The Variant (3)

The duel between Ludwig and Ggobongi garnered quite a lot of attention. Just as I wrote in the post, it was a battle between a human capable of beating a gorilla and a gorilla trained in human martial arts.

Having faced both of them myself, I actually thought Ggobongi held the upper hand. My reasoning came down to two factors. First was Ggobongi's biggest vulnerability: his eyesight. With his new glasses on, that glaring flaw had been completely eliminated. Second was Ludwig's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mobility. He couldn't have fully adapted to his prosthetic foot yet, and Ggobongi was sharp enough to realize that and ruthlessly exploit it.

"Wonmo. Who do you think is gonna win?"

"Ggyu?"

Sitting a safe distance away, I scooped Wonmo into my lap. He tilted his head in confusion at my question, but the moment I scratched him under the chin, a radiant, beamish smile spread across his furry face. He truly was the shelter's undisputed mascot. I just wanted to sit here stroking him forever.

Swish!

In that brief moment, the match began. The first to move was Ggobongi. Even stripped of mana, his raw agility was shockingly swift. That fluid footwork had to be part of his martial arts; Ludwig had displayed a very similar movement pattern earlier.

Whoosh!

A palm the size of an adult human skull hurtled straight for Ludwig's face. Surprised by the unexpected burst of speed, Ludwig's eyes widened slightly. But that was all. Just an inch before the palm made contact, Ludwig tilted his head aside, flowing effortlessly into a seamless counterattack.

"Ooh!"

The second the counter came, Ggobongi sprang backward. He had already anticipated that a retaliatory strike would follow instantly. Ludwig pressed the advantage without missing a beat, darting in to slash across Ggobongi's torso. Because Ggobongi was a massive primate, his hit box was enormous, meaning even a basic attack could inflict severe damage.

CLANG!

Yet the ape handled it like a veteran. He deflected the incoming blade with a fist hard as forged iron. I knew his knuckles were dense, but I never expected them to ring out with the screech of cold steel.

If I took a clean hit from that back then, my head would've popped like a watermelon.

Ludwig's eyes narrowed, clearly recognizing that Ggobongi's raw power and martial finesse were far from ordinary. Ggobongi was equally on guard, adopting a completely different combat rhythm compared to when he fought me. Back then, half-blind and unable to target properly, he had relied on planting his stance, swinging wildly, and then resetting his posture for the next swing. While he still planted his feet for heavy strikes, he now maintained a steady flurry of rapid, jab-like prods to harass and probe Ludwig's guard.

It's impressive, but... looking at it now, I can see another weakness.

The Chief ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Gorilla had suffered from the exact same problem: short legs. Given a gorilla's anatomical build, their knuckles naturally rest on the ground. Whenever they stand upright on two legs, their center of gravity becomes inherently unstable.

THWACK!

Ludwig capitalized on that flaw instantly. Feigning a high slash with his sword, he hooked his leg behind Ggobongi's ankle—and he did it not with his flesh-and-blood leg, but with the solid Mithril prosthetic. It was practically the equivalent of taking a sledgehammer straight to the shin.

"OOWAAGHHH!"

Never mind balance; the sheer agony radiating up his leg made Ggobongi howl in misery. Even Ludwig seemed startled by the brutal impact, quickly leaping back with a sheepish look.

"Hurts!"

"@#%$#"

At Ggobongi's sullen grumbling, Ludwig held out an apologetic hand. Regardless, the spar resumed, and surprisingly, Ludwig found himself struggling quite a bit. Having learned directly under the Blood Demon, Ggobongi possessed an instinctive grasp of how to fight human opponents.

Well, if his former sparring partner was the Blood Demon himself, Ludwig must feel relatively manageable by comparison.

I didn't know the full extent of the Blood Demon's power, but I knew he was recorded as the most terrifying villain in Central Plains history—a monster who slaughtered people as casually as having breakfast. The Murim's greatest masters had banded together en masse just to bring down that single man, resulting in casualties so catastrophic that the continent's overall martial prowess plummeted for generations.

Neither of them can use mana right now. This is a pure contest of technique.

Watching them trade blows blow for blow, the caliber of the bout was breathtaking. I desperately wished I had a bowl of popcorn in my hands.

CLAAAANG!

Ggobongi's heavy fist collided squarely with Ludwig's blade. Whether it was the weight of the Mithril foot ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anchoring him or just his sheer physical conditioning, Ludwig stood his ground without yielding a single inch.

"#$%#"

Ludwig muttered something under his breath. I couldn't understand a single syllable, but Ggobongi, standing directly in front of him, sensed an impending crisis and leaped backward in alarm.

Fwhoosh!

"Whoa?"

The instant Ggobongi retreated, Ludwig closed the distance at blistering speed—far faster than when he sparred with me. To think a man stripped of mana and hobbled by a prosthetic foot could move like that. It made me wonder just how terrifying he must have been back in the outside world.

How does he even execute that technique?

That gliding forward charge was deeply enticing. Was that what martial arts novels called lightness skill, or was it something entirely different? In any martial discipline, footwork was paramount; both the Heavenly Demon and Sword Master had agreed on that point. Clasping Wonmo tightly to my chest, I watched the duel unfold in wide-eyed fascination.

Shing! Whoosh! Whirrr!

The sharp whistles of steel slicing through the air resonated clearly. That sound carried a singular meaning: Ludwig was overwhelmingly driving Ggobongi into a corner. Every time an attack came, Ggobongi tried to backpedal, but it yielded him no ground.

Damn. He's executing offensive strikes and movement techniques simultaneously?

Ludwig seemed to glide across the earth while swinging his sword in the very same breath. Come to think of it, I had mostly rooted myself to the spot whenever I struck. Ggobongi was the same; finding it difficult to backpedal, he resorted to circling laterally around Ludwig. Both combatants commanded not just linear advance and retreat, but full three-dimensional spatial control.

...How on earth did I manage to beat Ggobongi back then?

Was his vision impairment really that debilitating, or was it purely thanks to the frostbite? Watching him fight with such seasoned discipline made it hard to fathom how I had ever claimed victory. Still, one conclusion was indisputable.

Slide—

"...Lost."

"#%##"

Ludwig was undeniably superior in technique. The moment Ludwig unveiled even a fraction of his true capabilities, Ggobongi was left entirely helpless. Even with a look of bitter frustration, the ape bowed his head in clean surrender. Had he lost to me, he would have thrown a massive tantrum, insisting it was impossible; toward Ludwig, he showed genuine deference.

"#$%%#$%%"

"Do not know. Learn to speak."

Ludwig tried to say something, but Ggobongi gave a halfhearted grunt and trudged away. Ludwig then brought out his notepad and began scribbling with his pencil, presumably preparing feedback on Ggobongi's performance. I leaned in, curious to see what he had written.

"%$"

"Thank you."

Taking the slip of paper from him, I immediately pulled up the Gallery interface to run a translation. The rough gist read as follows:

Fitting for an instructor who had trained holy knights, the critique was lucid and easy to grasp. In short, the martial art was originally tailored for human physiology, meaning certain aspects inevitably clashed when mapped onto a gorilla's frame. In particular, the frail lower body left glaring vulnerabilities that could be exploited in an instant.

I wonder if the Chief Gorilla has the same problem?

I relayed the critique to Ggobongi word for word. Since he couldn't read yet, verbal communication was the only option, though deciphering the metaphorical nuances took a bit of extra effort.

"Understood. Will fix."

"You actually got all that?"

"Sizes do not match. That is meaning."

He really was an extraordinarily sharp ape. After posting the match results to the Gallery, the sparring session seemed to have reached its natural conclusion. Or so I thought.

"#%#%^"

That was, until Ludwig leveled his sword and pointed directly at Ppareumbo, who had been lazily watching from the sidelines. As I stared in disbelief, Ppareumbo began inching forward on all fours, as if he had already anticipated that Ludwig would call him out next.

Crawl... crawl...

His pace, however, was agonizingly slow. In the end, I simply picked him up and carried him over to save everyone's time.

Standing face-to-face, Ludwig and Ppareumbo squared off. Ludwig was probably wondering why on earth a tree sloth was living in the camp. While Wonmo made sense as the cute, cuddly mascot, Ppareumbo was an anomaly.

Or maybe he already sensed just how terrifying Ppareumbo really is?

This wasn't the time to ponder. There was no way I could keep a spectacle this rare all to myself.

Even the Heavenly Demon and Sword Master confessed their uncertainty. Meanwhile, Ludwig and Ppareumbo remained locked in a tense standoff, neither making an opening move as they measured the distance between them.

Who's going to step up fir—

SHZZZT!

Without warning, both silhouettes vanished simultaneously. Had I not trained my dynamic visual acuity so rigorously, my eyes wouldn't have tracked their movement in the slightest. The scene that materialized before me was breathtaking.

"......"

"......"

Both stood motionless, weapons poised at each other's fatal points. Ppareumbo's razor claw hovered directly over Ludwig's heart, while Ludwig's sword rested at Ppareumbo's temple. At a glance, it resembled a dead draw, but upon closer inspection, the victor was clear.

Ppareumbo's claw... is closer.

While Ludwig's blade hung a fraction of an inch away, Ppareumbo's talon grazed the fabric over Ludwig's chest. Because both combatants specialized in explosive speed, the contest had been decided in a single, instantaneous draw—resembling two gunslingers in a Western duel clearing leather at the exact same heartbeat.

"%$%^"

"......"

Simultaneously, both lowered their weapons. Ppareumbo wore his usual tranquil, unbothered expression, whereas Ludwig's face was rigid with tension. Reaching for his notepad again, Ludwig jotted down a brief memo and handed it to me.

"%^%^?"

"Pardon?"

"%^^@%"

Once again, I couldn't comprehend a word. Baffled, I uploaded a picture of the note to the Gallery, and from the translated replies, I finally understood what Ludwig had just asked me.

How on earth did you survive? With a monster like that around, how are you still breathing?

That was what Ludwig had been asking. If he had spoken Korean, my answer would have been simple enough.

I survived by offering endless food tributes, obviously.

No matter how you looked at it, I really was a lucky bastard.