Chapter 32 - Monster, Player, Human

“...!”

Limon’s words were not an accusation, a taunt, or even an insult. They were closer to a lament. And when Lee Cheon-gi heard them, what he felt, surprisingly, was shame.

He had never known shame before. In this Iron Age, a Monarch was an absolute power, entitled to hold his head high no matter what he did. But this time was different.

[“You can be proud. Your swordsmanship is worth more than a thousand skills.”]

[“Oh, really? When did I ask you to judge my swordsmanship?”]

[“I’m not judging it. I’m acknowledging it.”]

[“Your swordsmanship alone can’t beat me, so now you’re going to throw every skill you have at me?”]

[“You’ve earned that much.”]

He had judged Limon. Acknowledged his sword. Talked about whether Limon was worthy of fighting him. Every word he had said to Limon so casually, taking it all for granted, now came back to stab him in the chest. He understood at last how arrogant those words had been.

Before judging someone else, you had to know whether you were qualified to do so. Before acknowledging someone else, you first had to earn their acknowledgment. Lee Cheon-gi had done neither. Knowing nothing, he had judged Limon and believed he had every right to.

But Limon had shattered his arrogance. With a single stroke, he had proved his own worth and shown Lee that he had never been qualified to judge him. More than anything, the treasured sword that had crumbled in Limon’s hand proved it.

Arondight, the Immortal Sword. The reward Lee had received for reaching level 100. A Monarch-class item, one of only ten in the world. And with its 『Indestructible』 property, Arondight was the only weapon that could withstand Lee unleashing a thousand skills at once—or even ten thousand.

If Arondight had shattered like glass, there could be only one reason: Limon’s final stroke. To break 『Indestructible』 equipment with a single swing... That alone told Lee that Limon stood far beyond anyone he could presume to judge.

And so Lee Cheon-gi had to ask. “Why... why have you hidden that much power until now?”

“Hidden my power? Me?” Limon looked at him as though he had heard the most ridiculous thing imaginable. Then his brows drew together and he growled, “You crazy bastard! I spent hundreds of years fighting the Seven Dragons Society tooth and nail, and I even took down the Demon God by myself! How much more power was I supposed to show?”

For a moment, Lee Cheon-gi was at a loss for words. Come to think of it, Limon was right. Limon Aspelder was humanity’s guardian deity, a hero who had averted world-shaking crises time and again and saved more countries than anyone could count on all their fingers and toes. Until the Iron Age began, he had even reigned as an absolute power. In other words, he had spent the past several centuries displaying his strength for all to see. Asking a man like that why he had hidden it was absurd, even to Lee.

Still, Lee had a reason for asking such a strange question. “But that was all long ago, wasn’t it?”

Whether it was the Seven Dragons Society’s rampage or the Demon God’s descent, those events had happened decades or even centuries ago. In an age with so few means of recording things, there was no way to preserve an exact account of Limon’s exploits. At most, they had been passed down in written records and stories. And every account sounded so outlandish that it was hardly surprising people today dismissed them as the usual exaggerations of old chronicles.

“So what?”

“I mean, why have you never shown this kind of power in this age?”

Just once. If Limon had demonstrated his strength even once, Sword Masters would not have fallen so far. The Iron Age might revolve around players, but no fool would ignore a monster who could defeat a Monarch. Why, then, had he quietly accepted their decline?

Limon’s answer was simple. “Because I had no use for it.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“I said I haven’t had a real fight in decades, you bastard. I took down the Demon God ages ago, and the wars are over. What would I use this kind of power for?”

“But that...! Cough! Cough, cough!”

Perhaps it was sheer disbelief that brought Lee’s bloody cough back after he had barely managed to stop it. “Do you seriously think that makes sense?” he demanded.

“And if it doesn’t?” Limon showed no sign of embarrassment. If anything, he looked at Lee with a mocking smile. “Was I supposed to go around beating up you Monarchs to prove how strong I am?”

“...”

Once again, Lee had no answer. Limon could not enter dungeons and had no level, so the only way he could prove his strength was by fighting—by staking his life against a Monarch, as he had just done. No, even that might not have been enough. Lee himself had heard that Limon had wiped out 150 high-level players, including two archdukes, and still believed the man would be no match for him. Even if Limon defeated a Monarch, plenty of people would call it a fluke, luck, or cheating. Whatever the evidence, whatever the records, people believed what they wanted to believe. To overcome that disbelief and prove himself, Limon might have had to beat all ten Monarchs.

“Know what they call someone who goes around knocking over easy targets just to show off how strong he is?” Limon asked Lee, who had fallen silent. Then he delivered the answer with a sneer. “A bully, you lunch-fetching little shit.”

“Did you just compare the Monarchs to easy targets?”

“That wasn’t a comparison. I meant it literally.”

“...”

How could calling easy targets easy targets be a comparison? Limon’s expression made the mockery plain. Lee could not bring himself to deny it. After being toyed with and utterly defeated, he was living proof that Limon was not bluffing.

Still, Lee could hardly be pleased. Limon noticed the deep furrow in his brow and gave a short, amused laugh. “My plain speaking doesn’t seem to be getting through to you. Fine, I’ll give you an analogy like you wanted.”

“... How very kind of you,” Lee replied in a flat voice, as though reading from a textbook. Limon paid him no mind. He merely began speaking in a languid tone.

“Say there’s an enormous bomb... Yes, let’s say it’s as powerful as ten million tons of TNT.”

“Do you even know how much that is?”

“Shut up and listen, you bastard.” Limon brushed aside Lee’s cool-headed objection about a bomb powerful enough to obliterate an entire city and kept going.

“You have the switch to that bomb. But the snot-nosed kids in the neighborhood don’t believe the bomb exists. They look down on you and come after you instead.” Limon crouched in front of Lee and met his eyes. “Would you set it off right in front of those kids to prove it exists?”

Lee’s face stiffened. Only then did he understand. Limon was asking how rampaging to prove his strength was any different from setting off that bomb.

“... Who would do something that insane?”

“You think no one would? Really?”

“...”

“One thing I learned working as a PAB agent is that you people take power far too lightly.”

Swordsmanship, psionics, magic, spirit arts—many forms of power had ruled the world in the past, but none had been as easy to obtain as skills. That was not bad in itself. The problem was the side effects.

“Power comes easily, so you use it easily. Instead of asking whether you should use it, you only think about how to get more out of it.”

They had no teachers to show them what power meant. They had no time even to develop pride and convictions. They were desperate to show off what they had gained, the way anyone might want to brag about suddenly getting a great item or a high score in a game.

“Well, I suppose that’s inevitable.” Limon was not condemning them for it. He was simply acknowledging a fact. “You’re players, after all.”

For the first time, Lee understood that the title everyone in this age longed for and regarded as a symbol of success—player—could also sound like an insult, mocking those who lived as though the world were a game.

“Well, that doesn’t really matter. Having to work hard for power doesn’t mean you’ll use it properly.”

Then why make that analogy? As Lee turned the question over in his mind, Limon asked, “On that note, have you ever heard the saying ‘With great power comes great responsibility’?”

“I’ve heard something like it,” Lee answered, doing his best to sound composed. High-level players had an important role in this age, and there were plenty of catchphrases about responsibility intended to encourage them to act of their own accord. He assumed Limon was about to say that restraint, too, was part of that responsibility.

“That’s complete bullshit,” Limon declared. Believing it, he said, would ruin your life.

“Power carries no responsibility. No one gets punished just for misusing it. If anything, the more irresponsibly you use it, the more you gain.”

People had preached responsibility and noblesse oblige since ancient times, he said. But few had lived up to those ideals, and most of the rare few who tried had fallen from power. Speaking from experience, with all the weight of a man who was like a living history of humanity, Limon stated bluntly, “Because the world isn’t fair.”

“Are you trying to spread some kind of pessimism?”

“No. I’m telling you how easy power is to abuse.”

With no responsibility attached, when and how to use power was entirely up to its wielder. And as far as Limon knew, in any age, the people who gained wealth and glory were those who realized that quickly and knew how to abuse their power to good effect.

“Like you said, I could show off my strength. Why not? One little act of bullying, and I could have wealth and glory and make everyone cower before me.”

For Limon, of all people, it would have been easy. If beating one Monarch failed to convince people, he could simply keep beating Monarchs until they were convinced. But Limon scoffed at how easy it would be and added a few more possibilities.

“But what happens another thirty years after that?”

“What if the next generation forgets my strength and starts holding its head high again?”

“I’d repeat the bullying I thought I’d only have to do once, after a mere thirty years. And I’d do it on a bigger, flashier scale than before.”

It was a point Lee Cheon-gi, as a Monarch, had never considered. Players had dungeons in which to prove their strength, and he had never even needed to think decades ahead.

“Know what happens if you keep using power that way?”

Limon knew only how to wield a sword. To prove himself, he had to fight. And he had lived long enough to call thirty years “mere”—with more years still ahead of him. A cold smile touched his lips.

“You become a monster.”

“A monster that slaughters people for no reason but to show off its strength.”

“One that never grows old and dies, never knows when to step aside, and holds on to power forever—until one day it might destroy the world just to pass the time.”

“...” Lee fell silent.

Limon spoke with the unshakable certainty of someone who had seen such a monster himself. More than his voice, it was his golden eyes, cold to the point of utter flatness, that left Lee unable to say a word.

“That’s why I didn’t do it,” Limon told him calmly. It was the one reason he had never flaunted his strength, even as he lost everything and fell from power, and had gone along with the changing times until he was branded a traitor.

“Because I’m human.”