Chapter 22 : The Jester and the Geniuses (3)
Chapter 22: The Jester and the Geniuses (3)
Jester Mans.
He was truly suited to the name “Jester,” always greeting others with a smiling face, and he was someone who delighted his companions.
Moreover, he possessed versatile talents, and from childhood many had wanted to teach him.
When he wanted to learn the sword, the Trinity Academy offered him a proposal, and when he wanted to learn magic, the Woodsca Magic Academy opened its doors.
Mans was well aware of his own specialness.
He fully indulged in and enjoyed that.
Perhaps that was why, although he knew the vastness of the world, he did not understand it.
In other words, he regarded it too casually.
When mana circulated through his body and generated heat, the frozen ice began to thaw.
His heart began beating again, and he transmitted strength through his fingertips and toes, causing small movements.
That small crack expanded into a larger one, splitting the ice apart, and finally cold air rushed into his shrunken lungs.
“Phew…”
It seemed he had been frozen for a little over half a day, and the chill that had penetrated his body was more severe and persistent than expected.
So Mans became greedy.
He wanted to make this ferocious, special cold his own.
“You’re wearing a strange expression.”
At the abruptly heard voice from behind, Mans flinched and turned his head.
He would have liked to draw his sword at once, but his body was not yet fully thawed, so he couldn’t react with agility.
So, without showing signs of panic, he responded with a smile again.
“You are…”
The burly man sat on the snowy field eating and drinking.
Mans immediately recognized him as the one he had briefly seen during the day.
Seeing him seated there meant he knew Mans had awakened.
“Are you watching the back of my head? How do you know my expression? My face isn’t on the back of my head.”
“You don’t need to keep performing in front of me. I have no intention of harming you, so relax.”
In an instant, Mans’s body trembled.
It was surprising enough that someone saw through the playful and joyful side of him so precisely, but what truly sent chills through him was something else.
‘That being…’
Just sitting and drinking, yet radiating a natural momentum.
It wasn’t deliberately intended to dominate the other, but strength felt in its own right.
“So you knew I would escape?”
He asked without revealing much emotion.
“To put it precisely, you weren’t escaped—you were released.”
“What did you say?”
“Because Ubol hadn’t yet mastered Ice‑Blood Qi properly, you are alive. If it had been the true power of Parno, you would have been frozen from the core, bleeding blood.”
“Who—or rather what—are you?”
He asked not who, but what.
The question was rather amusing.
There was no need to assign any special meaning, but still.
“Hindir.”
“Well, that’s not exactly what I asked… I am Mans. I too lived off being proud of myself, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone like you.”
“Enough of useless talk. I’ll ask one thing directly.”
“Hmm… I can’t not hear it. What is it?”
“What thought compels you to play such a trick, Snowy King?”
At those words, Mans’s face stiffened slightly, but he quickly regained his expression.
“Haha… that’s quite sudden.”
“So you’re not the Snowy King. Then are you the one pulling the strings behind the Snowy King?”
“I only remain a guest‑diner of the Seolyandan. I do have considerable familiarity with the Snowy King, but there’s no way I’m controlling him.”
“All three generals, the strongest after the Snowy King, were defeated. So naturally someone stronger than them should step forward. Yet sending only one guest‑diner seems strange no matter how you think about it, doesn’t it?”
“If I say it was personal curiosity, would you accept that?”
“That would only strengthen my conviction.”
Mans shook his head in refusal.
And when he looked back at Hindir, he was no longer smiling.
In his narrowly opened eyes, there was a coldness and numbness as vast as the snowfield.
“Your existence wasn’t within my calculations. So I thought I’d see it for myself. I won’t deny that I intended to handle things one by one when the opportunity arose. I hadn’t expected you all to appear at the unexpected moment, and Ubol’s level deviated from my plan, making things a bit messy.”
As his words grew longer, a trace of irritation entered Mans’s voice.
“What are you? Where did you appear from to suddenly interrupt my entertainment?”
“What is your pleasure?”
“All of this. This world.”
A subtle madness glowed from Mans’s eyes.
“The entire vast world is so fun and fascinating. Who on earth created such a perfect world? A god? No, that vague answer is not what I want. I just want something more precise. So I decided to become an observer who contemplates the world.”
From the perspective of someone reborn, listening to such words was quite amusing.
“For something like that, it seems too ostentatious.”
“Everything is part of the process. As a jester, I will see, learn, and accept everything in the world.”
“Do you think that’s possible?”
“It is possible for me.”
“A true jester. The greatest jester performing everything.”
“Haha, that is something only a genius could do. Are you interested? To become a contemplator watching the world with me?”
“You deem it light enough to casually propose to someone you’ve just met today?”
“No. My intuition is precise. I feel something different in you… something quite good…!”
“I have no interest.”
“…Pardon?”
“I am a warrior. Secretly maneuvering behind the scenes doesn’t suit my temperament.”
“Then that is acceptable. I will do the thinking. You…”
“You don’t understand what I’m saying.”
Hindir waved his hand as if to signal that they were done here.
“I have no interest in your childish delusions. And bring back the Snowy King if you have him.”
Overwhelming humiliation made Mans’s face flush slightly.
“…Are you serious?”
“Why are you so seriously immersed in hollow talk while doubting what I say?”
“The Snowy King’s strength is real. And so is my plan.”
“Is that so? That’s good. I was worried. I prayed that you were not the Snowy King.”
The twisted face Mans had began to relax, and finally returned to his old smiling face.
No, he showed an exaggerated smile.
A grotesque expression enough to wrinkle the face.
Hindir recognized it as Mans’s angry expression.
“Very well. Let’s confirm whether your boldness is genuine. And I’ll make you regret it.”
“Travel safely. The night on the snowfield is very dangerous.”
Mans turned around and immediately dashed away from Hindir.
As the wind seeped through the gaps in his clothes, his whole body shivered.
Only then did Mans realize his body was soaked in sweat and ground his teeth.
‘I’ll make him regret it.’
He couldn’t forgive Hindir for distorting his smile.
The next day, Ubol again requested a sparring match with Moritz and was defeated even more pitifully than the day before.
And the day after that, and again the next day.
Watching Ubol get beaten daily, Duar suddenly grew curious.
“Hyungnim. Has that guy Ubol lost it from being beaten too much?”
It was natural for such words to come out.
His eyes were visibly turning wild by the day.
However, Ubol was clearly improving little by little.
“He’s discarding unnecessary things.”
“Unnecessary things?”
“What is the Seolyandan?”
“The Seolyandan? If it’s as you say, then they’re just bandit bastards.”
“Right. Bandits are guys who always live with tension in their shoulders to intimidate. And like how they shout, they tend to pour everything into the first strike. Especially guys like Ubol, who are ambiguous.”
“Hmm, ambiguous guys… Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“It was impressive that Ubol developed his own technique, but at its core, it was filled with the kind of hot air unique to bandits. That’s not a good habit—unless you're truly exceptional.”
“Ah—so you're saying the general is correcting the bad habits of that screwed-up guy. But is the general really that strong?”
Duar asked again as if he still didn’t understand.
In the first spar he saw between the two, they seemed evenly matched.
And in the fight against Jester Mans, Ubol seemed far ahead.
But now Moritz was teaching Ubol, so he couldn’t tell who was stronger.
“If we’re talking about the level of realization and technique, Moritz is overwhelmingly superior. But in a fight to the death, Ubol would be slightly more advantageous. That’s why those born with powerful bloodlines often become lazy, unable to assess their level objectively.”
“Oh… So that guy Ubol is just coasting on his bloodline. Then I guess the general is even more impressive. Seems the First General was quite the teacher.”
“I’m not so sure about that. I doubt he even thought of him as a teacher. It was probably a one-sided perception.”
“Hmm… The way you say that, hyungnim, it's like forcing a puzzle into place in my head. Now that I think about it, even when the First General died, General Moritz didn’t react much.”
Hindir didn’t know what kind of relationship they had.
No, he didn’t know much about Moritz as a person at all.
Everything he was saying now came from the aura she exuded and her swordsmanship—what Hindir had grasped from that.
In a way, she was the most unusual among the four here.
She appeared as an enemy but didn’t show hostility, and chose to stay of her own will.
It was an incomprehensible action, but Hindir didn’t ask for reasons or backstory.
With someone so tight-lipped, he knew she would speak when the time was right.
Well, once he saw the burning desire for strength in her eyes, he figured there was no need to look for another reason.
‘The teacher feared being surpassed by his student, and the student resented the teacher for suppressing her growth. That’s the kind of feeling I get.’
Thinking of the obsession and regret First General Dardiom let go of only on the brink of death made that feeling even stronger.
“Hyungnim. Then does that mean Ubol is going to keep getting stronger?”
“Why? Do you hate that?”
“Well… honestly, that guy has a trash personality. If he gets stronger, he’ll probably come straight at you.”
“He probably will.”
Hadn’t he already charged once?
“And you're okay with that?”
“Of course. Fighting the strong is always enjoyable.”
“Ah-ha… because you're a warrior.”
Duar watched the two spar with a face full of thought.
Then he suddenly spoke up.
“Hyungnim. I guess I also…”
But since Hindir didn’t even show interest, Duar stopped talking.
“Maybe I should study cooking more…?”
“That’s a good thought.”
“Yes. Then I’ll go prepare lunch. Like a warrior.”
Duar left his spot, and Hindir turned his attention back to the duel that was approaching its climax.
Hindir didn’t miss the fact that Ubol’s dao had started showing subtle differences from before.
As if trying to slice through thin air, as if the bottle was finally uncorked, the dao’s trembling had dramatically diminished.
At the peak of it, a small storm was stirred behind the dao as it passed through a vacuum.
But it was still far too faint, and it seemed Ubol himself was only barely brushing against the sensation.
‘Moritz’s sword is a heavy blade wielding weighty energy, contrary to its appearance. No amount of brute force will overcome that.’
Realizing and accepting this, Ubol was instinctively searching for a path.
And perhaps noticing that subtle shift, Moritz made her sword even heavier so that Ubol wouldn’t lose that feeling.
‘She’s trying harder than I expected.’
He could see it in her sword—it was her way of repaying Hindir for accepting her without asking anything.
‘Moritz is also a genius.’
Ubol could also be called a genius.
But if one were to nitpick, his inherited talent from his bloodline couldn’t be ignored.
Of course, Moritz might also have an unknown bloodline background.
Still, even if that were the case, Moritz shone beyond that.
‘I look forward to it.’
He didn’t know how she ended up meeting Dardiom and becoming his disciple, but no matter how much she was suppressed, she would eventually surpass her teacher and soar.
Two geniuses.
Two young people brimming with limitless potential had come into Hindir’s hands.
Well, a great cook, too.
Everything that happened since he became Hindir was too coincidental to be random.
As if someone had paved the way in advance…