[500] Despair. Despair. (3)
Kuan used skima to tense his muscles and staunch the bleeding. Then, as if nothing had happened, he calmly leveled his sword.
"Hoh, so you have that technique too."
A thin smile played at Mumyeong's mouth.
His insight—piercing through and applying the human anatomy at a glance—remained a realm incomprehensible to ordinary humans.
"But I won't need it."
The moment Mumyeong charged, 24 outer gravities burst from Kuan's body.
Each outer gravity swelled and contracted like a ball on the end of a rubber band, making Kuan's body vibrate.
The motion was grotesquely strange, but to Kuan it was nothing more than a single, predetermined trajectory.
As if to prove that, Mumyeong moved with far superior footwork and pressed him.
Trajectories that exceeded every human prediction and expectation, even beyond imagination and delirium.
"Guhk!"
Another lethal blow landed; Kuan's face twisted and he hit the ground.
He raised his sword when he saw Mumyeong cross his twin blades to push forward, but the momentum of the charge slammed him back against the wall.
Ka-ka-ka-ka-katch!
The blades rubbed over a short distance and locked fast, the two swordsmen's gazes colliding between the flash of steel.
"Aha, now I understand."
Mumyeong's attention shifted from swordplay to Kuan himself.
Armin's use of Stop magic to raise a barrier made sense. The moment the shield dropped, a Flicker spell could close the distance and sever them in an instant.
But it was puzzling that Kuan, fully aware of the skill gap, had abandoned self-preservation and doggedly pressed on.
Mumyeong's conclusion was simply this: a very inefficient, irrational human heart.
"Is he dying to save them?"
Kuan exchanged a brief look with Shiina.
It was a sliver of truth no superhuman nerves could suppress.
Mumyeong did not miss the woman's face reflected in Kuan's eyes.
By memory, that was love—the reproductive drive which, though the word "father" might be loathsome, sits at the top of the Garas' animal instincts.
'No, if that's the case, it makes even less sense.'
Garas would spare no means to satisfy desire, even altering their bodies if necessary. Kuan's behavior, however, seemed to run counter to that basic animal urge.
"They plan to use you as bait and run. Besides, the woman doesn't love you. She wants the child of the man beside her. So why act like this?"
The reproductive urge might have shifted into a hunger for achievement, but the being still carried Gara blood. If Mumyeong saw and felt it himself, there was no doubt.
"Huuuuuu."
Kuan drew a deep breath from his core.
He didn't need Gara instincts to guess that Shiina had feelings for Armin.
So why was he doing this?
All Kuan would gain for saving Shiina and Armin was death—what hope could he be fighting for?
'Lucky devils, the mages.'
Mages always chose the optimal path.
So Shiina's judgment—to stay with Armin—must be right this time, too. Just like when, having gotten urgent news, she'd dashed to the restaurant and told him about death without hesitation.
He wanted to be at Shiina's side.
Not as some swordsman, but as the one and only man.
And in that moment, Kuan let go of every hope.
"What do I know, you fool."
Kuan exhaled the breath he'd been holding and swung his sword.
Mumyeong recoiled a step, sneering as if at an insignificant creature.
"Foolish. Choosing death without even a righteous reason for your actions—what a human."
Mumyeong leveled his twin blades at the charging Kuan and narrowed his eyes; his arms seemed to dissolve like smoke, then his high-speed cut swept forward.
Fwoooooom!
A speed that could be called a blade screen.
The air screamed as if burning while dozens of blades surged toward Kuan's eyes.
'Found it—my grave.'
Even with absolute death rushing in, Kuan felt a strange swell in his chest.
The grave he had chosen was in Shiina's heart.
If he could die before her, for her—then that was enough.
'I know. It's childish.'
Kuan twisted his body sharply and skirted the blade curtain.
'Honestly, I'm furious too...'
He burned with jealousy at the sight of Armin holding Shiina, yet couldn't manage a single word.
Kuan whirled faster around Mumyeong.
Mumyeong's sword snapped like a snake in pursuit, and dozens of wounds opened on Kuan's body.
Not all were instantly fatal, but the bleeding was life-threatening.
"Let go! Let go of me!"
Shiina screamed Kuan's name until her throat ached, but her voice could not cross the barrier of time.
"Shiina! Calm down! It's not time yet!"
Armin's feelings were just as desperate.
If he could close the gap with Flicker and cast Stop on Mumyeong, they might have a chance. But if Mumyeong dodged magic the same way, the only guaranteed outcome would be Shiina's death.
"Wait! Hold on a bit longer!"
"Kuan! Kuan!"
In the spinning world, Kuan captured Shiina's face for an instant.
'Yes, this is me.'
A clown dancing a sword-dance before her, hoping she'd understand his heart.
"Kuk kuk kuk! Kuk-kuk-kuk-kuk!"
Kuan laughed, lungs heaving, his face so distorted it looked like crying.
"All right, I'll grant you that title—sword genius."
After endless evasions, Kuan finally penetrated inside the blade curtain.
"I am the sword demon."
Fwooooooom!
Outer gravities shot out in every direction as Kuan's body spun like a top.
"Huh?"
Both swordsmen already moved in patterns beyond human thought, so onlookers didn't notice the change.
But Mumyeong, who deeply understood the true nature of outer gravities, felt a chill for the first time in battle.
'What is this?'
Kuan's movements were off.
If his previous trajectories had been a single path, suddenly they split into two branches demanding choice.
'No—whatever. It won't change anything. Doesn't matter.'
If there were only two branches, he could suppress both.
As Mumyeong passed Kuan and cut three places in an instant, he prepared a triumphant smile—but shock overtook him.
'He was cut?'
Turning his head in disbelief, a slash opened along his right shoulder and arterial spray spattered.
The wound—felt for the first time in his life—was a nauseating, unbearable sensation.
But his mind was too confused to register the pain.
'When...?'
There were two paths.
No—denying an outcome already seen was foolish.
So what else could there be...
'Another path I couldn't see?'
Could that be possible?
When Mumyeong turned, he saw Kuan spinning with a demonic, vicious grin.
"Kukku, that was shallow. But this one'll be deeper."
Their swords clashed again.
In a brief instant like a single exchange, dozens of passes intersected and flesh tore from Mumyeong's left thigh.
It had been invisible—Kuan's blade moved from an angle Mumyeong hadn't expected.
"That cannot—!"
As colossal desire for achievement was suppressed, the resulting rage surged.
His pride trampled, the explosive emotion layered onto Gara nature reached a new peak.
"There is—no—!"
Dozens of outer gravities tugged at Mumyeong, twisting his path wildly.
Seeing a tangled trajectory like a knotted ball of yarn, Kuan didn't flinch and muttered.
"…annoying."
Clang!
Their blades collided dozens of times, but the speed fused them into a single, discordant impact.
Kuan staggered and halted; a straight line of blood scored his back and then burst forth.
"Haah! Haah!"
Panting, Mumyeong's nape was cut and a red line ran as skin was sliced.
"This is—!"
Mumyeong had missed Kuan's line again.
But that very miss tipped his certainty toward doubt.
There was no way his imagination—far above human insight—could be outdone by Kuan.
"Something about him bothers me..."
For some time now Kuan had repeated the same mutter.
It felt like the enlightenment he'd gained when he'd thrown his life to the Pungjang and charged—his mind opened again.
"Aha, I see. Now I get it."
Kuan reeled back like a drunken man.
He had truly plunged into deep thought and come back; his eyes were unfocused, half-lost.
"This is how it should be."
Crack!
Flesh and bone snapped together.
Shiina, who had been calling Kuan's name, and Armin, who'd decided to flee at an opening, both went pale.
Mumyeong blinked as he stared at Kuan's right arm, which fell to the ground with a dull thud.
It had been severed cleanly below the shoulder.
He had cut off his own arm.
'Why?'
It was vaguely comprehensible, but the immediate thought was that this act could hardly be called an achievement.
'He's limited his own potential. Is he mad?'
"Now, how about this?"
Kuan's voice made Mumyeong lift his head again.
Though he held his sword with the only remaining arm and looked weaker, the situation shifted in an instant.
Around Kuan, as if the ground itself had collapsed, the scenery began to tilt to one side.
The extreme of asymmetry—the mad Pierrot clown.
"You..."
For the first time, fear flickered in Mumyeong's eyes.
An achievement aimed at death, reachable only by a human with such bias.
* * *
"Why? Why in God's name?"
Plu carefully laid Crude on the ground just before he fell.
His whole body was broken and twisted; calling him saved felt like a joke.
Crude's hazy gaze drifted, unable to settle.
Piper's frame had kept his body from being crushed, but it only intensified the pain.
"Why did you come to me? Why? If you were going to die like this, why did you come to me!"
Plu shouted at the dying Crude.
Even knowing it was cruel, she couldn't contain the fury boiling inside her.
"I... I hate you so much..."
Crude spoke in a dying voice.
"I have no family."
Plu's face crumpled; the simple words made everything clear.
"At least you should have a reason to die..."
"Enough! I don't want to hear that! What do you expect me to do? Saying that after this—what good is it!"
Crude offered a faint smile.
To give everything to the woman you loved.
To give even your most precious life, and in the end remain forever in her heart.
Perhaps that was the greatest revenge.
"Plu... I... love..."
Crude's tongue stiffened and his eyes closed.
Plu trembled and clutched his lifeless body with shaking arms.
The more she tried to hold it in, the larger the emotion grew, until finally she could not and broke down, wailing.
"Aaaaaah!"
To love so much that you hate, to hope even that hated feeling will be acknowledged, and then to die—that is the hollow, endless human heart.
That heart fell on Plu's chest like a heavy stone, squeezing the breath from her.