The Ocean Spirit Flower

The old mage in the brown robe bowed his head to Derus Robert.

"It is an honor to serve you, Heavenly Sword Star."

"I'll leave it in your hands."

Derus nodded, then turned his gaze on the semicircular frame standing beside the old mage.

They're making me take a dimensional gate.

He never entrusted his body to anyone. Using a dimensional gate meant placing himself entirely in a mage's hands, and so he almost never used one unless it was truly unavoidable. He had even come to this Six Kings conference by carriage, offering the excuse that he wanted to see the world with his own eyes and walk it with his own feet. That he was being forced onto a dimensional gate now only stoked the anger already burning in him.

I'll make them regret they were ever born.

Whether the one who had killed Matio and Cosini was a spiritual beast from the Undersea Dungeon or some third party who had suddenly interfered, he would see to it that they could neither live nor die.

"Hah…"

Derus let out a short breath and looked back at the old mage.

"You may begin."

"As you command."

The old mage bowed once more and struck the floor with his staff. A deep thud rolled out, and five-colored light surged up from the semicircular frame. As the radiance thickened, it fanned outward and filled the entire half-circle, shaping itself into a door.

"This gate leads to House Robert. Please, step through."

The old mage smiled and drew aside. Derus gave a slight nod and walked into the dimensional gate. A sensation of weightlessness lifted him, and brilliant light swallowed his vision whole.

"Tsk."

He clicked his tongue at the irritation of surrendering his body to another and glanced back. Rezel had followed him through and was close behind.

"Are you all right, my lord?"

"No."

Derus's brow furrowed as his fingers curled into a fist.

"It has been a very long time since I was this genuinely angry."

The destruction of the Ninth Breeding Ground had annoyed him, but not like this. The fury rising in him now was on par with the day Temus had failed to swallow the Yonan family, attacked House Zieghart alone, and gotten himself killed.

Because I prepared for this for so long.

He had spent years laying the groundwork to claim every last elixir and spiritual beast sunk beneath the Undersea Dungeon. He had slaughtered the marine monsters around it to the last, cleared away the colossal boulders sealing the dungeon from above, and then, over several painstaking years, opened the entrance with such care that it would not collapse. A design he had nurtured for as long as the taking of the Yonan family had been torn apart, and he had lost talents like Matio and Cosini besides. His insides churned with a heat that made him sick.

I will not let this slip away.

The two of them were already beyond saving. That was done. But the treasures and spiritual beasts at the bottom of that dungeon would be his. Without fail.

A low, resonant hum rolled through the light. He bit down on his lip, forcing the rage back, and the radiance receded. A semicircular door appeared ahead of him, just as it had when he had entered.

"Hah…"

Derus let a thin breath go and walked toward it.

"My lord! Welcome home!"

House Robert's swordsmen and mages stood in formation before the dimensional gate and bowed with deep formality. Derus did not even acknowledge the greeting. He flung off the coat he was wearing and leapt into the open sky. His body became a streak of light and shot toward the dungeon.

Even if they were a god…

Rage flared in Derus's eyes as he kicked off the heavens and drove himself onward.

Raon swallowed dryly as he stared at the single flower floating on the pool.

A blue flower?

Five petals glittered with the color of the sea. The stem was smooth, curved like a crescent moon, and six transparent leaves fanned beneath it. It looked as if it would crumble at a touch — fragile, and yet so beautiful it stole the breath.

This can't be… the Ocean Spirit Flower?

The Ocean Spirit Flower was a blossom called the soul of the sea, a legendary-grade elixir in which every current of the ocean's energy had been condensed. He had never imagined he would meet, in the flesh, an elixir that existed only in myths and old tales.

"I-it is…"

Wrath's eyes bulged as if they might pop from his head. He nodded hard.

"That is the Ocean Spirit Flower. H-how in the world is it here…?"

Even Wrath's voice shook, as if he could not quite believe it either.

"I don't know either."

He didn't. And yet a smile was already breaking through the stunned freeze of his face, blooming on its own.

"Are you crying?"

"Want me to cry for you? I think I could manage it right about now."

With a once-in-an-era elixir sitting right in front of him, even tears did not seem like a bad idea.

"Grrraaah!"

Wrath's fists trembled violently.

"What even are you?! What is this brat, that the entire world keeps shoving fortune down his throat?! Answer This King — This King is suffocating here!"

He jabbed a furious finger at empty air and howled, as if the heavens themselves were to blame.

"This King lived for hundreds of years without so much as glimpsing the first letter of the word elixir — and this little wretch gobbles them up wherever he goes! Are elixirs candy drops to you?!"

"You're noisy."

"Noisy? Fine! This King shall get even noisier! If you knew how This King lived in the Demon Realm, you would weep and offer up those nutrients—"

It had been a while since Wrath had gotten a proper rant going. Raon shoved aside the cotton-ball whose eyes had rolled clean back in his head and studied the Ocean Spirit Flower.

It's real.

The shape, the clear, pure energy rising from it — everything was exactly as the stories had described.

Except…

Why could he feel the energy of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames coming from the Ocean Spirit Flower?

From a flower said to hold the power of the sea, a second energy — one intimately familiar — was rising alongside it.

I'll know once I look.

Raon steadied his breathing and, with great care, laid his hand upon one of the flower's leaves.

A sharp crackle split the air. Light flared across his vision, and the world changed.

A scene like a painting — one he had already witnessed since entering this dungeon — unfolded before his eyes.

A golden-haired swordsman. That back, which had grown familiar by now. It was the First Patriarch of Zieghart, the man who had mastered the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames and the Ring of Fire.

Across from him stood a monstrous figure whose pupils were white and whose sclera were black. He resembled the being Raon had seen in the cave of the Heavy Martial Palace, save for the single horn rising from his brow.

The two of them, locked in a stare, moved as one. Sword and saber stretched out in the same breath. Scarlet flame roared along the ancestor's blade; a light stained black erupted from the fiend's saber.

The collision of those terrible forces reduced more than a hundred marine monsters to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠powder and split an undersea mountain clean in half. Clumps of aura sheared away and fell, gouging a vast hole through the mountain of the deep. Right here. This was the battle that had created this dungeon.

The energy pouring from the fiend's saber froze the world. He poured a force that crushed the very sky into his blade and brought it down. Before an aura so immense it seemed to warp the sea itself, the First Patriarch of Zieghart did not give a single step. A faint smile touched his mouth as he drew a blazing sword along the violently trembling horizon.

Red and black swallowed at each other in a savage contest, evaporating the seawater without end. Evenly matched. The fiend's blade and the ancestor's sword were a clash of dragon and tiger in the truest sense.

The two monsters treated the seafloor as dry land, driving sword and saber at each other from the setting of the sun until it rose again.

As time wore on, the ancestor seemed to yield in raw power and was driven into the hole that had opened in the undersea mountain. The fiend sneered and surged in, hammering his saber down in a relentless chain. Dark energy rolled like stormclouds and punched through the mountain's heart.

Even beneath that overwhelming force, the ancestor did not panic. He worked the swordsmanship of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames with perfect composure and turned every strike aside.

The black energy riding the fiend's blade only grew stronger and vaster as the moments passed, as if fatigue were a thing that did not touch him. Just as that fiercely pouring darkness was about to devour everything, a blue flame unlike any that had come before erupted from the ancestor's sword — a fire mighty enough not to yield even to the fiend's aura.

The two monsters, long since beyond anything human, raced on, sword and saber crashing, and carved a long, colossal passage through the heart of the undersea mountain. The sword scars that had driven Raon into a trance were the traces this very battle had left behind.

The energies the ancestor and the fiend had gathered slammed together. The earth itself was crushed, and a vast cavern opened — the place where Matio and Cosini had died, and where Raon had obtained the true Flame Sea Flawless.

The fiend's power swelled once more. Black energy drawn up until it shook the entire sea came crashing in like the breath of a demon descended from hell. It was a saber-stroke steeped in a wickedness that no swordsmanship seemed capable of stopping.

Blue sparks leapt from the tip of the ancestor's sword. A tiny flame spiraled outward and unfurled into a grand, sweeping line.

The surging azure flames stretched in every direction, but the fiend clenched that enormous black saber and held his ground. He let out a savage cry, and the dark energy welled up thicker still, beginning to split the blue fire apart.

Even watching it happen, the ancestor did not lose his smile. He murmured something toward the fiend and twisted his blade.

In that instant, the blue flames turned gold. An auspicious light surged without end and swallowed every inch of space. The fiend detonated his black energy in a last, thrashing bid to live — but the golden fire the ancestor had raised erased not only the darkness, but the fiend himself, in a single breath.

The ancestor lowered his sword and looked upon the fiend, now nothing but ash. He closed his eyes, speaking some quiet words, and a figure appeared behind him. A black robe hid the face, but the build was that of a woman — a mage, by the look of her.

She said something, and the ancestor stamped his foot. The floor caved in, and the space where Raon had met the Ocean Spirit Flower and the Ghost Jellyfish revealed itself. Seawater still filled the basin as it did now — but what floated there was not the flower. It was a gem like an emerald, what could only have been the seed of the Ocean Spirit Flower. The seed had spent its energy; it was withered, with only a thread-thin sprout pushing up from it.

The ancestor sank to one knee and regarded the seed. Instead of taking it, he set a small spark of fire into it, then rose. The mage cried out as if in shock, but the ancestor only smiled, murmured something, and turned his head.

His gaze came to Raon. The moment those vivid red eyes met his, the entire field of vision was dyed in gold once more.

"Hah…"

Raon caught himself on a trembling hand against the floor.

Those were the true sword techniques of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames.

They had been a world apart from what he had felt through mere traces. His heart was hammering so hard with excitement it felt as if it might tear itself free of his chest.

It feels like my swordsmanship has climbed even higher.

It might have been nothing but a feeling — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but the realm of the sword, already raised by those scars, seemed to have grown another full step.

The messages surfaced while he was still shaking his head.

"Huh?"

It hadn't been his imagination? Then the strength he had felt was no illusion. Just as he had sensed, the realm of his swordsmanship itself had risen.

"Wh-what is this now…"

Wrath's jaw hung open in a vacant gape.

"Why a reward all of a sudden?! Your body went empty a moment ago — where did you wander off to this time, you zombie?!"

He shook his head wildly, unable to make any sense of what had just happened.

"Mm…"

Raon clicked his tongue softly.

There's no way to explain this.

If he said he had gone and met the ancestor, he would be called a madman on the spot. There was nothing he could say.

"What in the world was that?! Even if you're going to hand out rewards, at least make them make sense! Why a reward out of nowhere, This King asks you!"

Wrath beat the ground and wailed about why only Raon got to feast like this.

"Let's get out of here first…"

"This King lost the elixir and the stats! This King cannot live like this!"

Wrath planted himself in front of the Ocean Spirit Flower and puffed his body up to twice its size. He looked like a king-sized puff of cotton candy handed out by a vendor who just wanted to clock out and go home.

It wasn't even your elixir to begin with.

Saying so would not have gotten through. Raon reached for the one word that would actually work on him.

"The sooner you move, the sooner we can go eat something delicious outside. I already said I'd buy you whatever you—"

Before the sentence could finish, Wrath dropped his arms and hopped up onto Raon's shoulder.

"What are you waiting for? Aren't you picking the flower?"

"Ugh…"

Exhausting. Truly.

Raon let out a breath and approached the Ocean Spirit Flower. Looking at it, he found himself thinking of the First Patriarch of Zieghart he had just seen.

The Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames…

Now he understood why the flower carried that energy. The ancestor had given it power so the sprout would grow.

What an extraordinary man.

He could have raised the seed of the Ocean Spirit Flower himself. He could have eaten it then and there and still had an elixir of mid-grade or higher. He had left it. He was a man who stood far, far outside the bounds of anything ordinary.

Raon plucked the Ocean Spirit Flower, leaves and all, and eased it into his Subspace Pouch. To be safe, he packed the Ghost Jellyfish's corpse into a separate space as well, then rose.

Now I need to bring this place down.

Only by sinking the dungeon itself could this become a perfect crime.

A vast rush of heat unfurled as Raon took up the Heavenly Sky Sword and raised the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames to its peak. Following the swordsmanship of the First Patriarch — the art that had melted the fiend away — he swept the Heavenly Sky Sword down.

A thunderous roar shook the deep. The advanced Flame Sea Flawless drove into the sword scars carved across the walls and ceiling, and a tremendous fracture ran through the dungeon as a whole. Floor and ceiling began to heave and shudder as if in an earthquake.

"That should do it."

He had shattered the very framework that held the dungeon together. It would not be long before the whole thing came down.

Raon slipped the Heavenly Sky Sword and even the Requiem Sword into his Subspace Pouch, then pulled on the close-fitting blue garments he had prepared. Before he stepped into the pool, he thought of the ancestor feeding energy into the Ocean Spirit Flower, and bowed his head.

Thank you.

He offered his gratitude to the First Patriarch of Zieghart, who had given him both the swordsmanship ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames and the Ocean Spirit Flower itself, then straightened.

"Who are you even bowing to?"

Someone you'd call me crazy for mentioning, if you knew.

Raon gave a short huff of a laugh and waved it off. The image of Wrath sputtering curses if he had seen that vision brought a smile to his mouth.

He glanced up at the collapsing ceiling, then threw himself into the pool — the only way out of this place, and the water in which the Ocean Spirit Flower had bloomed.

A clean burst of water closed over him. As befit the place where the Ocean Spirit Flower had opened, this was no stagnant filth. A clear ocean scent soaked through his whole body.

There isn't much time.

Even the ancestor would not have imagined anyone would smash the dungeon on the way out. He had to be gone before the whole thing came down.

He resonated the Ring of Fire to its peak, just as he did in combat, and sank every scrap of presence and energy out of reach. Then he worked Glacia, matching his own power to the sea's.

The ocean looked still, but it was always moving — the wellspring of life. When he opened his senses with care, the flow of the current came to him.

This way will be faster.

The left-hand path was closer than the right. Using the Dolin Breathing Method to draw breath underwater, he swam along the current that brushed his skin.

The lightless black of the passage was enough to raise the hair on his arms, but he trusted Glacia, the Ring of Fire, and the arrangements the ancestor had left behind, and kept going.

A thin thread of light seeped into the gloom. It widened, and then brilliant sunlight flooded his vision.

Outside!

Raon snapped his waist and put on another burst of speed, breaking free of the dark passage entirely.

He was out. A vast ocean, too wide to take in at a glance, filled his sight.

I've come quite a way.

The passage must have been long; he was far from the undersea canyon where the dungeon had sat. And this was the seaward side, not the landward one. Reaching the surface would take time.

A deep, rolling roar turned him around. In the distance, the enormous undersea canyon crumpled in on itself and began to sink into the abyss.

Raon watched it go, and the light in his eyes settled.

The sea tells no tales.

That he had ever been here — and at whose hands Matio and Cosini had died — was buried now, completely. Relief that it was finished drew a smile across his mouth.

This is what assassination looks like.

"Assassination? A-a-assassination?"

Wrath tilted his head as if he could not believe his ears.

"Has This King been using the wrong definition of that word? You showed your face and beat everyone to death with raw power — how is that an assassination?!"

If there are no witnesses, it's an assassination.

"You've taken a blade to the skull, that's what."

Wrath shook his head as if conversation itself were a waste of time. Raon huffed a quiet laugh and stretched out a hand.

All right. Time to go.

"Halt."

He had been about to move as fast as he could, before Derus arrived — and then Wrath's cry cut through him. He knew the reason at once, and stopped his breathing on the spot.

It can't be…

"He has come."

A few breaths later, from the upper left of the sky, he felt it: a monster wrapped in killing intent so chilling it froze the bone.

His heart clenched tight. Breath locked in his throat, and the hands and feet that had been swimming went still of their own accord. Raon could not even lift his eyes. He bit down hard on his molars.

It's him!

Derus Robert. That madman was floating in the sky above.