense and Extreme Poison Resistance as well, he nearly blacked out. Every one of them was a trait generated at a probability comparable to Northern Great Warrior. Hair-raising traits.
And as he confirmed what those Lv.8 traits could do, Derek realized how foolish his worry had been.
Whoa...... This is on the level of the Ghost King having put on a person's skin.
A realization came to him, just in case. Perhaps their race names showed as question marks because they could no longer be defined as human.
And so.
...I'm not going to die, am I?
Derek, who felt for no good reason like a shrimp caught in a fight between whales, hurriedly looked for a place to run. Stay between those things—he could not tell whether they were King Kong or Godzilla—and he would not even leave bone fragments behind.