Chapter 206: Traces (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 206: Traces (2)
I must have been around seventeen. Of course, I'm talking about my past life, not my current one.
Anyway.
I was lost. Though my "rebellion" was pretty mild, nothing more than skipping school. Since I wasn't built for doing anything truly bad, "rebellion" is just the only word I have for it.
I know seventeen is a bit late to start rebelling. But looking at it another way, at an age when the storm of youth should have been raging, I had already quieted the tempest.
Back then, I killed my teenage emotions and lived pretending to be an adult. Pretending to be mature, pretending to be indifferent. My youth was defined by "pretending." All the way until I graduated middle school.
The reason for that was my family. The environment of my home, as I remember it, was absolute trash. Even looking at it optimistically, it's hard to deny it was garbage.
I'll skip the detailed explanation. I have no desire to dig up a past that's too painful to remember. Besides, there's nothing more boring than listening to someone's pathetic family history. But if I had to elaborate...
You can imagine the absolute rock bottom of a gutter life, and then imagine digging even deeper. If it had just been simple poverty, I would have understood, but it was so bad that I'm saying this. Even a class-based society overrun by fiends is better than that place.
The shadows of civilized society are darker than even the Demon Realm.
Anyway, because of that unspeakable family, I ran away from home on the very day of my middle school graduation. I felt like I couldn't stay in that house for another second. It was running away. To be precise, it wasn't just running away; it was leaving home for good.
So I wandered the streets. I had left home, but I had nowhere to go. I was too old to look for a shelter, and I had no relatives to rely on.
I had no money, and no way to make any. Korea strictly prohibited economic activities for minors.
I felt like I had been cast out by everyone. Even though I hadn't thrown any tantrums or acted out childishly, the world wasn't the least bit kind to me.
Because of that, my mind grew emptier, and I began to lose the very meaning of life. And it was around that time that I met my master.
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"...What's a young punk like you doing out here getting soaked in the rain?"
As I sat huddled in a back alley, fiddling with a cigarette butt, a man approached me. His left sleeve fluttered limply in the wind and rain.
The man tilted the umbrella in his right hand slightly forward. The torrential rain that had been mercilessly beating down on my face finally stopped its assault.
I stared blankly up at him. Then, in a cold, spitting tone, I said,
"What do you want, old man? If you're trying to film some pathetic melodrama, go somewhere else. Don't mess with someone who's doing just fine on his own."
The sharp attitude I forced was a defense mechanism. Even though I knew he had no ill intent, back then, my first instinct was to be on guard.
"Look at this kid. Glaring at me when you look like a drowned rat. Well, at least your eyes have some venom in them."
Looking down at me, the man wore an amused expression. He grinned and shot back,
"And another thing. If you're going to talk tough, you should at least stop your stomach from growling. How loud is it that I could hear it from inside the shop? I've never heard such a thunderous rumble in my life."
"...Shop?"
The man jerked his chin toward the brick wall I was leaning against.
"That spot you've nested in. That's my shop."
The sign came into view. Busan Night Sea. It was an incredibly tacky name.
"No wonder there weren't any customers today."
Looking at the name of the shop, I didn't think it was because of me that business was bad...
"If you keep loitering there, it's bad for business, so move along."
He said that and turned around.
Pitter-patter.
The relentless raindrops resumed their assault on me. The heavy rain carved circular grooves in the puddles, splashing water.
Splash.
The man took a few steps, then let out a sigh. He threw a word over his shoulder.
"And kid, relax your eyes. Just looking at your eyes, you look like you'd be better at stabbing people than me, and I'm the one who's been using a knife for twenty years."
"...Old man, are you a swordsman?"
"A swordsman is what I am."
I took a close look at his attire. Neatly pressed white top and pants. With a navy blue apron tied around his waist, anyone could see he was a Japanese chef.
The man tilted his head and said,
"Anyway, if you're going to ruin my business, get lost. Or you can come inside and escape the rain. I don't want to clean up a bloated corpse tomorrow."
"..."
"And since today's business is ruined anyway, letting one beggar in won't change anything."
I stared blankly at his back before standing up. Before I knew it, my feet were following him.
A faint smile played on his lips. Then, he opened the shop door for me.
That day, he might have opened up much more than just a door for me.
...Or maybe he just found a new worker to ruthlessly exploit.
And indeed, that old man showered me with verbal abuse at every turn.
"Because of you, this sea bream is a complete rag! Do you know how much this fish costs? Apologize to the fish that died by your hands! Tell it you're sorry for killing it twice because of your pathetic skills!"
"Did I tell you not to grip the knife like that, or did I not, huh?! Look! Extend your index finger and rest it right on the spine of the sashimi knife! That's how you slice the flesh evenly, you punk!"
"How does a kid with two hands use a knife more clumsily than me, who only has one? If you're going to use them like that, donate them to me!"
"You seem pretty smug lately just because the customers praised you a bit. That's exactly when you need to be humble. Don't you know the saying, 'The riper the rice, the lower it bows'? Keep in mind that the world of sashimi is endless."
There were times when I couldn't stand the endless nagging and snapped back.
"My ears are bleeding! And why do you always call me 'punk,' 'kid,' or 'hey you'? I have a name, so why do you call me that?!"
"You've been with me for two months and you still call me 'old man.' Where do you get the nerve to think you can do it but I can't?"
"Then what should I call you instead of 'old man'? Should I call you by your name?"
"There's a perfectly good word: 'Master.'"
"...Master, my ass."
"Haha, look at this punk. Pull down the shutters. Today, I'm not gutting a fish; I'm gutting you."
"Officer! Help! This ex-gangster is trying to kill me...!"
A repetition of noisy days. It was early winter, nearly a year since I had started staying with him.
The boss suddenly asked out of the blue,
"Don't you feel wronged?"
The boss didn't look at me. He was watching the students walking down the street.
"Wronged? About what? You exploiting me for terrible pay?"
"What's the point of using polite speech when your manners are still completely non-existent? Not that. Don't you want to wear a school uniform and go to school like them, living a normal life? That's what I mean."
I tilted my head. I answered as I swept the front of the shop with a broom.
"Why would I feel wronged? They and I just live in different worlds."
At my words, the boss's expression turned slightly sad. Then, he said sternly,
"You are a normal teenager, no different from them, with the exact same rights."
"Did you have a drink in the middle of the day? Why are you suddenly saying things like this?"
"Make sure you go to school later. Whether it's college, graduate school, or an academy."
"So suddenly? Besides, I only graduated middle school, so I can't even get into college, and I don't care about studying anyway."
"How to meet people and build bonds. That's something you can only learn by mixing with friends your own age. Especially for an antisocial punk like you."
"..."
"If you really want to go to school... I'll make sure to send you, even if I have to stretch myself thin."
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I think I finally understand now.
"Come, Balor Joaquin."
What the boss meant when he said those words.
"Kill me, Lycan, and strive for the survival of humanity. Do so, and you shall become the Hero of the Origin."
* * *
Two beings walked through the wide-open Demon Realm Gehenna, each pointing their gripped swords at the other.
Wrooooom...
As the atmosphere trembled, a sound like a beast's growl echoed. The surroundings shuddered at the presence of the two transcendent beings, like a harbinger announcing the clash of light and darkness.
Crash!
The moment lightning struck, Lycan moved. The ground shattered and exploded. With an explosive leap, he closed the distance to Balor Joaquin in an instant.
Closing in tight, Lycan swung a Lightning Sword forged from thunder. A bright yellow trajectory aimed for the human's throat. It was a marvelous speed that a mortal normally wouldn't even be able to react to. It was no metaphor; every movement of Lycan was lightning itself.
But Balor's eyes tracked the trajectory perfectly. His senses, pushed to their absolute limit, were close to precognition.
In that fleeting moment where time lost its meaning, Balor raised the Spirit Sword Gram.
Black and white, white and black. Two opposing natures clashed at a single point.
Bzzzz—
Instead of an explosion, white noise burst forth. Because of the terrifying impact, sound lost its function and concept.
Balor twisted his waist. The widely swung Spirit Sword Gram drew light. The space itself seemed to be gouged out by the line of light.
Against the chilling movement of the blade, Lycan naturally used lightning magic to defend and counterattack simultaneously. Thunderbolts began to plunge toward the ground.
"[Chain Lightning.]"
Another rumble of thunder. From here on, it was the realm of instinct. He had to cast aside judgment and react as his body led him.
Balor's sword swept away the lightning. A few sheared bolts of lightning tore through the air. Meanwhile, the Lightning Sword clashed against the Spirit Sword Gram. The ground beneath the feet of the two transcendent beings melted red.
Lycan pulled his sword back slightly and thrust it forward. An attack that forced a counter, not defense. Balor held his breath and raised his right hand. A pillar of light sprouted from below. The sword energy, extending with a force that pierced the heavens, sliced the clouds to pieces.
The two transcendent beings traded blows in place. That was all. Yet, that alone turned the entire area into a wasteland. The earth's axis shifted, tilting and leaning to one side like a seesaw.
Lycan was amazed. Truly, was he not too precious a being to remain a mortal? Above all, that firm resolve and robust strength. It felt as though his own arm, which had delivered the attack, would go numb instead.
This man was something that transcended common sense. Feeling awe, Lycan poured down even more shocking thunderbolts.
"[Lightning Punishment.]"
Crash! Boom! Rumble!
Lightning continued to rage. Hundreds, thousands, hundreds of millions in the air... Flashes of light, so hot they turned from yellow to deep red, flared. The hills of blood and flesh covering the entire surroundings turned to ashes and scattered.
Balor swung his right arm horizontally. A pure white wave swallowed the countless lightning strikes. Amidst the chaotic clash, Balor drew upon his strength once more. Then, he brought his sword down.
Slash!
A pure white beam of light grazed past Lycan's shoulder. The space beside his feet shimmered transparently like a heat haze. Balor's strike had created a void. The atmosphere, once filled with magic power, turned into a vacuum, leaving a hollow echo lingering.
Lycan's expression went blank. He felt a sudden chill, but soon burst into a mad laugh like a lunatic.
"As expected. It is truly a pity that even someone like you is destined never to become a Hero."
"..."
"But the testing is over."
A green glow leaked from Lycan's eyes. Balor also pointed his blade at Lycan and declared in response,
"Let's end this, Lycan."
In the smoke rising from his left arm, Balor's arm muscles and bones were eaten away. Lycan's pupils contracted.
"Even your body, Balor Joaquin, cannot withstand the power of 'That Person'. It is a truly magnificent yet cruel power. Still, show me."
Balor looked at his crumbling left arm with a calm expression. He thought to himself: A single arm. A dirt-cheap price to pay for the power I'm about to use.
Lycan spoke, his voice filled with wild excitement.
"The Authority Defying Heaven that slays even gods."