Get Me Out of This Hell
—Waaaaaah!!
I realized belatedly that the waiting room I had been in was a semi-basement.
I followed the attendant along a long passageway, walking the endless stone corridor. Far ahead, a flood of bright light poured into view. As the light drew nearer, the cheers swelled into a thunderous roar. Passing through the mouth of light and climbing the stairs, I stepped up onto the first floor.
A vast arena filled with a white blaze of light revealed itself. On the enormous open ground rose a massive stone tower, and atop that tower a square sparring stage had been built. Countless people looked down upon the stage.
“I never imagined there would be this many people.”
I muttered, staring blankly at the spectators packing every side of the stage. Even from outside, the temple’s grandeur had astonished me, yet the interior—supposedly only a single floor—was even more immense. It was not simply a first floor; the ground had been dug deeper still and the ceiling raised high. The ceiling was so remote it was hard to make out. At a glance it was almost impossible to believe there were second and third stories above this.
I’ve been wondering for a while, but I can guarantee this is not a building of this era.
“What?”
Mumyeong’s voice.
At the very least, it looks like a structure from the White Lotus Demon Sect era… a construction from the lost age. The Jonghae Ogi branch must have recovered it after it was abandoned underground and put it back into use. There is no way a mere black-path force built something like this and is using it. See the two pillars inside the whitewashed building?
“Ah…”
I narrowed my eyes. Even beneath the pure white radiance, characters familiar to my eyes showed through. Covered by whitewash, they were the sort of scrawls others would pass without a second thought. But I could never simply walk past them. I had seen writing just like this before—first in Yuk-bi-dong, and then among many other remnants of the White Lotus Demon Sect: those unique, hair-raising characters, as if scratched into the wall with fingernails, unreadable.
“Can you read them?”
Too damaged. The distance is too great as well. But the writing on the pillar right by your head—I can read that.
“What does it say?”
Mumyeong interpreted the clear line of text on the pillar directly above me.
‘Get me out of this hell,’ it says.
I could find no words.
“Just what kind of group was the White Lotus Demon Sect?”
A group that stopped at nothing, I suppose.
Mumyeong answered without a shred of emotion. I frowned.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Stopping at nothing also means they were powerful beyond any comparison to the Blood Cult or the Demon Cult. Which is why they were the mother of both the Blood Cult and the Demon Cult as well.
“….”
This place may be an arena now, but it was never meant for pure uses like sparring as it is today. I can feel it.
I felt Mumyeong’s gaze sweep the crowd through my shadow, vision flickering crimson.
The thick scent of blood soaked into every corner of this stone floor. Come to think of it, I have always been suspicious whenever I heard the expression dilettantes so often use when describing great quantities of blood—‘the fishy smell of blood.’ Who was the first to think of that phrase, I wonder.
“….”
Oddly, I thought Mumyeong’s voice had taken on a spark of life.
Because the smell of blood overflowing like a river is unmistakably closer to the slimy, raw stench of fresh meat—a subtle odor only those who have actually experienced it can know. Later writers may simply have imitated it, but the one who first used that expression… what experience did he undergo at the beginning to choose such words?
“You’re unusually talkative. Some scrap of memory coming back because this place is a White Lotus Demon Sect heritage of sorts?”
…Hmph.
Mumyeong let the words trail away.
I climbed the stairs. Two figures were already waiting for me on the sparring stage. One would be the host; the other, my opponent. The tall woman standing in the center, dressed in blue jade-colored robes, pointed at me and shouted something, but none of it reached my ears. I looked only at the man beside her.
The man was completely wrapped in fluttering blue robes. From within those blue robes he looked only at me as well. Through the gaps, his body was covered entirely in bandages.
—…! …! …!!!!
Amid the enormous noise, a silence stretched on.
—Thud.
—Thud, thud, thud.
Step by step I walked to the very center of the lofty sparring stage. With the host between us, I came face to face with the man.
“We’ve kept you waiting long enough. We now begin the first match of the Dark Arena Tournament preliminaries.”
The host’s clear voice rang out and echoed through the cavernous space.
“Each participant, please put on the black and white shoulder sashes.”
A maid in pure white clothes came up through the white light and walked to the center of the stage. Upon a neat cloth lay a white sash and a black one. She offered me the white. Then she offered the black to the man opposite me.
—Snap.
I fastened it on my right shoulder. My opponent did the same.
“Introducing the first pair of opponents for the Dark Arena Tournament preliminaries. First, the Black Armband!”
The female host pointed to the man in blue robes wearing the Black Armband.
“We’re starting strong—this is a participant truly fitting for our Dark Arena Tournament! Once a promising talent of the Jongnam Sect, now an expelled prodigy! A new notoriety sweeping the underworld—Shadow Twin Swords, Gwak Ido!”
—Shing!
Gwak Ido flung open his blue robes and drew a longsword the color of milk. In his other hand he gripped a shortsword of the same hue.
“It’ll be different from last time. You son of a bitch.”
Gwak Ido muttered at me as if he meant to chew me up. His white teeth shone like a wolf’s, as though they were about to tear into my throat at any moment. The host broke into a cold sweat at that killing intent and continued.
“His specialty is dual-wielding a longsword and shortsword—a dual-sword method quite rare even among the Jongnam Sect’s sword arts.”
Leaving the host’s voice behind me, I slowly examined Gwak Ido from head to toe.
“Indeed. Completely different from back then.”
The aura pouring off Gwak Ido was utterly unlike the one I had faced when we first met at the Emei Sect. In that earlier duel I had had little time to prepare, and compared to the promising talent of a major sect I had been sorely lacking. The plan Mumyeong and I devised was to smash him like a tidal wave with everything we had in the opening moment while he was still careless, and it had worked perfectly. Gwak Ido’s limbs were broken and his jaw dislocated before he could even draw a breath; he had been left rolling on the floor. Because of that, even now I still did not truly know Gwak Ido’s real skill. Though the fight had been frontal, it had been as good as an ambush, so even after defeating the Jongnam Sect’s talent I had spent a long while floundering, unsure where my own true ability stood in the jianghu. That memory was still vivid.
This is troublesome.
I frowned. Throughout my training with Asura, what he had stressed over and over was precisely the control of emotion. Asura had told me especially that no martial art ultimately means anything in the face of emotion. Rage unleashed without restraint is less terrifying than rage held as sharp as a blade; that, he taught, is more frightening than any technique. Gwak Ido’s stance with both swords drawn was exactly that of a man facing the enemy of his parents. The killing intent flooding his entire body was so thick it was almost visible. Though he had not intended it, this was clearly the state Asura had spoken of: the strongest motivation given through rage in combat, hesitation erased, and at the same time an ice-like composure forged by past grinding of teeth. Not a shred of carelessness remained. In other words, the most troublesome state of mind to face.
…I can’t fight him like this.
I narrowed my eyes.
I need to shake the frame somehow. Before the fight starts, is there any gap I can dig into…?
The female host’s voice continued.
“Then we will proceed with the introduction of the White Armband participant! Ah, and just before that—!”
She raised her voice toward the spectator seats.
“Right now, Blue Boys are going around the stands in real time carrying boxes divided into black and white! Write the amount you wish to wager and place it in the side you want to bet on!”
The underworld nature of the tournament shows strongly in such material things.
Mumyeong offered a brief remark. I agreed. When I first stepped onto the stage I had wondered why they had given white and black armbands to me and my opponent. That question was resolved in that moment.
“Those betting on the Black Armband, put it here!”
“White Armband has high odds! If you’re aiming for a jackpot, White Armband!”
In the distant stands, tiny Blue Boys in blue clothes ran energetically about, each carrying rectangular white and black boxes as large as their own torsos.
“Now then, introducing the White Armband! Speaking of this person here—!”
The woman’s voice pointed to me, wearing the White Armband. Caught in thought by the sudden introduction, I stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure what to do.
“Biryu! …You should at least salute! …Make yourself sellable …don’t just stand there…!! …In the name of the sect …you went out… honor…!!! Want to die…!”
“….”
The familiar woman’s voice booming from somewhere in the stands had to be my imagination. I belatedly formed a fist-and-palm salute and bowed my head. The host held the paper listing my details and read it fluently.
“Amazingly, the one wearing the White Armband is of assassin origin—rare even in our Dark Arena Tournament—and belongs to the Blood Death Sect. A fourth-grade field investigation team member of the Blood Death Sect. Specialty and preferred weapon is… huh?”
The host flipped the paper front and back in confusion.
“…It’s blank, but this being the preliminaries, there must have been some mistake on our side—”
“It’s probably blank for real.”
The man opposite glared at me as he spoke.
“Because he’s a crazy bastard whose specialty as an assassin is bare-handed combat. Right? Biryu. You.”
He clenched his bandage-wrapped arm.
“You turned me into a cripple with your bare hands in an instant. Crushing and breaking every limb…!”
“Ah… so the two of you already know each other privately…?”
The host asked back, flustered.
“Of course I know him.”
Gwak Ido’s eyes bulged.
“I’ve dreamed of crushing that bastard’s skull even in my sleep. That bastard ruined everything.”
He pointed a finger at me.
“All our tracks were exposed and my senior brother and I were expelled. After that bastard smashed my face, not even a proper lady—not even the courtesans—would come near me anymore. Because of you! Everything was ruined.”
“Yeah. That was my mistake.”
I answered nonchalantly.
“What? Apologizing now—!”
I spoke calmly to Gwak Ido.
“I should have smashed your mouth completely. Instead I only pulled out your jaw.”
“What?!!”
“Ah, this time I’ll smash your balls as well and destroy the very root of your worries. This is all the seed of misfortune from me only half-assing the job, isn’t it? Really…”
I gritted my teeth and let fire blaze in my eyes.
“Who told you to hit on and harass a woman who was just standing there, you bastard. Don’t worry. From what I saw—”
—Thud.
I pointed toward the waiting room.
“In that waiting room there’s some Three Evils Young Master or whatever—a bastard who looks like he’ll follow a fate similar to yours soon enough. You won’t be lonely on the road. I’ve tried staying up all night in bed with my fingers laced, staring at the ceiling, and I’ve heard the word ‘eunuch’ a few times myself, and it’s not that bad. So go on ahead and pave the way a little. Got it, you face-smashed eunuch bastard?”
“…You… you…!!”
The bandages wrapping Gwak Ido’s grip burst. The hilts of the twin swords in his hands were clenched so hard they seemed about to shatter.
—Creak… creak!
The hair sticking out between his blue robes and bandages began to tremble with surging internal energy.
“You son of a bitch!!!”
With a roar, Gwak Ido drew his swords and charged.