Anger (1)
Listening to his heart pounding, Ozent turned to look at Reard.
"Hahaha! This is going to be fun!"
Seeing him swing his wooden sword noisily as if getting ready to spar, a murderous excitement flared in Ozent.
'Are you begging me not to kill you?'
If Ozent let the violence in his heart show, Reard would be dust before he knew it.
Still—he wanted to strike.
'What a coward.'
Realizing the bloodlust in his mind, Ozent gave a bitter smile.
Damian said, "Ozent, I'm sorry."
Ozent didn't know what he was apologizing for.
"If I'd taken you as my son, none of this would have happened. But… it can't be helped."
You can't turn back time.
"It's not something you should be sorry for." Every word annoyed Ozent, but the truth remained: this man had saved his life.
That only made his anger burn hotter.
Without announcing his intent, Ozent walked into the dueling ground and gripped the wooden sword.
'Over something like this…'
He'd never truly fought someone before, so he didn't know his exact strength.
But he wasn't a frog in a well.
He'd never dueled people, yet he could cleave through tree trunks—something ordinary men couldn't do.
"I'd like to take it easy on you, but—"
Reard tapped Ozent's shoulder with his wooden sword and said, "A true warrior does not fear wounds. What can this stick really do? Let's make it exciting."
'How foolish.'
To someone who'd reached a certain level it sounded like common sense, but Ozent let out a hollow laugh.
'You can kill a man with a single chopstick.'
"Brother! Show them the power of the river clan!"
Even though it should have been awkward to pick a side, Smille declared Ozent's victory without hesitation.
'Is she clueless or just pure…'
No, Smille had always been like that.
Where Ozent checked every risk before acting, she never hesitated.
'That's why I—'
He pushed the thought away and extended his wooden sword.
"Begin."
At that declaration, Reard's smiling face turned eerily calm.
'Not a weakling, then.'
The peculiar aura called the giant's strength rose from Reard's body.
Only Ozent's senses could detect that temperament.
"Taha!"
Reard charged first, and Ozent twisted his body at the last moment.
"Whoa!"
Those watching were quickly drawn in by the power of Reard's unexpected swordsmanship.
Even Smille, who'd believed Ozent the best until now, widened her eyes at the blade's speed.
Ozent's expression didn't change; he simply deflected the attacks with steady composure.
'He's a strong man.'
He didn't want to belittle him.
He had the skill to represent the mountain clan, and he handled the giant's strength with finesse.
'How strong am I…'
A question suddenly formed.
'How strong is he?'
A chill ran over Ozent; a strange dread rose because he'd confirmed a level utterly different from his own.
'Can there be such a gap?'
Reard's movements were visible in a realm you couldn't compare with numbers—each motion distinct and clear.
'This isn't dodging.'
Almost like precognition, each of Reard's moves was being analyzed individually.
Ozent's senses—sharpened to the peak of his body—had reached that state.
He could handle Reard with only one percent of his nerves; the other ninety-nine percent he used for thought.
'This man will become Smille's husband.' The woman who had never left his mind since they first met would be taken.
He felt his insides boil.
"Yah!"
When Reard made a vertical slash, Ozent twisted and prepared an upward strike.
'If I raise my sword now—'
If he struck upward, Reard's neck would snap, but Ozent stopped the motion abruptly.
Reard, who hadn't been hit even once, glared with wide eyes.
"If you're going to do it, do it properly, you puny bastard."
He didn't know why Reard hadn't attacked, but it was clearly a taunt.
"Enough. There's no point in continuing."
Their whispered exchange didn't carry outward, but the tension fell everyone silent.
"No point? This is a duel to decide supremacy between the mountain clan and the river clan. Are you still a warrior?"
"I am not of the river clan."
You could tell from his hair color that Ozent was the chieftain's adopted son.
'What is this guy?'
Despite shrugging off fierce blows, his personality reeked of neurotic timidity.
'Even if he's not kin by blood, does he treat me like this?'
One possibility flashed through Ozent's mind.
"Could it be that you—?"
Reard, having returned from checking on Smille, fixed his gaze on Ozent's face.
The pallor that was normally there drained entirely from his face.
"You perverted bastard!"
Startled by the cry, both the river and mountain clans looked bewildered.
Only Smille stood and watched.
"I'll beat you to death!" Reard—already convinced Smille belonged to him—spat fury and swung his wooden sword.
But at that moment the most furious person was Ozent.
'I'll kill him!' Shame-born rage sent reason flying and his sword arced with terrifying speed.
To the naked eye it was indistinguishable, but Reard didn't move even one one-hundredth of his motion.
Hold on.
A voice in his mind told him to wait; a thousand thoughts flashed through his head.
'If I kill him—'
He'd be a murderer.
How would Smille look at him then? How devastated would his father be? Could he bear everyone's condemnation?
'Hold back! Please hold back!'
Thousands of reasons not to do it surged through his mind and put the brakes on the wooden sword's momentum.
"Uaaaah!"
A gale blew and the wooden sword came to an abrupt halt.
"Ugh!"
Reard froze, as if the sword he'd thrust out had stopped right before him.
Kurrrrrrung!
From the forest behind them, trees began to snap as if cut and fell in the same direction.
"W-what is that?"
Ozent didn't know.
'What is this?'
His senses had reached the pinnacle of his body, but he'd never experienced things being cut without his cutting them.
'Something inside me erupted.'
The Law.
Before he could clearly define that still-vague concept, Reard lost his reason.
"You bastard!"
The wooden sword Reard brought down with the intent to kill twisted grotesquely in front of Ozent's face and then cracked apart with a bang.
"Brother!"
People assumed Ozent had taken the blow; Smille sprang up, shocked.
"What… are you exactly?"
Only Reard—the one experiencing the unnatural beyond human understanding—felt its true horror.
'Vastness.'
Anger in his heart sublimated into principle and reached into the physical world.
A divine transcendence only the highest giants could achieve.
"I'll be going back."
Ozent threw his wooden sword to the ground, bowed deeply to Damian, and withdrew.
Damian sighed as he watched his son walk away.
'Is he running away again?' Even if it ruined his daughter's wedding, he'd hoped his son would at least once burst out with righteous anger.
'But then, that is you.'
If he could flee forever, a life of restraint might be a way to live.
"I'm going to see my brother."
When Smille tried to follow Ozent, Damian gripped her wrist.
"Don't go."
"Why? He's my brother."
Damian couldn't bring himself to say why.
Smille shrugged his hand off as if it were the last thing she wanted, and turned away.
"You're all cowards."
It frustrated her that no one seemed to understand what there was to fear.
Ozent went deeper into the mountains, to a place Smille couldn't reach, and calmed his mind through meditation.
'Slowly. Slower.'
He didn't have the courage to look at Smille.
'Forget her.'
He would leave tonight.
As always, he could run away and avoid the fear he couldn't face.
'I see.'
The enlightenment reached through the duel with Reard rushed in like a tide.
'Ah.'
As if his mind had opened, endless thoughts flooded in without effort.
Ozent's body rose on its own; sitting cross-legged, his hands lifted.
'I have… transcended the body.' The awakening of a genius.
'Yes, this will do.'
To him, the sword had never been a means to accomplish something; it was a refuge from misfortune.
'This is enough.'
He opened his eyes, not noticing the tears on his cheeks, and dawn had already come.
"I should pack."
He couldn't bear to face Smille—she might have spent the night with Reard.
Until the wedding, they were technically strangers, but from what he'd seen, consummation usually happened that evening.
His heart felt as if it were being torn, but he forced the thought away and prepared to leave the mountain.
"Brother." Smille waited in a corner of the forest.
"Smille."
His voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears.
"How did you know?"
Smille sighed and swept her gaze around.
By the Law of Maha, every tree in the forest had been bent to the verge of snapping.
"This is—"
"No, forget about that."
Her tone was angrier than usual.
"Tell me what happened." So he'd been found out after all.
"What?"
"You know you shouldn't be asking me. It's your turn to tell me now."
Ozent tried desperately to make excuses.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling well today. Tell Reard I'm sorry, too. And the wedding must—"
"Brother, can I just not get married?"
Ozent's face hardened.
"W-what do you mean all of a sudden? You can't cancel a marriage that determines the clan's fate like this."
He said what he didn't mean, but Smille pressed further.
"Do you know what I did last night?" He only felt the urge to run.
"Well, of course—"
"Nothing happened."
Smille watched his expression change and breathed out heavily.
"Do you really have nothing to tell me?" She seemed to be giving a final chance.
'Is there a next time for me?' The certainty that if anything was to change, it had to be now struck him.
'I must confess. No swordsmanship will protect me now.'
There could be no greater moment than this.
"Smille."
Ozent grabbed her shoulder.
"Marry Reard."
Maybe Reard had chosen well.
'I'm a coward.'
From the start he'd been utterly helpless.
"Marry him and be happy. That will please the clan and Father. If you don't marry, everyone will be unhappy."
"What's so complicated about that? I'll take responsibility for everything."
Ozent gave a sad smile.
'How can she say something so noble?'
Like a great, tranquil river that carries everything in its flow, Smille had always been someone he admired.
"Take care, Smille. I—"
Ozent's head snapped around.
"What is it?"
Wuuuuuuuuuuuuuh.
The air vibrated as a clear tone wrapped the whole mountain and swept through it.
'Vibration?'
Anyone who'd lived in Purgatory would know it—the angels' unique resonant tone.