The Lion King of the Valley (3)
The Lion King. Surprisingly, it had begun as a term of derision.
A mocking nickname given to the man who played at being king in a barren, empty valley. Yet he paid it no mind. In fact, he rather liked it. After all, it meant they acknowledged him as their king.
But the scorn once carried in that name had long since twisted into pure terror. At least, that was how it felt to the soldiers of Nemea Fortress.
How had it come to this? No answer came, no matter how many times he asked himself. It felt like wandering an endless labyrinth. Yet self-reflection brought no clarity. All he could do was open his eyes each day and relive the same horrific hell.
The Lion King stared at his hands. He had scrubbed them clean, yet they still looked stained with blood. Perhaps it would have been easier if he truly enjoyed blood like a real lion. But he simply clenched his fist tightly, steeling himself. His anguish was nothing but a luxury. Those who had lost their lives to him could not even afford that much.
"May you go to a better place."
In a hut built with tree trunks for pillars and covered in animal hides for walls and ceiling, he sat alone in silence. Inside were only a few scraps of food and the faint smoke of burning incense. Unless he was launching a solo assault on the fortress, he always sat here alone, doing nothing. He had even given up eating and drinking entirely.
It was only natural that his tribespeople worried for their chieftain.
"Shouldn't you at least have something to eat?"
The woman watching the Lion King's slumped back spoke cautiously. Lion ears perched atop her head, and her tail hung limply to the ground, mirroring her mood.
"Is that you, Zarin? What is it?"
"...Have you finished your prayers?"
"Yes. So please keep it brief."
There was no strength left in the Lion King's voice. Zarin felt her heart shatter at the sound, but she could not show weakness before her chieftain. She forced a smile.
"A new hero has arrived at Nemea Fortress."
"So they're stacking up more sacrificial lambs."
"It seems that way."
"Enough. Pay it no mind."
Countless heroes had come here over the years. Most had lost their lives to the Lion King. What drove them? Revenge? Or simple greed for gold?
"My prayer time will only grow longer."
Guilt bled through the Lion King's words. Zarin could not bear to watch any longer. She fled the hut. She, too, had no answer. What sin had they committed to deserve such suffering? Oh God, if You exist, please give us an answer.
But their god was merciless. No answer came. Only the wind blew from far away.
Zarin let out a heavy sigh. For the sake of their already tormented chieftain, she at least had to do everything she could for the tribe.
"?!"
The valley wind had been mercilessly silent, but today was different. The voice thundered with enough force to fill the entire valley. It was closer to a roar than a shout.
"What was that sound?"
"I-I don't know."
"Then let's head toward where it came from."
"Yes! Understood!"
The voice carried such power that even the Lion King, deep in prayer inside his hut, burst outside. Having instinctively sensed the threat, his entire demeanor had changed completely from moments before. He was always like this—acting as though nothing could touch him in front of his people, even as his heart burned to ash.
Zarin's expression nearly crumbled, but she clenched her teeth and held firm. Public duty and private feelings had to be kept separate. For now, they needed to locate the source of that voice.
The Lion King and Zarin rushed to the wooden barricade and looked out.
"Ha...?"
Standing atop the barren earth of dirt and sand were a single man and a small child. The silver-haired man stood with his arms crossed confidently and shouted with all his might.
"Lion King! I challenge you to a duel!!"
"Is he insane?"
Zarin summed up her first impression of the man in a single word. Coming alone into enemy territory only to demand a duel? It would have been far more rational to beg for death.
"Chieftain, please leave this to me and the warriors."
"No. I will handle this myself."
"Chieftain!!"
"It has been a long time since a warrior came all this way alone."
Strictly speaking, there was a child beside him, but the boy hardly looked like a combatant. So alone he was. The Lion King found himself unconsciously recalling the past. A past he could never forget.
"A warrior—no, a man—is calling me."
If so, then as a man, he had no choice but to answer.
* * *
"I really didn't think you'd come all the way here."
Zeek stared at the wooden barricade with a stunned expression. She had doubted it even when she heard the words "frontal assault," but she never imagined he would really march here with just the two of them and start provoking their enemy. And even then, he had originally planned to come alone. It was only because Zeek had thrown a tantrum that he had reluctantly brought her along. Otherwise, Master truly would have come by himself. The thought was utterly terrifying.
Of course, there was no doubting Master's strength. But that didn't stop her from worrying. At some point, Isaac had become one of the most precious people in Zeek's life.
"Master, that promise you made earlier. You're really going to keep it, right?"
"Of course."
"Really?"
"A man does not go back on his word."
Before coming here, Zeek had barely managed to extract one promise from Isaac: that he would attempt to speak with the other party first, and only if that failed would he withdraw. Isaac had agreed without hesitation.
I don't know about anything else, but the Lion King must have his own story.
How can you be so certain?
The walls never collapsed. A warrior of the Lion King's caliber should have been more than capable of capturing the fortress.
Then we must speak with him.
Exactly. That is why I am going myself.
From the very beginning, Master had already noticed something strange about the Lion King's actions. Zeek felt the same. If the Lion King had truly wished it, the fortress would have fallen long ago.
"He's finally come out."
At Master's words, Zeek turned her head. The tightly shut wooden gate opened, and what emerged was not an army but a single man. Yet his presence rivaled that of an entire force. His proud red hair whipped in the wind. His back, solid as forged steel, stood ramrod straight as he gazed forward. His powerful legs carried him forward without hesitation.
Finally, his steps halted. Isaac lifted his head. The Lion King was far larger than him—easily over two meters tall. The man slowly opened his mouth.
"I am Urcan, the Lion King of the Valley."
"I am—"
"There is no need to tell me."
KWAANG!!
"You'll be dead soon enough."
"Master!!"
It happened in the blink of an eye. Without even taking a proper stance, the Lion King swung his fist. That simple motion alone produced a noise like an exploding bomb that echoed across the valley. Zeek realized it instantly—the monstrous gap between that creature and herself. But what did that matter? How dare he launch a surprise attack against Master!
Yet the Lion King paid Zeek no attention whatsoever. For many long years, ordinary humans had been unable to withstand even a single strike from him. Swords, armor, shields—he had shattered them all like paper and claimed their lives in an instant.
But.
The man was completely unharmed. He hadn't even bothered to defend himself. He simply stood there with his arms crossed. Slowly turning his slightly tilted head back into position, he raised his own fist and swung.
KWAAAANG!!
Another deafening roar erupted. For a moment, the Lion King could not comprehend what had just happened. Only the desperate cries of his tribespeople calling to him from atop the barricade echoed in his ears.
"I see. So I was the one pushed back."
The Lion King slowly rose, finally grasping the situation. At some point he had been knocked all the way back to the barricade—rolling pathetically across the ground in the process. It was an experience he had never had before in his life.
Being pushed back by a mere human should have been humiliating, yet the Lion King felt no such thing. Instead, he laughed heartily.
"Has it been sixty years? Since I was last overpowered by strength."
From start to finish, the man looked so much like her. For the first time in a long while, the Lion King laughed with genuine feeling.
He rose slowly to his feet once more and stood before Isaac.
"Do you still hold to that thought?"
"My apologies. What is your name?"
"Isaac Silvertehr. I am the Guildmaster of the Iron Shield."
As he spoke, Isaac unfastened the sword at his waist—scabbard and all—and handed it to Zeek. Startled at suddenly receiving the weapon, Zeek looked at him with wide eyes.
"Master! Why are you giving me your weapon...?"
"In a fight between men, weapons are a luxury."
"Master!! What about your promise?!"
"Is he not a swordsman? Yet he chooses not to use his sword?"
Both Zeek and the Lion King wore identical expressions of confusion. Zeek's reaction came from worry for her Master, while the Lion King was simply puzzled by a swordsman's refusal to draw his blade.
But the doubt did not last long. The man clenched his fist and declared,
"Sometimes a man must speak with his fists."
"......!!"
Only then could the Lion King read the look in the man's eyes. There was no hatred, nor greed for gold. Only pure focus—centered entirely on him. The man took his stance and spoke.
"Come, Lion King. I will listen to your story."