Unwinnable Battles
My current record stood at two wins and no losses. Even if I lost to Yeo Min-seo, it'd still be two wins and one loss. Winning would be ideal, of course, but even a defeat would land me solidly in the mid-to-upper ranks.
In truth, up until Kim Jin-seo had forfeited and withdrawn, I hadn't planned on winning at all. More precisely, I hadn't intended to take the spar seriously.
[I'm hungry. This is exploitation. How much more are you going to work me for a single offering? We need a contract. This isn't fair.]
Bosu was starting to lose his temper. The offering I'd given him was just a single "bull's horn"—a common, mass-produced item you could find anywhere. It was woefully insufficient to fill the belly of a Loa who'd been starved for half a year.
Even knowing that, I'd overused his power. When I shot down the bird beast with a stone, when I carried the unconscious Jeong In-ah to her doorstep, during my spar with Gu Jun-hyeok earlier—times when I didn't strictly need Bosu's power, I'd used it anyway.
As Bosu himself had said, I'd essentially "exploited" his ability.
[The response to exploitation is a strike! I learned that from Legba. When Bosu gets fed up, he strikes. Time to resist the evil cult leader!]
"Hm."
Legba had taught him something real nasty. Judging by his state, there was a real chance Bosu's power could cut out mid-spar with Yeo Min-seo.
Loa were such finicky beings, as always. No offerings, and they whined about being hungry; give them offerings, and they went berserk with energy. Come to think of it, my mother had been incredible. She'd commanded these capricious, demanding Loa with total ease. Even Sobo and Baron Samedi couldn't stand up to her.
It was a humbling realization, but I still had so much to learn—as a cult leader and as a prophet. I had a long way to go before I could catch up to my parents.
"Hey. Do Seon-woo."
Lost in thought, I hadn't noticed Yeo Min-seo leaning against the cage, glaring at me with a crooked look. For some reason, that gaze rubbed me the wrong way.
"What."
"Wanna make a bet? What do you say."
"Why would I?"
It was the same cheap provocation I'd thrown at Kim Jin-seo. I shot back with a grin. Whether I had the goods or not, it was best to act confident when you could—purely for the psychological edge.
Yeo Min-seo let out a hollow chuckle, fixing me with her signature empty stare.
"It's more fun that way."
"Not for me. You don't think you're actually fun, do you?"
"...What?"
The blessing circle she'd been drawing warped slightly. She was flustered—or pissed. Either way, shaken. I didn't let the opening slip.
Bosu.
I invoked his power immediately. And I gripped tight the weapon I'd chosen before climbing into the ring: a flail. A heavy iron ball on a chain attached to a handle, like a mace on steroids.
I'd picked the flail for two reasons. First, it performed decently even without skill—just swing it hard, and you'd land half your hits anyway. Perfect for someone like me with no proficiency in weapons.
I hadn't used one against Gu Jun-hyeok, but I was dead set on beating Yeo Min-seo, so weapons it was.
Second, it just suited a cleric. Prejudiced, maybe, but... it felt right.
Shaking off the stray thoughts, I charged at Yeo Min-seo and swung the flail straight at her face.
Whack!
A sharp sound rang out. But no impact—she'd crossed her arms to block. It was a crude swing with zero technique, even by my own admission, so maybe it was inevitable.
Should've learned a proper form...
"...You, blessing—no, what the hell?"
Her voice trembled faintly. I peeked at her face behind her guarding arms. That eternally smug, arrogant expression now bore a faint trace of panic.
The blessings she wielded were all mid-to-high tier, upper-level stuff. She hadn't earned the Kindness Holy Mark for nothing; she handled them masterfully.
But between a Loa's power and a blessing? Bosu's power won, hands down. It was almost insulting to compare.
[Bosu's striking soon. Down with exploitation!]
No room for complacency, though. I had to end it before his strike kicked in. I swung the flail at her panicked face again.
She barely blocked. I pressed the attack.
Thud! Thwack!
The exchange dragged on—or rather, I unilaterally hammered her while she defended. On the surface, I had her cornered, but I was the impatient one. Her guard was ironclad; my amateur swings couldn't pierce it.
If time ran out and Bosu struck, I'd be defenseless and lose.
But Yeo Min-seo had to be getting antsy too. And she didn't know I was desperate. I'd exploit that psychological edge, maneuver her into a specific action.
If it went to plan, I'd win. No—I would win.
*
"One minute elapsed. Two minutes remaining."
Stale sweat from my forehead beaded at my chin. My mouth was parched.
Yeo Min-seo stared at the onslaught from Do Seon-woo in bewilderment. No—beyond bewilderment, a twinge of fear.
When did he use a blessing? Did he even use one?)
His strength was immense. Overwhelmingly so. And no glow of blessing light on his body. This wasn't "temporary might" from divine power—it was raw, innate physical prowess.
She'd suspected as much when he'd downed that bird beast with stones, but this was ridiculous. Unfair.
She recalled the word she'd ignored her whole life.
Thud! Crack!
The clash continued. Only sticky thuds and sharp impacts echoed in the ring. No words. The crowd watched in silence.
Yeo Min-seo glared over her raised guard. Do Seon-woo's face showed no strain—relaxed, even. Yet his assault never paused.
Arms... tiring...
His attacks were childish compared to Kim Jin-seo's. That's why she blocked them easily. A flail, no less—the weapon of talentless clerics.
But she was reaching her limit. Her arms were giving out.
Flails were for unskilled clerics, sure—but in the hands of someone as strong as Do Seon-woo? Different story. Raw power made any weapon deadly. Even wild swings carried crushing pressure.
Tap-tap!
She sidestepped sharply, escaping the corner. His barrage paused. As he closed in, she stepped back again, maintaining distance. Standoff.
"Ha."
She huffed a laugh, catching her breath. One step back from her, and he'd advance two. Strong guys were usually slow, but he was fast too. Absurdly overwhelming physique. Sweat poured.
"Two minutes elapsed."
Time ticked. One minute left. She had to settle it in 30 seconds, or exhaustion would doom her.
She refused to lose.
"...A gamble, but..."
She murmured with a wry smile. Divine power shot from her, forming two blessing circles in midair. She forced them to fuse—intending collision and explosion.
Risky; she might get caught in the blast. But passive defense guaranteed defeat. Time to roll the dice—even if it meant a draw or loss in the explosion.
She had to go all-in.
The two circles tangled, fused, distorted—precursor to clash. She calculated the blast in that instant.
Explosion in 1 second. Damage to me... none.
By the warped shape, it'd erupt toward him. No harm to her. Victory certain. Luck on her side. Even the heavens favored her.
She flashed Do Seon-woo a triumphant smile.
"...Huh?"
But it twisted. No explosion. Between her two circles, a third had appeared—bridging them, enabling fusion. No clash.
Blast blocked? Her eyes widened at the sight.
Glancing at Do Seon-woo—he was grinning. Her victory smile, mirrored back.
"Close call."
He muttered cryptically and charged. No time to resist.
Crack—!
"Grahk...!"
His flail smashed her side. A bizarre scream escaped as she crumpled, ribs screaming in agony. Consciousness flickered.
*
My plan to beat Yeo Min-seo had two parts.
First: No blessings—purely Bosu's power to pressure her psychologically. Hence the flail over fists; more intimidating.
Second: Corner her into desperation, forcing a "gamble." Provoke her into forcibly fusing circles for a clash explosion.
I knew how to prevent it. Hate to admit it, but inspired by Seong Ha-yeon's presentation: Draw a "bridge" circle between them. Drastically lowers clash odds.
Nullify her gamble, win. That was the plan.
But an uncalculated variable.
"...Hey, not... over yet."
A chilling voice from behind. I turned. Yeo Min-seo, clinging to fading consciousness, dragged herself up. Her eyes were unfocused, hazy.
"Impact sensor. No... sound."
The final variable. I'd never considered her sensor might not register my finishing blow.
I'd assumed any solid hit would end it. Arrogant.
[Bosu's on strike now! Rebellion against the evil cult leader! Gimme offerings!]
And compounding it—Bosu struck. My boiling blood cooled. His might vanished, leaving endless lethargy. Like a deflated balloon, my body sagged. Powerless.
I stumbled back, widening the gap.
No way to win now. No Bosu. No blessings—impossible in front of her anyway. Not until I reached Legba's "embodiment realm," wielding them without emitting divine power.
I raised a hand to So Do-jin. He arched a brow, puzzled.
"What."
I'd played all my cards. No more. Fighting on meant certain loss—worse than Kim Jin-seo, utterly humiliated.
Better to forfeit quick than thrash futilely and become her toy.
I wanted to win. Just no path.
"..."
But the words wouldn't come. "I forfeit"—so hard to say.
A thought flashed.
Without Bosu, no chance against her. A clear "unwinnable fight."
Then, for all future "unwinnable fights," would I always surrender?
How far would I retreat? What would I abandon? Reunion with Mother, Father's vengeance, a peaceful life—all deemed "unwinnable" and discarded?
"Whatcha gonna do? Ain't over yet, huh?"
Yeo Min-seo advanced unsteadily, face twisted in pain, threatening.
Sometimes, you fight unwinnable battles. As Romanica's enemy, every moment was one.
Surrender each time, and I'd forfeit everything.
But clinging out of stubbornness was foolish. Pride alone changed nothing.
"Can I forfeit?"
I asked So Do-jin. He frowned, confused and annoyed.
Unwinnable fight. But I'd make it winnable.
If no odds, I'd forge them. I'd win.
There are unwinnable fights, winnable ones—and fights you must win regardless.
"...The fuck you doing, you bastard?"
Yeo Min-seo glared. No stutter in her voice—either Seong Yu-da's blessing had healed her, or rage drowned the pain.
Didn't matter. Even she, who'd never truly raged before despite the rough talk, now burned with clear fury.
Beyond it, I glimpsed her psyche, faintly.
I'd baited the hook. She'd bitten beautifully.
Opportunity created.