So You Had a Plan (1)

Aspen did her best not to bolt from her seat. This was no courtroom. The grand theater she had seen in Baylard, capital of the Federation, came closest to matching the atmosphere. The jurors’ chairs were as comfortable as audience seats, arranged in a circle so everyone had a clear view. The judge’s bench had been pushed to one side ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like a wedding officiant’s podium. Of course, there was no Humanity Sect monk here to plead for the sinner’s innocence. Such a thing would never exist in the Heavens. And Nathan was not in the defendant’s box—he was chained at the very center of the stage, iron links wrapped around his arms, legs, and neck. This was no place to determine guilt or innocence. It was a theater staging an execution as performance.

These damned bastards.

“Want me to help scatter their attention, Aspen?” the woman beside her whispered.

Aspen realized her mistake and lowered her eyes. She had been staring at Nathan too long.

“Most of the eastern powers have dragged their heavy asses here. In front of us sits the owner of Daedalus, the largest shipyard in the Heavens. There’s also Croxus, high priest of the Celestial God Church, and Siloze, director of the World Museum. Still wearing that manhole cover on his bald head, I see. Claims it’s a relic of terrestrial civilization, but who cares? It always looks like he’s got a thimble on his thumb—ridiculous ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every time.”

There were many others. The woman listed names and titles for several minutes. Caduceus, head of Morphosis, the biotechnology research foundation. The Vigor family, the largest medical foundation and medical dynasty. And representatives from the royal houses of the southern and western kingdoms of the Heavens. Thanks to the Winter King’s show of force, the corporations were watching their step around the kings. In the end, it worked out for everyone. The kings gained an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠excuse to discipline their underlings, while the middling powers got a chance to flatter the kings…

“…Are you listening? Now that you’re a citizen of the Heavens, you should know the basics here.”

“Caduceus. Vigor. The kings. Power structure. I’m listening.”

Aspen rattled off a few keywords to dodge the question. She had only been half-listening. She did not care whether other races rose or fell. What concerned her were the bodyguards they had brought. Each power had selected only one escort, and every one of them had a sturdy frame and eyes that spoke of countless kills. Non-elf races were mixed in as well—gray orcs, multi-armed asuras, and those with corpse-like complexions who were likely vampires. They were all radiating hostile auras, as if competing with one another.

Aspen had no intention of joining their pointless pride contest. What made her wary was the possibility that they might interfere with her plan.

“Look at the escorts those people brought. Impressive, aren’t they? So stop thinking nonsense, Aspen.”

Aspen suppressed her fear. Could she really read minds? Had the earlier suggestion carried a hidden meaning? No. If it had, Santra would never have brought her here. Aspen had a plan Santra would absolutely hate.

If you can even call it a plan.

“If a duel breaks out and you end up killed by some expert, Andau will never endure it. She’ll blame herself for putting her daughter in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠harm’s way.”

The woman yawned softly and continued. She did not sound as though she truly believed a fight would occur. Aspen felt relieved. She had not noticed.

“So keep your eyes down as much as possible.”

“Is that acceptable for an escort?”

“I’m not traveling with an escort because I’m some weak fool like the rest of them. The quality of one’s escort reflects one’s own dignity. In that sense, you already fail on appearance alone.”

Aspen, her bruises hidden beneath makeup, muttered, “Then you should have brought the red armor instead.”

“Ha. So you’re answering with jokes now. You were so stiff before, but you’ve loosened up.”

The woman chuckled quietly. Aspen forced a smile in return. This was someone who secretly enjoyed it when subordinates pushed back—provided they had the merit to back it up.

“I’d like to, but I can’t bring a loser. Congratulations on earning the right to accompany me, Aspen Peres.”

One exchange. A single exchange. A technique no one could block upon first sight. Aspen apologized inwardly to whoever had suffered the crushed pride.

“Still, make sure no quarrels arise. And don’t step forward claiming it’s for my sake. Remember that I’m a mage.”

Quarrels, huh. Yes. There might be one after all.

Seated in the front row, Aspen experimentally leaned forward a little, pretending to rub her injured arm.

But it won’t be for your sake.

Three people immediately turned to look at her despite the lack of killing intent. Even more had likely noticed without reacting. They would definitely be a hindrance. In the vast courtroom, only Aspen felt the taut tension. There would probably be only one chance. Just as the woman had said, Aspen stood at a crossroads and made her choice. Would she accept the life of a pampered pet wearing the attractive leather of a warrior family, or would she do what a knight must?

A Lion Wing never abandons another Lion Wing. You said that once.

It was also something she had once told Nathan.

And I answered that it was something a Double Wing says to an Outer Wing. Heh. If Father heard, he’d say raising a daughter was pointless after all.

Two sheathed longswords. The guillotine and the crossroads. Of course, Aspen would not wield one of them. She did not use twin swords. If no one defended Nathan and his sentence was confirmed, Aspen would climb onto the stage with both blades and throw one to him. Two against the entire Heavens. A fitting end for a Lion Wing.

I don’t have the power to save you from a hundred battles. But I can at least die with a sword in my mouth alongside you. Thanks to you, it was fun, my beloved junior.

Suppressing her refined killing intent beneath her skin, Aspen stared at the stage.

…But in that state, even if I hand him a sword, he won’t be able to swing it.

Aspen ground her teeth. What had they said to him? What had they done to him in the meantime? Nathan, bound in chains, was blankly staring at the ceiling. His slack mouth looked ready to drool. It was understandable. The shock from dozens of minutes ago was still fresh in his mind.

At the Protector Lord’s words, Nathan blinked like a leaf in the wind.

Dis Pater?

Dis Pater. Why do you look like that?

It’s nothing.

After saying that, Nathan’s face froze as though a swindler had stolen his testicles.

Just… there’s someone with a similar name. An old acquaintance.

An acquaintance? A terrestrial?

When Nathan nodded, the Protector Lord snorted.

I don’t know who your friend is, but if they’re terrestrial, they can’t possibly be the same person. Dis Pater was an Eleim who died 1,500 years ago. The last record says he was reduced to ash by lightning, so he probably refused a fight and was thrown outside.

They said you would be struck by lightning if you stayed in the Heavens without the Heavenly brand, and struck by lightning if you left with the brand. Nathan unconsciously touched his branded neck. Surely not. It must just be a similar name. It made no sense. But why did it feel so unsettling? Why did a hunch, once it latched on, keep seeping in thicker, as if to say it had never been wrong before?

The absurd assumption that Orcus Dispator, the Federation’s First Sword, was a celestial. For that to hold, two conditions were necessary. First, surviving that terrifying lightning that could collapse an entire building. Second, surviving a fall from several kilometers up. Both were impossible for any living being. But because of that very illogicality, Nathan’s hunch kept drifting toward that slim possibility.

Father. A father suspicious in many ways. A father so powerful it made one wonder if he was even human. A father whose face had been so thoroughly altered that his humanity could not be confirmed. A father nearing sixty whose body was still in its prime. A father who had mastered every martial art in the world, each one difficult enough for others to learn even one. A father who had reached the pinnacle of all those arts, as if given ten times the time others had…

Yet if Orcus truly was an Eleim, then a new possibility opened for Nathan. A sweet, hopeful clue like dawn sunlight—that there might be a way to escape the Heavens and return to the Lower World.

So Nathan was caught in a terrible dilemma.

There’s no way Father is a celestial. It makes no sense. Stop with the nonsense. No, he has to be a celestial. Otherwise how could I even investigate how he escaped? No. He can’t be. Then what about my sense of betrayal?

“El Sabi Eleim. May the reign of the Celestial Gods last forever. Thank you, honored guests, for attending. We will now begin the trial.”

At those words, Nathan snapped back to his senses. Ah, right. He was on trial.

“At the request of the northern physician, the plaintiff, we will proceed summarily, omitting formalities. First, is there anyone willing to generously bear the sinner’s karma in his stead and help wash away the sins staining his hands with blood? If you would open the door to the Gladiator Fight for this young soul, please raise your hand when the bell rings.”

As he spoke, the drowsy-looking host pulled a leather scroll from his robes and read from it.

“However, the Winter King has asked me to relay this message as well. Go ahead and try.”

Nathan’s eye twitched. There was no need for such a blatant warning. No one would want to take Nathan anyway. Only someone as insane as the Winter King would attempt it. Saving a lower race marked by a king was, even to Nathan who knew nothing of celestial politics, a dangerous act. The whispers from the audience proved it.

“Killing a royal is just a rumor. His charges are unclear, so it’s likely false.”

“If he really defeated Mornid, he’d be valuable as a fighting cock, but all the so-called evidence from the channel records was blurry.”

“Who knows. We don’t know his face, but his body looks decent. Maybe he was caught sleeping with a prince’s lover.”

“Or maybe he was sleeping with the princes themselves. Puhuh…”

“If he really did kill them, we definitely shouldn’t buy him. Did you see the kings’ representatives? He’ll become a target for all the kings, not just the Winter King. It’s volunteering to be the example who gets hanged first.”

Nathan wanted to wash out his overly sharp ears. He would have, if his hands were not bound. The host’s monotonous voice continued. The terrible crimes committed by a Sapiens. The charge of “stealing himself” by fleeing. Receiving illegal medical services without a medical foundation’s approval. And involvement in the murder of the exalted celestial royalty. Nathan, not a celestial citizen, was given no chance to defend himself. This was simply the process of culling a beast that had entered the city.

“Now we will ring the bell and begin the auction under Judge Inicus’s supervision.”

An auction? Inside a courtroom? Nathan let out a hollow laugh.

And you’re the judge? With that bored attitude, you look more like a peddler.

Nothing in the Heavens Nathan had seen or experienced made any sense. He should have realized it the moment he saw land floating in the sky. The judge shook a small bronze bell attached to one side of the podium. Tang-gang. Daeng-geurang. A warm yet cheap sound, far from solemn. Nathan felt like livestock being sold wholesale.

“If no one bids within three minutes, the first match will begin immediately.”

Nathan looked behind him. The chains binding his entire body led backward into water. Below the stage was a tank filled with water. Several enormous fish swam within. Their girth—thick as a human torso—and the way they thrashed violently when excited made it clear they were not peaceful creatures that grazed on aquatic plants. The moment the lock securing the chains was released, Nathan would be dragged into the water where those beasts waited.

“The beasts you see now are the Winter King’s white bear garfish, donated by His Majesty the Winter King as opponents for the Sapiens in the grand match.”

Thanks for the explanation, you bastard. Nathan doubted whether the chains would even be unlocked once he fell into the water. Time passed without expectation. One minute. Two minutes. Two minutes ten seconds. Two minutes twenty seconds. As Nathan struggled to maintain a nonchalant expression, the judge quietly spoke to him.

“Any last words?”

“Why? Planning to bring side dishes because I won’t be able to eat fish?”

The judge blinked.

“What did you say, Sapiens?”

“I said I have no last words to offer as entertainment for you senile old bastards.”

Nathan bared his teeth. No knight begged for his life in enemy territory.

“My life itself is my last words. I have nothing to say to your kind.”

While speaking, Nathan glared sternly at the audience. The corporate owners and high-noble representatives let out hollow laughs, as if it were absurd for a death-row Sapiens to show hostility. But Nathan’s intent was not to rebuke the celestials’ attitudes. It was to warn someone who had faintly revealed killing intent.

So, Aspen.

“Therefore, don’t do anything foolish and provoke them needlessly. Just because those fish that don’t even look like enough for dinner might take a few bites, you think I’ll die? Don’t you dare. My fight is my own.”

Yet Aspen’s gaze remained steady. The ominous feeling that perhaps—just perhaps—was gradually becoming reality. Nathan clenched his teeth against the rising gratitude and anxiety. If their positions were reversed and Aspen were the one sentenced to death, he would probably act the same way. But unlike him, Aspen had a way to survive. So Nathan did not wish for it.

“…My fight is my own.”

Aspen’s lips twitched. The Double Wing knight shook her head. Very faintly.

Screw that. Like I’d let you die alone.

If the situation allowed her to speak aloud, Aspen would have said exactly that. Nathan felt his knees go weak. He had told her not to. There were people who survived ninety-nine fights, so couldn’t he just fight well on his own and survive, Aspen? He understood her feelings, but did it really have to be this way?

“No, seriously, don’t—”

Everyone fell silent. A suffocating stillness. The audience, who had been frowning at the Sapiens’ strangely changing tone, began to doubt what they had just heard. Had he just said he was bidding? He said he was bidding. No way. Surely he didn’t mean to say he was bidding. Unless he was insane—

A low, mechanical voice came from somewhere in the back seats. Thirty million credits. An amount the average celestial citizen could never dream of paying in a lump sum. Yet it was the minimum institutional requirement to liberate a confirmed death-row inmate from the Punishment Arena. Everyone turned toward the source of the shocking declaration. A figure in a suit seated in the very last row. Because he wore a strange steel box over his head, his face could not be seen. Though it was not for Nathan, who was only blinking in confusion, the judge kindly recited the bidder’s personal details to confirm. He himself was equally flustered.

“Ga… Galar—”

“…Somnus, owner of the composite technology corporation Galarhorn. Are you saying you wish to hire this Sapiens as a gladiator? Truly?”

An unexpected development. Aspen tried to hide her confusion while observing the Grand Arena Owner’s expression.

“I feel it anew, but there really is no one who takes my warnings seriously.”

Unlike Aspen, the Grand Arena Owner made no attempt to hide her emotions. Santra clutched her forehead behind her veil and let out a low growl.

“The little one has finally gone mad.”