Pick Me Up Infinite Gacha! Novel - Chapter 338
Chapter 338 – The Sword Waiting to Be Drawn (3)
<Episode 9 of Aaron’s Parallel Story>
***
I made no effort. I didn’t learn or practice. I just did it because I could.
«Don’t play… with me.»
Rals spoke in a dazed voice.
That emotion soon turned into anger.
«Be honest for once! You tried! You bled! Much more than me! You reduced your sleeping hours to achieve it! Admit it!»
Rals’ eyes reddened.
Within him, an unknown emotion welled up and exploded.
«Are you still lying? I have no intention to fight. You won! I’ll die here. But isn’t it right to leave at least one thing to the loser? You worked harder than me, and this is just the outcome… That’s the truth…»
«……»
«Admit it! Admit it! Admit that you tried… that you became stronger for it…! Admit it, damn it!»
The man remained silent.
Despite Rals’ shouts, he didn’t respond.
‘What is this guy?’
Is he still deceiving me?
I already admitted it.
I acknowledge you.
I recognize you as someone who could become a legendary elite gladiator!
I acknowledge your exhausting effort, and the cunning of hiding your strength!
«You say you made no effort?»
Don’t make me laugh.
Don’t make me laugh!
Rals’ life passed before his eyes like a carousel.
Although he was born with tremendous strength, he wasn’t lazy.
To survive and prove himself, he did whatever was necessary.
In the morning, he ran around the field, lifted weights, and did squats. Until he was drenched in sweat. Until exhaustion.
In the afternoon, he practiced his axe skills.
The thick and calloused skin of his hands was full of scars and blisters.
He tried.
He endured hunger, even if he wanted to eat.
He endured sleep, even if he wanted to rest.
That’s why he became strong.
That’s why that strength was his pride.
But what about this guy?
He’s denying it.
He’s trying to destroy his whole life.
«It’s a shame.»
«……»
«I’m not lying.»
The man spoke.
«Was it always like this then?»
Rals tightened the axe in his hand.
«Did you know from the moment you took a weapon that you could use it freely? Without needing training? You didn’t even know what parrying was? And you used a technique superior to that? Was it always like this? Could you use a sword from the beginning?»
«Yes.»
The man answered without hesitation.
«From the first time I took a sword, I could do it.»
«Curse… go to hell. Go to hell with you.»
«If my words hurt you, I apologize.»
«Stop talking nonsense! Dammit!»
I will kill him.
I can’t bear it.
I can’t accept that such an existence breathes in this world.
«Die!»
A blow filled with emotion.
The man effortlessly deflected it.
Rals’ muscles tensed again.
The axe blade spun fiercely.
Clang! Clang!
The fight continued, and the spectators cheered.
Their conversation didn’t reach the audience’s ears.
«That’s it!»
«Finish him!»
Bets were placed on the match.
Most spectators had bet on Rals’ victory.
They enjoyed the fight enough.
Now it was time to revel in bets and blood.
The blood-covered man and the giant with the double-edged axe.
Every time they intertwined in a dance, blue flashes leaped.
The spectators couldn’t look away from the final flash.
‘…He’s strong.’
The man thought.
The man before him was the best of the gladiators he had faced.
He didn’t rely on his innate strength and continuously trained, strengthening his strengths and overcoming his weaknesses.
«Aaah! Aaaah!»
The man shouted as he swung the axe.
His attacks, full of anger, were less precise than before.
‘…’
Is he crying?
What makes this giant cry like that?
‘You’re just like me, a slave after all.’
The man smiled bitterly.
It was time to end this charade.
The worn iron sword began to trace a circle slowly.
He never learned or practiced.
But the man could do it.
Because he was born that way.
«Die!»
The man shouted as he swung the axe.
The sword tracing a circle suddenly left a chilling path.
Swoosh.
«Aaaaah!»
Pshh.
Pshhhh.
The man’s right arm was severed and flew into the sky.
The double-edged axe he held plunged into the sand, and a rain of blood fell upon it.
«Waaah!»
The spectators cheered anyway.
They had seen blood.
«Aaah! Aaah!»
Rals writhed in the sand, clutching the stump.
Every time he writhed, the sand turned red.
That man would endure the pain of a severed arm.
But his shattered spirit clouded his resolve.
His body might endure, but his mind had already surrendered.
«Rals lost to that guy?»
«Who cares! Let him die! Useless bastard!»
«Kill him! Cut off his head!»
Huff.
The man took a deep breath.
It wasn’t up to him to decide the man’s fate.
He looked towards the center of the stands.
There it was.
A throne adorned with gold and jewels.
Seated upon it, the king of this city watched the fight.
He proclaimed himself king and killed anyone who didn’t address him as such, hence all the nobles called him king.
Pale skin.
A horn protruded from his forehead.
He looked human, but he wasn’t.
He was a White Demon.
The race that ruled all of Niflheim.
And that guy proclaimed himself the king of the White Demons.
He wore a luxurious cape and a crown.
«Kill him! Kill him!»
The crowd chanted in unison.
They looked human, but they weren’t.
They were beasts disguised as humans.
Those beasts mimicked humans, enjoying and laughing as humans killed each other.
Sss.
The White Demon called king raised his hand.
The life or death of the defeated gladiator depended on his will.
But there was an unwritten rule of sorts.
The fiercer and more spectacular the fight, the less likely the loser was to die.
The man looked at the king.
A high-level gladiator fight.
He had provided a spectacular battle.
The cheers of the crowd proved it.
And the loser had already received his punishment by losing an arm.
«……»
The king lowered his thumb.
It was the signal for death.
‘Understood.’
After all this, he wouldn’t be forgiven.
The man closed his eyes.
«Curse… Curse… Damn it!»
The loser groaned.
Rals, sensing his fate, cursed.
«I’m sorry.»
It won’t hurt you.
The sword gleamed.
Shortly after, the light vanished from Rals’ eyes.
Thud.
The man’s body fell onto the sand.
A pool of blood formed.
With this, it was all over.
«The winner of tonight’s main event is… Nameless! The high-level gladiator, Nameless!»
The human announcer shouted loudly.
«Blessings to the winner! Death to the loser!»
«Waaah!»
«Now, we present the next match. The next fight is…!»
The cheers of the others meant nothing to the man.
He shook the blood off his sword and headed to the waiting room.
Thus ended the twelfth fight of the high-level gladiator, Nameless.
Nameless.
The fact of not having a name became his name, and he never referred to himself any other way since his birth.
He disregarded the name given to him by the slave merchant.
While his fellow fighters introduced themselves with names and surnames given by their parents, he remained silent.
He didn’t need a name.
From a young age, he had been sold as a gladiator slave and had no interest in knowing anything about his family.
So his name was established as Nameless.
The more unique the gladiator’s title, the more outstanding it was, so it wasn’t a pointless choice.
«Huff.»
After the fight.
He headed to the training ground adjacent to the arena.
Not to train.
He just needed a solitary place.
«……»
The wounds from the previous fight hurt him.
But they weren’t serious from the start.
He sat on a sand-covered hill.
«Hehe.»
A laughter that mixed coughs and a metallic sound.
«Aren’t you joining the party?»
«Is it you?»
«These opportunities don’t come often. If you don’t enjoy it now, it’ll be hard to do it later.»
A hunched old man stood in front of him.
The dark spots and wrinkles on his face made it hard to guess his exact age.
The old man, with a skeletal appearance as if his skin was stuck to his bones, smiled.
«Aren’t you the star of this party? High-level gladiator fights aren’t common.»
«So what?»
It was nighttime.
A festive noise could be heard somewhere.
A party was being held inside the coliseum.
It was a party for the gladiators who had won and survived. The winners could enjoy pleasures and comforts they didn’t usually experience.
«Hehe. You’re still the same.»
«Give me the merchandise.»
Ting.
The man tossed a gold coin he held in his hand.
It was his reward for the fight.
The old man caught it and took something out of his bag.
A bundle of old books.
«I got them with difficulty. You won’t regret it.»
Thud.
He placed the books next to him and examined the one on top.
‘They’re not bad.’
They were worn out but legible.
As promised by the old man, the books were in good condition.
«This is a tip.»
A second gold coin ended up in the old man’s hands.
The second gold coin.
All the money he had earned by defeating the high-level gladiator Rals had gone to that old man.
The man didn’t care much about the money.
«I appreciate it.»
The old man smiled and pocketed the gold coin.
‘He’s calm.’
The moonlight shone through the open roof.
It was bright enough.
The man used the moonlight as illumination and opened the first page of the untitled book.
But first…
«What are you doing? We’re done.»
The old man hadn’t left.
«I was just reminiscing about the old times.»
«Old times?»
«It’s a shame, don’t you think? That such an extraordinary talent ends up just a mere gladiator.»
The man closed the book.
The old man didn’t usually talk much.
In the past, he had been an elite gladiator.
An elite gladiator.
A title given to those who won more than thirty fights.
Since the coliseum opened, only one person had received that title.
‘Is this old man?’
But in the end, the old man was just a low-level administrator of the coliseum.
No matter how many merits he accumulated, the White Demons would never give a human a status beyond their capacity.
«Weren’t you a gladiator too?»
«No.»
«Hmm?»
«The title of gladiator only came after I lost all my honor and fell from grace.»
The old man’s eyes turned towards the past.
Ten years ago.
Twenty years ago.
Thirty, forty years ago, and even further back, into a more distant past.
An era where humans ruled the world, not the White Demons.
«I was a knight. Have you heard of them?»
«No.»
The old man spoke with a melancholic voice.
«They followed the code of chivalry, revered honor, protected the weak, and were loyal to their lord… That was their profession.»
«……»
«It was a noble era, the age of humans.»
The man let out a sarcastic laugh.
«So noble that they were defeated by the White Demons?»
«I won’t make excuses. It’s our fault that it ended this way.»
The old man’s wrinkled eyes looked at the man.
«It’s a shame. A real shame.»
«……»
«If you had been born just a hundred years earlier, no, fifty years earlier…»
The old man sighed.
«Is this the punishment the twin goddesses have imposed on us?»
«What are you talking about?»
«Forgive this old man for his lamentations. Anyway, I won’t bother you anymore. Enjoy your time.»
The old man limped away.
Alone, the man refocused on the book.
‘Books.’
He had started buying books from the old man on a whim.
He didn’t know what to do with his free time.
Other gladiators trained and prepared for fights, but he didn’t feel the need.
He didn’t find a reason to become stronger.
So, seeking ways to pass the time, he discovered books.
Packets of paper with fictional stories or historical facts.
He had learned to read and write by chance as a child.
That’s why he paid the old man to bring him books.
‘I didn’t know the old man was so talkative.’
He discovered something new.
He pulled out the book from the top and opened it.
It didn’t have a special purpose.
Just to pass the time.
«……»
He began reading from the first page of the untitled book.
<In a distant past.>
<In an era of chaos and darkness, where monsters devoured humans, humans distrusted each other, and nature turned into a constant calamity.>
<There was a king and two heroes.>
<The king loved humans and raged against the monsters and disasters that harmed them.>
<The king had two swords to face his destiny.>
<A noble knight who revered honor, Reid, and>
<An invincible warrior who revered strength, Kion.>