Do You Know Me? (3)
“Slacking off, you say! My gladiator humiliating me in front of everyone! Oh, Heavenly God!” Orgithes couldn’t even imagine the truth behind it. He simply assumed Cardon was being difficult.
The title “Consul’s gladiator” carried a magical weight of trust. Consul Amphitryon possessed many talents, one of which was gathering gladiators and maintaining an undefeated record. That ability had elevated him to the very top. Elected as the representative of the east, he became the leader of countless high houses, including Orgithes’s own. A living legend of the Gladiator Fights. The pinnacle of noble society. The Consul. Such a man had entrusted Cardon to him. Therefore, no matter how infamous his opponent Nathan Maia might be, victory was surely Orgithes’s. It was as good as decided—so long as Cardon actually stepped into the arena.
“This stubbornness must come from confidence in your own skill. Fine, what else do you want? Gold? Women? Sapiens sacrifices whose throats you can slit so you can drink their blood?”
None of it mattered. Especially the last suggestion. Who in their right mind drank the blood of living people? Cardon cursed his past self for allowing such vile rumors and infamy to spread unchecked.
Inside the spacious, luxurious carriage adorned with Dwarven ornaments, the Death Knight felt no comfort whatsoever. All he could think about was hesitation over what he was about to do. The Death Knight’s leg bounced nervously—an uncharacteristic display.
[I’m sorry.]
The moment the carriage entered a deserted alley, Cardon clenched his fist tightly. He struck Orgithes hard and shoved him toward the other gladiators.
“Huh? Aaaagh—!”
The temporary master’s scream rang out as his chest bruised and cracked. At the same time, Cardon smashed through the carriage door and leaped out. Along with the boastful helmet that amplified his voice, the gladiator once called Cardon cast aside his identity as a predator. He returned to being nothing more than a fugitive named Lawrence.
Lawrence let out a shrill scream and sprinted away. He didn’t know where he was going. He simply ran in panic, fleeing Orgithes’s furious shouts and, above all, putting as much distance as possible between himself and Nathan Maia.
“Damn it, I can’t do this! I said I can’t—! Save me—!”
---------------
Eight years ago. The Lower World. A plain near the western coast.
Back then, Lawrence had said something similar. He lay prostrate before the heavily armored knights whose wings spread like sphinx feathers.
“Please spare me.”
The Death Knight Lawrence removed his broken helmet and crawled on the ground like a worm, begging. His first defeat as a Death Knight had been that humiliating.
For the past hundred years, the Dark Blade Knights had reigned as the terror of the western continent. Wherever the hooves of their black bone steeds touched, farmlands withered and soldiers were slaughtered. Blessed by the God of the Abyss, they feared nothing. They had driven a once-prosperous kingdom to the brink of destruction. Perhaps they shouldn’t have. Their actions had forced that kingdom’s ruler and people to make a desperate decision.
That decision was to join the Federation.
The moment they heard the news, the appropriate response was to flee.
“I never expected the famed Lion Wing Knights to come in person.”
“A moment ago you were saying you’d been waiting to cut down our hollow reputation. You crazy bastard.”
“You have a good memory. That was the opinion of the dead man over there. I’ve always held you in the highest respect.”
The confident Dark Blade Knights failed to unseat even a single Lion Wing Knight from his mount. Every clash of spears shattered a Death Knight’s face, and the Federation’s insane warhorses, Hammer Steeds, rammed through skeletal mounts like rhinoceroses. The instant the first clash ended, Lawrence sensed defeat.
The panicked mid-rank Abyss cavalry, their momentum broken, were struck again by the great bows. Hundreds of winged, barbed arrows sang humanity’s song as they tore into the demons’ flanks. That rain of arrows, pulsing with living rage, had a name.
Lion Wing Knights.
“Honestly, I didn’t think it would be this one-sided, did you?”
“...No, sir.”
The young knight’s mocking voice reached Lawrence as he lay broken and disarmed. Overwhelming humiliation. Yet there was no other way. Lawrence wanted to live. Desperately. That pathetic reason was why he had joined the Abyss in the first place—simply because he feared never seeing the rising sun again.
“My kingdom has fallen and the king I swore loyalty to is dead. What choice did a powerless coastal lord’s son like me have?”
It was all a lie he had just made up. Before becoming a slave of the Abyss, his memories were hazy, like fog. That was the sad price paid by cowards who joined instead of being trampled by Death Knights.
“Oh, so you joined because you were afraid of dying, is that it?”
Yet the young knight seemed to buy it.
“There were a few who crossed over because they wanted to live. If that’s really the case, it’s a bit pitiful. But the soldiers over there don’t see it that way.”
The knight pointed over his shoulder. Below the hill, the soldiers of the plundered kingdom glared with hatred.
“Plenty of them lost hometown friends who enlisted alongside Death Knights. Honestly, I feel sorry for bandits. Most of them couldn’t find another way because of poverty. But you can’t say that to people who lost family to banditry, can you?”
“People aren’t stray dogs. They can be reformed if given the chance.”
Opinions flew back and forth among the youthful voices. Some knights sided with sympathy, others opposed it. Lawrence stared blankly at their downy faces. Not a single one looked older than twenty-five.
“Reform him? How do we know what percentage of this guy is still human? He’s already been corrupted by the Abyss once.”
“He really wants to live. Deeply corrupted Abyss knights don’t grovel like that.”
“It could be an act. What if he attacks us later?”
“What’s the point of Outer Wings debating this? Without the Captain’s decision, he’d already have been thrown to the soldiers and purified by fire.”
The already ashen color drained further from Lawrence’s face. The Outer Wings were to decide for themselves. That had been the Captain’s order.
‘It may sound cruel, but making a decision on the battlefield itself will be a lesson to you. I’ll take all responsibility, but you’ll bear the psychological burden. When the day comes that you must shoulder heavy responsibility, remember today. Engrave it in your hearts. Among the enemies we face, there are also humans.’
“This is difficult.”
Thanks to that, Lawrence’s life was extended. At least for a few more minutes. During that time, he desperately searched his memories. Perhaps there was a clue in the faint fragments of his past—some way to appeal to the youths’ emotions and escape.
“We’ve reached a conclusion.”
Unfortunately, the young knights’ minds worked faster than Lawrence’s. And their conclusion was as eccentric as the generation gap.
“You want me to play with him? Me?”
Who in the world treated an Abyss knight like a babysitter?
“He was a rookie in the Black Whatever Knights too, right? Since he’s also a rookie, it’s perfect. He joined the order two months ago. Play with him.”
“Play with him?”
“Exactly as it sounds. He’s still a kid, so he has too much energy and it’s hard to handle. Wear him out so he’s easier to manage. I’ll at least guarantee your safety until we transport you to the capital. If you don’t want to babysit, there’s another job. Spar with Kan over there. He’s an expert at turning Abyss knights into minced meat.”
“There’s no such thing as Abyss knight minced meat. Don’t try to build your own worldview, Til. I’ll push you off a cliff before you do.”
“Who is Kan?”
“That Double-winged Knight over there. Our vice-captain.”
In the distance, a massive suit of armor the size of a mountain slowly turned its head upon hearing its name. The Death Knight made his decision instantly.
“I’ll do it. Babysitting.”
The young knights, who had been smirking, shouted loudly.
“Hey, Heretic! You’ve got a new friend!”
“Shut your mouths.”
A small child emerged from the tent. The deliberately roughened voice made the knights burst into loud laughter. Perhaps it was a highborn page trying hard to be treated like an adult. Lawrence felt relieved by his own assumption.
“Hello, my name is Lawrence—”
His relief shattered along with his front teeth. He had tried to offer the most ingratiating handshake possible, but what came back was a stone. Struck squarely in the philtrum, Lawrence screamed and collapsed.
“I don’t have a name to give you.”
‘Yeah, damn it. This is a brat whose personality is twisted beyond repair.’
Groaning as he stood, Lawrence noticed something strange. The wild-haired child was scanning the weapon rack with bloodshot eyes. The other Lion Wing Knights were slowly backing away, giving them space for some reason.
“Um, Sir Til.”
“What is it, Death Knight?”
“That kid just picked up a longsword.”
Til gave him a blank look, as if wondering what the problem was.
“Yeah. I told you to play with him. What did you think I meant?”
“Are you seriously going to pit a Death Knight against a ten-year-old?”
“He’s fourteen. He looks small because he’s malnourished.”
The child examined the longsword, then put it back. The Death Knight felt somewhat relieved. Unlike his deeply corrupted seniors in the Abyss, harming a child felt too uncomfortable. But the child betrayed Lawrence’s soft heart. Lawrence stared blankly as the boy struggled to lift a massive two-hander nearly as tall as himself, swaying off-balance and even stepping backward. It was absurd.
“What are you doing? You heard me. Draw your sword. We’re sparring.”
“You’re going to swing that at me?”
“Of course I am, you Abyss vermin.”
“I’m not vermin. Tsk. You can’t call an adult vermin.”
“Any bastard who joined the Abyss is vermin. That’s what my father taught me. Let me ask you one thing, vermin.”
The child’s face twisted, and he looked as though he were growling like a beast. Lawrence flinched. What on earth had they taught this tiny brat? Was it true that the Federation was a group of war-crazed lunatics?
“Do you see Til over there? That idiot’s about to earn his Double Wing badge too. But I’m still just an Outer Wing. Why?”
“Outer Wing? Wait, kid. Are you a Lion Wing Knight too?”
Of course Lawrence hadn’t known. The child hadn’t been on the battlefield. The boy who had come out of the barracks glared, clearly offended by that fact.
“I’m not allowed? Is that what you’re saying too?”
“No, it’s not that you’re not allowed... Wait. Actually, yes. It’s absurd for a kid like you to go onto the battlefield as a knight.”
“Right. So that’s how it is...”
Suddenly, a pommel flew out of nowhere and split his consciousness. His shattered collarbone screamed as it met the iron lump in a violent kiss.
“Ughhh—! Shiiit—!”
The child’s strength was ten times greater than Lawrence had imagined. The Abyss warrior had to clutch his crushed bones and roll across the dirt. Gripping the two-hander in a sword-wrestling stance, the child who stood barely 150 centimeters tall growled.
“One more question. They said you get promoted for achievements in war.”
Now that awkward way of speaking sounded terrifying. Lawrence crawled away as he answered.
“Aaaagh, what kind of damn question is that—! Damn it, my shoulder. My shoulder—!”
“If I beat you to death, will I get my Double Wings too?”
“Get up.”
The child’s puberty had arrived in the filthiest way possible. Probably the filthiest in the world. Though smaller than most fourteen-year-olds, his aggression and stamina were impossible to handle. It felt like being attacked by a rabid badger wielding a greatsword. For six full hours.
“Get up!”
Teeth were knocked out. Organs were sliced, eyes stabbed, testicles destroyed. Lawrence had never heard of a child who could dismantle the body so efficiently. Nor had he known a child who could break someone so painfully. He had certainly never seen a child who could do it without hesitation.
When Lawrence finally charged forward, weeping and ready to die together, the child, satisfied, severed both of his arms. If the Abyss’s power hadn’t regenerated them, he would have been begging rather than fighting as a gladiator to this day. Even though he had grown stronger than ever before thanks to the Abyss’s blessing as a loophole, he had been literally skinned alive by a mere fourteen-year-old. Enough trauma to last eight years—until today.
Of course, the Lawrence of eight years ago and the Lawrence of now were different. Desperate training to shake off the nightmare. But the moment he confirmed the child’s identity with his own eyes, Lawrence realized the truth. That nameless brat who had crushed him despite his small frame was none other than the legendary undefeated gladiator Nathan Maia. That the child who had destroyed him had grown into a 190-centimeter killing machine. That the cursed day had followed him all the way to the Heavens.
Sometimes he felt that way. As if the world itself was singling him out to force something unreasonable.
‘This can’t be happening.’
“Stop whining, you bastard. I said get up!”
Get up. I can see the Abyss healing your wounds. Even when my father carved me up, I didn’t lie there like you.
That day, the boy had said to Lawrence:
‘Don’t lie, you idiot. What father would do that to his own child...’
‘Why? Why do these things keep happening in my life? I hate this. I don’t even want to do the Gladiator Fights. You people dragged me here and told me to figure it out if I lose, so I’m just scared and following orders. I don’t need to be some top predator or anything.’
‘Send me home. Erase this damn brand on my neck.’
“What nonsense are you spouting, you bastard? Did you think a gladiator could run away from a Gladiator Fight?”
‘Huh. That voice doesn’t belong to the kid. It’s not the grown-up Nathan Maia either.’
Lawrence blinked, returning to the present after crossing eight years.
“Who are you?”
“It’s me. Alceides. Captain of the Sword Star Sect. Eldest son of your employer Amphitryon. Did you forget that too? You said being in the Abyss made you forget your past as a Sapiens. Does that include forgetting the masters who feed you?”
A different kind of terror from Nathan. The Consul’s son and the strongest of the Sword Star Sect had come for him. Lawrence groaned and stood. Only then did he realize he was buried under a pile of rubble. The Abyss knight swallowed dry saliva that wouldn’t even come out and looked to the side. The stone wall blocking the escape route had been cleanly sliced through and collapsed. Sheathing his sword after dismissing the Sword Qi, Alceides’s face twisted.
Footsteps echoed from all directions. Sword Star Sect warriors were surrounding him.
“Go back and fight. You ground-crawling Lower Worlder who doesn’t even know what pride is.”