Gains and Losses (2)
Humanity had lost. To whom? To alcohol. Never in history had there been such a crushing defeat. From kings to beggars, none were free from their sweet temptation, and every deed—good or bad—fell under their stern supervision. Our future was hopeless. We would live out the rest of our days until extinction with yeast as our only companion. It seemed the same held true even for those who had stolen the forest fairies’ blessing and fled to the sky.
Nathan poured half the bottle into Kilika’s glass, which looked as though its owner had already passed out. Then he lifted the remaining half straight to his lips and tilted his head back.
“Cheers?”
I don’t remember. I didn’t hear it. I was too drunk to notice. The most common phrases that clung to alcohol. Yet the word “cheers” was always understood no matter what, which meant every drunkard was probably a liar.
Kilika chuckled and raised her glass to clink against his. The ruler of humanity—beer—was thus split in two and devoured horribly. If only someone had praised its taste, the tragedy might have felt slightly less absolute.
“Keck. Gulp. What the hell is this?”
Nathan sniffed the bottle. He had been taught it was rude to leave a mourning glass untouched, so he forced it down, but even to a palate with no particular fondness for drink, the flat beverage felt deeply suspicious.
“Kid, you don’t even know how to drink.”
Kilika slurred, hiccuping. But Nathan wasn’t fooled. The nerves his father had honed and sharpened in prison caught every unnatural movement in Kilika’s gestures. For a brief moment their eyes met. Kilika’s gaze was not clouded. Traces of sharp, sober clarity remained. Kilika was not drunk. The sorrow and rage in her eyes were too large to hide behind intoxication and smoke.
Before Nathan could call her out, Kilika turned her head away, but it was useless. Nathan scratched the back of his neck.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Knew, and still deliberately sought out this shady tavern. Kilika answered by pretending to be drunk and letting the question slide.
“Bring more drink.”
“...Right. Of course you knew.”
Hatred ran rampant through the Heavens. The dragon’s fire had scorched the east, and the north had reignited war, sealing the borders. The Eleim blamed Nathan for it all, and the sparks had reached Galarhorn, which had once sheltered him. Anyone affiliated with Galarhorn could be targeted at any moment. Cutting off the branch called Somnus was the natural course to ease the anxiety of war.
Being pelted with stones on the street was the least of it. Galarhorn employees were being assassinated beyond mere lynching. With high-house servants trying to sever Galarhorn’s limbs at night, Benny had even restricted the hospital patients whose existence had not yet been discovered from going outside. In other words, a drunken, wandering Kilika was prime prey. If Hodrick were still alive, he would have been the same. In other words, Kilika’s nighttime stroll was madness. A Galarhorn gladiator roaming the streets dead drunk at midnight was no different from swimming toward a shark school with blood smeared on one’s body.
“You came out at night just to get yourself hurt? Have you lost your mind?”
Kilika answered with silence and averted eyes. Leave me alone. Everyone else did the same.
“Unbelievable. What were you going to do if I hadn’t found you?”
Kilika glanced beneath Nathan’s elbow. Hodrick’s iron mask, torn by some powerful force. The mere thought of what had happened to the person behind that mask was dizzying. Then at least she could have followed her brother.
“I don’t know what happened to that guy, but I’ll say this even if it’s rude.”
Kilika would offer no resistance to the eavesdroppers lurking behind her. But if Nathan tried to drag her back to Benny, she would fight him with everything she had.
Nathan sighed. “I don’t think Hodrick would want to see you like this.”
“You.”
Kilika finally dropped the act. Her voice, completely sober, came out like an executioner’s.
“What right do you have to lecture me, Sapiens?”
“I’m going insane. The will of humanity.”
The will of humanity. At those words the Eleim rose like beasts catching the scent of blood.
“Sapiens, you say?”
“That Maia bastard used to spout the same thing whenever he was backed into a corner. The will of humanity, the will of humanity.”
“I hear Sapiens slaves have been parroting it lately. Normally they cry ‘God, God’ when beaten, but the moment a new slogan appears they latch onto it.”
The gang that had dragged chairs over and surrounded them radiated murderous intent. Hunters never let a deer that wandered into a fox hunt leave unscathed. One of them sniffed Kilika’s glass and grimaced.
“Tch, smells like booze or piss. Did a rat fall in the barrel? Who would drink this? And how much has this bitch had?”
Nathan agreed, yet the fact that he had forced himself to drink it made his anger flare.
“If you weren’t going to drink, why did you come in?”
“Why did a Sapiens enter a tavern in the first place?”
Nathan glanced at the entrance. There was a list posted beneath the sign, but it only forbade animals like dogs and cats.
“Sapiens are banned? I didn’t see that written anywhere.”
“Maybe the owner’s policy is different, but it’s our rule now that we’re here. You half-breed Eleim bastard.”
Half-breed Eleim. The moment he heard it, the hooded Sapiens crushed the tin cup in his hand. Seeing the metal crumple like paper, one of the gang picked up the fallen cup and tried to straighten it. Even poor-quality iron was not an easy material to bend. The Eleim felt a strange emotion. An irrational urge to flee. But they shook their heads or spat, dismissing the illusion. The Sapiens was unarmed, and more importantly, their leader was behind them. Three years ago, that person had fought the vicious black-haired Sapiens of Galarhorn to something close to victory. They had no doubt. If he hadn’t forfeited, the captain would surely have torn that pretty girl apart.
The Eleim group regained their earlier aggression.
“I have a question, Sapiens.”
“Speak, elder. Make sure your bib is fastened tight.”
“Before that Nathan bastard started talking about ‘humanity’ in the arena, Sapiens used to cry ‘God’ whenever they were desperate. Why do godless creatures do that?”
To answer that, he would also have to explain what their god had stolen. Instead of launching into a long story they would never believe, Nathan simply smiled in silence. The Eleim took it as confirmation. Nathan’s smile looked as though he were joining their laughter.
Another one chimed in excitedly. “What is this ‘will’? If you wish hard enough, do the beatings stop?”
“Even someone as uneducated as me can roughly explain that.”
Nathan scratched inside his hood.
“It is the power of philanthropy that carries humanity’s earnest wishes to the lowest places.”
The pointed-eared ones looked at one another.
“What is that supposed to look like?”
Nathan fiddled with Hodrick’s mask, found the locking mechanism at the back, and immediately flipped it over his own head. Kilika glared at him as if she wanted to kill him, but he ignored her.
“I’ll borrow this.”
“What are you doing, Sapiens?”
“I’m thoroughly hiding an identity you still haven’t noticed. I should at least pretend.”
If he had to pay for today’s mess, someone would be very sorry.
“You asked what the will looks like? Close your eyes and focus inward. What were you wishing for? Could you shave yourself down, train, and sacrifice for it? Then that is the answer. It would look exactly like that.”
There was not a single Eleim in the tavern who would close their eyes just because a Sapiens told them to. Nathan felt a deep disappointment.
“If you won’t look, I’ll have to describe it in words. The will of humanity is the ideal and conviction within the heart.”
“Stop dodging the question. You can’t even show it to us, you idiot—”
A resounding headbutt. The nasal bone beneath the skin crushed like an earthen plate. The Eleim who had offered the uncreative insult could no longer speak at all and collapsed.
“Now you’ll see it. Stars will be floating in front of your eyes. An ideal can never be grasped, yet it is always there.”
The Eleim sprang to their feet, blades drawn. Nathan rose with them and drained the last drop from his glass. After drinking it, his jaw felt pleasantly numb; at least it was better than sewer-rat fluid.
“The one hiding in the dark over there—aren’t you coming out?”
The Eleim turned toward their leader with expectant eyes. It was not because ten of them feared a single lowly ground-dweller. The noticeably large one among them bellowed at Nathan.
“Do you know who that is, Sapiens scum? It is the Mantis Blade, Sezlak!”
“Mantis Blade?”
“A famous gladiator employed by the great corporation Erisikton Food Distribution and Consul Amphitryon, formerly a member of the Sword Star Sect, and a butcher who specializes in dealing with foolish Sapiens who dare enter gladiator fights relying on half-baked experience! He is the one who cuts down tumors like you who dare raise blades against Eleim better than anyone else in these Heavens!”
“Amphitryon?”
The large Eleim ignored Nathan’s question and waved frantically toward the leader in the back.
“Lord Sezlak! That thing! Show him that thing!”
The other Eleim did not bother to stop their somewhat slow-witted companion. The remaining nine were sweating coldly. Thanks to the earlier headbutt, they had realized exactly who the Sapiens before them was. Sezlak in the shadows rummaged through his robes and pulled out a cylindrical glass bottle, tossing it toward them. The large-eared one thrust the bottle forward like evidence of a crime.
“This bitch is the same. There was a Sapiens who shocked everyone by defeating four gladiators belonging to high-ranking shareholders of the Great Arena. But Lord Sezlak told us the truth. In the end it was all luck!”
The way he spoke so passionately suggested Aspen’s winning streak had shaken the Heavens considerably. Nathan had expected as much. They would not have gathered ordinary opponents just to stop Galarhorn. Yet the Eleim seemed overjoyed that Sezlak had defeated Aspen, who had broken through half their ranks. To keep a trophy like this…
A vein bulged on Nathan’s jaw. Inside the cylindrical glass bottle in the large one’s hand, an eyeball floated preserved in coagulant. A pale-blue eye resembling Aspen’s.
“The blind Sapiens screamed in agony, and Lord Sezlak left an unforgettable lesson. This is the proof. The black-haired wench’s—”
“Hey.”
“Huh?”
“Turn that over.”
How? Backward. Why, like spinning the label on the bottle the other way. When the detailed instruction came, the dim-witted Eleim followed it out of habit. Then he suddenly erupted in rage at the fact that he had obeyed a Sapiens’ command. The other Eleim did not share that anger. They only swallowed dryly and backed away. But Nathan’s fury vanished as if washed clean.
“I suspected as much. Of course. There’s no way. Have you ever plucked out someone’s eye?”
Nathan strode toward the Eleim. When the others drew their swords and retreated, the fool hurriedly tried to follow suit. But Nathan’s hand was faster. He seized the wrist holding the glass bottle containing the eyeball. Nathan pointed kindly at the eye inside the bottle with his finger, as if explaining to a child. The excessively clean back surface.
“When an eyeball is pulled out of the body, the pressure changes and the pupil dilates. What that means is...”
Nathan gave the most concise anatomical explanation he could. The fool slowly caught up to his words. Then his eyes widened in horror.
“This is fake? A model?”
“Yes. Tissue and nerves don’t separate this cleanly when—”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone? Who?”
“Your leader. He ran. He must have roughly figured out who I am.”
The Eleim looked behind them. No one remained in the shadows, and the door stood wide open. A crow perched on the cupboard where liquor bottles were stored let out a long, mocking caw. Even Kilika, who had been watching blankly, let out a short laugh. Then she pretended she hadn’t when Nathan turned around.
--------------
“Hey, where are you going!”
A voice called from behind. But Sezlak did not stop. His ten subordinates had lasted less than thirty seconds. Sezlak, who had hesitated to flee in case ten might somehow win, turned and charged back the moment Nathan kicked the tavern door open. Toward the east across the street. Toward the center where the sky was slowly regaining its blue hue.
The color of dawn was strange. To those watching from inside windows it gifted an unfamiliar hope, yet on the world outside the windows it painted everything that eerie blue and made it far more terrifying.
Sezlak stopped for a moment, panting, and immediately checked behind him. And he saw it. A Sapiens wearing Hodrick the executioner’s mask, waving both arms brightly and running toward him like a child. Only five meters away.
Sezlak screamed and began running again. Then he was immediately struck in the back of the head by a stone Nathan had picked up and thrown, and fell. Sezlak shared a deep kiss with the ground. The pointed-eared one, whose teeth clacked together like an awkward lover, grimaced and probed his teeth with his tongue to check if any were broken.
“Augh. Crazy—”
“Come with me, you bastard.”
Now breathing hard for a different reason, Sezlak found Nathan holding the glass bottle in front of his face.
“There’s no way you could have even touched Aspen with that pathetic courage of yours, but there’s always an ‘if.’ Is this real?”
He had to confirm, even if only as a formality. The fear of “what if” made one obsess over possibilities. Nathan, who had felt a flicker of fear for a moment, decided to share the budding spite.
“No, I—”
“You’re Sezlak. I know. An executioner gladiator who uses folding throwing knives. I heard you fought matches by injuring opponents and forcing them to forfeit, then caught the consul’s eye and became a private soldier.”
“That’s not it, what happened was—”
“You must have been so proud of facing a notorious big fish that you’ve been bragging about it strangely. Basically, you won against Galarhorn’s Pheres or something like that.”
“Th-that eye is fake! Right! Yeah, I’ll be honest. I landed a clean hit on a big shot, then later found out it was a Sapiens! I didn’t want to hear that Sezlak lost to a Sapiens, so I was just bluffing—”
“It’s you. If you’d denied it I might have gotten confused and let you go. Actually, I came looking for you, not Kilika.”
Sezlak began to hiccup.
“The fifth fighter in the seven-match series. The bastard who threw poison in the eyes and forfeited to run away. You die today.”