Chapter 78: Whirlpool (1)
Chapter 78: Whirlpool (1)
『The long war reached a hollow conclusion. As everyone expected, the conquest army of the "Great Land" shattered the walls of the meager peninsula, trampling and burning their lands. Those across the continent mocked the monarch of Han. Why resist so fiercely when defeat was inevitable? Had they surrendered sooner, at least a handful of their people might have survived.
The formation of such public opinion was largely due to the pathetic display by the King of Han toward the end of the war. As the walls neared total collapse, the monarch cast aside his dignity to propose a truce, offering numerous concessions to compromise with the Great Land. However, the resolute Descendant of Khan, as expected, kicked aside the pathetic king's proposal and valiantly passed judgment upon them...
This was the conclusion of the Eastern Continent's war of conquest as known to the rest of the world. However, the truth differed from what was reported. For history is written by the victors.』
* * *
The moment Seol-yoon’s breath ceased, the fortunes of the two camps diverged sharply. The atmosphere felt as if a duel between the Proxy Warriors representing Han and the "Great Land" had just concluded. The morale of the conquest army bottomed out, while the defenders’ spirits soared to the heavens. Wild cheers erupted from every corner.
Technically, nothing had changed.
One fighter on the conquest army's side had died. Looking only at the result, that was the end of it. Death was a constant occurrence in this war duel. Thus, based on the outcome alone, it was difficult to understand this sudden shift in the atmosphere.
Seol-yoon was dead. However, Arhan, who had fought her, was in no state to celebrate. He looked precarious, as if he might collapse if someone so much as nudged him. Furthermore, it hadn't been an overwhelming victory. It was won by a hair's breadth—a triumph seized by the narrowest of margins. So why was Han acting as if they had already won, and the "Great Land" acting as if they had already lost?
Was it because the momentum the two exuded had gripped the entire battlefield and enthralled everyone? Was it because the soldiers of each camp were projecting themselves onto the two fighters? That was partially true, but it wasn't the decisive reason. The real reason was that the conquest army of the "Great Land" were fundamentally barbarians of the plains and, at the same time, devoutly religious.
The barbaric warriors on horseback served the great "Khan" who once ruled the continent. Simultaneously, they served the Father Who Never Sleeps, one of the Seven Chief Gods. Both entities symbolized struggle. In the Khan Empire of the Great Land, there was even a tradition called the "Sacred Trial by Combat." It was a tradition where, no matter what wrong one had committed, if they won a designated duel, they were declared to be in the right.
To the conquest army of the Great Land, who held "struggle" as sacred as any Orc, the duel just now was akin to a Sacred Trial by Combat. And after a fierce struggle, it was the "Great Land" side that had lost. The soldiers who witnessed the result with their own eyes could no longer fight bravely. It felt as if the Father Who Never Sleeps was telling them that this war was wrong.
"Ugh, uuuuh. Uuuuugh."
If that were the case, they would not be able to go to the Father's side even if they died in this war. They would never reach the infinite steppe where their ancestors waited. The indomitable courage that had filled their minds clouded over in an instant. And the Descendant of Khan, who should have breathed new courage into these ignorant barbarians, was not manifested in this spiritual world.
And so—
"Re... retreat."
The conquest army completely lost their will to fight.
"Retreat! We are retreating!"
Their courage failed them.
Their will was broken.
"We... we must ask the Descendant of Khan. We must ask if we should continue this war. The Descendant of Khan can communicate with the Great One; he will give us the right answer. So... so we, the foolish ones, must return for now. We must return...!"
The army, which had been led by the charisma of an absolute leader, became a disorganized rabble in an instant. Thus, the conquest army that had reached the very foot of the walls turned around and began to flee.
"What?"
The fighters on the "Great Land" side were dumbfounded. They had pushed the defenders back to the brink, and now they were running away just because a duel was lost? What kind of match-fixing nonsense was this? It was like watching corrupt fighters throw a game for a bribe.
"These crazy—"
"Shut up."
But before their complaints could explode, those fighters were cut down by the hands of others. The fighters from the Eastern Continent. These warriors, who had been placed here by the Arena's trickery, were pleased to see the panicked conquest army fleeing. They were also pleased to see the faces of the Han soldiers in the distance, embracing each other in joy.
"Don't ruin it."
Even though it was merely a spiritual world, the Eastern Continent fighters smiled happily in this moment. Even though it was all an illusion, they smiled with pride nonetheless. To them, victory or defeat in this moment didn't matter. Even if it was a fake victory, and even if it was technically a defeat for them as participants in the war duel, they didn't care.
"Don't ruin it..."
The fighters simply closed their eyes, each reminiscing about the past. The Eastern Continent fighters willingly met their deaths at the hands of the charging Han defenders while their eyes remained closed. The momentum of the counterattacking defenders was immense. It was enough to make one think that even if the Eastern Continent fighters hadn't laid down their weapons, and even if the conquest army hadn't retreated, Han might have still emerged victorious.
"The true! King! Is helping us—!"
"Follow him—!"
The momentum of the defenders was staggering. The source of that momentum was the Dragon's Relics. Following Arhan's victory, the Dragon's Relics emitted a brilliant light. The defenders bathed in that light shook off their exhaustion and charged like veteran heroes, their passion burning bright.
"...What the."
The fighters from Han were equally stunned.
Including those holding the shining Dragon's Relics, everyone's reaction was similar.
"Why did they all suddenly turn into berserkers?"
"Did the Arena clowns pull another stunt? Don't they always do weird shit to create 'unpredictable' stories? Like how they swapped the camps of the fighters this time..."
"...Is that it?"
Their bewilderment didn't last long.
The eccentricity of the "Arena" organizers was famous. Their antics were even worse during event duels than in official ones. The fighters had seen their "strange behavior" more than once or twice, so they simply accepted it.
They figured the organizers would probably spout some bullshit later about how this was a "hidden piece" based on the historical truth hidden in the war of conquest, or a "surprise measure" by the Arena to create an interesting scene...
As the fighters were coming to terms with it in that manner.
"..."
Outside, a scene far different from their thoughts was unfolding.
"...?"
"...?"
The Arena officials were frozen.
Among them, the very person who had planned this "War Duel" stared at the scene unfolding before his eyes and spoke in a very serious and grave voice.
"What the fuck."
* * *
In a fierce war, it is common to select Proxy Warriors to hold a duel between champions. This is especially true if one's own Proxy Warriors are exceptionally skilled. Winning a champion's duel is a great boost to the allies' morale, and morale is a precious thing in war.
However, a champion's duel does not usually play a central role in the war itself. Fundamentally, the most important things in war are logistics, troop management, and proper formation.
"What is this, exactly?"
The planner, seeing the unexpected development, felt as if he had been struck hard on the back of the head. As a headache surged, he tried his best to use his brain. Right, if it's the conquest army of the "Great Land," they might act like that. Aren't they a group of fanatics with a thought process similar to Orcs? Without the Descendant of Khan, the conquest army might indeed panic in such a situation.
Right.
'If it were reality, that is...'
If it were reality.
'But why are these bastards, who aren't even the real conquest army but virtual recreations in a spiritual world, running wild like this?'
The conquest army existing there was a group implemented virtually. They were mirages that would vanish with a wave of a hand. The Arena planner didn't want an implementation this "realistic." Unless it was an intended development, this was clearly unintended. A fierce war was supposed to continue here, and the fighters were supposed to fight each other desperately for the remaining time. During that, the Dragon's Relics were supposed to stand out, and there needed to be events to highlight certain fighters the "Arena" was pushing. But why, suddenly...
'Why? Why the hell? Fuck!'
Planners who meticulously design Arena matches are generally tolerant of most situations. They don't even hesitate to make themselves a laughingstock if it provides entertainment. Some planners even go as far as to call themselves "clowns" when introducing themselves. Among planners, belittling oneself to promote an event is actually praised as being "professional."
But this was different.
Planners are tolerant of most things, but they do not tolerate a situation where a match they designed develops in an "unintended direction." This was a matter of a major blow to their pride and the collapse of their bloated egos. Therefore, it was only natural that the word "Fuck" was the first thing to swirl in the planner's mouth when faced with this happening.
'Fuck!'
If this continued, the sponsors who had willingly invested in this war duel and the various planners who had helped with the design would all have something to say. That was truly unpleasant. Truly, very unpleasant...
Thus, with his pride wounded and fuming as he thought about the problems that would arise later, the "Arena" planner went to find the cause of this "unintended" incident.
"What is the meaning of this?"
The planner exercised superhuman patience to swallow the "Fuck" that was about to burst out. After all, the people he went to see were very noble individuals. "Guests" who, if a mere clown of the Steel City were to show his anger, would bring about a backlash he couldn't even begin to imagine.
"...Is there a problem?"
Witches.
The most noble women of the Sky Empire.
The magical beings sat loftily and looked at the planner, who was suppressing his anger with a flushed face. The planner presented his argument while suppressing his rage as much as possible. No matter how much they were guests, weren't they clearly in a position of being employed by the "Arena"? In the planner's view, the witches had failed to perform their duties correctly, and he, as the employer, had the right to raise an issue. If so, it was "professional" to argue point by point. Besides, if he actually scolded the witches, he could boast about it triumphantly at a drinking party later...
Thus, the planner opened his mouth.
"What is going on with that situation? I asked you to recreate cavalry; I didn't ask you to recreate that. Because of you, the development I designed has gone off track. Do you have any idea how insulting this is from a planner's perspective?"
"...Is that so? But what we sisters were asked to do was to recreate the soldiers of the two camps at the time of the war of conquest. We sisters simply did as we were told."
"No, what kind of army retreats just because they lost a champion's duel? You just needed to recreate the cavalry appropriately. Do you think that's the only problem?"
Seeing the witches acting so brazenly, the planner's words began to flow.
"I only requested special functions for the Dragon Sword, so why are the other Dragon's Relics glowing? And what's with the Han defenders running wild like berserkers? Right now, I'm being flooded with questions asking if there's some hidden special meaning or historical significance to that. I have to explain every single thing if I want to sell them at the auction later, but because of you, I feel like I've been screwed over. This is a very difficult situation! At this rate, it will be hard to pay the promised compensation. Hmph—"
While the witches remained silent, the planner poured out everything he wanted to say without even pausing for breath. Once he came to his senses, he realized he had said too much alone, mixed with emotion. Words have momentum, so when you pour them out with anger, they tend to come out in a longer string than intended. The planner flinched and retraced his words to see if he had made any mistakes. Fortunately, there were none. In fact, he had been very professional and said everything that needed to be said. He didn't think he would have any pathetic regrets like "I should have said that too" before going to bed tonight...
"...Is that so?"
The planner felt a sense of pride in his perfect raising of the issue. Was I always this articulate? The seniors who pointed out that I couldn't summarize the main points in important situations were all just old fogeys after all—while thinking that, the planner strangely felt a chill.
"Let me say it again: we sisters did our best. You said it's strange for an army to flee after losing a champion's duel, but such cases were common during the Age of War. Even if they weren't warriors of the plains, if they lost the champion's duel, they would often retreat, thinking that the luck of the heavens was not with them that day. Furthermore, the Dragon's Relics reacted because we recreated them excellently. We sisters perfectly recreated the power contained in those treasures within the spiritual world."
"No, that's not what I want to hear right now—"
"Then."
The witches didn't just listen this time.
The voice that cut off the planner's words was very cold. The cloth covering the face of the witch standing at the front fluttered in the wind. The witch's eyes seen through the cloth were as beautiful as jewels. Even though he only saw the eyes, pupils, and eyelashes, he felt an immeasurable beauty. It was enough to enchant him with just a glance...
"Then what is it you want to hear?"
However, the planner wasn't crazy enough to be enchanted by that. Only after meeting those incredibly beautiful eyes did the planner come to his senses. And only then did he realize his situation. Professional words, words he was entitled to say, logical points—none of that mattered. The women standing before the planner were not beings who lived by rationality and logic.
The most noble women on the vast continent. Among the many nicknames they possessed, there was one that described them best.
"Do you wish for us to offer a sincere apology?"
"..."
"If you wish, I will bow my head and apologize. But if I do..."
The most "noble ladies" in the Middle World.
"My husband will be very angry."
Every Witch is a wife of the "Father of the Sky."
It was not a metaphorical expression. They actually shared their hearts and bodies with the transcendent being who was one of the Seven Chief Gods. Because of this, witches must never reveal their faces to another man throughout their lives. Never.
And in return.
"Are you alright with that?"
One of the Seven Chief Gods.
The "Father of the Sky" treats every Witch as his actual wife and loves them sincerely. Truly, with the utmost devotion.
"Or perhaps you are going to demand our sisters' bodies?"
The moment the witch's words fell, the planner felt an incredibly intense gaze. The gaze was piercing down from above. A gaze pouring down from an inexpressibly high place. Even the planner, who had absolutely no spiritual talent, could feel it.
A God was watching him.
The "Father of the Sky." A transcendent being who, quite rarely among the nine goddesses and seven chief gods, "actively" intervened in the mortal world.
"H-how could I ever dare..."
The planner did not want to find out what the "Father of the Sky," who presided over the heavens and lightning, could do for the sake of the dignity of his beloved wives.
"Then, is there no problem?"
"Yes, none at all..."
Absolutely none.
"That's a relief."
Now the planner was busily agonizing over how to explain this incident in his head, and what kind of plausible bullshit he should attach to the light pouring from the Dragon's Relics. It would be no easy task, but what could he do?
"W-would you like some sweet snacks? I'll bring them out with some black tea in the blink of an eye."
In this Iron Kingdom, kowtowing to the strong and bullying the weak was the basic rule of survival...
* * *
Enthusiastic cheers resounded.
A thunderous roar that shook the entire city. One could even feel the heat in the voices. At the sound of the unceasing cheers, a man walking on the outskirts of the Steel City Ferma smirked.
"Ah, what a shame. Judging by those cheers, it seems it's already over."
"If you were that disappointed, we should have come by carriage."
"Forget it. When else would I get to walk such a long distance? Besides, the wind I felt while walking leisurely was very refreshing. The night scenery was also quite beautiful."
It was perfect weather.
As if to match the man's words, the wind blew once more. The man's hair, hidden under his hood, fluttered in the breeze. Ash-gray hair that exuded a mysterious atmosphere.
"Didn't you want to see it too? I heard the theme of the second duel, the 'War Duel,' was the war of conquest. The war of conquest—wasn't that a war you participated in?"
"I did not participate. I merely stopped by for a moment. To correct the habits of a certain barbarian who did not fulfill his duties."
The man chuckled softly.
"Right. It was quite fun back then. Didn't you trample that arrogant barbarian who claimed to have inherited an ancient hero, and tell him not to kill anyone who hadn't reached eighteen? I still remember it."
"Trample? I was just lucky."
"Don't be ridiculous. The face of that trembling barbarian is still vivid in my mind."
The man, letting out a soft laugh, glanced toward the amphitheater where the cheers were coming from.
"Well, it's a shame, but at least I won't miss the most interesting part."
To the man's eyes, the amphitheater looked like a fun playground.
A very fun playground.
"Infinite Duel. Isn't the final event the flower of this delightful amusement?"
The man.
The Iron Prince had arrived at the Steel City.
Accompanied by his executioner.
* * *
I woke up from my sleep in a daze.
"Oh, you're awake."
As soon as I opened my eyes, pop! —firecrackers went off.
"Congratulations! Sword Demon Liam. To you, whom everyone has chosen as the protagonist of this war duel, the right to possess a Dragon's Relic has been granted! Glory must always be given to the fighter who fought most bravely! Now, come on, choose! This is an opportunity that will never come again!"
Hmm.
"Hurry, hurry!"
"Quickly! Quickly!"
...What kind of chaos is this the moment I wake up?