"...That easily?" Merun spurted out. The words left his mouth before he could think properly, his posture stiffening as he was taken aback.
He had spent the last few weeks surviving death traps and pushing his Saiyan physiology to the limit, so the simplicity of the offer felt like a trap in itself.
The Beggar Sage didn't blink. He kept his posture relaxed, though his eyes remained sharp.
He let a small, knowing smirk pull at the corner of his mouth. "That. Easily."
Merun let out a dry laugh. He ran a hand through his spiky hair, feeling the sleeker frame of the new scouter against his temple. "Finishing those three tests were all it took, huh? I figured there'd be a blood ritual or at least a few more dungeons to clear."
The Beggar Sage ignored the sarcasm. He kept his hand outstretched, palm open in an inviting gesture. "Yup. So what's the answer? Won't you be the people's hero?"
Merun remained silent.
He didn't take the hand, nor did he look away. He just watched the old man, waiting to see how deep the pitch would go.
Sensing the hesitation, the Sage leaned forward, his shadow stretching across the low table between them.
"You saw it," the Sage continued, his voice dropping into a somber tone. "You saw how they treated commoners, the weak, and the powerless. The people of the higher realms think of non-martials as ants. To them, those without Martial Paths are merely things to be stepped on and utilized for their worth. They aren't seen as people."
He paused, letting the weight of the statement hang in the air of the small hut.
"I'm not sure how it was in your homeworld, but here in Sekigahara, it is the same. It is the same in the entirety of our planet Gaia. The weak have no voice. Martial supremacy is the only belief people hold dear. If you cannot fight, you do not exist."
The Sage's voice began to rise, gaining a rhythmic, passionate quality that reminded Merun of a politician on TV.
He began to gesture with his free hand, painting a picture of a world in flames.
"Did you not see what happened even to your own family? The village itself was harassed by the noble systems in place. Its own martial artists were preying upon their own citizens, the very people they were meant to protect! The lords sat idly and watched, too focused in their own desires."
He pushed even further, his eyes locking onto Merun's with an intensity that felt almost physical. He was hunting for a spark of righteous fury, a sign that the boy's heart was as easy to read as his power level.
"Your father disobeyed a noble and almost lost everything. Your mother had no access to medicine that was actually quite a common, curable disease outside Sekigahara. Your sisters were forced to risk their young lives and sacrifice their childhood to go hunt for your family! They spent their days in the dirt and the cold because the system demanded their labor while offering nothing in return. The Furutsu family didn't even have time to mourn for their youngest, who sacrificed himself to help the family the best he could."
Merun stayed quiet. He didn't move a muscle. His face was a blank slate, devoid of the anger the Sage was trying to stoke.
This didn't stop the old man. He saw the silence as a vacuum he needed to fill with more guilt.
"How many people do you think have felt the same or worse? Millions, Merun! Every day, children are born into a world that has already decided they are worthless because they weren't born into the right house or with the right bloodline."
He leaned in closer to Merun.
"Do you get it now? What we need is power, Merun. Those people need a hero. Your family needs a hero, and you could be that! You have the strength they lack. You have the potential to flip the board and break the cycle. What do you say?"
The Beggar Sect finally would hit the nail on the coffin.
"Maybe you were sent to Gaia for a reason, Merun. Save the world."
Merun's face finally changed.
His brow scrunched together and his jaw set firmly. He looked like a man wrestling with a heavy burden, his expression a mix of deep thought and simmering anger.
Merun reached out. He gripped the Sage's hand firmly, his knuckles white.
He looked the old man straight in the eyes, his voice steady and low.
"I'll do it. The people won't be silenced any longer. I'll be the hero."
Kekeke. Gotcha! the Beggar Sage thought as he smiled gently.
He had seen this look a thousand times on a thousand different faces.
It was the look of a young man realizing his own importance, the look of a tool being forged.
Outwardly, the Sage maintained his mask of passionate, almost desperate hope.
The Beggar Sage finally exhaled a long breath of relief. The tension left his shoulders and his smile widened into something triumphant. "Great choice—"
"Can I make a request?" Merun interrupted.
The Sage blinked, his momentum stalled. He forced a patient nod. "Sure, go ahead. Whatever a hero needs."
Merun raised his free hand. Slowly, deliberately, he pointed his finger to the joint of his shoulder. Then he moved it to his elbow, his wrist, and finally his neck.
"Can the strings go here, here, and here?"
The Sage froze.
The hand Merun was holding felt suddenly cold. "...What?"
Merun didn't let go of the hand. His grip remained firm, but the fake intensity in his eyes vanished.
It was replaced by a sharp, cynical clarity that belonged to a thirty-six-year-old man who had seen and read every "chosen one" trope in every single manhwa, manga and manhua.
"Well," Merun said, his voice completely casual now. "If I'm going to be the sect's puppet voluntarily, can't I at least decide where the strings will be tied to?"
"..."