Chapter 6
Bullfighting.
A game and ritual passed down from ancient times.
The rules differ by region, but the bullfighting most people know uses a red cloth to lure and hunt the bull.
The moment Leon saw the blood-red garment, he thought of bullfighting.
Though it was a monster, the Minotaur's head was a bull's; if it looked that similar, maybe its instincts were similar too.
Leon took off his shirt and tied it to the pickaxe, then waved it with all his strength.
On purpose, in an exaggerated way.
So it'd be impossible to ignore.
-Flap!
The Minotaur's gaze reacted at once. Its wide field of vision narrowed to a single point. Its breathing roughened, and it scraped the floor with its hooves.
"Grrraaaah!"
A bellow burst out. The Minotaur charged like a maddened bull.
Its hooves tore through the sand as it kicked off the ground. The recoil sent sand surging up like waves.
Not yet.
But Leon didn't move an inch.
The key to bullfighting isn't the color of the cloth, but its movement.
Because colorblind bulls can't perceive red. They see the violently fluttering cloth as an enemy and charge it.
At that point, the bullfighter's movements have to be kept to a minimum so the bull's gaze stays fully on the cloth.
That's how you stay safe.
Not yet.
Just like Leon now. He waited quietly for the right moment instead of moving rashly.
-Kugugugung!
The closer the Minotaur's massive body drew, the more time seemed to stretch. He was seized by the illusion that the world before his eyes had slowed.
Not yet.
Leon still didn't move. He kept his eyes fixed on the Minotaur and held his breath.
More.
More.
Just a little more.
Before he knew it, the Minotaur was right in front of him. The instant those huge horns seemed about to smash into Leon.
"Hup!"
Leon twisted his body with all his strength.
The Minotaur's path sliced through empty air. A fierce wind slapped his cheek. The strip of cloth tied to the pickaxe fluttered as if it would tear apart.
The Minotaur didn't stop and slammed into the arena's stone wall.
"Whoa?!"
The spectators shouted in surprise.
It looked like the wall might collapse, but a barrier protecting the stands had been set in place for situations like this. It only shook a little.
The Minotaur pulled itself away from the wall and shook its head. Stone dust sprayed like raindrops.
Taking the chance, Leon put some distance between them, drew a short breath, and immediately waved the cloth again.
-Flap!
As expected, the Minotaur reacted.
Second charge.
The Minotaur came at him like a chariot. This time too, Leon held out until the very last moment before slipping away.
But had he dodged a little too late? The force of the charge shoved hard into his side.
He lost his balance and rolled roughly across the ground, but sprang up at once. Then he waved the garment again.
Third.
Fourth.
The sequence of the Minotaur charging and Leon narrowly evading repeated itself.
It was behavior that couldn't even be described as fleeing, as if he were deliberately embracing danger.
A bizarre spectacle that could almost be mistaken for a show.
On the razor's edge, where a single mistake meant death, Leon was performing a precarious tightrope act.
Some might say he'd gone mad from fear, but this was the best Leon could do.
One mistake and he's dead?
'Then I just won't get hit.'
Because it charged straight at the cloth, the Minotaur's movements became simple.
Dodging became much easier than before. The range he had to evade kept shrinking bit by bit.
'Like this...'
He didn't make big evasions.
He didn't make unnecessary jumps either.
Only as much as needed to the side.
Just one step.
He learned the motions and etched the timing into his body. As his movements grew more relaxed, he gained a brief moment to plan his next move.
This time Leon mixed in an attack instead of just dodging. He struck the back of the Minotaur's neck with the pickaxe as it passed by.
-Clang!
"Ghh...!"
The rebound ran up his wrist and jolted through his whole body.
A numbing pain.
For a moment, he nearly dropped the pickaxe.
It wasn't a meaningful blow.
Leon knew that too.
Still, he didn't stop.
Because he'd never expected a lucky break to begin with.
'Mining is repetitive work to begin with.'
There's a saying like that, isn't there?
There's no rock that won't crack if you keep striking it ten times.
If it doesn't break on the first try, just keep hitting it until it does.
-Flap!
The Minotaur charged again.
Sand flew, dust spread, and the horns surged forward.
Leon dodged.
-Whoosh!
And struck again.
-Thunk!
He toyed with the Minotaur's simplified line of attack, driving the pickaxe in without pause.
Without even a single moment's pause.
With the tenacity of a miner carving away a mountain.
"……."
The arena, once filled with mad cheers and jeers, was now sunk in an eerie silence.
The spectators who had been clinking mugs and hurling curses now held their breath as they watched the boy and the monster fight.
They kept their eyes fixed there, as if even blinking was a waste.
Renoa was no different.
For the first time, an unfamiliar light appeared in her eyes, which had gone cold from boredom.
Her lips parted slightly, forgetting all propriety, and her palms were soaked in cold sweat.
Leon, desperately thrashing to seize control over his own life and death.
To someone else it might have been no more than an insect's struggle, but to her it came across as a dazzling, alien brilliance.
-Pak!
With Leon's countless pickaxe swings, small wounds began to etch themselves into the Minotaur's ironclad neck.
Those tiny scratches soon became a large gouge, a gap he could dig into.
"Grrrrrooooooaaaar!"
The roar thundered out.
The Minotaur took its stance.
Leon instinctively knew the final charge, with every ounce of its strength poured into it, was coming soon.
That was exactly what he wanted.
He was already at his physical limit, and the hand gripping the pickaxe had gone numb.
He tightened his grip on the pickaxe even harder.
And then he flapped it.
"Come here."
The Minotaur puffed hot steam from its mouth, its muscles swelling to the limit.
It charged straight in, without any tricks or finesse.
The distance between them closed in an instant, as if the space before his eyes were narrowing.
-Kugugugugung!
The floor trembled under the headlong charge. The pressure was enough to freeze his body for an instant.
Leon didn't waver.
He clutched the pickaxe as if he meant to crush it.
'I can see it.'
The crack in the back of its neck, dug open by countless repeated blows. That hideous gap where blood and flesh mingled.
-KWAAAANG!
A head-on collision.
The Minotaur's horn grazed Leon's shoulder, tearing away flesh. But all he did was grimace slightly.
With adrenaline flooding his body, fear and pain had long since gone numb.
Instead, he gave himself over to the collision. Leon's body arced over the monster's head.
Then he swung the pickaxe in midair.
-Thwack!
A pinpoint strike.
The blade lodged in the gap.
He pulled on the shaft.
Against the direction of the charge.
His weight bore down, adding to the monster's own momentum.
-Riiip!
A horrifying tearing sound as the tough hide ripped and the vertebrae shifted out of alignment.
The Minotaur's head, hooked on the tip of the pickaxe, was torn free.
-Crack!
Then the overworked pickaxe shaft couldn't withstand the shock and snapped. Leon was thrown back by the recoil.
Leon flinched, but wasted no time. He grabbed the sword of another dead slave and charged in.
"Grrrrraaaah!"
The Minotaur gripped its half-hanging neck with one hand and swung its other arm as if shaking something off.
A heavy whoosh of air that left the ears ringing.
Leon made full use of his small frame. He slid across the ground like water to dodge the attack, then kicked off the floor and sprang up.
He kicked the Minotaur's knee and climbed onto its neck.
He locked his legs tight to secure himself and drove the sword into the wound.
-Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!
"Wooooooooaaaar!"
The Minotaur roared in pain.
The Minotaur punched at him and shook violently to throw Leon off, but the more it struggled, the more firmly Leon locked his legs.
[Proficiency level increased. Indomitable Lv.1 > Lv.2]
The notification rang, but he didn't spare it a glance. He simply kept jabbing the blade into its neck, stab, stab, stab, stab.
Even as his whole body was dyed red with blood and his vision blurred from exhaustion, he paid it no mind.
For a long while, the arena rang with nothing but the tearing sounds of stabbing into its neck.
Then, at some point.
The Minotaur, which had seemed as though it would never fall, dropped to one knee. Then its body pitched forward.
-Thoom......
It fell face-down onto the floor without strength.
Dust burst up.
"......"
The now-silent arena.
A silence in which even breathing couldn't be heard.
Even with tension so thick it felt like their hearts might burst out, no one made a sound.
As if waiting for something.
All eyes turned to one place. There stood a boy.
Leon slowly stood up. He staggered as if he might collapse at any moment, but he forced himself to his feet.
His body was caked with dust and blood.
"Huuuu......"
He exhaled while looking up at the underground ceiling.
Flash.
He raised his arm high overhead. In his hand was the Minotaur's massive head.
Then, as if waiting for this very moment, thunderous cheers exploded through the arena.
"Wooooooah!"
"That's it! That's it! I knew it!!!"
"Leon! Leon! Leon! Leon!"
Thousands of spectators chanted the boy's name.
The crowd that had been spitting and booing just moments ago was now shouting, all of them fixed on one direction.
It was the praise due to a victor who had overcome death and seized his life.
Right after, Leon, drained of strength, collapsed like a sheet of paper. The arena staff rushed over and began cleaning up.
"......"
Back at the third-floor VIP box.
Renoa gripped the railing and looked down at the scene. Perhaps without realizing it, she had tensed up; the veins on the backs of her hands stood out.
The arena, rocking beneath the roar of cheers. In its center, the black-haired boy, drenched in blood, declared victory.
Everyone here had been certain he would lose, yet he had defied them and won against a monster twice his size.
That cowardly boy who had been trembling as if in a fit when he saw her.
Something more primal had climbed over his fear.
It was an obsession with survival.
Something she herself did not have.
It was a violently beautiful thing, enough to shake Renoa's soul.
Renoa, glaring at Leon as he was carried away on a stretcher, slowly opened her mouth.
"Sir Jain."
"Yes, my lady."
"I've changed my mind."
I take back what I said about it being a waste of time.
Today's outing was more valuable than any other. No, it was so dazzling it couldn't even be measured in value.
Ash-gray.
Her world had always been ash-gray.
A cage decided at birth. A predetermined future.
The brilliant lights of high society and the expensive jewels were nothing but a dead, colorless landscape to her.
But now.
The boy below, raising his pickaxe high, was different. For the first time, color was painted onto her colorless retinas.
Into her ash-gray life.
Into her soul, rotting away in boredom.
"Bring him here."
She had become interested in the one who had carved an unforgettable mark into her.
"That slave—bring him to my side."