A dungeon shrouded in darkness. In a cramped space of barely three square meters, one person lay collapsed.
A figure whose entire body was tightly wrapped in bandages, reminiscent of a patient who looked ready to breathe his last at any moment. The man with a splint on his left arm was none other than Dokgo Seong.
He was currently in a state of deep, unconscious slumber. While most of the wounds from his fierce battle with the troll appeared healed, the internal injuries he had sustained remained as they were. The inside of the prison was enveloped in a quiet desolation, save for the rough sound of breathing.
But then someone suddenly revealed himself in the darkness. A handsome middle-aged man with blue eyes clad in a blue robe. He was none other than Benites. The court mage of the Kingdom of Ikarot had personally appeared in the underground prison.
He stood silently, gazing at Dokgo Seong sprawled beyond the bars. It was an observation to check his condition.
"It seems the treatment is more or less finished. Well, I have been steadily casting Healing for a week now…."
He quietly raised his hand. The Healing magic had already been cast in advance as he made his way here. A bluish light suddenly flared from his hand. The light flew in a straight line and completely covered Dokgo Seong's entire body. As if the light itself were a living creature, it wrapped around Dokgo Seong, circled him once, and was absorbed directly into his body.
"If my estimations are not wrong, this man will awaken shortly."
Having detected color gradually returning to Dokgo Seong's face, Benites silently turned to leave. Just then, a low and feeble voice came from behind him.
"Wait a moment."
Benites turned his head involuntarily. A pair of eyes, weakly opened and fixed upon him, entered his sight. The foreigner. He had opened his eyes and was staring at Benites.
Benites wordlessly moved toward the bars. The foreigner had said something, but without casting interpretation magic, he could not understand the meaning. When Benites stopped before the bars, the foreigner likewise slowly raised himself. And then he slowly approached Benites.
"I have something to say."
Watching the foreigner continue to speak words he could not understand, Benites was seized by the thought of trying to converse with him. Of course, by common sense it was an utterly useless thing to do. It would consume a considerable amount of mana, and Benites had neither the need nor the reason to do so. Yet he unconsciously cast interpretation magic. It was because pity welled up at the wretched figure the opponent now cut.
In the world he had crossed into through dimensional travel, the man in the prison had been an infinitely proud, strong existence. A master who had fought proudly against numerous master-class swordsmen without yielding an inch. Seeing such a person's current wretched state, Benites naturally did not feel at ease. Having finished casting the interpretation magic, Benites spoke slowly to Dokgo Seong.
"Do you have something to say to me?"
A light of delight rose on Dokgo Seong's face. How long had it been since he spoke with a person? He had not known that being able to exchange words with someone could bring such joy. But his opponent was not a figure particularly well-disposed toward him. Dokgo Seong knew full well that he had to find out everything he wanted within a limited time.
"What became of Schreckheimer?"
At the opponent abruptly bringing up Schreckheimer, Benites displayed a rather troubled expression. But since it was not something that needed to be kept strictly secret, he decided to answer frankly.
"He departed for the battlefield a few days ago. To treat the wounded soldiers, that is. Judging that there was nothing else he could do for Truvenia, he went to the most treacherous battlefield. You will likely never see him again."
"Hmm."
Dokgo Seong fell silent for a moment. He could somewhat sympathize with Schreckheimer having made such a decision. Of course, the sovereigns' reprimands for failing his mission were clearly mixed in as well. He could more or less guess how things were unfolding. Having finished his train of thought, Dokgo Seong stared piercingly at Benites's face.
"Now I remember your face."
".........?"
"When I was falling from the cliff, I had seen someone's face. Perhaps because of the circumstances at the time, I could not remember, but now I recall. The one who saved me from the cliff was you."
Benites offered a bitter smile. Being remembered was not entirely unpleasant. But back then, he had thought of the foreigner as a savior who would rescue the continent from crisis. Now he had lost all strength to help. Benites forced himself to maintain a cold attitude.
"Well, there is no need to express gratitude there. I was merely carrying out a mission under orders at the time…."
After answering curtly and attempting to turn away, Benites was urgently called to a halt by Dokgo Seong.
"Please wait a moment."
Startled, Benites looked at Dokgo Seong once more.
"Do you have something to say to me?"
"I shall speak frankly. When will this trial I am currently undergoing end?"
Surprise flashed across Benites's face for an instant. By common sense, anyone in such straits would feel fear regardless of who they were. It was all too easy to become nearly half-mad, preoccupied with thoughts of one's fate arriving at any moment.
But this man was different. Without losing his composure in the slightest, he was coldly seeing through his own predicament…. A sense of alarm rising in him, Benites unconsciously opened his mouth.
"How did you know this is a trial?"
"Is it not obvious? Let us not complicate matters needlessly. There is only one thing I wish to know. I want to know what becomes of me after this trial ends. If I am fated to die anyway, there is no need to fight, so speak honestly."
Dokgo Seong stared intently at Benites's face. Having watched him for a moment, Benites slowly nodded.
"Perhaps if you pass the final trial, you will be able to live."
A light of some expectation arose on Dokgo Seong's face.
"Then I suppose it is a blessing in misfortune."
"But."
Benites paused, his expression turning gloomy.
"I believe there is almost no chance you will survive that trial."
"Ho, and why is that?"
"The monster you will face this time is an Ogre. And not just any—the most ferocious of them, a Twin-Head Ogre. A Twin-Head Ogre is a powerful monster that even seasoned knights hesitate to face. It is an existence incomparable to the troll you fought last time. Therefore, I advise you to abandon any hope of survival."
But the foreigner did not flinch in the slightest.
"In any case, the point is that I need only pass the final trial."
"Th-that is correct."
"Then what position will I be placed in after passing the trial?"
Though bewildered by his opponent's fearless reaction, Benites offered a relatively honest explanation. At Benites's words that if he passed the trial he would be released and likely mobilized for hard labor or conscripted as a soldier, Dokgo Seong formed a bitter smile.
"I see. Having paid a hefty price to bring me here, they intend to thoroughly exploit me."
"Before that, you ought to worry about passing the final trial."
Benites spat out bluntly before leaving his spot without hesitation. He was already incredibly busy as it was. There was no need to waste any more time.
Clang.
As Benites exited, the door shut firmly.
Dokgo Seong continued to ponder something with a troubled expression. It was precisely the matter of how he should act.
"First of all, I must survive by any means necessary."
His contemplation did not last long before he returned to his spot to sleep. As he did so, he recalled the time that could be called the only happy period of his life. A time so busy that stray thoughts could not surface. The center of the blood-soaked battlefield had been the happiest moment of his life.
Shhhhhh.
A single sword flew toward one spot, creating countless changes. Along with the thick fragrance of plum blossoms, plum blossoms were drawn innumerably in the air. Judging by the level at which the plum blossoms were drawn, one could easily tell that the sword-wielder was a disciple of the Huashan Sect, and one of tremendous skill at that.
"Keuk."
Two black-clad figures wielding wind-splitting sabers and sporting Asura emblems engraved on their chests were bisected before they could even scream properly. Though they were considerably skilled experts of the Demonic path, they were no match for a proper expert of the Orthodox path. The middle-aged Taoist with a long beard lightly swung his sword once to shake off the blood drops, then launched his body toward a new target.
Jang Heonsu. He was the 42nd-generation disciple of the Huashan Sect and one of its prestigious elders who currently had over ten disciples of his own. Having been raised as a direct successor from childhood, his path had been smooth beyond compare. With a solid internal energy foundation, he had been able to raise his fame in the martial world for a long time, and there had been a time when he devoted himself to raising disciples after stepping back from the front lines.
But present-day reality did not allow him to rest content. The Great War of the Righteous and Demonic erupting simultaneously throughout the entire martial world. Having lost many disciples through fierce battles, he had no choice but to take up his sword once more. He was currently leading his subordinate disciples on the way to rescue the Murong Family, which had fallen into crisis. But the tide of battle was visibly unfavorable to them.
"At this rate, it will be difficult. We must somehow cut down their leader."
As Jang Heonsu frantically glanced about in all directions, the figure of one who seemed to be the leader finally entered his eyes. A black-clad figure of rather small stature rampaging in a martial trance with tiger claws fitted on both hands. Instinctively realizing that he was the commander of the Heretic Cult's ambush squad, Jang Heonsu launched his body toward him without delay.
It was a time when the power struggle between the Righteous and Demonic paths was reaching its zenith. The Great War of the Righteous and Demonic, triggered by the grueling armed clashes of minor sects, had long developed as localized conflicts until just recently, when it finally escalated into full-scale confrontation.
With the Demonic Cult, nominally renowned as the sovereign of the Demonic path, at its center, the minor sects of the Demonic path including the Heretic Cult banded together to form the Demonic Alliance. To oppose them, the Righteous path established the Martial Alliance, centered on the traditional Nine Great Sects. And so, the all-out contest of strength between the Demonic Alliance and the Martial Alliance was unfolding as the Great War of the Righteous and Demonic, encompassing every sect…….
"Keok."
One Taoist, his nape pierced through, dropped his sword and slumped down on the spot with a thud. The black-clad figure who had been pulling tiger claws from the neck of the freshly dead Taoist reflexively launched his body at the fierce momentum piercing in from behind. Though his movements were fairly fluid, the sword bearing down upon him pursued his vital points as if it had eyes.
"This time, a rather useful one."
While the black-clad figure was assessing the situation, the plum blossoms were already pressing close around his body. Beautiful yet inevitably blood-calling flowers of death were now covering his entire body. Without the slightest fluster, the black-clad figure fiercely swung the tiger claws on both hands in all directions.
Papapapat.
Amazingly, the clusters of plum blossoms filling the air shattered one by one. At the sight, Jang Heonsu was utterly astonished.
"To break the Plum Blossom Sword Technique with mere tiger claws…."
"Kekeke, did you think the Plum Blossom Sword Technique could handle me?"
Letting out a thick, sinister laugh, the black-clad figure charged at Jang Heonsu. Perhaps he had not completely blocked the Plum Blossom Sword Technique, for the mask covering his face was torn to shreds and flapped loosely.
Chang chang.
Only after several exchanges of offense and defense did Jang Heonsu finally witness the black-clad figure's face.
"Truly an ugly fellow. Hm? Wait, you are…?"
A hunchbacked expert of the Heretic Cult with an Ugly Face (醜面) who wielded tiger claws. Then the opponent's identity was obvious. Having grasped the situation, a furious radiance shot up from Jang Heonsu's eyes.
"So you were Dokgo Seong? Well met, you ungrateful wretch who dared to kill the Shaolin Sage."
"Nonsense! You lot killed him, what impudence is this?"
Rage also surged in Dokgo Seong's eyes. As if to say there was no need for further words, he brandished his tiger claws and charged. Naturally, Jang Heonsu did not refuse.