With the mere graze of a finger, the king sent me crashing down into the marble floor.
"KHAH!"
I violently coughed as I steadily gained my senses. My ribs were broken, skull caved in, with my arm half torn-off.
"Give me the strength to achieve my father's ambition - it is quite the unrefined and shallow uniqueness, boy. Do you honestly expect to reach me with such feeble desire?"
How?! How did he discern my Uniqueness from a simple touch? A Uniqueness is an abstract desire that gives formless Mang it's shape. It's not something you can simply know. It must be a result of
Ia skill he possesses.
In an instant, Qiu Han appeared before me, thrusting his fist into my stomach. If I were human, I would definitely be spewing blood from my mouth. My body felt like a doll that had been beaten and abused until it's limbs could no longer function.
"What do you truly desire, Ereth? This much is not enough to become the Immortal Sword Saint; nowhere near enough."
"What...do I desire?"
A stupid question. A question so obvious that even a child could answer it. Yet this man spoke so clearly, with such meditation and passion that I couldn't help but seriously reflect upon the thought.
"I wish to fulfill my father's ambition- to become the Immortal Sword Saint! To stop this 1000 year war! That is the purpose that I was entrusted with!"
"But is that the purpose you wish to fulfill?"
In an instant, his words recovered something deep within my memory.
You are not me, Ereth. And you never should be.
Those words...the words of my father. Why are they coming back to me now of all times? I know better than anyone else that I could never be him. I knew that I was merely a doll incapable of doing anything right. But why...
Why was it not enough?
I swung and I swung...
I swung and I swung and I swung and I swung.
I swung my sword until my body broke. I swung my sword until I lost my mind.
That was all of the power I had...
So why is it never enough?
It doesn't make any sense.
No! Don't get distracted! I need to gather my thoughts. Counter. Just counter!
Upon recovering from the attack, I spun my body to the left and slashed in a diagonal arc. Once again, the attack was stopped with zero effort at all, this time, how backhand flung me into a wall.
"Your Mang is vast. I'd say that in terms of quantity, only Jiro is a fair comparison. However, your determination is but a farce. What do you say of his performance, Second Seat?"
Jiro cackled upon witnessing my crushing defeat. "I'll admit it! The kid's got some guts to launch another counter attack after getting fucked the first time, but what's he gonna do now? Brute strength ain't gonna work!"
Damn...
I regenerated, countered, and was struck down over and over again, like a rabid dog who didn't know when to quit. This frustration built up within my chest like a smothering cauldron. First with Xerxes, now with Qiu Han. Everyone in this world is incredibly strong, stronger than I'd ever imagine. But that's why...
"...!" Qiu Han's face experienced a subtle, yet very real shift. "That expression...you truly are your father's son."
I want to surpass them. Xerxes, Qiu Han, and every other foe in my path. It was a childish emotion- bitter and unruly, yet it was true nonetheless.
The moment the illusion shattered, Qiu Han stepped forward.
Effortless. Majestic. Impossibly heavy, as if the very air bowed before his presence. His movements betrayed no urgency. To him, time was simply not of the essence when dealing with me.
He vanished. I reacted to the faint traces Mang in the air, my instinct guiding me where thought couldn't
CLANG!
Our blades met for but a fraction of the second- his was untouched, while mine creaked under pressure.
I gritted my teeth, sliding back across the marble floor. Mang spattered from my mouth, but I didn't scream.
Slash.
Slash.
Just Slash!
Slash away at the king, no matter the hundreds, no, the thousands of times I must try.
Cut this man down and prove your worth, Ereth!
My Mang surged wildly, no longer elegant or composed. It roared in a thunderous applause, savage and raw like a beast.
"The poor boy is breaking apart. At this rate he'll die." The Fifth Seat looked at me pitifully, as though I were a child who aimed too highly above his state.
"Your eyes still working, old fuck? The kid's actually learnin' something." Jiro made another crass remark, though it held a hint of acknowledgement.
Qui Han exhaled slowly, his golden eyes narrowing. "Is this your answer, Ereth?"
I only raised my sword once more, knuckle pale and arms trembling.
"So what if my dream is fake? Pitiful, pathetic, hollow, empty - you think I need someone like you to tell me that?"
The Mang within me experienced a qualitative change. It stopped flaring outward and instead compressed- infinitely folding inward, like a black hole swallowing it's own mass.
The Sword in my hand, once jagged and feeble, had resonated with my desire. It gleamed faintly, as though remembering it's purpose.
[To grow from a lowly Imugi to a mighty Dragon, Let my feelings reach as far as they can.]
This faux uniqueness, though weak, temporary, and immature, was without a doubt genuine. It manifested as the building blocks of an ability, though it's strength was still far beneath any true uniqueness.
Time slowed.
The tip of my blade brushed against Qiu Han's exposed hand.
And then- a thin read line blossomed across his knuckle.
A scratch.
That was all, and it was more than enough.
The throne room went silence, the very air stood trembled upon witnessing my effort. Yet Qiu Han remained unperturbed. His blue robe fluttered lightly in the wind, as though gently disturbed by a summer breeze.
"So that is your answer?" He said, gazing at the small cut in contemplation. "It is crude - far too crude to be called a uniqueness. A surface level dream originating from circumstance rather than true introspection. And yet, it is acceptable."
The Third Seat maintained an neutral gaze as she said, "So the boy has some talent. Perhaps we were wrong about our assessment of him, Sixth Seat."
He sucked his teeth in embarrassment. "Perhaps...but it is up to the king to decide the boy's worth."
Qiu Han flexed his fingers, letting the blood trickle down his hand. "A dragon, was it? The boy was ambition, but he lacked experience. He has yet to shed his skin."
He turned to me, his tone unreadable. "But perhaps this inexperience is what granted you such explosive power."
The un-aging king - Qiu Han walked away towards my shattered body. His eyes were focused on me, the boy who flew too close to the sun.
"Xerxes, I commend you for finding such talent. I did not believe that another Divine General would arrive for at least another 30 years."
"Thank you, your highness. It is the upmost honor to exceed your expectation."
Qiu Han extended his hand out. "From this day forward, Ereth of the Eternal Twilight shall occupy the Eight Seat of the Divine Generals. You shall swear fealty to me, the weakest man, in any and all things. You shall love me more than anyone else in the world, hate me more than anyone else in the world, and envy me more than anything else in the world. This is your solemn vow. Do you accept such an outcome, Ereth of the Eternal Twilight."
To any normal human being, they'd have likely died from the injuries I'd sustained. However, my automaton-body gave me the strength to present myself before the king. "I accept this outcome, my King."