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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: Monster, Player, Human.
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"...!"
It wasn't an accusation.
Nor mockery.
Not even an insult.
The moment Lee Cheongi heard Rimon's words, which were closer to a lament, what he felt was, surprisingly, shame.
He had never known humiliation before.
In this Iron Age, a monarch was an absolute being, qualified to carry out any action with pride.
But not this time.
'Feel free to take pride in it. Your swordsmanship holds value surpassing a thousand skills.'
'Oh? When did I ever ask you to evaluate my swordsmanship?'
'It's not an evaluation. It's recognition.'
'You can't win with swordsmanship alone, so you'll mobilize all your skills as well?'
'You deserve as much.'
He had evaluated Rimon.
Recognized his sword.
Discussed his qualification to fight.
All those words he had so naturally uttered to Rimon up until now, treating them as a given, came back like daggers piercing his chest.
Now he could see it.
How arrogant those statements had been.
To evaluate others, one must first confirm their own qualifications. To recognize others, one must first earn recognition from them.
Lee Cheongi had done neither.
He had evaluated him out of ignorance.
Believing himself qualified to do so.
Yet Rimon had shattered that arrogance.
With a single swing of his sword, he proved his own qualifications and revealed that Lee had never possessed such in the first place.
Above all, his treasured sword crumbling in Rimon's hand proved it.
The Immortal Sword Arondight.
A reward obtained upon reaching level 100.
A lord-grade item, one of only ten in existence.
Among them, Arondight's Indestructible property made it the only weapon capable of withstanding a thousand—no, ten thousand—skills unleashed at once.
If such an Arondight had shattered like glass, there was only one reason.
Rimon's final strike.
To shatter Indestructible gear with a single sword...
That alone made it clear Rimon was in a realm beyond his evaluation.
Thus, Lee Cheongi had no choice but to ask.
"Why... have you hidden such power until now?"
"Hidden my power? Me?"
As if he'd heard the most absurd nonsense.
Rimon wore an incredulous expression.
Then he glared daggers and snarled.
"Hey, you lunatic bastard! I've been fighting the Seven Dragon Society tooth and nail for centuries, and I even took down demon lords solo! What more power do I need to show?"
Lee Cheongi felt at a loss for words for a moment.
Because, thinking about it, Rimon was right.
Rimon Asfelder was humanity's guardian deity.
He had thwarted world-shattering crises multiple times, saving more nations than fingers and toes could count—a hero beyond measure.
Even before the Iron Age dawned, he had reigned as an absolute being.
In other words, for the past centuries, he had lived flaunting his power to the fullest.
To ask such a figure why he'd hidden his strength...
It was ridiculous, even to his own ears.
Yet Lee Cheongi had reasons for asking such an outlandish question.
"Those are all ancient history, aren't they?"
Whether the Seven Dragon Society's uprising or the demon lords' descent.
All events from decades or centuries ago.
In that pre-recording era, there was no way to precisely document Rimon's feats.
Only written records or oral tales survived.
And those tales were so exaggerated that it was no wonder modern people dismissed them as typical historical hyperbole.
"So what?"
"Why haven't you shown such power in this era?"
Not more, not less—just once.
Had Rimon displayed his strength even once, the Sword Master's fall wouldn't have been like this.
No matter how player-centric this Iron Age was, no fool would ignore a monster who could topple even lords.
Yet why had he silently accepted the decline?
Rimon's answer was clear.
"There was no need."
"...What did you say?"
"No proper fights for decades, you bastard. Demon lords are long dead, wars are over—what would I even use this power for?"
"That's...! Cough! Cough cough!"
Perhaps from sheer disbelief.
Lee Cheongi spat blood again, barely stopped before, and pressed.
"Do you think that makes sense?"
"What if it doesn't?"
But Rimon's attitude remained utterly unyielding.
No—beyond that, he looked at Lee Cheongi with a sneer.
"To prove I'm strong, should I have gone around smashing you lords?"
"..."
Lee Cheongi was speechless once more.
He realized that for Rimon, who couldn't enter dungeons or level up, the only way to prove his strength was actual combat.
And specifically, battles like this one against a lord.
No—perhaps even that wouldn't suffice.
Just as he'd heard Rimon annihilate two grand dukes and 150 high-level players yet still believed he couldn't win...
Even if Rimon beat a lord, many would call it luck, coincidence, or cheating.
No matter the evidence.
No matter the records.
People believe what they want to believe.
To overcome that distrust and prove himself, Rimon might have needed to crush all ten lords.
"You know what they call going around beating up weaklings just to brag about your strength?"
To the speechless Lee Cheongi,
Rimon sneered.
"Gangster shit, you bread shuttle bastard."
"Are you seriously calling lords 'weaklings' right now?"
"Not a metaphor. Straight talk."
"..."
Calling weaklings weaklings—how could that be a metaphor?
Rimon mocked him outright.
Lee Cheongi couldn't deny it.
His own pathetic defeat, toyed with one-sidedly, proved it wasn't bravado.
Still, it didn't sit well.
Seeing Lee Cheongi's furrowed brow twist in displeasure, Rimon chuckled.
"Seems my blunt talk doesn't sit right with you. Fine, I'll mix in some metaphors like you want."
"...How thoughtful."
Whether Lee Cheongi expressed thanks like a textbook recitation or not.
Rimon paid it no mind.
He simply spoke in a languid tone.
"Suppose there's an insane bomb... say, one with the power of ten million tons of TNT."
"Do you even know how much that is?"
"Shut up and listen, bastard."
Dismissing Lee Cheongi's cold rebuttal—that no such city-obliterating bomb could exist—Rimon continued.
"You have the switch to that bomb. But the snot-nosed kids in the neighborhood don't believe it exists and mock you, even charging at you."
Rimon crouched down in front of Lee Cheongi.
Matching his eye level, he asked in that same languid voice.
"Would you detonate it in front of those kids just to prove it exists?"
Lee Cheongi's face hardened.
Now he understood.
Rimon was asking what the difference was between rampaging to prove strength and detonating a bomb.
"...Who'd do something that insane?"
"You think you wouldn't? For real?"
"..."
"Working as a PAB agent, what I realized is you lot treat power far too lightly."
Swordsmanship, psychics, magic, spirit arts.
Many powers had dominated the world in the past, but none were as easily acquired as skills.
That wasn't inherently bad.
The problem was the side effects.
"Power obtained easily is used easily, and instead of pondering if they should use it, they only think how to use it for maximum gain."
No mentors to teach power's meaning.
No time to build pride or conviction.
An itch to flaunt their newfound strength.
Just like in a game, when someone gets a rare item or high score, they want to show off.
"Well, can't be helped."
Rimon didn't condemn it.
He merely acknowledged the fact calmly.
"You're players, after all."
For the first time, Lee Cheongi realized.
The title everyone coveted as a symbol of success in this era—player.
It could sound like a mocking epithet for those living as if the world were a game.
"Whatever. Doesn't matter. Hard-earned power isn't always used right either."
Then why the bomb metaphor?
As Lee Cheongi pondered inwardly, Rimon tossed out,
"Heard this before? 'With great power comes great responsibility'?"
"Something similar, yes."
Lee Cheongi answered evenly, with effort.
In this era where high-level players bore great roles, catchphrases instilling responsibility to spur voluntary action abounded.
Thus, he assumed.
Rimon would say restraint was part of responsibility.
"Total bullshit."
But Rimon declared it outright.
Believe that crap, and you'd ruin your life.
"Power carries no responsibility. No punishment for misusing it—quite the opposite. The more irresponsibly you wield it, the more you gain."
Noblesse oblige and such responsibility theories had existed since ancient times.
But few upheld them properly; those who tried often fell.
With the weight of experience from one who had lived human history itself, Rimon cut straight to it.
"The world is unfair."
"Spreading pessimism now?"
"No—how easy power is to abuse."
Without responsibility, how and when to use it is entirely up to the wielder.
And as far as Rimon knew.
In any era, glory and wealth went to those who realized this quickest and abused power properly.
"As you say, flaunting power? Nothing stopping it. Beat up some easy marks once, gain riches, make everyone grovel."
For others, maybe not.
For Rimon, it was truly simple.
If one lord didn't convince them, keep smashing until it did.
Yet Rimon scoffed at that easy path, adding assumptions.
"But what if another thirty years pass like that?"
"What if the next generation forgets your power and gets cocky again?"
"That 'one-time' gangster act? You'd repeat it after a mere thirty years. Bigger and flashier than before."
A perspective Lee Cheongi, a lord, hadn't considered.
Players had dungeons as stages to prove power; no need to think decades ahead.
"Know what happens if you keep using power like that?"
A man who knew only swinging his sword.
One who could only prove himself through battle.
And one who could call thirty years 'mere' because he'd lived and would live such spans—Rimon wore a cold smile.
"You become a monster."
"Slaughtering for no reason just to show off your strength."
"Never aging, never yielding, clutching power eternally until one day, out of boredom, you destroy the world."
"..."
Lee Cheongi fell silent.
As if he'd witnessed such a monster himself.
Rimon's voice held unshakable conviction.
Above all, his golden eyes—cold, almost emotionless—silenced any retort.
"That's why I didn't."
To such a Lee Cheongi, Rimon stated calmly.
The sole reason he'd conformed to the era's flow, never flaunting power even in downfall and disgrace as a traitor.
"Because I'm human."
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