Preparing for the Trial (2)
The reason Pokryong was throwing such a fit was simple.
It was because I kept turning down his requests to duel.
"Explain yourself properly! Give me a reason I can actually accept for why you're avoiding a duel!"
"..."
Explain my reasons?
Well, obviously, it's because if we duel, one of us is definitely going to die.
Of course, I had grown quite a bit compared to when I first encountered Pokryong in the Labyrinth Village, but...
...dueling a Level 100 transcendent was still out of the question.
In the first place, my growth path has been completely abnormal.
My skills were excessively powerful compared to my actual level and physical stats.
My entire combat style was focused solely on utilizing the Soul of the Sword Master in various ways.
Because I relied on a style that staked everything on a single opportunity to land a fatal blow, a casual duel with Pokryong was fundamentally impossible.
Every single one of my techniques was designed to kill. If I unleashed them on Pokryong, he might actually end up dead.
I can't kill Pokryong.
As I had reminded myself multiple times, losing a Sword Master who would eventually become my ally would be far too great a loss.
And above all, I don't have the confidence to block Pokryong's attacks purely with my own raw skills.
Of course, I had Ultimate Auto-parrying, but that was just a single-use skill with a twenty-four-hour cooldown.
It was useless in a continuous, back-and-forth duel.
Therefore, there was only one thing I could say to him.
"I believe I already told you. I only wish to fight when I am in peak condition."
"..."
"The time is not yet right. There is no other reason besides that."
Besides, when I really thought about it...
I had come here to stand trial in a sacred court.
As the defendant, it wouldn't do to cause a scene by brawling with another Sword Master.
Don't you agree, Pokryong?
"What utter nonsense!"
"..."
Right.
Naturally, he didn't agree with me.
...Then again, if Pokryong were the type of character to care about such things, he wouldn't have been labeled a battle-maniac in the first place.
As that thought crossed my mind, Pokryong began repeating himself like a parrot.
"Draw your sword! Stop making cowardly excuses and fight me!"
"I don't have one."
"...What?"
"I don't have a sword."
"Why?!"
"It was confiscated when I entered the Holy City."
"Why?!"
"Because I am the defendant in a sacred trial."
"Why?!"
"It should have been written on the summons. Forming an alliance with the Five Nightmares, and acting as the leader of the Shadow Society."
Hearing this, Pokryong roared.
"Exactly! That's what I'm saying!"
"..."
"You have the power to pull off stunts like that, but you don't have the strength to fight me?!"
It felt like this conversation was just going in circles.
Was it just my imagination?
"So stop talking and face me! Now!"
As my repeated refusals pushed Pokryong's anger to its absolute limit—
Creeeak.
Right then, the door opened, and two men stepped into the VIP reception room.
A neat, elegant young man, and a stout, white-haired elder. They were Arwen and Jacques von Heibrun, two giants of Midtemple.
Taking in the situation, Arwen stepped forward to restrain Pokryong.
"Seeker, you cannot do this here."
"What?"
"Contacting the defendant before the sacred trial begins is a violation of the rules. Please refrain from causing unnecessary commot—"
"Who the hell are you to interfere? A mere mayfly shouldn't meddle in the affairs of Sword Masters. Get lost!"
As Pokryong bellowed in anger, Arwen looked momentarily taken aback before calmly introducing himself.
"Forgive my late introduction. I am the Chief Paladin, Arwen von Goldheart."
He bowed politely.
Then, maintaining his composure, he continued.
"I must repeat, contacting the defendant of a sacred trial is strictly illegal. I understand that you have personal business, Sir Pokryong. However, since you have set foot in the Holy City, I ask that you respect our laws."
"..."
"If it is not too forward, may I ask why you seek Sir Gaon? Although direct contact with the defendant is forbidden, I can make arrangements on your behalf if you wish."
"Oh...?"
Intrigued by the offer to accommodate his request, Pokryong's expression brightened.
"Then make a duel between that guy and me happen."
"Excuse me?"
Arwen froze, completely taken aback by the unexpected demand.
"That is enough, Sir Pokryong."
Unable to watch any longer, Jacques von Heibrun stepped forward and intervened.
"As a seeker who follows the will of the great ones, you should possess the dignity and restraint befitting your status. No matter if you are a Sword Master, it is only right that you observe the etiquette of the Holy City."
"...And who the hell are you?"
"I am Jacques von Heibrun. I am a swordsman who was once bestowed one of your scales in my youth."
"..."
Pokryong stared blankly at Jacques. Then, as if remembering something, he let out a soft exclamation.
"Wait. Are you that greenhorn who used the executioner's sword?"
"I am."
"But why have you grown so old?"
"Because it has been forty years since we last met."
"..."
A brief silence fell over the room.
Pokryong's slit-like pupils scanned Jacques from head to toe.
After a long moment, Pokryong let out a dry laugh and shook his head.
"Ha, forty years. Has it really been that long?"
"..."
"But how is it that you haven't changed a bit since then? Have you been slacking off on your training?"
Jacques flinched.
For a split second, a crack appeared in Jacques's expressionless face.
A storm of complex emotions visibly flickered in his eyes.
Ignoring him, Pokryong scratched the back of his neck and let out a deep sigh. He seemed to realize that throwing a tantrum here wouldn't change anything.
"Whatever. Tell me straight, Gaon."
His temper somewhat cooled, Pokryong growled as he looked at me.
"When exactly is that 'restriction' you mentioned going to be lifted?"
Arwen and Jacques froze in unison at Pokryong's words.
Jacques, in particular, stared at Gaon with a look of utter shock, his hand gripping his own right arm tightly.
A restriction...?
A restriction.
To think there was another shackle binding Gaon besides the sacred covenant.
If so...
Jacques's mind spun in confusion.
...Did he sever my arm in a single strike even while under a restriction? At a speed I couldn't even react to?
It was impossible to comprehend.
The strike Gaon had displayed that day was something the eye could barely follow.
But if even that attack had been executed under the influence of a restriction...
Just how strong is Gaon when his shackles are completely off?
While Jacques was lost in these thoughts, Gaon answered in a flat voice.
"I do not know exactly when the restriction will be lifted. But a promise is a promise, so I will let you know as soon as the shackles are gone."
"No."
Pokryong shook his head.
"I'll pass on open-ended promises. I'd rather just fight right now."
"..."
"You blocked my strike, killed Camilo von Taribas, and even neutralized Heukgol. If your body has recovered enough to do all that, surely you can manage a quick round with me, can't you?"
Gaon stared at Pokryong in silence for a moment before giving a reluctant nod.
"If you truly want a fight, wait just two more days."
"...Two days?"
"That is when the sacred trial will take place."
"..."
Pokryong's pupils narrowed slightly.
It was the vicious glare of a beast that had spotted prime prey.
It was a chilling sight that would make anyone's knees buckle, but Gaon didn't even blink as he calmly continued.
"If I am found guilty, you will be the one tasked with executing me. Or rather, whichever Sword Master answers Midtemple's call."
"..."
"When that time comes, it won't be a mere duel. It will be a battle of life and death. Isn't that what you truly want?"
Pokryong swallowed hard, then grinned.
"Yes. That makes sense. If you really acted as the leader of a heretical cult and allied with the Five Nightmares, you'll definitely be found guilty. It seems we were destined to fight either way."
"..."
"But in the highly unlikely event... what if you are found innocent?"
Gaon gave a brief reply.
"Then I will receive my sword back from Midtemple's custody."
"..."
"And if someone attacks me with intent to kill under those circumstances, I will have no choice but to do everything in my power to survive."
In short, once the trial was over, he was willing to fight Pokryong as much as he wanted under the guise of self-defense.
"I promise you. When that time comes, I will give you a battle that will satisfy you."
"...!"
Pokryong's eyes widened at my words.
He seemed incredibly excited by the promise of a satisfying battle.
"As a Seeker of the Sword, you wouldn't go back on your word, would you?"
Pokryong asked, as if to confirm.
I nodded, as if the answer was obvious.
"Indeed."
I slowly looked around.
Arwen and Jacques were staring at me with meaningful looks.
Their eyes suggested they thought I had been swept up in Pokryong's pace.
They probably think I've been cornered.
But they were wrong.
I hadn't been swept up by Pokryong at all.
On the contrary, he was the one who had eagerly swallowed the bait.
If everything in Midtemple goes according to my plan...
'As a Seeker of the Sword, you wouldn't go back on your word, would you?'
Those very words will become the shackles that bind you.
Unaware of my inner thoughts, Pokryong simply burst into a sinister laugh.
"Kahahahat!"
"..."
"Kahahahahahat!"
"...?"
Wait, seriously.
Was this really something to laugh that hard about?
As I was thinking that—
Pean, who had been watching the situation unfold from the side, let out a chuckle.
"Seeing you rejoice like a child over a mere promise of a duel, your body must be feeling quite stiff, Pokryong."
"What?"
"If you'd like, I could help you loosen up?"
"..."
Pokryong's laughter cut off instantly.
He flatly rejected Pean's offer in a stern voice.
"No thanks."
"How cold."
"...I believe I made it clear that I don't even want to cross blades with you."
Even in the game's lore, Pokryong hated fighting Pean the most.
In fact, none of the other twelve Sword Masters enjoyed fighting Pean.
He was such a troublesome character to deal with that even a battle-maniac like Pokryong avoided him.
The Blind Sword Master, Pean.
An elf who had lived for ages.
A blind swordsman who relied solely on his hearing to fight.
"..."
"..."
In that moment—
My eyes met those of the Blind Sword Master.
Of course, it was merely an illusion.
Pean was completely blind and wore a bandage over his eyes. The concept of "meeting eyes" was physically impossible.
Yet... for some reason, I felt as though the gaze beneath that bandage was staring right at me.
The slight curl of his lips carried an air of easy confidence.
"What a pity."
"..."
"I wanted to warm up a bit myself before the real battle begins. Haha."