A River Already Flowed
"D-damn it…"
Balder couldn't bring himself to answer. His lips pressed into a hard, bloodless line.
Raon watched him tremble, arms folded with unhurried composure. He's not choosing between the two options. He's trying to figure out how to shorten the term, cut the percentage—or both.
Balder's thinking was transparent. He would take the option that paid out wages and rewards, then try to whittle down the duration, the rate, or both.
Not happening.
Another faction, he might have cut some slack. But this was the True Martial Hall's second offense. They needed to be stepped on—hard, and without ambiguity.
I should take a little of that indecision off his hands.
Raon smiled faintly and took another step toward him.
"You seem to be having trouble deciding, so I suppose we'll follow our Squad Leader's suggestion."
"What?"
"Effective immediately, I'll be extending the period during which we collect the Gold Peak Squad's wages and rewards to four years and six months."
The original four years had just become four and a half.
"You lunatic!"
Balder lurched off the platform in a panic. He didn't actually charge—Glenn's presence saw to that—but he ground his teeth as if he meant to kill.
"You don't just tack on six months because someone took a second to answer!"
"I just did."
"That's absurd! You already made your offer!"
"And the Hall Master is the one who didn't take it."
"Ghk—but—"
"Four years and six months. Eighty-five percent."
Raon kept smiling as he bumped the original eighty percent up to eighty-five.
"Hah…"
Balder's mouth fell open, as if the entire situation had become too ridiculous to process.
"Raon, you did great! You're the best!"
Rimer threw both arms in the air, crowing that this was his disciple through and through. Whether it made an enemy of the True Martial Hall or not seemed irrelevant. He looked like a moth that could see nothing but the fortune burning right in front of him.
"F-fine! I'll take it—the first one! Four years at eighty percent!"
"Hall Master, are you capable of scooping up a river that has already flowed past?"
"What?"
"You insane little—!"
Balder's eyes burned red. His patience had hit its limit; the ground beneath his feet began to crumble.
"Balder."
"Urgh!"
Glenn's voice dropped from the highest platform, and Balder's body locked in place. One moment he had been radiating murderous intent; the next, a single word had him flinching like a struck dog. Someone had clearly taught him a brutal lesson before.
"If this doesn't suit you either, I'll have to raise it again. This time, five years—"
"Stop! I get it! I said I get it!"
Balder threw up a hand in surrender. His face, of course, was still savage and ugly with rage.
"Then for the next four years and six months, eighty-five percent of the gold coins and rewards the Gold Peak Squad brings in will belong to the Light Wind Squad. Do you accept?"
"Hah. I accept."
He nodded as if he were chewing on bone.
"Good."
Raon inclined his head and looked to the announcer.
"W-with this, the group duel between the Light Wind Squad and the Gold Peak Squad is concluded!"
A gong sounded on the heels of the declaration, ringing the match to its end.
"Don't think this is over."
Balder glared as if he meant to kill, slung the fallen Garon over his shoulder, and left the training ground. The look on his face, the force rolling off him—he had no intention of letting this go. He was already thinking about revenge.
At least he takes his son with him.
Violent as the man was, he was still a far cry from the kind of cold-blooded father who would cast a son aside for falling short of his expectations.
That's everything, then—
"Aigoo! Our little gold mine!"
Raon had just exhaled in relief and turned to leave when Rimer came barreling in, seized him by the shoulders, and shook him.
"I live because of our vice-captain! Light of my life!"
Rimer was still clutching his betting slip. He dropped into a bow as if offering worship. Then he glanced back and waved the Light Wind Squad over.
"What are you all standing around for?! Your vice-captain just raked in a fortune!"
"Huh?"
"W-what?"
"You should be paying your respects!"
"We just spent three months getting beaten up, so…"
"I don't care—get over here!"
Rimer beamed at Raon and scowled at everyone else.
This King saw it clearly just now.
Wrath rose at a leisurely pace and drifted up in front of Raon's eyes.
That look of yours—toying with your opponent and squeezing every last drop of profit until the very end. As expected, you were born to be a demon.
"Our light and our salt. Let us pay homage to the vice-captain—"
"All of you, shut up!"
"I-is that thing really seventeen?"
"He's toying with the Hall Master of the True Martial Hall—a man who's been through every kind of hell."
"His mouth looks even stronger than his sword."
"The martial power and judgment to beat a Master, and that face on top of it. Makes life not worth living. How warm's the Terrin River looking?"
"At this rate, him becoming Squad Leader is just a matter of time."
"How do you even raise a monster like that?"
The swordsmen of Zieghart stared at Raon as if he were some unnatural creature—the boy who had crushed Balder with words and circumstance alike.
"Well, it sure wasn't Lord Rimer."
"Right? He didn't do a single thing today."
"I heard he just lies around even on normal days."
"Then he's just a figurehead squad leader!"
"That's Lord Rimer for you."
They snorted, watching Rimer toss Raon in the air in celebration.
Most of the spectators were astonished, or simply enjoying the show. Karun Zieghart's face, however, had crumpled like tree bark.
"Tsk."
Karun clicked his tongue, watching Balder carry Garon out.
That stupid bastard…
Garon losing to Raon and the shock that followed—that, Karun could understand. Everything Balder had done afterward was a disaster. Toyed with by the lowest of the low collaterals. A seventeen-year-old brat, no less. It was so absurd he couldn't even manage a hollow laugh.
Still doesn't think. Not even a little.
The Gold Peak Squad Leader who had issued the challenge was unconscious. All Balder had needed to do was say they would talk later, then apply pressure with the True Martial Hall's power. There had been no reason to settle it here. Instead the simpleton had let Raon play him, and wrecked everything.
In every possible way, he just handed that boy more power.
Today Raon had defeated a Master, and he had toyed with Balder, Hall Master of the True Martial Hall, in front of everyone. For collaterals who chafed against the direct line, and for outsiders looking in, this incident would become a considerable hope.
This is going to be irritating for a while… no. Actually, this worked out.
A cold light slid through Karun's eyes.
If I crush this hope that's risen for the first time in a long while, they'll never think of rebelling again.
His expression sour, he looked at Burren, who was tossing Raon in the air with the rest.
I may have to call that maggot back.
Knock, knock.
Derus Robert was in his office, gazing at the sunlight pouring through the window, when a clear knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
A butler with silver-gray hair covering one eye opened the door, entered, and bowed.
"My lord. The investigation you previously ordered has yielded results."
Derus turned his head slowly. His face had not changed in the slightest. He nodded at an unhurried pace.
"The investigation into Raon Zieghart?"
"Yes."
The butler nodded and folded his hands in front of him.
"Word from the black market is that the rumor of Raon Zieghart cutting down the 7th Apostle is true, with a ninety percent probability."
"If the black market puts it at ninety, that means it's confirmed."
The black market's primary revenue was not rare-item auctions or gambling. The finest intelligence network on the continent was the real wellspring of its money. If they rated something at ninety percent or higher, it might as well be fact.
"Yes. It is difficult to believe, but it appears to be true. The story of the young sword demon who leapt from the castle walls to stop Habun Castle's Wave is also genuine."
"And his age?"
"Seventeen is correct."
"A seventeen-year-old Expert who defeated a Master…"
Derus let out a hollow laugh, as if the whole thing were too absurd to take seriously. Seventeen-year-old Experts were common enough. A seventeen-year-old Expert who had defeated a Master was the first in the history of the continent.
Even his own son—called a genius of the sword, his name listed among the Continental Twelve Stars—had not so much as reached toward that level at seventeen. Talent of a different class entirely. He found himself wanting to see what kind of creature this boy actually was.
"Nothing beyond that?"
"Zieghart's information does not circulate easily to begin with, so even the black market appears to be having difficulty. Most of what we have is trivial."
The butler bowed his head, apologetic.
"And the Shadows sent north?"
"They have yet to establish themselves there as well, and have brought back almost nothing. The ones dispatched recently, I would recommend we pull back…"
"No."
Derus shook his head, his brow furrowing.
"Send more."
"My lord?"
"Investigate him thoroughly. Whose son he is, from whom he learned, what swordsmanship he has mastered, whom he is close to—all of it."
"Mm. His talent is certainly immense, but is it necessary to go that far? He is not even a Master yet…"
"That he is not a Master is precisely what makes him terrifying."
Derus's expression froze over like a sheet of ice.
"A child who has not reached Master defeated one. What do you think will happen when that boy becomes a Master—and then reaches beyond it? He will rewrite every history this continent has, and one day he may well arrive in this very seat."
He pointed at the position he occupied: the head of House Robert.
"That is how terrifying talent that transcends its class can be."
"I-I understand."
"We will inevitably clash with Zieghart. As planned, do not limit the work to the boy named Raon. Refresh every piece of intelligence we have on Zieghart itself."
"Yes!"
The butler answered without a tremor, as if determined to make up for his earlier misstep.
"And the matter of the Yonan family?"
Derus seemed satisfied with the reply. He nodded and seated himself on the windowsill.
"We have injected it into the family head's youngest daughter. Physicians, healers, and priests have all shaken their heads and walked away, so they will soon be seeking help from every direction."
"Do not answer immediately. Extend a hand slowly, as if by coincidence. Extract as much as possible from that stubborn bloodline."
"Of course."
The butler bowed and left the office.
"Soon. It is truly almost time."
Derus looked out the window again, his eyes narrowing.
"Before that, I'll have to erase everything that stands in the way."
Raon went to the infirmary, stabilized his internal injuries, and returned to the Annex. His insides still burned, but he was in far better condition than after the fight with the 7th Apostle.
"You are not to move a muscle for two days. Understood?"
Sylvia laid him on the bed with absolute orders to rest and gripped his shoulder tight.
"If you get up this time too, I'll tie you down completely!"
He had coughed up so much blood that a hard, stubborn light had settled in her eyes.
"The maids will stand watch in front of your door in twenty-four-hour shifts. Do not even think about coming out."
Even Helen, whom he had counted as an ally, shot him a look that said he was not to move.
"Hah… all right."
Raon let out a long breath and nodded.
"I'll stay put until I'm better."
"I'll be watching."
"I will trust you."
Only after they had his confirmation did the two of them leave the room.
This isn't so bad, either.
In his previous life, no one had ever said such things to him. He knew the worry was genuine, so their nagging didn't sound ugly at all.
You must not think that way.
Wrath climbed up onto the bracelet, his face sour.
A demon has no need of familial affection. Strength. Aligning every desire toward becoming stronger—that is the true bearing of a demon.
"That's not a demon thing. That's just your personal desire, isn't it? Not every demon lives the way you do."
Of course not! This King is special. There is no one who devotes himself to strength the way This King does. That is why This King is called the Monarch of Wrath, and why among Demon Kings This King's name stands as the strongest—
"Not Wrath. Gluttony, more like."
It is not! Do not compare This King to that rabbit!
He shrieked and shook his head wildly.
In any case! Your martial power is still woefully lacking, but that bottomless, starving temperament and your will to fight are rather to This King's liking.
Wrath's mouth curved down slightly, and he nodded.
Should you become a demon, This King will look after you well.
"Can a human even become a demon?"
Of course. Quite a number of humans have become demons thus far.
"How?"
First, offer your body to This King, and—
"Rejected."
Raon waved him off and closed his eyes. He had been willing to hear the man out, at least. It had been a complete waste.
I-it is true! If This King descends and elevates the grade of your flesh and soul, you will possess power of an entirely different dimension from what you have now!
"Yeah. Not buying."
He flicked his hand the way one shoos off a street peddler. Wrath had been quiet lately; Raon had wondered if he'd given up. Apparently not. The creature was still after his body.
Tsk. It does not work.
Wrath clicked his tongue, short and disappointed.
"Of course it doesn't. Who do you take me for?"
Even so, the fact that you look rather decent is true. If you wish, This King shall tell you how a human becomes a demon. First—
Wait.
Just as Wrath was about to explain the method, a message rose before Raon's eyes.
The achievement of Ring of Fire has increased.
Sense of Frost Flowers has risen to 4-Star.
All stats have increased by 6 points.
The messages had appeared on the strength of the feat itself: an Expert defeating a Master. Sense of Frost Flowers, which expanded his perception, and every one of his stats had risen together.
Urgh!
"Whoa…"
He was still reading, a little breathless with admiration, when a second set of messages surfaced.
At the second surge of points, Raon drew in a breath and clenched his fist.
A burning pain flared through his body as his flesh transformed—then a cool vitality washed over him, as if he had been lowered into cold water. Even the gnawing ache of his internal injuries vanished clean away.
"Thirteen points in one go…"
Raon gripped his pounding chest and smiled. So many stats had risen that he could feel the new strength sitting in him, raw and immediate. Adapting to it was going to mean throwing himself into training for a while.
"And Sense of Frost Flowers went up a rank too."
Sense of Frost Flowers was a trait that expanded the range and sensitivity of his perception. For someone who had lived as an assassin, it fit him like a second skin. He liked it all the more for that.
D-damn it…
Wrath's eyes trembled as the rising messages crushed down on him.
You think it makes any sense to shower rewards like this for such a cheap achievement?! If you have a conscience, spit it back out!
"I don't have a conscience."
Raon shook his head without a hint of hesitation.
"You said I was like a demon. Have you ever seen a demon throw up something it already ate?"
Nngh. You will not even ask how to spit it out?
"That's a question I don't need."
For rewards like these, he would not spit anything out even if his stomach burst.
You… you are a human more demonic than any demon.
"Is that a compliment?"
Ghhhkk!
Raon smiled, watching Wrath shake with rage.
"Oh, right—what were you saying earlier? How does a human become a demon?"
This King will never tell you!
Wrath shook his head violently.
If you became a demon, the Demon Realm would wither and dry up!
One week later.
Raon had recovered from his internal injuries completely, and he stepped out into the Annex courtyard.
The wind on his face after so long indoors lifted his mood on its own.
He loosened his body with light movements and drew the Heavenly Sky Sword. The moment his hand closed on the hilt, a sensation of being alive ran through him. It seemed he had become a swordsman through and through, whether he liked it or not.
He stepped through the Sixth Step of the Supreme Harmony Footwork and unfolded the Refining Sword Technique. The energy that bloomed along the silver-white blade flowed as stately as a great river, wrapping the entire courtyard.
The principle of softness originally nested in the Refining Sword Technique was magnified as it wove together with the Sixth Step. A divine subtlety revealed itself—one that could shed even the dappled sunlight falling through the air.
Next he drove the Fifth Step and brought the Mad Fang Sword crashing down. The fangs of an untamed beast, honed even sharper, ripped the empty air to shreds.
"I wasn't imagining it."
Just as he had felt while fighting Garon, the Supreme Harmony Footwork possessed the ability to amplify a sword art's attributes and its power.
Unfold the Sixth Step together with a soft sword, and it became a formation that could shed Ganggi. Use the Fifth Step with a hard sword, and it was honed into a fierce spear-blade that punched through walls of Ganggi.
Offense, defense, evasion, even counterattack—it was a peerless footwork that could be operated in any of them.
Of course, the internal injuries come with it.
It amplified a sword art's power, and the recoil came back just as large. The severe internal injuries this time had been, in part, because of the Supreme Harmony Footwork.
Nothing in this world is perfect.
Where there was a strength, there was a weakness. The Supreme Harmony Footwork was a movement Glenn had created at a high realm, and using it at Raon's current level put a strain on the body. If his flesh had not been reinforced by the stat increases, he would still be lying in bed like a corpse.
"Let's see."
Raon drew up every last drop of the aura he had settled and poured it into the Heavenly Sky Sword.
A deep, resonant sword-cry rose, and a crimson light bloomed along the blade.
Thread-thin Geomgi twisted and coiled into sword-silk, and that sword-silk gathered like flower petals to form a vast, magnificent line.
A light as vast as a comet unfurled along the Heavenly Sky Sword's edge. A vivid condensation of aura—Ganggi.
But the Ganggi could not hold. It guttered out like a candle in the wind.
"Tsk."
Raon clicked his tongue and lowered the Heavenly Sky Sword.
"Still not happening."
Through the duel with Garon he had refined every martial art he had learned, and the Master's Wall that had stood in front of him had certainly come down.
But he had not reached Master. He was standing in front of a wall he had already destroyed, unable to step through it—a strange, suspended state.
I don't know.
He did not feel like an Expert, and he did not feel like a Master.
In his previous life he had killed Masters, but he had never become one, so he had no way of knowing what his current condition actually was.
Wrath.
What.
What realm am I in right now? I don't feel like an Expert or a Master.
Why are you asking This King that.
I've been eating everything you've wanted lately. Earn your keep.
While he had been resting at the Annex, Raon had eaten every food and snack Wrath had wanted. The creature had forgotten even that his stats had been stolen, and had offered praise for every dish that came out.
Mm…
Wrath smacked his lips, looking slightly guilty.
You stand at the boundary.
The boundary?
The Master's Wall, as you humans call it. You are standing on the place where that wall was brought down.
As I thought.
It was what he had expected. He was standing in a position that was neither Master nor Expert.
Then what do I have to do to take one more step from here?
You need a catalyst.
A catalyst?
Yes. An impetus that will let you put your foot forward.
And how do I find that?
This King does not know.
What?
This King never even felt a wall of that sort. From the beginning This King skipped the second stage, the third. This King has never had a worry like yours, and so This King does not know.
You insufferable…
As Demon Kings went, he was spectacularly useless on this particular subject.
One more try, then.
He attempted to form Ganggi several more times, but as before, he could not maintain it. The aura melted away.
Not happening right now.
Raon clicked his tongue, disappointed.
Then there's no need to obsess over it.
The truth was that his current rate of growth already exceeded the limits of a human being. If he trained with everything he had, the way he always had, he would take that step forward without even noticing it.
"Just keep doing what I've been—hm?"
He was adjusting his grip, about to return to sword practice, when a presence caught in the newly heightened Sense of Frost Flowers. Above the trees behind him.
"You can come out."
It was a presence he had felt several times before. He gestured toward the person in the tree.
"I know you're there."
"Damn it."
A blunt voice, and a woman with purple hair dropped from the branches. Narrow eyes, a small frame, a sword worn across her back that drew the eye at once—Sheryl, Leader of the Heavenly Sword Squad.
"How did you know?"
"Your breathing broke for a moment."
"I saw something absurd. Couldn't be helped."
Sheryl frowned as she approached and came to a stop in front of him. Her eyes trembled, faintly, as if she were a little thrown.
"Did you have something to say?"
He had thought he would have no further business with her. He had not expected to see her again this soon.
"How's your body?"
"Almost fully recovered."
"Then it should be fine."
Sheryl looked him over from head to toe, as if confirming his condition for herself, and then held out a hand.
"Work with me on something."