The Heavenly Demon Gives Advice (8)
“You didn’t even leave me the strength to speak.” What a considerate gesture. Normally, when resting after training, one should only be able to produce ragged breaths—too exhausted to complain, too spent to waste words on speech. One ought to lie sprawled out, desperately conserving every last drop of stamina, incapable of doing anything at all.
Yet look at Enri now. She still has the energy to grumble. That alone proves I’ve been looking after her. How disappointing that she fails to appreciate my thoughtfulness.
“You’re a demon!”
“Since you seem to have recovered some strength, shall we resume training?”
“...”
Enri buried her face in the dirt once more. The sight of her sulking like a child skipping chores brought a quiet chuckle to my lips.
I drifted closer and settled lightly atop her waist.
“Hrk! You’re heavy!”
“Nonsense. Where on this body would you find any excess flesh?”
“...It looks like there’s some to me.”
Impossible. In my Apis days I had been constantly roaming the martial world; there was never a chance for fat to accumulate.
“Anyway, just let me rest a little. I really feel like I’m dying.”
“Then why couldn’t you last the ten seconds I asked for?”
“Dekay only lasted three seconds—how am I supposed to manage ten?”
That was different. Back then I had struck him with my full sincerity. Right now I am adjusting the difficulty so that, if Enri performs properly, ten seconds should be within reach. I am certain that once she notices the opening, holding out for ten seconds will not be difficult at all.
“Don’t lie to me!”
“Would you like to see my true sincerity?”
After being struck once, she would finally understand how much consideration I have been showing. I wonder—could she even last a single second?
At my words, Enri pressed her lips into a tight line. She must have reached the same conclusion.
“Keep your spirits up. We’re nearly there. Your last record was seven seconds; you only need three more.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve been sent rolling for those seven seconds?!”
“I do not. Do you count how many times a pebble you throw bounces?”
“I’m on the same level as a pebble?!”
Well, one could argue the pebble has the advantage. At least it never complains no matter how often it is thrown.
“This is too much!”
Enri thrashed beneath me, broadcasting her indignation like a sulky child. It was rather endearing.
“Very well. I shall provide some motivation.”
“With what?”
“If you manage to last ten seconds, I will grant you one opportunity to play a trick on me.”
One time. A single instance in which I will overlook whatever scheme she devises. There will be no retaliation afterward. No matter how she chooses to torment me, I will endure it once without resistance.
“Does that not please you?”
This was no ordinary privilege. Even in the martial world, few had ever received the right to exact revenge upon me. Whether she realizes it or not, this is proof of my goodwill.
Enri stopped struggling. After a moment of silent thought, she jerked her head up.
“Fine! I’ll give it a shot!”
What thoughts had crossed her mind in that brief pause? A faint unease slid down my spine.
In the martial world, those who sought revenge against me had usually used the chance to take my life. Enri, however, has no reason to kill me. That means the privilege will be directed elsewhere—and whatever method she chooses to harass me with is unlikely to be pleasant.
What now? Perhaps I should have thought longer before speaking. Hmm. Should I abandon pride and use my full power to win the wager? I would be scolded, but when have I ever cared about such things? Even if it feels filthy, ugly, and despicable, victory is all that matters.
Yet… haa. No. What would I gain by struggling so desperately? Enduring a little humiliation for a day would hardly be the end of the world.
“Hwa-ryeong, move!”
“Shall we begin?”
“Yes!”
*
“How many seconds this time?!”
Spitting out the dirt in her mouth, Enri asked in a rush.
“Hnnngh!”
Eight seconds? Already? I thought I did really well just now, and that was only eight seconds? That can’t be right.
“Why is ten seconds so long?!”
Ten seconds is the blink of an eye. A single line of a song vanishes in ten seconds. Even Enri’s frail body could cross fifty meters in that time. Yet she cannot endure those ten seconds without ending up covered in dirt!
How many attempts has this been? Since Ara proposed the wager, it feels like she has crashed into the ground over a hundred times. Is this even working?
Enri lifted her head and looked at Ara. Ara stood with her hands clasped behind her back, waiting for Enri to raise her spear again. She wore the same composed, overwhelming presence she only showed when role-playing the Heavenly Demon inside the game—nothing like the somewhat careless Ara of reality.
Enri still knows far more about Ara than she does not. They have spent nearly every day together lately, yet that amounts to barely a month—far too little time to truly understand someone.
Still, one thing is clear: Ara takes martial arts seriously. Otherwise, why would she have insisted that Enri was the one who needed to learn the Nyang-Nyang Fist?
Would Ara really start joking around and sabotage the lesson just to win a bet? No. She must be adjusting the difficulty exactly as promised—so that if Enri gives her all, ten seconds will be achievable.
Then the problem lies elsewhere. Obviously, with Enri herself.
She took a deep breath. Ara had said it from the very beginning, when teaching the fundamentals of spearmanship: never grow impatient.
Yet what was Enri doing now? Blinded by the reward, she could not even see what was right in front of her.
Stay calm.
She carefully lifted the spear. It felt heavy. Ever since choosing the Dragon Hunter class, Enri had never liked the spear. She had always thought of it as a cumbersome, unwieldy weapon. The only reason she picked Dragon Hunter was because she had heard it was the easiest and strongest class. Years of playing nothing but Dragon Hunter had not changed that opinion—the spear still felt awkward in her hands.
But now, she felt she understood the weapon a little better. The spear was cumbersome precisely because it was a steadfast weapon. When you held a glass, nothing felt more reliable, yet in unfavorable situations, nothing was more obstructive. Therefore, when at a disadvantage, there was no need to rely on the spear. The spear held no power in disadvantageous conditions.
She gripped the Dragon Hunter’s spear with one hand. It was shorter than the Divine Spear, so wielding it one-handed posed no issue.
“Planning to use your hands?”
“Because the distance I need to fight at is the distance of my fists.”
“Correct.”
Ara smiled. So that was the right answer. Thinking about it, it was obvious. Responding to an opponent fighting at fist range with a spear was no different from giving them the first point for free.
“You could have just explained it.”
“Then there would be no meaning in teaching.”
Enri did not know much about martial arts. She had picked up bits and pieces from meeting various people, but that was the extent of it. Still, she thought she understood what Ara meant by “teaching.” It meant that only through direct experience would the lesson truly sink into the body.
It was a little difficult. A little frustrating. But it had its own kind of charm.
A swell of satisfaction rose within her. Enri drew in a deep breath, then let it out.
Two hours. That was how long it had taken to return to the starting position after Ara’s lesson began. Because it was a method she had never tried before, it felt awkward. Perhaps the time she could endure would even decrease compared to before. She would be sent rolling across the ground countless times and would grind her teeth under Ara’s merciless hands.
Yet she felt no doubt. The gentle smile Ara wore in front of her told her this path was correct.
“Let’s start!”
“Very well. Come.”
As Enri had expected, defeat followed defeat. She had never used her fists in Apis before, so the first punches she threw were so poorly executed they received no correction at all. Thanks to that, the time she had managed to extend to eight seconds dropped back down to two.
“There is no need to attack. Did I not say it? You are to endure.”
Next, Enri focused solely on receiving Ara’s attacks. Indeed, blocking with her fists was far easier than moving the spear. However, her lack of proficiency remained a problem. She was still clumsy with her hands. The time increased again, but only to three seconds—worse than when she had used the spear.
“Still impatient. You do not need to move first. It is fine to move after observing.”
“Good. Move briefly. Minimizing damage is enough. That alone will make the opponent impatient.”
Doubt and trust clashed. Those who believed Enri would improve argued with those who believed she would remain stuck forever. It was obvious even without looking—the chat must be in chaos. Perhaps the manager had already switched it to emote-only mode.
But it was fine. It did not matter. It did not matter at all.
Because the only thing Enri could see, the only thing she could hear, was one single thing.
She fell and rose again. Fell once more and grabbed the spear again. How long she could last no longer mattered. What mattered was moving forward.
“There is no need to stop using the spear entirely. I only told you to use your hands because they are faster. If you see an opening, swinging the spear is fine.”
Again. One more time.
Because it was a game, no sweat flowed. Her body remained unharmed. Her breathing stayed steady. Mental fatigue? Strangely, she felt none. The only thing wrapping around her mind was a sense of exhilaration.
Enri was still in peak condition—at least, that was what she believed.
She gripped the spear shaft with one hand. Ahead stood Ara. It was a sight she had grown sick of seeing today. Even if she fell asleep tonight, Ara’s image would surely linger behind her eyelids.
“Again!”
Ara’s body vanished. Enri still could not follow Ara’s first movement. She probably never would. Soon Ara reappeared right in front of her. The first strike was a short punch aimed at the abdomen. Enri knocked it aside with her wrist. Immediately, another fist came for her head. She ducked, then took a step back. The moment she did, Ara’s step followed.
Ara had no intention of letting Enri go. The exchange continued. Enri knew that losing focus for even an instant meant defeat. So she kept her eyes fixed solely on Ara. Small hits were acceptable. They would not cause her to lose. She interrupted larger movements midway, forcing the opponent to feel frustration.
Attack. Attack. And attack again. The blows came without pause, without giving her room to breathe, pouring down as if to choke her.
Then, at some point, the eye of the storm revealed itself. Enri saw a calm space at the center of the whirlwind. In that instant, she moved the spear without thinking.
What she unleashed was the most common motion any spear user would make.
A thrust.
She stabbed into the eye of the storm.
Only afterward did she realize—it had not been the eye of the storm at all. It was the center of a vortex.
Her spear was sucked into the swirling current.
Ah, damn it.
Seeing the fist shooting toward her face, Enri squeezed her eyes shut.
What a shame. I thought it was going to work.
Yet no matter how long she waited, the impact never came. After a long while, Enri cautiously opened her eyes.
Far away, she saw Ara with a pipe in her mouth.
“Hwa-ryeong? What are you doing?”
“You won.”
“Huh?”
Ara did not answer. Instead, something else gave the reply.
Only then did Enri see the wave of messages flooding the chat. It was not a tsunami trying to swallow her—it was a rain of blessings washing away all her hardship.