Invincible
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#119
🕑 Added 2024-09-29 10:39:08 +0000 UTCLuon Al Vanas (2)
"Chirta is the land my father left me. And you're asking for it? Ha, this is absurd."
"Now that you bear the name of Al Vanas, you must prioritize the benefits on this side!"
Luon often overheard his parents' heated arguments from behind the door.
Quarrels were common in an arranged marriage driven solely by wealth.
Since neither had looked at the other's character, only eyeing the wealth and power beyond, conflict was inevitable.
And once they'd secured their advantages, their attention instinctively turned toward others to whom they were drawn, making a mockery of the marriage.
"There... Ah, yeah. Haa..."
One day, while wandering the halls, Luon heard sounds seeping from his mother’s bedroom and opened the door.
To a boy, heavy breathing meant someone was sick.
But what Luon saw as he opened the door was a young nobleman, naked, on top of his mother.
"Gasp! What in the world..."
The man’s eyes widened in shock, trembling. Luon’s mother calmly placed a cigarette in her mouth.
She lit it with practiced ease. She had smoked since before Luon was born, so it was no surprise.
"Don't worry. That child has always been odd since birth."
"No, that's not the issue here."
"Luon? You didn’t see anything just now, right?"
Luon nodded indifferently at his mother’s words and closed the door.
"Are you sure we can trust this?"
"Yes. Despite all his flaws, he's always kept his promises."
But Luon’s mother didn’t know.
Luon’s father was fully aware of her promiscuous affairs but chose to ignore them.
In fact, he was even pleased.
Because he, too, had set his sights on another woman and eventually took her as a concubine.
“I’ll deal with that woman soon enough. Don’t worry yourself.”
"Hmm, but what about your child? If he ever brings up claims of succession, it’ll give me a headache..."
"Oh, young master Luon."
Luon greeted the new woman calmly.
Even so, his father frowned and blurted out words inappropriate in front of a child.
"I'm only keeping that brat around because there's still more to squeeze out of her family."
“Is it really okay to say that in front of your own child?”
"Who knows? I’m not even sure if he’s really my son."
Luon’s father stared intently at Luon, as if studying his expression.
Unmoved, Luon stood still, which seemed to irk his father.
"What a bothersome kid..."
The rest was predictable.
He was despised by his half-siblings, received no proper treatment from the servants, and was constantly berated by his father, who used him as an outlet for frustration, claiming he was a reminder of his mother.
But Luon didn’t even realize his life was a living hell.
Because ever since he was born, all he had felt was a deep, hollow emptiness.
Until he met a certain man...
***
Riamon glanced away from Luon, scanning the surroundings with a sidelong gaze.
There was a statue blocking the path behind the man.
He had positioned himself perfectly to avoid being surrounded.
'It’s going to be hard to swing a greatsword in such a space.'
Their overwhelming numbers were actually a disadvantage.
The mages wouldn’t dare recklessly cast spells for fear of hitting their own, and the knights could only send two or three at a time against him for the same reason.
Any misstep could mean being struck by their own comrades' blades.
"It has come to this. I guess stabbing is the only option."
It was a somewhat passive attack, but there was no other choice.
When he glanced at Leana and Aslay, they nodded.
It seemed they had caught on to how they should fight.
But then, Luon abandoned his geographical advantage and walked out with a steady click of his heels.
Riamon widened his eyes and asked, "You’re coming out on your own? Do you want to be surrounded and die?"
Luon bared his neat teeth and said, "Wouldn't that be too easy? I figured I should at least balance things out."
Before the others could surround him, Riamon swung his greatsword with all his might.
Whoosh—
However, it was blocked by the mana blade Luon had conjured in an instant.
Clang!
With a shock powerful enough to ruffle his hair, the greatsword’s blade chipped, scattering fragments everywhere.
Riamon clicked his tongue as his wrist tingled.
"Is it because it's a rental weapon? The durability is lacking."
But there was no time to complain idly.
Luon had closed in immediately and unleashed a horizontal slash.
Riamon blocked it by holding his greatsword vertically.
Luon quickly bypassed Riamon and sprinted towards Ricks.
Tap-tap-tap!
Weights hung from both of Luon's wrists.
He smashed the cuffs of the weights together, breaking them with brute force, and thrust his sword towards Ricks.
Grab!
Just before the tip of the sword could touch Ricks's chest, Aslay grabbed Luon's wrist.
Aslay hoisted Luon into the air, intending to slam him into the ground, causing Luon's feet to lift off.
In that split second, Luon kicked towards Ricks.
Thud!
Ricks, struck at the temple by the tip of Luon's shoe, collapsed to the ground, bleeding from his head.
But Luon paid the price for his greed—his shoulder was dislocated.
Crack!
Luon, momentarily suspended in the air, looked like a child being flung by an arm of a rag doll.
At this rate, he would hit the ground headfirst.
Just before his body slammed into the stone floor, Luon swiftly cloaked himself in an impenetrable aura.
Boom!
The ground cracked as Luon stood back up.
The knights unleashed a flurry of sword strikes, but Luon deflected all of them with parries.
With one arm dangling limply, Erucel sneered.
"You're not seriously thinking of winning with one arm, are you? It's over. Surrender."
Luon stuck out his tongue in response.
On his tongue lay a single pill.
He swallowed it, and with a cracking sound, his shoulder snapped back into place.
"Oh, by the way, my weak spots are the heart... or the neck."
Luon’s casual remark made Silla frown.
"From earlier... what are you even—"
"I told you, didn’t I? This is a game."
With that, Luon dashed towards Aslay, intent on dealing with him.
Aslay reached out his brute hand to grab Luon by the collar, but Luon easily ducked under and opened his palm.
Clang!
Aslay's gaze snapped to the sword that had bounced off the floor.
It seemed he hadn’t anticipated a swordsman dropping his sword.
Taking advantage of the opening, Luon got behind Aslay and choked him with his arms.
"You're strong, but you're too slow."
"...Ugh."
With a slight twist of Luon's arm, Aslay rolled his eyes and collapsed to his knees.
Luon picked up the sword from the floor and stabbed Leana's shoulder just as she lunged towards him, aiming for his neck.
"Guh!"
At that moment, Luon was about to drive his sword into Aslay's heart.
But before he could, the sword in his hand started to crumble like grains of sand.
Turning his head to the strange phenomenon, he saw Edina, staff raised.
"Now, Bellman."
At her words, Bellman, standing beside her, swung his staff.
A rectangular barrier appeared, trapping Luon inside.
The barrier slowly began to close in on him.
Luon roughly tore off the brooch pinned to his jacket collar and spoke.
Crackle—
"Swords... are just—"
As he removed the pin from the brooch, a torn piece of cloth fluttered away, and the sharp edge of the pin gleamed.
"—sharp or pointy bits of metal, nothing more."
When Luon channeled aura into the brooch, a shimmering heat wave radiated, followed by a chilling mist.
Swoosh!
Luon sliced through the barrier like a curtain and stared down Erucel, who had been about to deliver a vertical slash.
As Luon feigned a throw with the brooch, Erucel froze in place for a moment.
"Gasp!"
Luon, with a blank expression, kicked Erucel in the stomach.
"Ugh!"
"You’re still as cowardly as ever."
Erucel dropped his sword and was sent flying into the distance.
Luon effortlessly caught the falling sword and summoned forth an ice blade.
Whoosh—
Ice crystals formed along the sword’s edge, and a blizzard swirled around it.
As everyone swallowed nervously, Luon's facial muscles twitched.
His empty hand moved to his face, and a deep, resounding yawn echoed across the field.
"Yawn."
Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.
"Ah, my apologies. I’ve been trying to hold it in for a while, but it wasn’t easy."
The onlookers flinched.
If he had fought with his full strength from the start, the battle would have ended long ago.
Riamon clenched his teeth, realizing why Kurel had said such things.
"How... foolish. If Luon dies, it won’t be because of you. It wouldn't even count as murder..."
If anyone killed him, it wouldn’t be by skill.
"So, his death can only be considered a suicide...?"
In the end, it wouldn't be murder but suicide, as if he had granted permission for his own death.
***
During lunch break, I was tapping away at my laptop in the office.
As usual, Miss Miran was absentmindedly watching me play Asares.
The current scenario involved a battle to subdue Luon.
It was a tedious section, lacking any real substance.
Miran seemed to sense something was off and spoke up.
"Isn't this a boss battle? Something feels a bit off. At first, it seemed tense, but now... hmm."
"Right? Even after clearing it, there's always this unpleasant aftertaste."
The issue was the lack of a sense of achievement.
No matter what anyone says, the charm of Asares lies in overcoming difficult challenges and the satisfaction that follows.
But as it turns out, the reason for the victory was that the boss himself had become bored and wasn't taking the fight seriously.
Once players realized this, they couldn't help but feel disappointed.
It was as if hardcore players were being forced to play on beginner mode.
"This is why so few people start with Frost Heart."
"But why is he like that? Does he have some sort of reason?"
"A reason? I'm not entirely sure, but..."
The reason for Luon's behavior.
As an experienced player, I could offer some insights.
It was based on piecing together various clues, so it was still just a theory.
"Miran, do you like beer?"
"Of course! That feeling of having a cold one after work—how could I not like it? Haha."
"Really? Well then, imagine drinking it, but it doesn't give you any particular sensation."
Miran’s eyes widened in surprise.
"I can't even imagine that!"
"Then, hmm..."
I needed to offer a different example.
"How about imagining watching a boring movie a hundred times over the span of several days? Wouldn't that be incredibly dull?"
Miran scrunched up her face in distaste.
Finally, she let out an "Ah" of realization and nodded.
"...His life must have been really boring."
Just as Miran said, Luon's life must have been dull.
For him, delicious food was mere sustenance, and traveling to a new place was just recognizing that his body had moved to a different location.
There would be no sense of satisfaction, no appreciation for beautiful sights, or excitement from meeting new people.
Could such a life even be called living?
"But what does that have to do with causing such massive incidents?"
"Maybe he's wandering around, desperately seeking some kind of intense stimulation, hoping it might finally be fun for him."
Luon was like a wanderer, searching for an oasis in the middle of a desert.
A parched mind, as dry as a rough throat.
Constantly seeking pleasure to quench it.
I could imagine it in my mind, but that was all—it was just imagination.
Having never truly experienced it myself, I couldn't say I fully understood the nature of his madness.
Why he sought pleasure in such destructive acts would likely remain a mystery unless I was like him.
But then, during a conversation with Felia at the restaurant, I stumbled upon an odd realization.
"Luon must have felt alive when he was with you."
"Why’s that?"
"Maybe because, out of all the people he's met, you were the most similar to him? I'm not entirely sure, since I’m interpreting Luon’s memories from my perspective, but that's how it seemed to me."
Though not as extreme as Luon, Hersel also appeared to be someone constantly seeking stimulation.
That would explain why he didn't just torment others in simple ways but went as far as staging creative scenarios like servant fights.
He must have craved new and unusual pleasures.
"Hmm."
In the end, the next step was a conversation with him.
From Felia's perspective, the conversation between Luon and me would be a great gift to him, but for me, it wasn’t such a difficult task.
As I climbed the stairs to the 12th floor, I pulled out my pocket watch.
Let’s see, the situation should be resolved soon.
Before I came inside, I had confirmed through the window that they were heading to the 12th floor.
By now, things should be entering the final phase.
Click, click, click.
I climbed a flight of stairs and approached the corridor window.
Through it, I could still see Felia fighting desperately for her life while being pursued by Bellen in the courtyard.
Though there had been a few variables, it looked like, contrary to my concerns, Felia would soon meet her end.
With a sigh of relief, I moved on.
***
She is out of breath from running.
Her arms and legs are already covered in burn marks, yet Bellen is still chasing after me.
Felia glanced back at Bellen with trembling pupils.
"How much longer are you going to torment this old woman?"
Her steps were weary, but her eyes remained sharp.
Every time she drew closer, her legs weakened involuntarily.
What she was feeling now was fear, something she had never tasted since becoming a specter.
“Hah, your knees must be aching,” Bellen sighed deeply before swiftly closing the distance.
Pop!
Her hand grabbed hold of Felia’s hair in an instant.
Felia resisted, but the remaining magic in the Crimson Magic Book was weak.
In the end, Felia was dragged up by Bellen’s brute strength, her chin lifted.
“Ugh.”
Bellen's eyes gleamed coldly as she spoke.
“This will hurt more than the last time.”
Felia's eyes widened in terror as she saw Bellen’s crimson sword aimed at her throat.
“N-no, don’t. Don’t do it!”
As the blade's flat side pressed lightly against her skin,
Sizzle!
The sound of burning filled the air.
The smell of seared flesh wafted through the smoke.
The pain of melting skin was excruciating, not only felt by her host's body but also by her very soul.
It felt as if even her spirit was turning to ash, and a scream that seemed to tear her throat apart escaped from Felia.
“Ahhh!”
Before she realized it, half of her spirit had slipped out of Reden’s body.
‘No, I can’t! Without this body, I’m—!’
She barely managed to regain her senses and held on to the physical form.
Bellen spoke with a tone of pity.
“Ugh, it’ll take a while to heal from this. Burns on the skin are devastating for a woman in her prime, you know...?"
But Felia wasn’t listening to a word Bellen said. Her mind was focused on one thing.
"I..."
She would become real.
"I’ll be reborn... with all memories erased..."
It was painful to be on the verge of realizing her wish and ending up like this.
Tears as big as chicken droppings streamed down Felia’s face.
Her tearful words were met with a look of disbelief from Bellen.
"What? Reborn with your memories erased?"
Then, for the first time, a deadly glint entered Bellen’s eyes as she glared at Felia.
“...How disgusting you are.”
With gritted teeth, Bellen slammed Felia's head into the ground.
“Ugh!”
As Felia’s cheek met the snow, Bellen pointed her sword toward the fortress.
And she shouted, “Look at what you’ve done! There are corpses I saw along the way! You killed innocent people for your selfish desires, and now you want to be reborn?”
Bellen continued her scolding with a voice filled with rage.
“That’s nothing but running away! You selfish wench!!”
Bellen couldn’t stand it.
She found it repulsive that Felia, while begging for her own life, could be so indifferent to the pain of others.
She could not, under any circumstances, let Felia get what she wanted.
‘I’ll have to apologize to this body’s owner once this is over.’
Bellen aimed her sword at Felia’s thigh.
But just before she struck, a mad chuckle escaped from Felia’s lips.
“Ha... ha...”
Right before Bellen could plunge the sword down, she asked, “What’s so funny?”
Felia, stifling her laughter, finally spoke.
“No, it’s just...”
Bellen noticed something in Felia’s hand that she hadn’t seen before.
It was a sparrow figurine.
"...I just realized what it is I 'truly' desire.”
As she clenched her hand tightly, a blinding light flashed.
