Chapter 224

Chapter 225. The Strongest Shield and the Strongest Spear (1)

Eastern border of the Lilian Kingdom, the boundary of the Demon Realm.

This area, known as the Snake Gorge, is a place filled with winding gorges, just as its name suggests.

The endless repetition of the same terrain makes it easy to get lost, and on top of that, monsters from the Demon Realm that can tear even Masters apart roam freely.

Naturally, it’s a place where even a trace of human presence is hard to find, let alone a shadow—

Puff, puff.

White smoke rises from deep within the forest.

The smoke, rising in regular puffs, was evidence that someone had deliberately lit a campfire.

Crackle, crackle…

Above the burning campfire, a small piece of meat skewered on a branch was charring black.

And a man staring at it.

He was the very image of a wild man. His roughly cut gray hair stuck out like a wolf’s, and the clothes made from torn animal hides made him look even more rugged.

“It’s done.”

The man muttered as he picked up the skewer. Though it was once called a “rabbit,” it was now a charred, screaming lump of ash. He took a big bite.

Crunch!

Was this really the sound meat could make? It was no exaggeration to say it sounded like chewing on charcoal.

Crack, crackle.

Thud!

The wild man, who had been eating with eerie sounds, suddenly turned his head. A man had walked out of the dense bushes without making a single sound.

Whoosh.

The wild man threw a punch from his seated position toward the man. A compressed fist wind surged toward the man.

Crackle, crackle!

The man blocked the fist wind with both arms, but soon something unimaginable happened.

Unable to withstand the shockwave, he was lifted off the ground and flew backward, smashing into a tree.

* * *

“Ouch, ouch, ouch.”

Keter, who had been blown away by the fist wind, looked down at his arms.

His skin was torn, and blood was flowing. Not only that, but his bones were broken too.

Keter’s body boasts exceptional defensive capabilities, even within the realm of transcendent beings. He had shown toughness in the Southern Sword Tournament, even blocking Aura with his bare body.

But now, he had been injured by mere wind pressure. The shock had pierced his skin and penetrated deep inside.

If he were to take a direct hit from that fist, no matter where it landed, his body wouldn’t hold together.

“Hmph.”

Keter, with troll-like regenerative abilities, dusted himself off and stood up.

“Perfect timing. You’re not a Prime yet.”

From Keter’s perspective, Hyperion was at the peak of a 6-Star Grandmaster. In other words, he was on the verge of challenging the 7-Star Prime.

‘Those at the beginning of Prime are easier to deal with. They’re not yet accustomed to their authority and tend to over-rely on it. This is perfect.’

Hyperion, who hadn’t yet become a 7-Star Prime, was actually stronger. That’s why Keter said the timing was good.

But that didn’t mean he could win.

“No way.”

After seeing and taking a hit, he knew.

“If I fight like this, I’ll never win.”

This wasn’t just a guess. While being blown away by the fist wind, he simulated hundreds of battles in his head, but not a single scenario ended in victory.

So, would he give up?

No way.

If there’s no way, find one. If there’s still no way, make one. Keter was truly fired up for the first time in a long while.

“Hey.”

Keter, who had returned to the campfire, shouted at Hyperion.

Hyperion, with soot smeared around his mouth, spoke as if annoyed.

“Syndicate or whatever, I’m not joining! If you don’t leave, I’ll really kill you this time.”

“My name is Keter. I have no connection with the Syndicate. I came to find you privately, Hyperion.”

“You want to be my disciple? It’s impressive that you came back after taking my fist wind, but still, no.”

“You’ve been through a lot, huh? Don’t worry. I’m not here to recruit you or ask you to be my master.”

“Then what?”

“I came to kill you.”

“Huh?”

Hyperion, who had been picking his teeth with a bone from some beast, stood up. Just standing up, it felt like a mountain had risen.

Thud, thud, thump.

Hyperion stopped in front of Keter and looked down at him. Keter was quite tall, but in front of Hyperion, he looked infinitely small.

“Who’s killing who?”

Hyperion growled like a beast. A murderous aura spread from his entire body, but Keter looked up at him and spoke clearly.

“Me, you.”

“For someone who wants to kill me… you’re pretty scrawny? That guy over there seems more fun.”

Hyperion glanced at Decameron.

Keter shrugged.

“So, what’s your weakness?”

“…What?”

“Your weakness. It could be a weakness in your technique, a physical weakness, or even a mental issue. Just tell me something.”

“Hah.”

Hyperion let out a hollow laugh.

“My weakness? You want me to say it with my own mouth?”

“The magnanimity of the strong, the consideration for the weak. That’s what I mean.”

“Are you admitting you’re weak now?”

“I can’t stop you from thinking I’m weak. So if you think I’m weak, show some mercy and tell me your weakness.”

Hyperion glared at Keter. Keter’s expression was infinitely serious, and Hyperion made a disgusted face.

“What kind of lunatic is this?”

“Will you tell me?”

“No!”

“Confirmed, you’re stingy.”

“You’re asking for it!”

Hyperion raised his fist.

The same fist that had injured Keter with just its wind pressure. And now, it was about to hit him right in the face? If he was lucky, he’d die instantly; if a miracle happened, he’d be shattered.

But Keter didn’t dodge or defend. He just stood there, as if daring Hyperion to try.

“Hey! You said you’d kill me? Then fight me, why are you just standing there?”

Hyperion’s pride wouldn’t allow him to strike an unguarded opponent.

“If I fight now, I won’t win. I’ll fight you later.”

“Who says? Draw your weapon. I’ll kill you right now.”

“No.”

“Then die!”

Whoosh!

A simple punching motion, pulling the shoulder back and thrusting it forward. But why did it sound like the air was being torn apart?

He’d die—no, that’s too gentle. If that fist hit him, his body would evaporate without a trace.

But Keter didn’t block or dodge.

‘Is this guy insane?’

Hyperion had only been truly frightened once in his life. It was when he was kidnapped by his master, Kwonhwang Laurellian.

And now was the second time.

‘Is he really not going to dodge?’

This wasn’t a half-hearted punch. He had thrown it with the intent to kill. That way, Keter would react and dodge, and the real fight would begin.

But Keter didn’t dodge. He didn’t even make the slightest defensive move.

‘Damn it, are you trying to make me look cowardly?’

His master, Laurellian, had always warned him never to do anything cowardly. Even without his master’s influence, Hyperion hated such actions.

Crack, thud!

Forcing himself to stop the punch, which carried immense destructive power, put a tremendous strain on Hyperion’s body.

But he had no choice. His bones twisted, and his muscles tore. Yet, he failed to stop the punch.

Instead, he succeeded in redirecting the punch’s trajectory to the empty space beside Keter’s face.

Whoosh!

Even with the force minimized, the power was incredible. The cone-shaped shockwave destroyed everything in its path.

Keter, tidying his hair blown by the shockwave, spoke.

“Refreshing.”

“…Lunatic. If you’re not going to fight, get out of my den.”

“I’ll fight. But not now.”

“Hmph… You’re probably waiting for me to let my guard down, but it’s pointless. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Hyperion roughly scratched the back of his head and ran off somewhere.

Keter didn’t bother chasing after the retreating Hyperion.

“He’ll come back anyway.”

Though it was just a campfire and a crudely built wooden house, the traces left behind showed that Hyperion had been staying here for a very long time.

“Let’s start with that.”

Keter wasn’t the type to just wait idly for Hyperion to let his guard down. Humming a tune, Keter entered the forest, looking quite excited.

* * *

It wasn’t until the sun had set and night had fully fallen that Hyperion returned to his den. He looked very refreshed, as if he had been up to something.

“Huh?”

Hyperion’s brow furrowed as he noticed something unfamiliar.

“Unbelievable.”

It was a log cabin. Compared to Hyperion’s crudely built house made of intertwined branches, this log cabin was embarrassingly perfect.

“You’re back?”

Keter, sitting by the campfire, greeted him warmly while poking at the firewood.

“What are you doing here… Sniff, sniff.”

Hyperion, about to get angry, suddenly sniffed at the enticing smell wafting into his nostrils. Following the source of the smell, his eyes landed on the campfire.

A pot, brought from who knows where, was placed on the campfire. The delicious smell was coming from that pot.

Bubble, bubble.

The appetizing sound made Hyperion involuntarily swallow his saliva.

Having lived here for decades, he had never eaten proper food. He mainly ate raw fruits and roots, and when he did catch meat, he either undercooked or burned it, not knowing how to cook it properly.

Not that he was unaware of civilized food. He had grown up with his parents when he was young.

“Rabbit potato stew. There are a lot of rare herbs nearby. I also added some spicy seasoning, so it’ll be pleasantly spicy.”

Keter explained the dish out of nowhere.

Hyperion’s mouth unconsciously watered.

“Hmph, hmph. So what?”

“What do you mean?”

Keter, who had brought cooking tools from Six Hundred’s pouch, scooped a generous portion of stew onto a large plate and handed it to Hyperion.

Steaming rabbit potato stew.

The rabbit meat, boiled until tender, and the fluffy potatoes were perfectly seasoned with salt. Added to that were pepper and peperoncino for a savory and spicy kick.

Growl.

Hyperion’s stomach scolded him for not eating it immediately.

“Are you planning to attack me while I eat? Arrogant brat, I’ll take you on anytime.”

Hyperion, finding an excuse, snatched the bowl from Keter’s hands in the blink of an eye.

Slurp!

Even though Keter had provided a spoon, Hyperion just grabbed the bowl with both hands and shoveled it into his mouth.

Keter, eating the stew with a spoon, watched Hyperion’s reaction closely.

“Mmm?!”

Hyperion’s eyes widened. Soon, his facial muscles began to relax.

“Is rabbit meat… always this delicious? Are potatoes always this fluffy? And what is this flavor? I’ve never tasted anything like this before…”

The deliciousness made his inner thoughts spill out. Having mainly eaten bitter, astringent, and tough ingredients, Keter’s cooking was a whole new world to Hyperion.

Gulp, gulp!

Hyperion devoured four servings in record time. It was questionable whether he even chewed. Still unsatisfied, he looked at the pot with a very regretful expression.

Like a starving wolf, Keter gestured.

“I’ll give you more. Hand me the bowl.”

“Ahem, ahem! It seems I ate too fast earlier, leaving no room for you to attack. This time, I’ll eat slowly.”

Keter scooped another generous portion, and Hyperion, taking the bowl, moved away from Keter to eat. Again, he praised the taste and returned for more.

After repeating this five times, Hyperion had eaten 20 servings by himself. His eyelids drooped.

“Already finished…”

“Want more?”

“N-no! I just feel sorry for you, unable to ambush me like a fool.”

“Look forward to it. I’ll make something even more delicious tomorrow morning.”

“More delicious than this?”

Hyperion’s eyes sparkled, unbefitting his large frame.

“Ahem, ahem! You’re really going all out to make me let my guard down. You’re probably planning to attack me while I’m full and asleep. Bring it on.”

Hyperion turned to head to his wooden house, but Keter stopped him.

“Wait.”

Whoosh!

Keter threw something. Hyperion thought Keter was finally trying to ambush him.

“Ha! Naive!”

Snap!

Hyperion caught the thrown object with his left hand and was about to throw a punch with his right when—

“You should wash the dishes you used.”

“Huh?”

Turning his head, Hyperion realized he had caught a bowl, not a weapon. He blinked.

“If you don’t wash them, no food tomorrow.”

Keter left those words and entered the log cabin with Decameron.

With the campfire extinguished, Hyperion, left alone in the dark, scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“Is that guy actually a good guy?”

Meanwhile, Keter, peeking through the cracks of the log cabin, watched Hyperion slowly head to the river with the bowl and muttered softly.

“Poison doesn’t work on him, confirmed.”