Shadow Slave

Chapter 397 Mongrel's Wisdom

397  Mongrel's Wisdom

In the absence of any new information, people had no choice but to look back at the existing recordings of Mongrel. Fascinated by the mysterious demonic warrior, they disassembled his every action and every word, trying to find some hint to his identity, background, and standing.

Although there was not much to learn, they gradually came to perceive his sayings as rather meaningful.

...In fact, people ended up finding too much meaning in them, even though there was none. It was all just awkward lies Sunny had come up with on the spot to fulfill the requirements of the [Simple Trick]. He had never, ever intended to say something profound.

But when had good intentions ever stopped people from over-complicating things?

Without Sunny knowing anything about it, Mongrel had gained a… philosophy.

"Are you new to the Coliseum?"

"...I was born in the Coliseum."

Sitting in a school cafeteria, two students stared at a cheap communicator, their eyes burning with enthusiasm.

One of the boys frowned, then asked in confusion:

"I don't get it… what does he mean? Isn't the Colosseum just a Dreamscape arena? How could a person be born there?"

His friend shook his head with disdain:

"Idiot! Don't you get it? Mongrel doesn't mean that he was born in the Dreamscape! He means that he was born in battle. Those ancient gladiators were slaves forced to fight to the death against their will. Aren't Awakened the same? They are infected by the Spell and have no choice but to battle Nightmare Creatures to survive. In a sense, all Awakened were born in the Colosseum…"

Somewhere in the outskirts, several workers had gathered together during their short break.

"Are you even human?"

"What is a human? I am not, and have never been, a human."

One of the workers shivered.

"Scary… do you think that Mongrel is actually a Nightmare Creature that infiltrated the real world?"

Another shook his head.

"No, of course not."

The first sighed:

"Then why would he say that he's not human?"

The second worker looked at the dirty tunnel of the industrial air filter exhaust they were cleaning, then at his own calloused hands.

"What the hell does it even mean, to be a human? Do you think that you and I are really humans? No, you fool. That Mongrel has more brains than you, I swear. He at least understands that just having two legs and two hands does not make you a human. He gets how it is…"

The third listened to their conversation and grimaced.

"So what? Yeah, he gets it, but I don't see him complaining. That guy took the hand he was dealt and turned himself into a... a damned sword demon. What have you done? That's the lesson he is trying to teach us, I think. No one will treat you as a human unless you behave like one…"

Far away, in the Sleeper compound of the Academy, a group of young men and women were looking at a screen.

"That's a big sword you got there. Do you even know how to use it?"

"No."

"No? You don't know how to use your sword? Well, would you like me to teach you?"

"No."

One of the Sleepers scratched the back of his head, then asked:

"I don't get it. Why did Mongrel lie about not knowing how to use a sword? He is obviously a very experienced fighter. Maybe even a Legacy! Was he trying to trick Leo into underestimating him?"

A girl standing near him chuckled.

"He didn't lie. Why would Mongrel need to trick Leo? He would win against him fair and square, regardless. No, there's a deeper meaning in his words."

The other Sleeper raised an eyebrow:

about the nature of combat and ways to become a master of it.

11:27

…Not Effie, though.

"What meaning?"

The girl smiled knowingly.

"Only a boastful duelist like Leo Striker would claim to know his way around a sword. A true master, one who battles Nightmare Creatures in the Dream Realm instead of playing games with pampered Awakened in the Dreamscape, would know that they have infinitely more yet to learn than they already know. That's what Mongrel meant. No matter how good he is, he understands that in the grand scheme of things, his skill and power are like that of an infant."

Her friend was quiet for a while, then asked:

"If that's the case, then why did he say that he doesn't want to learn more?"

The girl shook her head.

"He didn't say that he doesn't want to learn. He said that he doesn't want Leo to teach him. The true enemy of an Awakened is the Spell, not other humans. That's why Mongrel doesn't want to be taught by battling humans... even if he has to. And also, if someone is strong like Mongrel, they can end a fight with one strike. But true strength… true strength is not needing to strike at all. Maybe that's what Mongrel wants. To become powerful enough so that he never has to bare his sword again…"

And just a few hundred meters away from them, on her way to the Academy hospital complex, a young woman in a wheelchair was staring at her communicator with an amused expression on her face.

"What are you doing here, in this amateur arena?"

"I am here to unlearn."

This quote, especially, had become a topic of heated discussion across the network. Among the duelist, it caused a whole philosophical storm. Countless Awakened were passionately debating its meaning. No one knew what exactly Mongrel meant, but everyone had at least a theory.

The only thing everyone agreed on was that his short statement hid profound, fundamental wisdom about the nature of combat and ways to become a master of it.

…Not Effie, though.

Looking at her communicator, she shook her head and said:

"To unlearn? Huh, that guy must have hit his head one too many times. What a dimwit."

Then, she looked at the image once again, and added:

"And also, what's up with that armor? It looks so familiar. For a moment, I thought that Sunny's Echo had run wild. Ha, what a fun idea… the look on his face would have been priceless!"

With that, she shook her head, deactivated the communicator, and continued on her way.

Effie had more important things to do than waste her time thinking about mongrels...

The rest of the world, though, apparently did not.