The Wall (1)
I often think about it, but it seems like every time I meet someone new, we end up fighting. First it was Elvin, then Kara and Hector, and now even Lize. Every new person means a fight. The only small comfort is that I've never clashed with Luna or Lord.
Ellie goes without saying—she's family from the start.
"President, may I ask how strong Saint Lize is?"
It was finally the weekend. We were on our way to a new spot for what wasn't quite a sparring match but close enough. Luna whispered quietly to Lord, who was leading the way, while glancing back at me and Lize.
She thought we couldn't hear, but it all came through clear. Lize might not have caught it, but my sharpened senses made whispers pointless.
"Strong... well, she's definitely stronger than me, but it's hard to put into words. You saw her dent space with a single punch last time."
"That's why I can't wrap my head around it. Manipulating space feels impossibly distant to me... I haven't even grasped the principles of the heavens yet."
"Hm."
Lord glanced back at Luna's explanation. I was sandwiched between Lize and Kara, listening to their chatter—mostly about Tatar, since Kara was a devotee of Gulrak.
For the record, Ellie stayed behind. Her combat power hovered near zero, so getting caught in the crossfire could seriously hurt her. The rest of us could at least protect ourselves, so we came along. But once the "sparring" started, they'd all clear out.
"For you right now, she's the kind of strength that feels more distant the stronger you get. So keep pushing yourself."
"...But when will you teach me actual techniques? Elvin basically just bought me books and called it a day."
"Wouldn't it be better to build a solid foundation first, step by step?"
"......"
Luna had no comeback to the blunt truth, her face sheepish. Lord was right—master the basics solidly before techniques. Still, Luna's fundamentals improved daily, like a sponge soaking it all up. My Wild Instinct auto-adjusted everything, but she climbed purely on talent. Kara, watching from the side, even let out a disbelieving chuckle.
"Saint, have you met my father?"
"Once, when I was very young. I crossed the Tatar Desert and owed a debt to Hector's tribe. He must've been mid-teens, already over 180cm tall."
"It was true? Dad said I grew too fast as a kid, but not to worry since he did too."
"How tall are you, Kara?"
"Just under 180."
Being stuck between these two chatterboxes was ear-bleeding. Kara was Tatar—talkative by nature—and Lize answered every question earnestly. I wanted to slip back or sidestep, but Kara always grabbed me: "Where you going?"
"Sivar's fascinating every time I see him. Not swinging violence around easily, even after that brutal environment."
The topic shifted to me naturally. I perked up. Kara stared, then smirked and pinched my cheek.
"I wondered too. Guess the President and Ellie taught you well."
"That's part of it, but Lord said you handled power carefully from the start. That's intriguing. You're used to violence and killing too, Kara. Oh—if that offends, sorry."
"No need. It's fact. Tatar's like that. I get what you mean."
Lize's point boiled down to this: Kara, raised in near-wild conditions, could restrain herself as a 'civilized' person. Me? Not so much. Even with education, they'd see me as a wild brute numb to violence. Humans build civilizations, but beastly traits linger. Lize seemed to think the same.
"Ellie says you see us as kin... I dunno. Just get close, and it'll click."
"I see. Good to hear. Brother Sivar handles violence well."
"Saint, you don't like violence much?"
Kara's question had edge. Tatar was built on violence, still aggressive, labeled barbaric. Improving slowly, but it lingered in her heart.
"I don't care either way. Violence is a tool, like hands and feet to humanity."
"A tool? Fresh take."
"Violence is pure evil—no denying it. But without it, humanity never builds civilization. Not just Tatar—all nations."
Kara's face twisted oddly. From Lize, the celebrated saint, no sugarcoating—just raw realism. Eye-opening.
"History's over half war. Fact. To survive, life preys on other life. Violence tags along naturally."
"......"
"I've seen it countless times. The haves blind to the have-nots. The starving striking the fed to fill empty bellies. What would you do, Kara?"
"That's......"
Kara faltered at the thorny hypothetical. She knew violence was bad, unavoidable sometimes—but uncomfortable.
"No need to answer. Extreme example. I use violence as a tool to enforce my will."
"...So it's okay sometimes, not others?"
"Depends. But with demons and monsters? No hesitation. They steal life's light itself."
Lines fit for a vampire-hunting priest. Perfect for Chaos's theme. Kara looked baffled by Lize's unpredictable mindset—more barbaric than barbarians, yet anchored in firm belief and philosophy. Violence not good or bad, just a tool. Novel.
"So build your strength steadily, Kara. Human nature doesn't vanish. Peace now, but war could come anytime."
"Pragmatic when it counts."
"Ideals need matching knowledge and power."
Lize was unpredictable. I half-grasped, half-didn't. That's why she hard-countered demons—wielding violence cleanly per her convictions. As a saint, she sweet-talked most issues. Issue was, saint mode or Kwonseong mode, it was backed by force. Respect comes from strength.
"This should do. Clearing made it perfect."
Chit-chat brought us there unnoticed. The flat expanse mimicked a clearing.
"Looks artificially smashed."
"Hector and Sivar fought here."
"Ah."
Hector's bout wrecked the surroundings. Noise and tremors reached the academy. They investigated, but Lord covered: chased off a strong monster himself. Coming from the Sword Saint, everyone bought it. His legend shone.
Perung!
Arrival triggered Lize's Kwonseong shift. Those boulder-like muscles never normalized. Game made it comedic; reality? Jarring.
"Ready to start?"
"......"
Here we go. I stood center-field with Lize. Others watched from afar. Lord would block stray debris or blasts.
Honestly, Lize could solo me. But mishaps needed his oversight.
'Could splash-damage the academy with space rifts.'
Splash damage, Whitebeard-style. Power too raw for control. Why Lize restrained violence—one tap meant severe injury.
"As before, no direct hits from me. Goal: trigger Berserk conditions, death's edge."
What method? Hit or talk? Hypnosis with 'physics'? Murky.
"But to reach that, you need intense emotion. Heart-pounding exertion."
"......"
"So hit me freely. I'll just take it."
What? I gawked. Hands on hips, chest out—not bountiful, but massive pecs.
I rolled my eyes, thinking I misheard, then spoke quietly.
"......For real?"
"Yes."
"Real. Punch?"
"Punch away. I'm fine."
Lize's body out-toughed mine. Game: most attacks bounced off demons. But I wasn't demon; my raw power was huge. Confidence surged.
"If fists feel wrong, use a weapon. Heard Hector lent you one?"
"......"
Intentional prod or genuine? Either way, it stung. I approached slowly, nose-to-nose. Gauged her, reared back.
"Punch?"
"Ask all you want—same answer. Punch hard."
Fine then. I slammed my no-mana, pure-physique fist into her abs.
Kang!
Dead-center. But the sound—clear, metallic clang, like steel on steel.
Throb!
"......"
My hand throbbed. Any less tough, it'd be worse.
"Hit harder if you want."
Lize? Fine. Expression said zero pain.
Stubborn now, I swung full-force.
Kang!!
"Ugh!"
Another crystalline ring. My groan followed. Worse pain—like early wild days punching trees.
I clutched my throbbing fist, stepped back, looked up slowly.
"Why......?"
Incomprehensible. Hector winced at my full hits. Lize? Ironclad abs? Beyond tough—attacks just slid off. Did damage even land?
"I'm okay."
Lize beamed sweetly.
"Hit more. Doesn't matter."
She was slowly teaching me what a true wall felt like.