The Saint King (Holy King) 5

Kwaaaaaaaaaaaaah-!!!

That radiant fist loomed before the Saint King’s eyes, its presence utterly inescapable.

Windblasts erupted, whipping the Saint King’s hair violently as he knelt transfixed by that luminous manifestation.

The earth cratered behind him as grass, flowers and trees were uprooted, sent hurtling backwards.

Fountains shattered, spraying geyser plumes while the palace windows imploded in showers of glittering shards scattered by the relentless forces.

Though representing the same ultimate strike Vanguard General Berthe could not withstand, the palace itself remained unscathed – a testament to Doyun’s meticulous restraint.

As Doyun retracted his fist, immense recoiling anguish flooded his senses, yet he could still move – an incomplete manifestation curtailing the full brunt of that backlash.

The Saint King closed his eyes briefly, rendered insensate by that overwhelming revelation.

Then, rising again, he took a deep, steadying breath.

“Huuu…”

As if catalyzed by some profound epiphany, the Saint King remained standing with shut eyes for an extended period contemplatively.

Doyun had halted his offensive while the Saint King reacted with unnerving stillness.

The surrounding courtiers who had initially mistaken Doyun as a hostile threat too froze uncertainly, awaiting their sovereign’s forthcoming judgment before daring any further initiatives.

After a prolonged interim, the Saint King reopened his eyes with a gaze more intensely resolute than before – having seemingly taken another stride forward from that insight.

Gazing down at Doyun appraisingly:

“…So you were not of the Demon Lord’s forces after all.”

Unable to identify his origins precisely, witnessing that sublime display had nonetheless convinced the Saint King of Doyun’s non-demonic nature.

For even Vanguard General Berthe employing martial arts resembling his own could never have manifested such transcendent heights.

He addressed his subjects accordingly:

“Summon the healers to attend to this man’s injuries.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Several vassals hurried inside with deep bows, not questioning the bewildering order to treat their king’s erstwhile attacker – such remained their sovereign’s unquestioned decree deserving utmost obedience.

Doyun accepted their forthcoming ministrations – despite his Vitality Level 8 granting peerless regenerative abilities, the ravages from improperly channeling the [True Hecreaux Style] had thoroughly mangled his arm beyond even his formidable constitution’s recovery scope.

Doyun regarded the Saint King squarely:

“Perhaps we could exchange some words first?”

His informal speech prompted the surrounding courtiers to swivel their gazes towards Doyun in unison – that synchronized motion of dozens of turning heads proving quite the striking spectacle.

Addressing the Saint King directly as if implicitly granting him permission to overhear:

“As the senior in status here, I shall speak candidly.”

“Hmm…”

The Saint King himself seemed unfazed by Doyun’s flagrant disrespect, far more intrigued by his self-proclaimed superior hierarchical standing instead.

“…It seems I possess much to hear from you as well.”

The Saint King stomped his right leg – the very one Doyun had targeted with that low roundhouse kick – with an audible thunk, realigning his temporarily dislocated knee joint.

“Then I extend you a formal invitation into my palace halls.”

With a curt nod, Doyun proceeded towards the Saint King’s direction.

“One moment.”

The Saint King halted him momentarily.

“That creature lurking behind you – what manner of being is it?”

Doyun’s eyes narrowed slightly in realization:

Just as before, he had discerned Luna’s concealed presence with preternatural acuity.

Of course, against a true assassin, the Saint King too would have likely suffered terminal consequences before even registering any anomalies – a deficiency stemming from Luna’s own immature skills rather than his lack of awareness.

‘Yet even so, not a single other Paladin could perceive her…’

An undeniably formidable man indeed.

“There shall be no need to slay her within these walls.”

Doyun stated firmly, prompting the Saint King to pause.

Looking Doyun squarely in the eye:

“She is my daughter.”

For a fleeting instant, Luna’s concealment wavered slightly from that verbalized acknowledgment of the hitherto unspoken paternal bond between them.

“…”

Even the Saint King reacted with evident surprise, yet found no objections forthcoming against this unprecedented revelation.

His own ingrained intuitions as a scion of the Simian Sage’s bloodline cautioned against provoking any unnecessary conflicts with this enigmatic man.

“…Very well.”

The Saint King acquiesced quietly in tacit acceptance.

“I apologize for my transgression – you are both invited into my halls.”

Doyun noted the courtiers’ utter nonchalance at their sovereign admitting fault so readily – perhaps refreshingly humble candor represented an innate royal inclination for him.

‘Surprisingly…’

Doyun felt an odd sense of inexplicable closeness towards the Saint King despite their brief acquaintance, a sentiment seemingly reciprocated by his host as well.

With a solemn nod, Doyun followed the Saint King inside together.

+++

As he trailed behind the Saint King, Doyun silently marveled:

‘He can walk unimpeded already.’

Indicating a Vitality Level 8 constitution akin to Doyun’s own, enabling such expedited recovery.

From their earlier combat observations, the man’s Strength, Agility, Vitality, Toughness and Vitality all ranked Level 8 – sheer monstrous stats unheard of.

The only individual Doyun had ever witnessed totaling over 40 across all attributes combined.

Furthermore, his physique too proved quite extraordinary:

‘Musculature of sublime refinement.’

Akin to anatomical illustrations, the intricately defined striations across his back musculature remained starkly pronounced – each stride and arm motion accentuated the dense, rippling fibres undulating fluidly.

Even for Doyun who had witnessed the incomparable Hecreaux himself, such an exquisitely developed fighter’s physique represented an unprecedented spectacle in his experience.

The man undoubtedly deserved his vaunted ‘paramount martial artist of the era’ renown.

Traversing the expansive royal gardens into long hallways:

Scores of vassals and attendants lined the passages, ceasing all activities to prostrate themselves reverentially as their sovereign strode past.

Their sheer numbers seemed gratuitously excessive, yet the palace’s grandiose interiors seemed equally ornate without restraint.

Doyun had expected more ascetic austerity from one heralded as the ‘Wisest King’, so this lavish extravagance proved rather unexpected.

As if sensing his bemused sentiments, one nearby vassal provided a hushed explanation:

“Monarchs and heroes alike must maintain appropriate decorum befitting their statures. His Majesty places far greater emphasis on upholding regal dignity than petty frugality.”

Doyun nodded wordlessly, recalling how most derelict rulers Enoch had encountered over two centuries had indulged in similar opulence.

Yet the Saint King’s case differed from such wanton self-indulgence – to him, palatial grandeur represented an efficient means of governing more effectively, not gratifying personal vices.

Arriving at the throne room, the Saint King strode in unhurried strides before settling into a regally oversized throne befitting his own towering stature with a resounding thump.

Propping his elbow on the armrest, he rested his chin pensively against that fisted hand.

The surrounding vassals prostrated themselves on either side reverentially.

“Well then.”

That rich baritone resonated throughout the chamber as the Saint King addressed Doyun directly.

Doyun looked up at the enthroned figure appraisingly.

The disheveled open stance, that nonchalantly propped chin – yet he exuded an utterly natural air of unquestioned authority completely befitting one born to lead and command.

“You claimed to have much to discuss with me.”

Doyun felt no one could possibly suit that royal seat more perfectly than this figure alone.

Activating his abilities, Doyun scrutinized the Saint King’s status window:

[Status Window]

Name: Francis Albert Victor Nicholas Mountbatten

Race: Monkeyking

Affiliation: Labyrinthe Kingdom

Talent: Genius

Stats:

Strength – Level 8

Agility – Level 8

Vitality – Level 8

Toughness – Level 8

Mana – Level 8

Innate Traits:

[King’s Road]

[Bloodline of the Simian Sage]

Acquired Traits:

[Warrior (Războinic)]

[Saint King]

[Leader]

Skills:

[Martial Arts Lv.9 Rate A]

[Mana Cultivation Lv.6 Rate A]

[Body Reinforcement Lv.7 Rate B]

Incredibly concise yet overwhelmingly potent – those identical Level 8 stats alone proved staggering enough.

Yet overshadowing even those formidable attributes loomed the sheer existence of [Martial Arts Lv.9] – as he had learned in the Cradle, the sole remaining Skill of that level across the entire continent.

When Vanguard General Berthe had leveled it up to 8 during their battle, he had momentarily overwhelmed even Heineken and Doyun in sheer might.

Level 9 represented a realm of transcendent power beyond his current conceptions.

The paucity of other Skills implied a singular, entire lifetime devoted to martial arts alone – completely befitting such a straightforward, tough-as-nails status window.

‘However…’

That Skill’s ‘A’ Rating indicated his mastery over the Hecreaux style remained incomplete.

An elderly vassal shuffled over hunched over, proffering a sheaf of parchment notes regarding Doyun’s background – a completed report the Saint King swiftly skimmed before dismissively handing back.

“So you are the one called Han Doyun.”

Doyun nodded curtly in acknowledgment.

“Han Doyun… Hmm.”

After a momentary contemplative murmur, the Saint King seemed to reach some internal realization before nodding decisively.

“Leave us.”

“Yes, Your Majesty-“

Without any further objections, all surrounding vassals retreated with deep bows despite leaving their king alone with this erstwhile trespassing combatant.

“It seems we shall engage in weighty discussions requiring discretion.”

“What do you mean?”

“It appears Archmage Undying’s recent inquiry about ‘200 years’ pertained to you after all.”

200 years – the exact lifespan Enoch had lived across all his regression cycles combined.

During one of Doyun and Archmage Undying’s prior conversations regarding Enoch’s demise where the latter had urged Doyun to remain vigilant, he had casually mentioned that peculiar timeframe in passing.

Seemingly, Archmage Undying had dwelled on that ‘200 years’ remark with uncharacteristic interest before relaying it to the Saint King for reasons unknown.

Perhaps the Saint King had deduced Archmage Undying’s abnormal investment in Doyun coupled with witnessing his extraordinary martial arts today led him to surmise connections to that mysterious ‘200 year’ query.

Yet one discrepancy remained perplexing:

‘How could he possibly know?’

The only individuals privy to Enoch’s reincarnated lifespan and regression abilities were Enoch himself alongside Vuyskr and Hecreaux alone.

Yet the Saint King clearly possessed knowledge about that ‘200 year’ timeframe which he had even shared with Archmage Undying.

Just how had the Saint King come to learn about those ‘200 years’ in the first place?

“It seems you have surmised certain matters already.”

“…”

Doyun remained silent, prompting the Saint King to continue undeterred:

“I possess many questions regarding you as well.”

“…As do I.”

With a confirming nod, the Saint King proposed his terms:

“An answer for an answer then.”

A farcical ‘agreement’ where either party could simply lie, yet Doyun assented nonetheless.

That brief physical exchange alone had convinced both that deception represented an untenable option between them.

“You may pose the first inquiry.”

Even in his magnanimity, that natural nobility rang through undisputed – with every successive interaction, Doyun sensed more unmistakable vestiges of Hecreaux’s spirit within this man.

“How did you come to learn about those ‘200 years’?”

“From my late master, Hwangbo Jun.”

The name of Hwangbo Jun – that genius martial artist from the Murim realm once heralded as the new era’s Sword Lord, as well as a renowned boss monster hunter.

“Long ago on one battlefield, my master discovered ‘records’ left behind by an unidentified peerless cultivator detailing those specifics.”

Records.

Only Vuyskr and Hecreaux could have possibly possessed the truth behind Enoch’s reincarnations – the author’s identity hardly remained ambiguous between those two options.

Doyun’s tacit silence indicated his turn had concluded as the Saint King posed his own query:

“From my response, what precise realization did you arrive at?”

Inwardly, Doyun marveled at the Saint King’s astutely penetrating counterquestion rather than directly inquiring about the Hecreaux style’s origins as expected.

Doyun answered forthrightly without obfuscation:

“The ‘records’ obtained by Hwangbo Jun – those were left behind by the Sword Lord himself.”

The Saint King sat up ramrod straight in his throne, clearly taken aback as epiphanies seemingly dawned upon him in visible realizations.

Reclining back with his head propped contemplatively, he murmured aloud in apparent self-realization:

“…So that was indeed the case.”

That response implied the Saint King had remained unaware the records’ author represented the Sword Lord Hecreaux himself – at best, he had only vaguely surmised as much up to this point.

For an extended period, the Saint King remained still with closed eyes as if inwardly processing these revelations as Doyun patiently observed in respectful silence.

Finally reopening his eyes, the Saint King regarded Doyun squarely once more – his turn to inquire:

“What did those records actually contain?”

“An entire tome of martial insights inscribed directly onto cavern walls through pure ki alone, purportedly detailing the most immaculate, quintessential martial arts under this very heaven itself.”

Ki manipulation permissible only to elite Apostles and above – projecting that very life force from one’s fingertips represented the pinnacle ‘Finger Ki Projection’ skill.

Engraving entire martial texts onto solid stone surfaces through that technique alone – an utterly ludicrous, mythical feat of difficulty beyond most modern conceptions.

The author who accomplished such a staggering task clearly represented an existence transcending realms the Saint King himself could scarcely fathom.

Upon hearing this, Doyun felt a dawning sense of recognition:

‘Inscribed directly onto cavern walls?’

There existed no reason for such extraneous measures when even simple paper coupled with magical preservation could permanently record that wisdom for posterity.

That it had been etched onto solid stone instead implied inescapable circumstances necessitating such arduous lengths.

Doyun recalled the remorseful Berthe’s final utterances before perishing:

‘The Sword Lord… went alone into the Demon Realm to stop that project… but sustained mortal wounds from the Demon Lord himself before barely escaping…’

“…”

Though intending to inquire about other matters, Doyun instead found himself uttering in a solemn, dejected murmur:

“…The Sword Lord.”

“They found the remains of a single skeleton within that record-inscribed cavern, or so I was told.”

Doyun’s fist clenched audibly as his gauntlet creaked under the strain.

“Likely the very peerless being who left behind those chronicles.”

Unable to restrain his turbulent emotions any longer, Doyun squeezed his eyes shut as his tightly clenched teeth drew blood from biting into his gums.

The Saint King observed him respectfully in solemn silence as he recomposed himself.

‘…Yes, I already knew about his demise – no need for such extraneous anguish.’

Doyun berated himself inwardly, repeatedly dismissing his reactions as utterly uncalled for overindulgence.

After a protracted period regaining his emotional equilibrium, Doyun reopened his eyes to face the Saint King squarely once more – his turn to pose the inquiry:

“You claimed ‘I outrank you in status’ – what did you mean by that statement?”

Doyun stared at the Saint King intently.

‘So does this man truly…’

Embody the worthiness Hecreaux had so fervently yearned for in an eventual disciple?

‘…’

Doyun’s eyes blazed with a golden luminescence.

“That martial art’s name is the Hecreaux Style (Hecleus’s Technique).”

Pointing directly at the Saint King, Doyun declared:

“The appellation I bestowed upon it over a century ago.”

The Saint King’s eyes widened sharply in shock.