A Wager He Can't Lose
Raon's footsteps toward the training ground were lighter than they had ever been. It wasn't his imagination. His body itself had grown light, as if he were riding the wind.
Thanks to the aura.
His stats had risen and his constitution had changed, but the greatest difference was the aura. Aura was condensed mana; its mere existence elevated a human's physical capabilities. Two masses of it now sat gathered in his aura core, so of course his body felt lighter and more vigorous than usual.
And that isn't all.
His senses had grown finer still. The flow of the wind, the footsteps of mountain beasts playing through the grass, even the presence of the swordsmen standing guard at the foot of the mountain — everything around him felt close enough to close his hand around.
"Hmm."
Raon clicked his tongue, tasting the air.
I want to test this.
If he meant to wield this power in a real fight, he needed to know exactly what he was capable of now.
Once today's training is over, I should head back up the mountain.
The clearing on Bukmang Mountain, where Rimer had once taught him the nature of the wind, would do perfectly.
He was walking toward the training ground with a smile of anticipation when Wrath let out a scream.
"Kyaaah!"
"Damn it!"
The creature was still pouring out vicious frost and rage. Having been drained of his power, of course, he wasn't threatening in the slightest.
"How did you even see the furnace at that moment!"
Yeah. I got lucky.
"Don't make me laugh! Did you think This King wouldn't know you pulled it toward yourself!"
Wrath ground his teeth.
This monstrous brat!
He had expected Raon Zieghart to possess some means of blocking frost and mental assault. He had told himself it wouldn't matter what the boy had. He would devour the child's body and soul in no time — he always had.
But this one had been different.
From the very beginning, the boy had aimed for the moment a human's mind was at its weakest: the State of Self-Absorption, when cultivation reached its peak and the walls of the spirit sank to their lowest. Wrath had detonated every scrap of rage and frost he had hoarded, and still Raon's mind had not broken. The boy had endured with extreme willpower, then used the furnace's heat to shove Wrath out.
Even now, Wrath could not believe that perfect plan had crumbled.
Where did a creature like this even come from…
Demonfolk who had weathered every trial in existence could not endure that kind of pain, and this child had taken it as if it were nothing. Wrath was so stunned he had nothing left to say.
He swallowed dryly. A dreadful thought crept in — that he might spend the rest of his life dangling from this brat's forearm.
That cannot be allowed.
He clenched his jaw. He had failed before, and he had failed today, but he could not keep handing things over like this.
"Raon Zieghart. Don't get comfortable. This King has not even begun yet."
"Sure. Give it your best."
Raon gave a small nod and kept walking toward the training ground. That bland reaction. The more Wrath saw it, the more it infuriated him.
"Clean out your ears and listen. This King is a demon who does not know the meaning of surrender. This King shall devour your body and slaughter every last human around y—"
"Hang in there."
"Aaaargh!"
At Raon's dry reply, Wrath exploded for the second time.
Runaan stood in the center of the training ground, watching nothing but the door.
When is he coming?
Lately Raon's condition had been poor enough that every trainee could see it, and they all knew why.
Aura.
Children who had started cultivating later than Raon had all formed theirs, but even after seven months he still had not seated an aura in his core. In the 5th Training Ground, Raon was the only one who had failed to acquire it.
The children who had acknowledged him as top trainee after he defeated Burren had begun to think otherwise. They wanted the seat to go to Marta, or Burren, or even Runaan herself.
I want to help him.
She had received so much from Raon. Training beside him had pushed her to higher achievements, and the cool fragrance that drifted off him always made practice feel good.
Mom said so, too.
Her mother had told her to repay people she was grateful to. So she had brought her favorite Bead Ice Cream again. Last time she had given him the final one left; this time she still had three. She hoped he would eat them and feel better.
Click.
She was fussing with the box of Bead Ice Cream when the training ground door opened and the Raon she had been waiting and waiting for walked in.
Tap, tap.
She scurried over and planted herself in front of him. Raon seemed used to her sticking close by now; his expression barely changed.
Rustle.
She held out the small box she had been carrying.
"Cheer up."
Runaan gave a small nod to Raon, who had taken the box in a daze.
Hm?
She started to put the usual five paces between them, then caught the cool fragrance coming off him — thicker than before.
Sniff, sniff.
She hadn't imagined it. It was a scent so clean and bracing it made her chest tremble.
Runaan's eyes lit up, and she stepped one pace closer than usual.
What's with her now?
Raon narrowed his eyes. He had come down the mountain in a good mood, only to find Runaan standing far closer than usual, sniffing at him with little huffs of breath. It was mildly unsettling.
He looked at the box she had given him. It was the same one that had held Bead Ice Cream before. He opened it, and white frost unfurled as three beads of different colors sat waiting inside.
"Hah! Is that not Bead Ice Cream!"
Wrath's voice arrived packed with anticipation.
"You want me to eat this?"
"Yeah."
Runaan, who had been sniffing away, opened her eyes and nodded.
"From this day forward, This King recognizes that child as This King's Ice Cream Girl. Raon. Eat them all! This King wishes to taste the other flavors as well. Start with the black one in the center…"
Settle down.
Raon picked the black bead from the box and put it in his mouth. Cool, sweet chocolate fluttered across his tongue. It was sweet enough to make him wonder if this was what people meant by finding happiness in food.
"Madness! The chill soaks the inside of the mouth, and over it the sweet chocolate wraps the tip of the tongue like a ribbon. An exquisite flavor!"
Wrath described the ice cream in smooth, painstaking detail, as if he had become a critic.
"More, eat more! This time the red one…"
"Heh…"
Runaan smacked her lips, a thread of drool escaping; she clearly wanted some herself.
"That was good."
Raon handed the box, two beads still left, back to Runaan.
"You're not eating more?"
Runaan stared at the returned box with dazed eyes.
"That's enough. Thanks."
"Enough? This King is still hungry! Eat them all!"
Can't you see she wants to eat them? Act your age.
Raon mashed the rampaging Wrath flat with his palm.
"So, feeling better?"
"Hm? Ah…"
Raon looked at Runaan as she glanced back and forth between him and the box, and a small laugh escaped him.
I knew it.
The look of someone who wanted to eat it herself made it certain. She had handed him the ice cream so he would recover his spirits. She showed little on her face and spoke even less, but Runaan was a kind and gentle child.
"I'm feeling better. Thank you."
"Yeah!"
Runaan smiled a small smile and took the box. She gathered it to her chest as carefully as an explorer who had found treasure.
"But."
"Hm?"
"Never mind."
Runaan started to speak, then shook her head. The strange part was that she was standing closer than usual, and the number of times she leaned in to sniff had gone up by quite a lot.
I really don't get it.
Raon shrugged and waited for Rimer, who would be coming in after cleaning up whatever mess he was in this time.
"In a month, I'm thinking of doing something a little special."
Rimer, who had shown up a full ten minutes late to training, grinned.
"Instructor, you are late again today. Ten minutes is enough time to swing a sword more than a hundred times."
Burren frowned and raised his hand.
"Ah, sorry. I needed a bit of preparation."
Rimer apologized with a familiar little wave and went on. He said he was sorry, but his face didn't look sorry at all. He was just smiling.
"Nnh."
Burren's displeasure was obvious, but he lowered his hand.
"You'll enjoy it too. It's been a while since we had something that actually feels like training."
Rimer curled the corner of his mouth and pointed behind him. A circular line had been drawn across the training ground at the rear.
"You've spent seven months building your foundations and keeping up your cultivation, so it's about time we put some heat to it. In one month, we hold spars."
"Whoaaa!"
"Finally!"
"Spars!"
The children roared with something close to a battle cry. After all the aura and swordsmanship they had drilled over and over, a chance to test it had arrived; of course they were delighted. Burren's crumpled expression smoothed out. Marta bloomed a chilly smile. Runaan's vacant look stayed exactly the same.
"Wins and losses in the spars will go into your graduation scores and determine your rankings. You'll want to prepare hard for the next month."
"A moment, please."
Marta, who had been smiling at her ease, called out to Rimer.
"What about the lagging friend who still hasn't managed to make any aura?"
She didn't use a name, but everyone looked at Raon. He took the trainees' stares without reacting at all, watching only Rimer's mouth with a leisurely expression.
"Fortunately, I hear that friend made his aura as well."
"What? When exactly…"
"Yesterday? Today?"
"Ah. Is that so?"
Marta's head snapped around. Her black eyes gleamed like black pearls sunk in mud.
"The chance finally came. It dragged on so long I was bored to death."
She approached with a smile — a smile woven of mockery and arrogance.
"You remember what I said before. I don't take orders from anyone weaker than me. I figure I've put up with this long enough. Let's end it this time. You…"
"Marta Zieghart. Step back."
Before Raon could even move, Burren cut in from the side.
"You want to spar in a month with someone who hasn't had his aura for even a full day. Do you have no swordsman's honor at all?"
"Ha! Honor?"
Marta twisted the corner of her mouth up long and slow. She painted on an open sneer and waggled a finger.
"I see the young master who grew up so precious in his family thinks honor puts food on the table."
"Marta."
"Honor is something you show to people who actually deserve it. Even those lagging kids over there learned aura in a month, but our top trainee here took more than half a year."
She pointed at the recommended trainees practicing the Linden Aura Cultivation Art.
"Even if it's a high-grade cultivation art or better, taking seven months to make aura means that bastard has no talent. You sat the same evaluation he did, so you know that better than anyone, don't you?"
"Nnh…"
Burren frowned, then let the line of his mouth fall.
She's not wrong…
He himself had mastered a top-grade aura cultivation art in two weeks. No matter how remarkable the art, taking more than half a year to acquire even the first star was a problem.
"I'll grant he has talent for the sword, or for fist arts. That's all. If he has no talent for aura, it doesn't mean a thing."
"Nnh."
"She's got a point."
"There's no famous martial artist whose aura is weak."
The trainees nodded as if in agreement with Marta.
"Isn't the instructor suddenly calling for spars because he wants to change the top trainee?"
"Who knows?"
Rimer shrugged his eyebrows and his shoulders at the same time.
"Raon Zieghart. You've sat in the top seat longer than your ability warrants. It's not as if you have kids following you—no. There's only a handful, so it seems about time you gave that seat up, don't you think?"
Marta flicked a glance at Dorian and a few other trainees behind Raon, then let out a short laugh.
"Like we talked about before, whoever wins the spar takes the top trainee seat…"
"No."
Raon shook his head before Marta had even finished.
"What?"
"You think you can sit down at a gambling table without any money? If I'm putting up the top seat, you put something on the table that matches it."
"Do you even understand how this is going? Your side here is…"
"Scared?"
Raon tipped his chin slightly and smiled. It was a thicker sneer than the one Marta had shown him.
"Scared? You're saying that to me? Ha! Fine. I'll take that provocation, since it'll be your last."
Marta snorted a laugh. Irritation coiled through her black eyes as she pulled a small wooden case from her coat and set it down.
"This is the Nine Flower Pill my father gave me. If you win the spar, I'll give it to you."
The Nine Flower Pill was a spiritual elixir refined from nine kinds of medicinal herbs, with the effect of strengthening both the body and one's aura.
Wrath. This is the moment I told you about before.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
I said there'd be something to squeeze out of Marta, didn't I? That something is now.
He had already known Marta possessed that elixir, thanks to the chatterbox Dorian.
The Nine Flower Pill will do nicely.
Raon looked at the wooden case holding the Nine Flower Pill, and at Marta, who had taken the bait, and a thin smile touched his lips.
As the prize for a wager he couldn't lose.