The Youngest Master

"Raon!"

Pedrick seized the wrist of Raon, whose eyes had fallen shut.

His wounds have gotten worse.

He had pushed himself when he should have been concentrating on recovery, and his condition had deteriorated for it. At this rate it might not end in a simple faint — he could be in genuine, mortal danger.

A low hum rolled through the air as Pedrick drew on the last of the Siltia's Energy he had managed to gather. A current of high-purity mana melted away, one remnant at a time, the Battle Qi still eating through Raon's body.

"Raon…"

Sheryl took in his condition and bit down on her lip. Bone, muscle, even his mana circuits — there was not a single place left unharmed.

Wounds like these…

She had stood on countless battlefields, but she had never seen a body ruined to this degree. Most people died before they ever reached a state like this.

"Damn it!"

She had thought it was enough that Raon had reached Master, that he had brought the Saint and the child back alive. That had been a terrible mistake.

Not everyone made it out unharmed.

He had sacrificed himself. That boy had clearly thrown his own body on the line to save those two. Nothing else could have left him in this condition.

"What in the world happened in there?"

"Hah…"

Pedrick let out a ragged breath as he continued to pour Siltia's Energy into the boy.

"Raon appeared just as I had resigned myself to dying. He was still an Expert, and yet he didn't give an inch against Jeokranggwi and Heuk-ikgwi."

"Jeokranggwi and Heuk-ikgwi…"

Both of them were Masters. Heuk-ikgwi in particular could fly, and his hide was so tough that anyone below Master couldn't even contest him.

"Raon held on. He endured, and endured, watching for an opening…"

Pedrick told her everything — how Raon had broken through to Master inside the forest, slain both ghosts, and then traded a single, equal blow with Akyanggwi.

"…Because this child held out until the very end, Julius and I are still alive."

"That's…"

Sheryl looked down at Raon and bit her lip until it bled.

It was a mistake. Too great ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a mistake…

Her fingertips trembled. Caught up in the mood, trusting in the boy's potential, she had made the easy decision. The thought of the pain that child must have suffered made it hard to breathe.

A sharp crack split the air. Sheryl struck herself across the face and dropped to her knees.

"Saint. Please — just put this boy back the way he was. I don't care what method you use. I'll do anything. Anything at all!"

She looked up at Pedrick without even wiping the blood running from the corner of her mouth.

"I feel the same. This life exists because of Raon. I'll do whatever it takes."

Pedrick nodded with grave sincerity and closed his eyes. He did not cut off the flow of Siltia's Energy, even as his own internal injuries made his insides burn.

I need time…

He had taken heavy internal wounds of his own, so he couldn't draw on his usual strength, and every medicine he carried had been left behind in the city. The situation was grim from every angle.

I can't use the Raysin, either.

Raysin was a potent medicine, no question — but its medicinal and toxic properties were both so fierce that it required refining. All he could do now was keep Raon's condition from getting any worse.

"Ah! If that's the problem, he brought some with him!"

Sheryl pulled out the hemostatics and internal-injury medicines Raon had taken from Dorian.

"These aren't poor quality. They should help… hm?"

Pedrick's eyes flew wide.

What is this?

The body of a boy who had been on the verge of death was beginning, little by little, to recover. It wasn't the effect of Siltia's Energy. It wasn't merely his mana circuits and dantian knitting back together — bone and flesh were slowly, impossibly, joining as well.

His breathing. Is it his breathing?

As he slept, each slow inhale and exhale seemed to draw the mana of nature itself into his body to heal him.

"What a knight…"

Pedrick's mouth fell open. That a body wrecked to this degree could recover from nothing but sleep was beyond astonishment. It was something close to horror.

"I-is something wrong? Don't tell me…"

Sheryl's pupils trembled as she pressed in beside him.

"No — this is good news!"

Pedrick shook his head ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and pointed at Raon.

"Lift him. We need to return to Letran at once."

"But if we move him…"

"I don't know the exact reason, but Raon's body is healing itself. He'll hold until we get back!"

"Understood!"

Sheryl nodded and gathered Raon into her arms as gently as she could. The difference in their height was considerable, but she paid no mind to how it looked. She thought only of how to move without jostling him.

By any means, by whatever it takes, I will return him to what he was.

She closed her eyes, swearing it the way a knight swears to her lord.

"Mm…"

Julius gazed steadily at Raon, who was being carried on the Heavenly Sword Squad Leader's back.

When that young swordsman had first appeared, Julius had seen him as a hero out of an old tale.

He had believed a hero from novels and myth would strike down Eden's monsters — those axes of evil — and save him and the Saint.

And in truth, the man had withstood the two ghosts' terrifying onslaught alone, then brought them both down in a display of brilliance. It had been the very image of the hero Julius had imagined.

He had thought the man would defeat the goat-headed monster that had been standing idle as well, and of course ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠take them home.

But that was not what happened.

Just facing the two monsters had exhausted him to the limit. He was wounded from head to toe.

Even so — even in a state where he could barely fight — he had challenged the goat-headed monster, and crossed swords with it.

The face Raon wore as he matched blades against that creature was not a hero's face.

He did not take the enemy's head in a single stroke, the way heroes did in stories and novels. His features twisted as if he were dying, and he simply endured. He simply held on.

He was not the hero of the tales Julius had imagined.

He was only a person, filled with the will to hold out no matter what — to save them by any means necessary.

And that was why it struck Julius in the chest. The man's feelings came through so clearly that Julius could not find a single word. No — his mouth would not even open.

When the duel ended and Raon stood on staggering legs and leveled his sword at Akyanggwi once more, Julius felt his heart beat harder than it had at any moment in his life.

He knew why the man was doing it, and he could not contain what he felt.

The goat-headed monster had acknowledged the draw and withdrawn. Raon had sunk to the ground, breathing like a man already dying.

It was a thinner breath than Julius had heard even when his grandfather passed away.

And still, even then, he did not fall.

He had gone out of the forest and helped drive off the magician who was the architect of all of it. That he could still take up a sword in that state and show fighting spirit was staggering. It filled Julius with awe.

"Raon Zieghart."

Julius repeated the name, his fist clenched tight.

The boy who had been swept up in the storm had met not a hero, but a human who stood by will — and in that meeting, he chose his own path.

"Nnh…"

Raon let out a groan and opened his eyes. An unfamiliar sea-blue ceiling filled his vision.

Ugh. This hurts like hell.

The moment his mind cleared, the pain arrived first. From the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, there was not a place that didn't hurt.

Even Sloth's effect and the Saint's treatment weren't enough to heal all of it?

That this much pain remained after Pedrick's care and the sleep of Sloth meant he had, in all likelihood, truly gone to the brink of death.

"Hah… hm?"

He let out a breath and tried to sit up — and saw Runaan, her head resting against the side of the bed. She had fallen asleep while watching over him, a soft snore in her throat, moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes.

"It wasn't just the ice cream girl. They all came running and raised hell, screaming at me to save you. It was filthy loud."

A frigid voice accompanied Wrath as he lazily crawled up onto the bracelet.

They did?

Raon looked quietly at the sleeping Runaan. Knowing she had been worried about him didn't feel bad at all. If he was being honest, his chest had gone warm.

"You idiot. There's a limit to how far you push yourself. You actually went right to the brink of death!"

Wrath shot him a sidelong glare, clearly displeased, and pressed on.

"There isn't a single fool as reckless as you even in the Demon Realm!"

That so.

Raon looked at Wrath trembling with indignation and let out a short laugh. He had been certain he would reach Master — but the little king was right. This time he had gone about it far too brutally.

Even so, if he went back, he would not change the choice. A life had to be repaid with a life. Even if the road led to death, he would save Pedrick.

"And is passing out your signature move now?"

What?

"The moment you go anywhere you collapse with a thud like some frail weakling, and This King is the one who suffers for it!"

Hold on. What exactly did you even do…

"You pick fights you have no business picking, weak as you are! Know your place!"

Wrath clicked his tongue as if Raon were a lost cause.

Mm…

Raon smacked his lips.

He's not wrong.

He hadn't accomplished anything yet, and still he had stepped forward and started more than a few things.

He hadn't originally been this kind of person. Living this life seemed to have changed him. Whether that was for the better or the worse, he wasn't sure.

"Because of you, This King couldn't even ea—"

"Hm?"

Just as Wrath was winding up to complain about his appetite again, messages began to rise before Raon's eyes.

The messages he had glimpsed before his eyes closed now unfolded in far greater detail.

"Urgh!"

Wrath bit his lip as he stared at the messages. He had already seen them once, and still the rage surged up all over again.

"Master…"

Raon closed his exhausted hand into a fist. His heart trembled at the knowledge that he had reached a realm he had never attained even in his previous life.

I finally made it.

At the time, the situation had been too desperate for it to feel real. All he had thought about was ending everything as fast as possible.

Seeing the message that he had become a Master now, from a place of relative calm, made emotion boil up in him almost too fiercely to hold.

So this was the Middle Dantian.

The Middle Dantian, said to open upon becoming a Master, sat near the solar plexus. The sensation of punching through the rock that had sealed it, of forging Ganggi for the first time, had been pure thrill.

The effect is broken.

No wonder an Expert couldn't beat a Master.

The Middle Dantian's gift was not merely the creation of Ganggi. It reduced aura consumption and condensed it so densely that a fighter could endure even a prolonged battle.

That difference in the Middle Dantian was exactly why no Expert had ever brought down a Master.

And the stats are a bonus.

The continental-first title had added another ten points. From these messages ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠alone, every stat had risen by twenty. The reward was almost absurd.

And this isn't even all of it.

Raon smiled and looked down.

Both the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames and Glacia had risen to 5-Star. He had checked the aura in his dantian the instant he woke, so he had known this without even reading it.

Even though it had not yet filled completely, more aura was gathering in his dantian than before he became a Master. As he was now, he felt he could face Jeokranggwi and Heuk-ikgwi far more easily.

The resistances went up too.

With resistances at this level, he could take hits from a middling fire mage or water mage and still win.

But the messages were not finished.

This time the messages concerned the Curse of Frost, which had clung to him like a leech from the day he was born until now.

So it wasn't my imagination.

When he had become a Master, he had felt as if some cord binding his wrists and ankles had snapped. That had not been a mere feeling. It had been the rebound of his body returning to normal as the Curse of Frost vanished.

The sense of being bound is completely gone.

The sluggishness he had felt whenever he moved or circulated aura had disappeared as well. Once his body recovered, he would feel that difference even more sharply.

One Who Overcame the Frozen Fate.

All stats plus fifteen — and on top of that, frost resistance hadn't merely increased. It had increased massively.

With 6-Star water resistance and this frost resistance stacked on top of it, even cold magic on the level of the sixth circle wouldn't leave a scratch.

"It really paid out."

Raon finished reading the messages that had passed and smiled. Every last one of them had been a jackpot, worth the wait. He wanted to test how much he had grown right then and there.

I need to get my body healed, fast…

"You've lost your mind! You and the system — you're both insane!"

Wrath glared at the messages as if he meant to kill them, grinding his teeth.

"Rewards like this just for becoming a Master? This King cannot believe it!"

Not 'just.' I became a Master at eighteen.

"That is precisely why it is 'just'! If This King had possessed your body, This King would have become a Master at ten!"

I met you when I was twelve. Ten would have been impossible.

"Sh-shut up!"

Wrath bellowed and hauled up a surge of wrathful energy.

"This damned reward is bad enough — but because you were unconscious, This King ate nothing but watery porridge for a week! This King nearly died of boredom!"

He seemed angrier about a week without a proper meal than about the rewards themselves.

A vast force erupted from Wrath. Even after becoming a Master, the emotion and the frost of it made Raon's insides ache.

"Kh…"

Raon clutched his chest, his face twisting.

Right. I took on his Wrath.

To survive in the forest, he had accepted twenty points of Wrath from him. Perhaps because of that sudden increase, a pressure as immense as the day they had first met came crashing in.

"You made a mistake. This King's Wrath is not something to be taken in so lightly!"

Just as he said, the frost seeping through Raon's whole body and the Wrath crushing his very soul were on a different level from before.

Even so, I'm fine.

Raon shook his head. What he had gained this time was not stats alone. The caliber of his soul had risen, his resistances had climbed, and even the frost of the curse was gone.

Twenty points of Wrath was a serious disadvantage — but his growth outstripped it. He could endure this.

In particular, with the curse's frost gone, his mana circuits were as clean as a newborn's.

A force like something about to explode clashed inside him, and his whole body shuddered. The pain that had settled flared again, bringing agony to the extreme — but he clenched his teeth and bore it, refusing to give Wrath even a sliver of hope.

"Stop enduring and hand your body to This King! From now on This King will eat with This King's own mouth!"

As expected, it was the lack of food that had made him snap.

That much won't work.

Raon smiled coldly and kept circulating the Ring of Fire and Glacia.

I don't lose wars of numbers or wars of patience.

This was no different from chess — block what the opponent was aiming for, and show that your own side was still standing. He held a calm expression and shut down every one of Wrath's assaults.

"This King will not lose this time!"

Wrath seemed to trust in the swollen emotion of Wrath. He refused to give up, shoving more rage and frost into him.

I needed a stimulus about this strong anyway.

Raon chewed the inside of his cheek and endured a pain that felt as if it were shaking his soul itself. He had been lying still for about a week. Exercise of this sort was necessary. He smiled through the vicious pain.

"You're smiling? You're smiling?"

The smile seemed to stoke Wrath's fury even higher. His energy swelled far larger, and he dumped everything he had gathered in a single flood.

Come as much as you like.

Raon evened his breathing and continued to circulate the frost — and then a new message rose.

"Urgh!"

Wrath recoiled in shock and lost the balance of his power — and another message rose on the heels of the first.

A message declaring victory over Wrath.

"Daaaaamn it! Why?!"

Wrath clutched his head and screamed.

"This King handed over twenty points of Wrath — so why can't This King win?! You vicious bastard! Do you not even have pain receptors?!"

It hurts.

Raon shook his head.

I'm just used to this kind of pain.

From his previous life onward, physical and mental agony had been familiar. It was hard — but he could endure it well enough.

"V-vicious. You really are a vicious one!"

Wrath's jaw trembled, as if he had had enough.

"Meeting you was the mistake of This King's lifetime. This King should never have associated with you…"

Don't hate me quite that much.

"How am I supposed to not hate—"

I'll buy you the local specialty food.

At the words local specialty food, Wrath's mouth snapped shut. A moment later, he slowly parted his lips.

"R-really?"

Yeah.

"Well, in that case…"

Wrath glanced at him sidelong, then gave a small nod.

"Th-this King has heard this place is famous for its spices. There is bound to be cuisine that uses them. Find it properly."

Got it.

"Recover quickly. You have to get better so we can go eat."

Wrath was even worrying about his body now, as if the part where he had told Raon to die had never happened. Truly an easy, lightweight Demon King.

Then… hm?

Just as Raon tried to sit up, a new message appeared.

"What. There's more?!"

Was there something else still coming?

He tilted his head and examined the message.

A message declaring victory in the wager he had made when he accepted Wrath's power.

"This is wrong!"

Wrath shook his head rapidly.

"You did not defeat all three of them! This King won that wager! If anything, you should be taking on even more Wrath—"

That's not how it works.

Having grasped the situation, Raon wore a faintly sly smile.

Back then you clearly said, 'All three of them must disappear from here!' All three vanished from the forest. The wager is my win.

"Th-that obviously meant you had to kill all three of them!"

Then you should have said so from the start.

Raon shrugged at his leisure.

Shall we see what the reward for this wager actually is?

"You son of a biiiiitch!"

Nice.

Wrath's scream made a decent lullaby — but it wasn't a bad alarm clock, either.