What Do They Even Eat?
Rest?
"What in the world..."
A heavy suspicion had taken root — what on earth did these things eat to stay alive? And so I split open the stomach. Nothing. Not a single thing inside. So I split open the intestines as well.
"Empty here too."
Not even a trace of waste to be found. That settled it, then.
These things are wrong.
I hastily slit open the bellies of the other survivors nearby, but they were the same. So then why — why did the stomach of this colossal creature hold nothing at all? It was not that it lacked a stomach. All five viscera and six organs were present and intact — well, intact is a stretch now that I've carved them open — and yet its stomach and bowels held nothing whatsoever.
"Blood and flesh, bursting organs and brains — those you rendered faithfully. But food and filth? Nowhere to be found."
That could hardly be, could it. And my own words had been imprecise, I realized. This thing could no longer be called a game.
The same doubt had stirred when I first beheld that great swarm of spiders. What could they possibly have been feeding on, to sustain such a colony...
"And yet they ate nothing at all."
Which meant there was a limit to what I could discover on my own. Fortunately, it seemed I had someone close at hand to ask.
Of that vast horde of monsters, more than half had already perished — swept away in the torrent of blood, cut down by my blade, crushed beneath the Behemoth. What remained was so few that they would be dispatched before long.
Only now could I finally breathe easy, and so I turned my gaze to the chat window. The place I looked upon was, quite literally, an abyss.
Chat: He's a god! He's a god! He's a god!
Chat: Who dares insult Seonsang-nim as a gimmick streamer?!
Chat: Is that... even a gimmick anymore?
Chat: Dare not doubt
Chat: HERESY!
Chat: SEIZE THE HERETIC!
GodOfDoubt: What a trainwreck (wipes nose)
Verily, a trainwreck had indeed been made. What does it mean, I wonder, for a heresy hunt to unfold on a livestream? Most streamers would never know. And neither, I confess, would I.
-Sword God Punch! Sword God Punch!
-Believe in Seonsang-nim and doubt nothing!!
-Seojju! Seojju! Seojju! Seojju!
"Stop it. Stop, I say!"
-The Sword God has descended!
-LOLOLOLOLOL
-The god has graced us with his presence...!
"What in the world is this..."
The donations, too, which I had all but forgotten existed, came pouring in, and for a full ten minutes these people made my head spin.
-The zealots have multiplied like crazy LOLOLOL
-HERETIC!
-lololololol
-And he's STILL killing things through all this, what the hell...
-Doubt the Sword God? Never!
-Honestly, that's Seonsang-nim for you
-You absolute lunatics...
"I concur, wholeheartedly."
-Whatever keeps you happy, master
-LOLOLOLOLOLOL
-Certified elites of Seonsang-nim? Zealots, more like LOLOL
"Indulgent wretches, the lot of you."
I could bear it no longer. Such people are truly my abhorrence. However welcome their devotion, I could not accept that.
At first I had believed it merely part of the act. No — perhaps it still was nothing but an act... but with such people grown numerous, I could no longer simply ignore them and pass by.
"Until we meet again, then..."
Next time, do have the decency to restrain yourselves.
-Huh?
-???
The hologram that rose after that curt parting word announced that the broadcast had ended.
"Zealots make my teeth grind..."
How could they not, when they recalled Samae — the one disciple I could never bring myself to strike down?
"A sorry spectacle, to be sure."
A little venting, then, against these creatures who had dredged up nothing but ill memories. I was glad, after all, that I had ended the stream.
The sword in my hand carried its share of somber thought, yet it did not waver. And though the eyes glinting between the scattered drops of blood flickered for an instant, their gaze never once strayed.
"And... it's over."
I cut down what few monsters remained, almost as though racing myself to finish, until at last there was—
"Are you... all right?"
The paladin barely managed to swallow, and those who could not bring themselves to approach. Beside him, the Aura Knight watched with trembling hands. If I looked upon them through the lens of admiration just now, what manner of expression might I find? I needn't even look — their faces gave it away already.
"Blood puts me on edge, you see."
Ill memories had stirred as well. I would not bother apologizing for it.
"Ah... some people are like that, I suppose."
Some people, is it? More common than I'd imagined. They simply restrain themselves — whereas I have no particular need to.
"First, I should like to wash."
This blood was unusually thick and black. Not so much red as near-black in color. I could hardly bring myself even to touch my hair. There was no washing this clean by sight alone, alas.
"Ah, of course! Honored Sir Dave, please make the arrangements!"
"Yes, Seojju!"
And off he dashed as though he'd been waiting for the chance. Yes — I had reacted rather sharply, so I suppose he dreaded meeting my eyes. Or else he found the sight of me that horrifying.
"There should be ample water in this place, yes?"
"We lack proper facilities for washing, but we have drinking water stored in plenty."
"I see."
No doubt the washing water was reserved for those who marched out to battle.
"If there is anything else you require, we will prepare it at once."
"Anything else... I have no particular wish at the moment."
I had no appetite to speak of, either. Come to think of it — did they arrive safely? That, I found myself curious about.
"Did Clara and her party arrive without incident?"
"That... has not yet been reported to us."
Ah — they had been fighting until moments ago as well. Yes, a lapse in my thinking.
"Then entering the city will tell us, I expect. Ah — the Sanctuary."
It looked to me like nothing more than a city, but to them it must be a precious holy ground.
"Yes. Please, enter the Sanctuary."
A faint smile crept out from beneath his pushed-back helm and caught my eye. If you wish to be respected, respect others. Is that not the foundation of all human relations?
The path leading to the Sanctuary gates was stained red and black with the weary footprints of those who had gone ahead, and with the blood that had fallen from their bodies.
"What will you do now, all of you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Those corpses. What will you do with them?"
Well, I had flayed them open and strewn their entrails about, so they were hardly in danger of bursting — but that colossal body itself would be the problem, would it not?
"That is... we hadn't thought that far. Surviving the day was our only goal. Before you appeared. That was all."
"I see. Then give some proper thought to what comes after."
"Yes. Although — if it is not too great an imposition — may I ask how long you have trained?"
"How long have I trained, you ask."
Come to think of it, this paladin too was one who walked the way of the sword. Clearly further along than that Aura Knight, as well.
"Have you struck a wall?"
"To my shame, I have been stuck for three years."
Crossing from the realm called Peak into the realm beyond is a truly difficult thing. Even I had been no exception to that.
"Worry not. Lingering in that realm is not a matter of lacking talent, but of lacking a catalyst."
Though comparing oneself to me, who had lingered less than half a year, would hardly be fair.
"Is that so..."
"Let me tell you something. I took up the sword quite late in life."
Twenty-three. What a late age that was. An age when most would not so much as dream of beginning — and yet, in the end, I managed it.
"And I am now forty-eight. So the years one has held a sword do not dictate the heights one reaches."
"Forty-eight...?"
They react the same way no matter whom I tell... I know my age strikes people as strange.
"So what I wish to say is simply this: do not give up."
"... Yes."
In this modern world, they call people like me an old fossil, or so I hear. Let them call me what they will. Born earlier, standing first in line — is that not exactly what qualifies one to teach those who come after? Though of course, it would not do if the one being taught objected.
When I reached the gates of the Sanctuary, they handed me warm water by the basinful, and I poured it over my head again and again until the blood and flesh, long gone cold and clotted, began to rinse away — and for the first time, I felt half-alive again.
As for my clothes — what to do about those? Give it a moment's thought and only one conclusion follows: get a fresh set. If they asked me to put these back on, I might have to land a blow across someone's face.
"Once I've washed, I have something to ask you."
"Yes... I will come find you."
Leaving behind the paladin's voice — which sounded, in some way, stern — I headed toward where the heated water waited. The outward appearance of the Sanctuary, the faces of its residents — none of it registered just then.
I scrubbed away the blood, dried stiff and caked on everywhere, washed every corner of my body, received a robe of sorts, and was shown to a room.
"Well, it's a rather decent room, all things considered."
Even with circumstances as they were, it seemed they kept a chamber fit for honored guests.
I set my shoes beside the bed and collapsed face-down onto the mattress.
"Hard as a plank..."
Expecting the comforts of the modern world would indeed be foolish. And then—
Knock, knock, knock.
"Enter."
The sound of knuckles on the door. The paladin, most likely.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Free of helm and armor, freshly bathed, the paladin who stepped into the room somehow brought Clara to mind.
Hair a deep gold as though molten, eyes a rich blue, skin so pale it bordered on translucent. The very picture of a medieval noble — and an exceedingly beautiful one at that.
Truly, gazing upon nothing but people this beautiful in a place so difficult to believe was a game, I found my grip on reality slipping.
"Clara's squad has arrived safely, they report."
"That is a relief."
I'd been too busy to spare it a thought, but safe arrival was good news indeed. Then — to the matter at hand.
"There is one thing I wish to ask."
The empty stomach. The empty bowels. Did they know anything of it?
"Ask me anything at all."
"I cut open their bellies."
"I... beg your pardon?"
What of it? Curiosity alone is reason enough to split a stomach open.
"The Behemoth and its rabble."
"The... the rabble..."
"What on earth were they eating to sustain bodies that enormous? Such was my question, and so I looked inside."
"I see."
"And there was nothing. I turned the stomach and the intestines inside out, and not a thing did I find."
"Nothing...? The Behemoth's principal diet is surely... don't tell me—!"
For a moment I could only stare, dumbfounded, at the paladin's back as he bolted from the room. Come to think of it — I never even asked his name.
Had the viewers been watching, they would surely have been rolling with laughter, typing LOLOLOLOL to their hearts' content.