Chapter 36

Chapter 36: The Bet (3)

There's a saying that death is fair to everyone.

It's not wrong.

Because even a king who could command hundreds of knights with a single word, or a great merchant who accumulated immense wealth and spent a lifetime in luxury, couldn't escape death.

In fact, the fairness of death lies in that they might end their lives even earlier than beggars and commoners.

However.

‘The process leading to death… the fear and suffering experienced until that point, is never fair.’

That's right.

Death comes for everyone, but it doesn't come in the same form.

Some die comfortably in a cozy bed, watched over by their families.

Someone else wasn't so lucky.

Drafted into a battlefield, they trembled in anxiety day after day, only to meet a painful end by an enemy's sword.

A death more agonizing and terrifying than that?

There were plenty.

Dying under torture, or suffering a lifetime due to an incurable congenital disease…

Or perhaps, entering the Godok jar to overcome a 1,000-to-1 competition, only to be eliminated and die amidst the ugly contest.

‘Perhaps I could have become one of them too.’

Harang clenched his fist as he recalled those times.

That's right.

Death in the village was far more horrific, ugly, and agonizing than he had vaguely imagined before setting foot there.

Deaths far beyond what ordinary people could imagine were scattered everywhere.

Peers dying every single day in new, more gruesome ways.

A boy who lived day by day, indirectly witnessing the fear they must have felt, engraving it into his heart.

The killing intent emanating from a young man who grew up experiencing such hell was…

Hwaaaaaaak-!

Far more intense, deeper, and darker than the ‘level of death’ the Eddy Family had braced themselves for.

“Krk… Ugh…!”

“Hup…!”

“Heok, heok!”

“Hooo, ughh….”

“Gurgle, kek, koohup! Haa, haa…!”

They couldn't approach.

Never mind taking a step, they couldn't even fathom scraping their soles against the ground to move a few centimeters.

The best they could do was stand rooted to the spot.

Despite this, Harang smiled.

It was because the result was much better than he had anticipated.

‘Those who retreat facing a cliff have no hope… but those who endure might eventually move forward.’

The Godoks were the same.

Those who couldn't withstand the presence emitted by the village's general manager were soon eliminated.

But the kid who stubbornly endured, even while spitting blood, survived until the end despite his frail body.

No, not just survived, he achieved the remarkable feat of ranking within the top 5.

‘I have to live. Survive, escape this village… and do what needs to be done.’

‘Something that needs to be done?’

‘Revenge. I have to kill the Red Magician.’

‘…’

‘If you want to live too, think of something. If you don’t find something you desperately want to do, enough to overcome death, you’ll die quickly.’

A conversation he had with that guy long ago came to mind.

He felt quite alright.

It wasn't something that happened easily.

Memories from the village were mostly stained with horrific and ugly things.

Having thought this far, Harang retracted his presence.

And spoke.

“I believe you roughly understand now. Death, or a presence close to death, is not as easy as you think. Approaching it willingly is even harder.”

“…”

“…”

“A friend… no? Someone like a friend told me this. First, find something desperate and earnest enough to overcome death. A reason why you must absolutely not die, a reason why you must continue living… Thinking about that might help you pass this task.”

Well then, that's all for today.

Having finished his advice, Harang left the clearing, leaving behind the frowning individuals.

It wasn't because he found them pathetic.

Rather, because he believed in them, he was giving them a day to think things over carefully.

‘These are people who endured the past three months of training. They can’t be compared to the surviving Godok peers, but…’

They wouldn't be weak enough to have their spirits broken by this level of killing intent.

This was Harang's thought.

“Ugh, ughh…!”

“…”

Surprisingly, in just three days, someone passed Harang's test.

The protagonist was a small, frail being no one had expected.

The young delinquent, Glen.

* * *

“So, I…”

The four delinquents, including Eddy, listened to Glen's story with shocked faces.

It couldn't be helped.

Even though it was a completely different test from direct physical combat, it was ultimately part of the process to fight the Portville family.

It meant it was part of the process of becoming stronger.

But for none other than a kid, barely twelve or thirteen years old, to be the first to pass the test… it was inevitably embarrassing and shameful for the delinquents currently in their prime.

At the same time, curiosity arose.

What kind of resolve did he harbor, what thoughts did he have while moving forward, that allowed him to break through that terrifying aura of death and reach within five steps?

The story about that slowly flowed from Glen's mouth.

“If I had continued living as a beggar, I would never have been able to approach Boss Harang.”

As everyone knew, Glen was a beggar.

A beggar's life was truly insignificant.

Living day by day according to the moods of passing almsgivers, a life drifting by luck was like duckweed, swept along by the surrounding currents with no room to act on one's own will.

Of course, that wasn't entirely bad.

Beggars had nothing, and nothing was expected of them.

That meant there was no need to take responsibility for anything, and quite a few adults settled into the beggar's life, finding comfort in that.

They ridiculed those who lived lives of choosing, acting, and taking responsibility for their families, their dreams, or something else, entrusting their own lives to the hands of others.

And now.

Glen felt more grateful than ever for having been able to escape that life.

“It’s all thanks to Boss Harang. If it weren’t for what Boss Harang said to Ralph… I would surely still be living as a beggar, content with reality.”

A life of receiving things from others without compensation.

Some might find it comfortable, but Harang didn't.

Wasn't it simply like that? No, it wasn't just a guess.

He resisted the Ralph Gang with the conviction that the beggar's life was sickening him, and chose his life path through his own efforts, not those of others.

That was why Glen mustered the courage to join the Eddy Family.

“Of course, I’m still very scared. It’s not easy arguing with seasoned merchant uncles, and my hands tremble whenever I have to mediate between the big brothers… collecting money is also difficult, and my heart pounds every time an unexpected situation occurs. But… I realized how valuable it is to live as the master of my own life, and I wanted to continue living such a wonderful life a little longer. So…”

“…”

“…”

“...The reason I could pass this test is entirely thanks to Boss Harang’s words.”

With these words, Glen fell silent, and silence also fell among the other four delinquents.

It wasn't just their story.

Because his name came up at an unexpected moment, Harang too was looking silently at Glen with a bewildered expression.

‘What I said… influenced someone?’

In a positive way, at that?

It felt strange.

It felt good.

But it wasn't just those positive aspects; a peculiar feeling, difficult to describe in words, also followed.

If he had to express it…

‘…Scary?’

Harang's expression hardened.

This was different from the fear felt when meeting a difficult opponent.

It was a more complex feeling, harder to understand and explain than that.

What was it?

What exactly was this emotion he was feeling right now?

However, there was no time to think deeply about it.

Eddy, who had been silent until now, suddenly jumped up and spoke to Harang.

“Boss! Let’s try again!”

“Same here. I want to challenge it again.”

“Me too!”

“I can’t lose either!”

“…Hmm.”

Had they realized something?

Harang nodded at them, who were simultaneously showing confidence, and manifested his presence once again.

Woo-woo-woong, the horrific memories of his Godok days, woven together by the word ‘death’, stretched forward.

And…

“Euup…!”

“Eeeeek!”

“Huap, hoo-up!”

“Eup! Heuup!”

They got slightly closer.

Going beyond simply not being pushed back, beyond just standing their ground, the Eddy Family approached step by step.

Sweating profusely, they managed to walk within Harang's five-step range before collapsing onto the ground, gasping for breath.

And they shouted in unison.

“Thank you! It’s thanks to Boss Harang!”

“It’s thanks to Boss Harang!”

“It’s thanks to Boss Harang!”

“It’s thanks to Boss Harang!”

“…What exactly is thanks to me?”

“Didn’t you give us advice!”

“That’s right. Thanks to the advice you gave Glen, we too achieved something, so it’s the same as giving us advice. An independent life… a life not swayed by others! To protect our family's pride, unaffected by the likes of Portville! We finally gained the resolve to overcome even death!”

“I don’t really get it, but anyway, it’s thanks to you, Boss!”

“That’s right!”

“…”

Harang looked bewildered.

All he had done was teach the delinquents because of the contract.

Helping them train in exchange for lowering the merchants' protection fees.

Giving advice during that process was perfectly natural.

But they weren't taking that natural thing for granted and were expressing gratitude, saying they became stronger thanks to him.

“…Hmm. Alright. I don’t really understand, but let’s move on to the next step.”

That's right.

He still didn't get it.

Why they were expressing gratitude to this extent.

Why hearing those words made him feel this strange emotion.

But it wasn't something to dwell on right now.

To defeat the Portville family within two months, they had to follow a tight schedule.

“Now, since the basics seem to be covered… shall we refine your swordsmanship through practical application?”

Immediately after, a resounding answer echoed.

A little later, bloodcurdling screams echoed.

It couldn't be helped.

Resisting killing intent was merely the minimum requirement to prevent one's body from freezing up in a real fight.

Sparring with a master of swordsmanship was on a level far beyond that.

Ppeok!

“Ugh!”

“Your lower body is open.”

Peoeok!

“Kueok!”

“Don’t just focus on the sword; pay attention to your entire body. Remember that a fist or a kick can come flying at any time. If you don’t keep that in mind, you’ll die.”

Harang’s attacks, imbued with terrifying killing intent, poured down whenever an opening was found.

It was strange.

Even though the attacks were clearly controlled, they delivered a shock as if a blade were carving out their hearts, their flesh.

Was that why?

The five delinquents had no choice but to improve their skills to survive.

Thinking that they would die otherwise, or suffer pain close to death, their movements naturally became ingrained in their bodies.

In a way, it wouldn't be wrong to say they were spending their days as effectively as if they were training for their lives in the middle of a real battlefield.

Continuing this brutal yet effective practical training… for a month.

Harang nodded.

Everyone's basic skills had improved significantly.

Glen, still lacking physical growth, showed signs of struggling, but since it was a bet where they only needed to win three times, it didn't matter.

He felt it was about time to move on to the next stage.

Fortunately for the delinquents, this training wasn't that arduous.

Its purpose was to have them spar with suitable punching bags to recover the confidence that had plummeted after being beaten by Harang so far.

The problem was finding suitable partners for this…

“Ah!”

He remembered.

Snapping his fingers, Harang had a subordinate summon a certain middle-aged man.