Another Ruin
Weapons.
A weapon's purpose shifts with its intended use. Even weapons of the same kind demand slightly different handling depending on the craftsman who forged them.
Take a man who holds a sword. He is a master of the blade. But if he is forced to use a sword other than the one he has always carried, he cannot immediately display a master's skill. No matter how great the master, and even if both weapons are swords, no two blades are truly the same. Length, the width of the blade, the shape of the hilt — all of it differs.
He must have picked that weapon up for the first time.
That was the nature of the weapons in this training ground. Every single one was different. No two pieces shared the same specifications. They had been forged at random, deliberately, so that a perfect stance could be drawn out under any circumstance. Simply adapting to one on first contact should have been difficult enough.
And yet he drew out perfect form and perfect use…
He had cut the wind. He had found the very current Raiga had sliced through and severed its grain — in a single instant, aiming for the perfect opening. It was something possible only when a weapon became as natural as one's own hands and feet. Doing so with a weapon held for the first time was nearly impossible.
Talent?
Talent. What was talent? Something innate. A gift from the heavens. The capacity to surpass others and excel. There were many views on the matter, but in the end talent was the cradle of every skill that could be honed and refined. All of it. People spoke of the importance of effort, but to Raiga's eyes, effort itself was a form of talent. Therefore, to do anything with true efficiency required talent — and those who found the talent suited to their nature the fastest were the ones who succeeded.
He did not call something "talent" simply because it arrived complete from the start.
And yet—
He is complete…
The Hyun of Adrium that Raiga had just witnessed was already finished. The sequence of thrusting with the spear and cutting back through was as natural as flowing water. He had performed beyond even the stance Raiga himself had demonstrated. The fundamentals were perfect — without a single flaw to pick at.
When I saw him at the Tower of the War God, he was not at this level.
The Hyun he had watched during the tournament at the Tower of the War God had not been like this. He had been strong for his low level, yes — but the technique he had just displayed could not be described by the simple word "strong."
…Something has changed.
There must have been a transformation while climbing the tower. Only then did Raiga's gaze settle on Hyun's body.
Subtle, but the sculpting of his musculature has changed overall. More balanced — a form that can store greater power. His face seems sharper as well…
It was a strange thing. The muscles formed perfect symmetry. But a human body could never achieve true symmetry. Unconscious habits and the like always left the body asymmetrical. No matter how high one's realm, even a human who had shattered walls and stepped beyond the heavens could never create a perfectly balanced body.
Yet the Hyun of Adrium was different. That body was complete symmetry. Neither side of his musculature lacked or exceeded the other. Even after Raiga studied him for a long while with his keen eye, the result was the same.
Was such a thing even possible?
Moreover, Hyun's face had grown sharper still, his skin smoother. Not a single blemish marked it. In short — he was handsome.
So those maids glancing over weren't looking at me. They were looking at this bastard.
He recalled the moments before they had arrived at the training ground. Come to think of it, the passing maids had kept stealing glances. Those looks had not been for Raiga — they had been for this Hyun.
"Who taught you?"
He could not help but ask. The Hyun of Adrium answered.
"…Someone who was family, friend, and master to me."
Words steeped in longing. A tone of farewell woven through the sentence. Raiga nodded.
"A good man, then."
"Yes."
"Did you learn the use of every weapon?"
"I did not."
"Then?"
"I learned only the sword."
…Only the sword?
"What of the spear and the saber?"
"I never trained with them separately."
"…"
He truly had never trained with them separately? The answer still defied understanding. Confirmation would be necessary.
"…Next is the bow."
Archery was a considerably difficult art. Without training, even imitation would be a struggle.
Raiga brought over a bow and drew the string toward the sky.
Then—
Twang!
Whoosh—!
The arrow that split the air and flew—
Thud!
—buried itself in the ground directly in front of Raiga. Close enough that a fraction nearer and it would have punched straight through his skull.
"Try it once."
He handed over the bow he had used. Hyun took it, assumed his stance without difficulty, and—
Whoosh!
Thud!
…Just as Raiga had done, the arrow planted itself precisely in front of him. But looked at closely, it was different. Raiga's arrow had struck just ahead of his feet. Hyun's arrow had planted itself between his feet.
An angle that should have been impossible if the shot had been aimed at the sky. Not merely closer than Raiga's — an angle that was, under ordinary circumstances, unachievable.
Raiga's pupils shook violently.
"Did you read the wind? No… did you predict the wind?"
"Yes."
"And you claim you never learned even this?"
"I have used a bow a few times."
…This was not the skill of someone who had used a bow a few times. It meant he had fired an arrow toward the sky and, predicting the force of the wind that would rise as the arrow fell vertically, loosed his shot accordingly. It was a technique even a lifelong archer could not imitate. Anticipating a wind that had not yet risen was something no ordinary human could do.
And that was not all. The axe, the dagger, the club — every other weapon that existed. Hyun performed them all at a level of perfection.
In the end, Raiga had no choice but to declare surrender. All the weapon arts one first had to learn in order to inherit the Palga — there was no need to teach them separately.
"…Take up a sword."
But one final confirmation remained. If he had learned only the sword, Raiga needed to see how he used that blade.
Late evening.
The hill of the Palga.
A secret place within the Imperial Palace, where the former masters of the Palga lay buried. Gazing down at the graves set beneath the greenery, Raiga spoke.
"I stand before the great masters of the Palga."
He bowed his head in respect, then opened his mouth once more.
"…I will die soon."
He spoke of death with flat composure. Before long, he would be buried here among them.
"This unworthy one could not overcome the Palga's long-cherished wish — the death that comes with the 5th Gate."
Of course, no one ever had. Even the first master of the Palga was said to have died after opening the 5th Gate. Raiga had believed he would be different. He had not been. He was no exception.
He had believed himself the greatest, had prided himself as the strongest—
…Raiga looked toward the last grave in the row. The grave of the previous master of the Palga — the man who had been his teacher.
"Master always said that we must find a vessel worthy of the War God."
Raiga closed his eyes. He himself had not been that vessel. Even the one brought in against the Palga's opposition had failed to fulfill the long-cherished wish.
Then, slowly, Raiga opened his eyes.
"I have found him, Master."
There was no longer any melancholy or sorrow in his gaze. At last, he had found it. The vessel of the War God. A being who was the War God itself!
But Raiga clenched his fist. He was overjoyed — and yet he could not simply rejoice.
Because he had discovered someone greater than himself? No. Raiga had already set that down. He had understood that he was not the strongest, that the world was vast. Wilhelm, Randolph — and perhaps still other skies beyond them. He had already accepted that, somewhere in a corner of his heart.
It was simply—
"…That is why it is a pity. That I must die."
…It was a pity. That he had to die like this. That he had to leave without properly teaching him.
"Master sealed the Palga in order to take me in. Even if it meant cutting down every throat that opposed him — even if it meant being condemned and isolated for it — he did it solely for me."
That had been an enormous sacrifice. Severing family, friends, every bond — all of it for Raiga alone. To make him the successor of the Palga. But the Palga had been sealed, and Raiga had wandered the Abyss… for recognition. To prove that he was dedicating himself to the Empire!
Had it not been for that, Raiga would have wandered the world rather than the Abyss. He would have spread his renown, established himself as the one and only Knight King, and perhaps even launched a Great Expedition. But he had never been recognized.
"I will make them recognize us. Before I die — even if it means cutting every throat. Even if it means rebuilding the Palga from the ground up."
With his will set firm, Raiga bowed his head.
"I will go to the Sanctuary of Honor and force the rites through."
The formal procedure that announced one as the official successor of the Palga. The place where the Palga had been sealed — where all the "honorable ones" gathered. Because he had been a slave, he had never been able to walk through the proper rites. And so he had never received the Palga's recognition. A slave had no claim to honor.
But no longer. He would force the rites through there. Whatever others might say no longer mattered.
In that very moment—
"Hm…?"
Raiga's expression hardened in an instant.
Gooooooo—
A vast presence, felt from somewhere. An enormous evil, enough to send a shiver through him. More dreadful than the curse he had endured at the Tower of the War God.
Has some evil god been summoned?
Raiga spun around and moved at once.
The subject.
The center was me. Park Hyunmyung. But Randolph was also unmistakably me. We had become wholly one. And Wilhelm, too — family, friend, master, and "another me" — was a being who lacked nothing to be called as such.
"Path of Light…"
I returned to the assigned quarters and looked at a single sword on display. Path of Light. The Unique-grade sword Wilhelm had used. I slowly drew the displayed Path of Light and gripped it. It settled into my hand as if it were my own.
And not only that. The other piece of gear beside it.
"Holy Path."
The red cloak that formed a set with Path of Light. After all its wanderings, it had finally returned to me. These two had been the most iconic pieces of equipment that symbolized Wilhelm. It felt as though Wilhelm were still at my side. If I gathered the rest of his gear, it seemed as if Wilhelm himself might rise again.
I ran my hands over them for a long while, then set them back in their places.
No one is watching anymore.
The gazes that had been present until moments ago were gone. As if a decision had been made to leave me alone, they had vanished all at once. For me, that was for the better.
Now I can finally transform.
I had confirmed it in text, but the surest way was to transform myself. Into Randolph. Into the form of Randolph who had become Another Ruin and the Primitive Heavenly Demon. The Gloves of Calamity and the Gloves of Ash had made "switching" between Park Hyunmyung and Randolph possible.
I looked at the Gloves of Calamity.
And then—
Using Gloves of Calamity.
Transforming into Randolph.
Shwaaaaak!
Dense darkness rose, and in an instant my form began to change. This was on a different level from an appearance-altering potion — not merely the exterior, but everything shifted.
And so, when I became Randolph—
Gooooooo—
Magic power poured out in a maddening torrent. A terrifying demonic aura bloomed from my entire body! With the class of Star's Successor gone, this was the unrestrained, original form — no brakes applied.
…No. It went beyond that. Even the shape of evil that the "other Randolph" had possessed at the summit of the Tower of the War God could not match what I was now. Comparison to what I had been before climbing the Tower of the War God was not even possible.
And so a single word left my mouth of its own accord.
"…Insane."