Chapter 2727 Shelter’s Price <TOC>
Translator: SumTLMan
Sunlight Sanctuary will repel outside evils, yet it will not hinder Daus from leaving.
Once Daus, now free of the curse, restored to his peak power, and with his talent of inspiration pushed to its very summit, stepped again beyond the Sunlight Sanctuary’s protection, the all-over comfort vanished, but his self-confidence soared to its height.
At this moment Daus even felt he could challenge the Gray Merchant.
In truth, merely “challenging” the Gray Merchant was certainly possible; whether the end would be defeat or victory was another matter. Still, with Daus’ inspiration strengthened in every respect, if he truly fought the Gray Merchant there remained the slimmest chance of winning, and even in loss he would assuredly last far longer than before.
The Gray Merchant’s bloodline, after all, naturally countered Daus: one an earth dragon, the other a sandworm, this suppression could leave Daus, once he activated his bloodline, able to deploy barely half his strength.
But it was different with Shrew: there was no bloodline restraint, and in peak condition Daus felt no fear.
Surrounded by innumerable sword-spikes, Daus charged straight at Shrew.
…
“He’s come out of that barrier; doesn’t that mean Lady Shrew might have a chance now?” On the other side, Pink Jasmine’s eyes lit the instant she saw Daus leave Sunlight Sanctuary.
In her view, it was the appearance of that light barrier that had cast uncertainty on the fight; otherwise Lady Shrew would already have triumphed. Now that Daus had left the barrier, cutting off his retreat, surely Lady Shrew could win… right?
The Gray Merchant pondered a moment and still shook his head: “My conclusion is unchanged, Shrew has already lost. Now it all depends on…”
Pink Jasmine: “Depends on what?”
The Gray Merchant sighed softly: “On whether Daus merely wants victory, or intends… to fight to the death.”
A clear worry colored the Gray Merchant’s sigh. Shrew, with her bloodline fully unleashed, had reason almost entirely overwhelmed by blood instinct and could no longer concede of her own will.
That is the flaw of the modification branch: its members seldom fully open their bloodlines because the mixture brings degrees of mental disorder. Though spellcraft can ease it, their reasoning is never as agile as usual.
Only after reaching Legendary realm can one, through a new Blood Fusion spell, dissolve this defect.
Yet how hard it is to become Legendary!
The Southern Region at present has not a single Legend. Thus almost everyone in the modification branch earns the “dumbing-down” feat when fighting at full force; for that reason wizards of the blood source branch scorn their peers who turn foolish once the battle begins, and divergence in creed deepens the disdain.
Pure blood wizards, resembling the blood source wizards, never exhibit such loss of faculties even with bloodlines fully unleashed.
Therefore the Gray Merchant cannot believe Shrew will defeat Daus.
Shrew has yielded herself wholly to instinct; such power is indeed tremendous, yet without reason to steer it, when all strives only for victory the battle instinct will probe every lower limit.
Shrew may be dragged to death by instinct rather than slain by Daus; even were she truly to win, draining so much potential might rob her of any further advancement.
Pink Jasmine: “Lord Gray Merchant, is there truly a difference?”
The Gray Merchant: “Of course, and vast. If Daus seeks only victory, he can use arena rules to knock Shrew outside the platform. Though void beasts surround the exterior, we would still have some chance to rescue her.”
“But should Daus choose a fight to the death, with Shrew unable to surrender, the likely outcome is… a pyrrhic win for Daus and death for Shrew.”
To kill a fully unleashed bloodline wizard, even for Daus, demands a heavy cost.
The Shepherd then spoke softly: “Were it you, my lord, would you choose mere victory, or death-match?”
The Gray Merchant looked at him. Among all his apprentices Shepherd’s mind ran deepest. Lazy as he seemed, at a critical moment his gaze turned razor-sharp, and with a speed no less than a formal wizard he could seize the key point.
Shepherd surely harbored secrets; perhaps not on his body but in his heart, his soul.
The Gray Merchant feared not a man with secrets, so long as loyalty held, what matter secrets?
The Gray Merchant: “Formerly, in Daus’ place, I might have sought only to win, not to die. But now, I would fight to the end.”
Shepherd, brushing aside green bangs that drooped over his lids, murmured: “Because of that barrier?”
The Gray Merchant nodded: “A refuge that swiftly heals injuries means that even a pyrrhic victory leaves Daus able to recover inside.”
That refuge has utterly reshaped the battle.
It broke Shrew’s curse and reflected it upon her, leaving her unable to cast another for a time.
It blocked her mightiest strike, draining her blood energy.
It grants Daus comprehensive recovery, his strongest support.
Without it, Shrew’s odds were great; but now it’s far too late.
The Gray Merchant is even pondering how, should he face the barrier-backed Daus in the next bout, he might cope.
“Then have we no means to save Lady Shrew?” Pink Jasmine asked, agitated.
The Gray Merchant shot her a cool glance: “When Daus lay cursed, a blood spear through his chest, did you see anyone over there move?”
Pink Jasmine: “But, but…”
“You’re thinking Daus holds trump cards, aren’t you? This duel forbids none of your means; indeed, what the Mirror Dweller wants is precisely their trump cards.” The Gray Merchant murmured: “Those across from us are far from ordinary. To hand Daus a mysterious scroll so lightly, were it I, I’d never manage it.”
Nor, knowing a thread of hope remained, would the Gray Merchant ever expend such a treasure.
“Watch on. Whatever ending comes, it’s a bitter fruit we must swallow.”
Though he too wished to save Shrew, the rules stand. The black robed adjudicator watches from above; in such circumstances he is helpless.
All that can be done is… watch. Watch what choice Daus will finally make.
…
What will Daus choose? In truth, he already knows.
Countless stabbing swords drifted with him; every time he manipulated them they hacked madly at Shrew’s barbed tentacles.
Those tentacles were her transformed hair, hardly a fatal weakness.
Yet Daus had found that each time he severed one, Shrew shrieked in agony, and was forced back several steps.
Daus still had no idea why severing those tentacles hurt Shrew so badly, perhaps… because women care deeply about their hair?
In any case, as long as he had found a way to drive her back, that was enough.
Now Shrew could no longer curse him, her body had become unbearably heavy, and even her thinking was growing murky. The simplest route to victory, therefore, was to force her out of the arena’s boundary.
That’s right, Daus did not choose to fight to the death; he chose to win at the lowest possible cost.
Daus would have liked to kill Shrew outright; this woman who had reshaped herself into something like a deep-sea creature was vicious and decisive, and her words showed she was also petty. If she was left alive, she would certainly become a future threat.
Even so, Daus did not intend to stake his life against hers this time.
He understood clearly that if he tried to finish her on the spot he would almost certainly be gravely injured himself. It would be like two trapped beasts tearing at each other: Shrew, already nearly irrational, fought entirely on instinct, and the arena was only so big, if Daus wanted to kill her, he would have to meet her head-on.
Against an enemy turned into a war machine, he could not remain completely unscathed.
Once Daus was badly hurt, even if the Sunlight Sanctuary healed him, as Angel had said its effect would be greatly reduced. Selling “experience tickets” afterward would bring in less profit.
Therefore, for the sake of his own “interests,” he could not afford another wound. Victory was enough; the rest, floods, future troubles, could all wait.
Besides that, Daus also meant to return a favor. Earlier he had sensed that Shrew’s ten blood spears of light had not been aimed at truly fatal points, which meant she had in fact shown him some mercy. In return, Daus answered in kind.
Yet if Vai heard this reason, he would probably say: it’s just Daus comforting himself because he can’t kill her.
With his knowledge of Daus, Vai’s guess would not be far off.
…
Every tentacle that was cut off wrung another shrill scream from Shrew.
Her agony sent her into ever deeper frenzy. The madness toughened her flesh and amplified her strength, but her thoughts grew simpler, duller.
Had she faced an opponent who met her blow for blow, she might already have battered them into a pulp with those compounding powers. But Daus never clashed head-on, he dodged while waiting for openings.
Shrew’s hair was already profuse; turned into tentacles, it filled the air, so Daus had no need to think about where or how to cut, wherever his sword could reach, he sliced freely.
Shrew kept swelling, kept growing more savage, yet she could do nothing to him. One after another the tentacles were lopped away, piling up on the arena floor beside sticky, pitch-black blood.
For several minutes thereafter the spectators heard nothing but unending screams from the arena.
So piercing were they that even a stone-hearted listener would be moved.
Seeing this, even Vai could not help blurting out: “Daus is too cruel. Just kill her with one stroke, why torture her like this? Did Youna hurt him that badly? Has he become this twisted toward women?”
Vai’s muttered complaint carried straight to Daus’ ears.
Now Daus needed only to dodge and swing wildly to hit the tentacles, so he still had energy to snap back: “You call that a woman? Then may every woman you find in life look just like her!”
His words did not affect Vai, but they dealt a grievous blow to what little reason Shrew had left.
She grew even larger, even more brutal.
Yet this played into Daus’ hands. Before, when a tentacle was cut, she would sometimes move sideways; now, with her reason utterly spent, every severed limb made her stagger backward.
Never mind Vai being tired of the screams, even Daus found them irritating. Fortunately the edge of the arena was now close.
On the other side, Pink Jasmine and the others could hardly bear to hear Shrew’s wails, but they understood now that Vai had chosen not to kill her but to force her out of the arena and win by the match rules.
That knowledge, though the cries pained them, brought a faint relief.
“Looks like Lord White Merchant was right,” Shepherd drawled lazily. No one knew where he had conjured the black-faced sheep upon whose soft wool he now leaned, sitting cross-legged on the ground.
The others understood at once: before leaving with the Black Merchant, the White Merchant had said they should resolve matters with these intruders through negotiation if possible, for signs suggested they bore no ill will, and had even left information that might be kindly meant.
No one replied; they knew White Merchant was probably right, but sometimes one simply has no choice.
Shepherd chuckled, unconcerned by the silence, stroked the sheep’s fleece, tipped back his head, and closed his eyes against its back: “I’ll rest a bit first; we still have to fight later.”
Pink Jasmine looked at Shepherd, who seemed asleep in an instant, and whispered: “You just wanted a nap, didn’t you?”
Shepherd gave no answer. The black-faced sheep curled up too, keeping quiet company as he slept.
As Shepherd drifted into slumber, the black robed adjudicator hanging in mid-air sounded the bell that declared the match finished.
As expected, the mindless Shrew had been forced off the arena by Daus.
The moment she crossed the boundary, the monsters in the void erupted, surging toward her.
At the same time, the Gray Merchant’s figure vanished from the platform.
When he reappeared he was already blocking Shrew.
The energies released by the hordes of void monsters were terrifying, whipping up gust after gust of long winds.
The hem of the Gray Merchant’s robe snapped in the gale, and the mask on his face rustled in the stream.
Facing that dreadful energy storm, he did not retreat. Half-bending, he slowly drew from his waist a violet long blade crusted with crystals.
With a flick of its edge, a crescent moon.
That radiant crescent, keen beyond compare, swept into the storm.
Where the monsters’ tempest met the crescent, a violent explosion erupted.
The blast even reached the arena’s rim, etching fine cracks into the solid ground.
“Damaging the arena requires compensation under the rules.”
The Sovereign of Wisdom’s words were drowned by the roar, yet the Gray Merchant heard them. He lifted his head and nodded lightly toward the Sovereign of Wisdom, shaping the word “Understood.”
Then, taking advantage of the shockwave, he grabbed the dazed Shrew and rode the surge back up onto the arena platform.
His action clearly enraged the spectating void monsters; they howled, and some even tried to rush the arena.
But the Sovereign of Wisdom gave a cold snort, and the monsters froze as if shocked by lightning; silence fell.
Then the Sovereign of Wisdom pronounced once more, not with a bell but solemnly:
“Battle over!”