Hidden Talisman Cube
The Imperial Palace.
Golden Mask sought out Raiga in the training grounds, sword still in hand, and spat out a curse without preamble.
"Raiga, have you lost your mind?"
"You're the one who's lost his mind. Cursing in the sacred training grounds?"
Golden Mask ground his teeth. Raiga's expression hadn't shifted by so much as a fraction.
"…Why did you let the Goddess Sect enter the tournament?"
It had been a competition open exclusively to Imperial citizens. Then, without warning, the regulations changed — and the pool of eligible participants ballooned. Without a single consultation. Raiga had arranged it so that any human of Pangenia could compete. The scale of the event had doubled as well. An agenda that by every rule should have required formal council approval.
"Read the recruitment guidelines I wrote carefully. Any useful talent will be accepted without discrimination. That has been the purpose of this tournament from the beginning, has it not?"
"And you call that an answer…?"
Murderous intent flickered in Golden Mask's eyes. Conversations with this man always slid off at an angle. Every single time, his blood pressure climbed.
The Goddess Sect and the Death God Religion were oil and water — utterly irreconcilable. The Empire, moreover, was closed off beyond ordinary imagination. It had to be. The Emperor slept. Atrocious experiments were conducted in plain sight. The palace held countless secrets that only they could know — secrets no one in Pangenia could ever be allowed to discover. If large numbers of outsiders flooded into the Empire and the palace, those secrets risked exposure.
And yet Raiga had chosen this moment — while the majority of the Death God Religion's officers were away from the Empire searching for the Golden Spirit King — to pull a stunt like this.
"It is an answer. Because this Empire has no one left who is fit to succeed me."
But Raiga could not yield either. He had a reason he could not yield. He was dying — slowly, carefully concealed though the fact remained.
There is no way to heal the internal damage.
The side effects of every blessing and the opening of the 5th Gate. A curse of certain death. His organs twisted. His foundational energy withered by the day. This was his struggle to ensure the succession of the Palga before that inescapable curse claimed him.
"…You'll search for a successor to the Palga without regard for nation or faith? You'll humbly accept anyone, so long as they have talent?"
"Golden Mask. For once, we understand each other."
"Even if that person is a priest of the Goddess Sect?"
"Yes. It makes no difference."
Golden Mask's teeth ground together.
"You… stop this tournament at once—"
"Catch."
Raiga drew something from his robes and tossed it. The moment Golden Mask caught it, his eyes twisted strangely.
"…What is this?"
"The Heart of Pride."
The Demon of Pride. A heart won from that creature through a wager. A treasure beyond any price — one that could control the Demon of Pride itself. If the tournament was to proceed as planned, even Raiga had been forced to put something precious on the table.
Golden Mask spoke, still baffled.
"Why go this far?"
"Because I'm thirsty."
"…?"
"I'm dying of thirst."
There were things one only understood upon approaching death. The wall between life and death. The thirst to climb over it. Raiga had reached his limit. No method of breaching that wall and carving a path beyond it would come to him. He had tried every form of training in the pursuit of martial perfection — save one.
Raising a disciple.
That was it. He needed the chance to give everything freely, to teach, and in doing so to look back upon himself once more. He needed a disciple more exceptional than any other. Raising a disciple was Raiga's final unresolved regret.
That was why he was forcing the tournament through even at the cost of the Heart of Pride.
"Golden Mask. If you dislike the idea of the Goddess Sect placing, then put forward someone useful of your own. Even if they are yours, I will take them in — so long as they have talent."
"…Fine. I'll do it."
Golden Mask turned his back with those words. He had realized that forcing a stop would split the Empire. If he could not halt it, then — as Raiga himself had said — he need only ensure that no outsiders placed. The best outcome was for one of his own people to win and become the Palga's successor. Seize the Palga, and it would be as good as seizing the Empire itself.
"Leave a mark on this boulder and you pass!"
The recruitment officer shouted at the hundreds of hopefuls gathered before the tent. Two men soon grunted their way forward, hauling an enormous rock between them. At a glance it looked ordinary — but I recognized it the moment I saw it.
Gicheonseok.
A stone similar to the Gicheonseok I had seen on the Mountain of the Cultivator. Hadn't I shattered the cursed Gicheonseok and resurrected Baal? But leaving a mark on a cursed Gicheonseok required penetration power. So this was a test of whether one possessed that power?
The information that surfaced next made me nod inwardly.
◈ A stone that nullifies all attacks below a certain stat threshold.
◈ Ignores strikes with a total stat sum of 350 or less.
Meaning you could only leave a mark if your total stats were high enough. Strength, Agility, Stamina, Intelligence, Magic Power. All five needed to average at least seventy to pass. In other words, they wanted participants at Level 7 or higher with fully invested stats. Level 7 was elite knight territory.
"This much is nothing!"
A heavily muscled man at the front stepped up with confidence and threw a full-power punch.
A heavy thud. Then a scream. The man went tumbling across the ground. Not a single scratch marked the boulder.
"…Tougher than it looks, huh?"
"Or is that guy just weak?"
The people behind him sneered at the man rolling undignified on the dirt — then stepped up themselves with equal confidence.
"Gah!"
"Wh-what the hell! Why is it this hard?!"
Failures piled up one after another. A total stat sum of 350 was never easy to reach. Even a simple calculation required Level 7 — and raising levels while fully investing every stat point was grueling work in its own right.
"Looks like the Holy City doesn't amount to much either."
"About one in fifty, maybe."
The recruitment officers murmured among themselves. The truly skilled had already declared their intent to participate long ago; this late-stage recruitment was little more than a formality. At best, one person in fifty managed to leave a mark on the rock.
"Next!"
My turn arrived. The officers looking at me held no particular expectation. Neither did anyone else gathered here.
"Stop wasting time and get out of the way."
"Look how scrawny he is."
"We already know how this ends."
They looked as though failure were a foregone conclusion. Fair enough, honestly.
My stats are a little short too.
My total stats didn't reach 350 either. The levels I'd gained through the trials on God's Island totaled four. My combined stats sat at 324. Absurdly overwhelming for my level — but still short of 350.
My pure stats are a little lacking.
Pure stats based on level, that is. Equipment and tools that added bonus stats could change the equation. Gear that could cover a shortfall of twenty-six points, though — that was the stuff of Myth or Unique grade, nothing less. Randolph's equipment was, of course, unshareable.
…There was something that shared, though.
One piece of equipment did share. This necklace. The necklace bearing the Broken Spear of Longinus was gear shared with Randolph.
Archetypal Armor.
The Archetypal Armor, reshaped into necklace form. Supporting a dimensional-traversal artifact like the Broken Spear of Longinus would naturally require equipment of that caliber.
And that wasn't all.
The Hidden Talisman Cube and other privileges.
Just as the Guardian Wall was shared, other privileges were shared as well. Shops like the Golden Rule Shop and the Privilege Shop. The Talisman Cube was a privilege obtained from Main Quest 11, so of course it transferred. And the moment the Archetypal Armor and the Hidden Talisman Cube were shared, the talismans socketed inside the cube linked over as well.
The Celestial Axis Whale Talisman!
One of the rewards from Main Quest 11. Perhaps the most important of them all. Socketed into the Archetypal Armor, it amplified my abilities by a factor of 1.5.
I smiled faintly. Then I stepped up to the boulder and threw a light punch.
A thunderous crack split the air.
Raiga looked down at the sword in his hand. Even breathing was agony, yet he never failed to swing his blade — not a single day. For him, it was the most ordinary of routines. Ordinarily he would sink into a state of pure emptiness, free of every stray thought.
I'm looking forward to this.
With the tournament so near, the distractions refused to clear. Already he found himself anticipating what kind of talent might appear. But would anyone who truly satisfied him show up?
He had seen countless so-called geniuses over the years, and not once had any of them drawn him in. All of them had been lesser than himself. They had their strengths, but a complete genius who fully satisfied him — other than himself — simply did not exist.
Still, recruiting from the whole of Pangenia did stir a modest hope. He had already set every condition for finding talent. Leaving a mark on the Hard Gicheonseok, for instance.
Leaving a mark on the Hard Gicheonseok is easy and difficult at once.
It measured minimum stats. Minimum level. But that was only the visible condition.
A total stat sum of 350. Or, under special conditions, leaving a mark is still possible.
Even with lower stats, even at a lower level, scarring the Hard Gicheonseok was entirely achievable. Possess a specific form of penetration. Wield a reflective ability. Employ the water attribute in opposition to earth… The methods were many. He had placed no particular restriction on how the mark was made.
What I want is talent alone.
Level didn't matter. Stats didn't matter. If the conditions fell short, show the flexibility to solve the problem. The very capacity to find a solution was talent. This test existed to find that talent. The tournament itself was the same. If he sought mere strength, a Transcendent would win without fail. His standard was singular.
Talent that can surpass its limits!
He wanted a genius who could break past predetermined boundaries. That was why he had divided the tournament by level brackets. The Death God Religion's Archangel would handle the sorting. All that remained was to judge whether the raw material he desired would appear.
Martial strength mattered, but it was not everything. Insufficient levels and stats were things he could fill in himself.
"A disciple…"
Raiga drew a deep breath. His heart prickled. Even with death approaching, he would not accept just anyone as a disciple. If no talent caught his eye, he would cut the Palga's line without hesitation. The thought of some mediocrity inheriting the Eight Houses did not exist in him — not even as a shadow. The previous masters of the Palga would have felt the same. He would not suffer that sight even in death.
But if an overwhelming genius appeared — one whose talent truly satisfied him —
I will hand over everything I am.