studiobondurri Chapter 84: The Sword Dance (2)
Chapter 84: The Sword Dance (2)
Chapter 84: The Sword Dance (2)
“It’s winter, so it’s snowing.”
Teacher’s movements were light.
“It’s already been two days since the match began.”
Teacher danced over the snow as if she was sliding on ice. The hem of her black robe fluttered across the endless snowfield like a brushstroke across a blank paper.
—You can’t run away forever, the Guardian rumbled.
A second brush followed the first. The more powerful, aggressive stroke painted a thick line of ink on the snowfield.
—I’m second to none when it comes to the Lightness Art, the Guardian declared as he bulldozed forward with heavy steps, crushing the ice and pushing aside the snow.
“I’m confident that I can run away forever.”
—But the end will still come eventually.
“Don’t you get it? This world is now an endless snowfield. There may be nowhere to go, but I can run away anywhere in this field,” Teacher said with a smile.
—I won’t let you get away. The Guardian leaped out of the snow. If you were in your prime, you could run away forever, but this match is happening now. You don’t even have two hours left in your life. The sand in your hourglass is trickling away. Are you going to keep running?
“You’re harsh.”
—The truth is harsh. The Guardian swung his sword.
“Yes, I’ll admit it.” Teacher turned her head, lightly dodging the swing. “I don’t have much time left, so I can’t keep running away.”
—We’ll have to see the end of the fight sooner or later.
“Nothing is stopping sooner or later from being now.”
—Now we’re talking.
Teacher grabbed her sword. “Then I’ll show you my full power.”
Demonic Heaven Arts,
First Form:
Starvation Death.
“...Hunger is when parents swap their children with their neighbors’ children and eat them.”
Her sword howled as she cut across the winter wind.
“Have you heard the story about a man who cut a neighbor kid’s body into jerky and buried them in the snow? What about the rumor of that village? It’s said that when you dug up their road, you can find young human flesh every time.”
—That’s sad. The Guardian blocked Teacher’s sword with his. There must have been a famine.
“That’s right. A famine is like a plague that can come back at any time.”
—But it’s also a coincidence. The Guardian wielded his sword through the winter wind. Good harvest and famine are both matters of chance. Everything in the universe is a coincidence. Heavenly Demon, if you mourn over an accidental tragedy, you should also laugh and be happy over a coincidental joy. The depths of your sorrow are equal to the heights of your happiness.
The two swords crossed, and red plum blossoms fell.
—So, I’ll sing about the happy harvest in autumn.
The snow fell like leaves in autumn.
—One day, I looked at the horizon while walking down the street. That day, the rice spread past the horizon like a sea of gold. Children played hide-and-seek in the rice; the grains were taller than they were, but their laughter leaked out from time to time.
The autumn wind blew into the mountains and fields, dying their leaves red and rice fields yellow.
—You mentioned the child flesh buried in the snow earlier. I’ll tell you the story of children laughing as they play hide-and-seek in the rice fields.
As countless red leaves fell around him, the Guardian swung his sword.
—Everything is just another coincidence on just another day. If there is something I should carry in my sword, it’s the laughter from rice fields. The last memory I should recall before I die is the children playing hide-and-seek. It’s an obvious choice.
Teacher cut down the leaves. “You’re really living in your own little world, aren’t you.”
Demonic Heaven Arts,
Second Form:
Thirst Death.
“Did you say that tragedies and happiness are both coincidences? I’m sure they are. But happiness doesn’t make people die. The pain of hunger and thirst does! When you die, it’s the end. There is no going back.”
The sunlight shone down.
“I’ll sing about the people who died because they couldn’t have a single sip of water!” Teacher yelled.
The hot wind of summer blew over the world, withering mountains and rivers. Weeds turned yellow, and fruits shriveled up. While beetles trudged through the heat, tens of thousands of dead fish washed up on the riverbanks. Their round eyes were dry.
—Ah.
Teacher became more persistent. Even though the Guardian had countered her attack, Teacher didn’t back down. Instead, she got closer. They were so close that they could feel each other’s breaths.
The quick sword clashes made me lightheaded.
—It feels freaking great to jump into the river during summer, the Guardian refuted as he parried away all of Teacher’s quick sword strikes. You’re teaching Gong-Ja the wrong way.
“...What?”
“...I’ll fight back using the eighth form of the Demonic Heaven Arts, Fire Death.”
Teacher was covered in blood as red as the falling peonies.
The difference in skill between Teacher and the Guardian was clear. No matter how much she tried to prolong the fight and run away, it was impossible to shake off the Guardian. As the price for attempting the impossible, Teacher bled from her arms, legs, and shoulders.
—Hmm. The Guardian took up a form. I’ll parry that away using the Moonlit Arrival Sword, the first form of the Sunset Blossom Sword.
Teacher’s breathing became slightly shallow. Her qi was running out, but attempting mutual destruction using her vital force would be too greedy.
Her lips slowly parted. “I... I... had been unable to complete the last form of the Demonic Heaven Arts for one reason. Since I was young, the death ingrained in my heart had been freezing to death after being abandoned by my mother in the snowfield. That ending had been what I considered to be my death.”
Teacher raised her sword high, pointing it up in the sky like a clock’s hand announcing noon.
“Ironically, I was able to complete my ninth form of the Demonic Heaven Arts after the world was doomed. Whether I look up at the sky or walk beneath it, I am the only one who exists. Whish, whish, iwish. The world is winter, and a single candle is burning. My song is that of the world, and my death means the end of heaven and earth. It became white, it’s still white, and it’ll probably remain white.”
Her sword sliced across the sky.
“I’ll lay my Demonic Heaven on the snowfield and scream my last words.”
Demonic Heaven Arts,
Ninth Form:
Solitude Death.
The sky of red flower petals split, and winter swept in and ended spring. Hundreds of millions of peonies became the same number of snowflakes, freezing the world.
It was a lonely sword slash that sang the Heavenly Demon’s solitary death.
—I see. The Guardian quietly looked up at the torrent of winter that was about to rush over him. Is dying alone your choice, Heavenly Demon? Yes, I must admit, it’s the perfect choice for the last martial artist of a doomed world.
A lonely smile hung on the Guardian’s face.
—But I know more about loneliness than you do. The Guardian tightened his grip on his sword. How long have you endured being alone in this world? Three years? Two years? No. You haven’t endured a single day. You always had the Murim Alliance's leader by your side. When he died, you lost your mind.
His sword slowly drew a line.
—I’m sorry, but I endured 130 years alone.
Martial Arts,
Form Zero:
One Sword.
Peonies bloomed again. Winter was over, and spring was brought back again. And then it was summer, fall...
Fall, winter, spring, summer, summer, fall, fall, winter, spring, spring, spring, summer, fall, summer, fall, winter...
Plum blossoms, peonies, roses, resurrection lilies, resurrection lilies, plum blossoms, peonies, roses...
Red petals, red petals, red petals, red petals, winter, red petals, winter, winter...
I... was... short of breath... I had to gasp for air. I couldn’t see or hear anything that had just happened.
However, there was something more important than understanding the fight right now.
“Teacher... Teacher, are you okay...? Are you okay?”
She was staring up at the winter sky in silence. Her eyes were blank.
My heart sank. I slowly grabbed Teacher’s hand and felt for her pulse several times. Her heart was beating. She was alive. She was still alive.
“Teacher,” I said again.
“I see. That is what it was all along,” Teacher breathed. Her dark eyes looked into mine. “Gong-Ja, my disciple, your only concern has been helping me all along.
“You said that you came to visit me from outer murim because you heard my reputation and admired it... That was a lie. A total lie. Why didn’t I realize this before? My disciple isn’t the type of child who would be tempted by fame to cross the world...”
Her voice became quieter and quieter.
“Thank you. Were you happy to meet me?” Teacher asked.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Will I be able to be remembered as a flower to you?”
“Yes, Teacher.”
“Can I ask what kind of flower that will be?”
“A peony.” I hugged her more tightly. “I’ll remember you as a red peony, Teacher.”
“Haha. It’s a beautiful one.” Teacher smiled, stroking my cheek. “It’s beautiful, my child...”
She reached out her other hand toward the sky. Her movement was delicate and light, like a newborn bird flapping its wings.
“My disciple...”
Without a single sound, a snowy mountain was split into two. They stood there, tranquil, as if they had always been two.
Teacher breathed out, clouding the air with white. She must be trying to have a white dream.
“Teacher...” I buried my face on her shoulder. “Winter has been cut apart, Teacher... It’s been cut.”
When the sound of her breathing stopped, the winter was cut apart by the person who had been born with the scent of snow.