Chapter 32: The Elf with the Ointment-Smeared Lips

Iger felt genuinely puzzled.

That question he asked... it was so stupid it barely made sense. And right after that, he's suddenly lost in deep thought?

Still, rather than accept that Ashe was actually an idiot, Iger refused to believe he could ever be outdone by a fool.

"So," Iger asked, "have you already figured out why Varkas challenged you?"

The question pulled Ashe back. He answered cautiously, "Because of that child?"

Iger nodded. "That's what I thought too."

He went on, "Varkas has behaved himself in prison for five years. He rarely challenges anyone. Just collecting Contribution Points from people he dislikes is enough for him to live comfortably. But this time he suddenly made a move on you, and that's nothing like him.

"I can't think of any reason except the child. He once risked his reputation and freedom for that kid, and that alone shows how much it meant to him. The child has been raised in the orphanage for years, and many people have access to it. But there's only one key person who can link that child, Varkas, and you together, and that person is Syrin Dorr."

Iger spoke the name with certainty. Ashe met his confident stare and felt a vague intuition that he

should

know the name, yet no matter how he tried, nothing came to mind. "Who's Syrin?"

Iger studied him for a moment, then said, "Don't move."

He reached out and poked Ashe's cheek. "Ask me again."

"Who's Syrin?"

Iger sighed and pulled his hand back. "Syrin Dorr is a history professor at Caimon General University and the president of the Elf Rights Association. He carries plenty of other titles, but none of those matter to you. What should concern you is that he serves as an advisor to the University's Ancient Relics Research Society."

Ashe blinked.

Ancient Relics Research Society?

He quickly thought of a possibility. "I was once a member of the Ancient Relics Research Society?"

"More accurately, you're still its president. I can't prove it, but I'd say you and Syrin had a relationship far beyond a normal teacher and student."

The Four Pillars Cult!

Could Heath really have built a criminal organization like that with just charisma and leadership alone? Maybe. But it was far more likely he had help. Syrin Dorr... he was probably one of the people behind him.

Iger cut into his thoughts. "I think I've shown enough sincerity by answering your questions. Will you answer mine now, even though I've already guessed the answer?"

"If you've already guessed it, why even ask... fine, go on."

"How exactly did you deceive me in the arena? Last night, I could predict your attacks because I was listening to your inner voice. That technique rarely fails, since no one lies to themselves."

Ashe was taken aback. "What? You can hear my thoughts?"

Iger explained, "Only in the arena. I hear the whispers of your mind through the emotions you trigger."

He rarely exposed the vulnerabilities of his techniques. Normally, he preferred it when people feared him. But with Ashe, bluffing felt pointless, so he didn't bother.

"I wasn't tricking you," Ashe said, scratching his head. "I only realized just now that you could cheat like that. No wonder I couldn't land a single punch back then."

"Then how did you manage to think 'You're pretty cute' while trying to punch me in the face?"

"Thinking you're cute doesn't contradict wanting to punch you!"

Iger replied, "Normally, I hear a person's deepest desire. Superficial lies never fool me. If you wanted to hit me, I would hear 'I want to hit you,' not 'You're pretty cute.'"

Ashe tilted his head. "

Oh

, I get it now. I was probably distracted."

"Distracted?"

"Yeah. When I get distracted, my mind wanders and... entertains itself. So I genuinely thought you looked cute."

"Then why did you suddenly hit me?"

Ashe shrugged. "I got distracted, then perked up, and slipped straight into work mode. Those visuals only affect how fast I work."

It sounded reasonable... but Iger refused to believe that Ashe getting "distracted" could explain why he misheard his thoughts.

Who would buy that? The leader of the Four Pillars Cult, a genius martial artist who grew stronger mid-battle, losing focus in a fight? Impossible.

On top of that, Ashe had pretended not to know Syrin Dorr earlier. Iger was more convinced than ever that Ashe had simply perfected the art of disguising himself.

"No way. Even if you were distracted, I would have heard your real thoughts!"

"Don't be so sure. Maybe your ability has limits..."

"If you say so, then let me test it!"

Iger reached out and touched Ashe's cheek. "I can tell if you're lying from the change in your body temperature. Say anything. It doesn't matter if it's true or a lie. Even if my talent has limits, I'll still know."

Ashe blinked. "The sentence I'm saying right now is a lie."

Iger froze.

Was that statement true or false? If it was true, then calling it a lie made it false; but if it was false, then it became true...

The loops tied his brain into knots. He slumped dazed in his seat, muttering, "true, false, true, false," like a puppet with cut strings.

Ashe shrugged. He'd run into this brainteaser countless times during interviews.

Clearly, the kids in this world had never encountered anything like it.

A commotion erupted at the entrance of the Death Match Club.

"

Oh?

Isn't this our esteemed elf?"

"Lord Uhl, I offer you my sincerest blessings. Should I lick your shoes too?"

"Make way! Don't dirty the elf lord's clothes! Lowborn races aren't allowed within five steps of an elf!"

The chip prevented outright insults, but it only blocked direct abusive language. It wasn't smart enough to catch sarcasm or passive-aggressive remarks.

Ashe found it amusing how well the crowd coordinated their mockery.

He didn't expect moral refinement from death-row inmates. Here, physical fights were banned, verbal bullying was forbidden, and not even a single hair could be touched. This left sarcasm as the only way to offend someone. In the adult world, however, this kind of bullying was no more threatening than a girlfriend lightly punching her boyfriend's chest. It was pathetic and boring, and most people would quickly get tired of it.

The fact that they kept it up meant only one thing.

"Thank you for your concern," Varkas said with a polite bow. "I trust you all wiped your mouths properly after leaving the washroom?"

"Varkas, are you telling us to eat shit?"

"No. I was praising the ones who wipe their mouths after eating shit. Why did you jump in? Did you eat some too?"

"Varkas!"

"Your tone's a bit sharp. And it smells like urine. Seems like you enjoy a varied diet."

"Varkas!"

"Why so tense? I wasn't insulting you. This reminds me of a joke. I once tossed trash downstairs and accidentally hit a dog. Of course, the dog barked. Perfectly reasonable, right? So if you hear barking while throwing trash... well, you probably hit a dog."

"Varkas!"

"I'm surprised so many of you actually wipe after using the bathroom. I used to hear rumors that the Shattered Lake prisoners eat waste. I'll be sure to clear those rumors up for you."

Iger couldn't help laughing. "Only in the Shattered Lake Prison could verbal swordplay get this absurd."

Ashe nodded. Now he understood why Varkas could silence a dozen people with nothing but words. The chip blocked any obscene language. The moment someone tried to curse, it would shut their throat, leaving all the words to fester in their stomach. That was why all they could do was shout his name.

Meanwhile, Varkas baited them again and again, making it appear as though they were the ones instigating the fights.

Here, surviving a verbal duel required two skills, namely knowing how to insult without uttering a single banned word, and provoking the enemy just enough to make the chip silence them.

By those standards, Varkas was untouchable. The inmates never stood a chance. They kept tripping over their anger, and the chip muted them instantly.

Anyone who tried to act physically didn't fare better. The moment they lashed out, the chip immobilized them, causing them to collapse on the floor instantly.

"No need for formalities. Step aside."

Varkas lifted his chin elegantly and walked through. The defeated inmates seethed. They glared but were unable to speak or lash out, perfectly illustrating what impotent rage looked like.

It's no wonder sarcasm never went out of fashion here. With a verbal assassin like Varkas, the battles never grew dull. Half the prison would likely spend the night lying awake, plotting their next comeback.

"Ashe Heath?"

"Varkas Uhl?"

Varkas regained his composure[1] when he saw Ashe from a distance. "If you're ready, let's begin."

Every gaze in the Death Match Club turned toward them. Some looked eager, some wore mocking expressions, while others were simply hungry for chaos.

Iger glanced at Ashe.

Now that he knows Varkas has ties to Professor Syrin, he should realize that this duel is dangerous. If I were him, I'd refuse outright. Never fight a match you aren't sure you can win.

Iger blinked. "Swordswoman?"

He heard Ashe murmured Swordswoman, but no one here was called that, and Ashe wasn't looking at anyone in particular.

Getting no response, Ashe turned back to Varkas. "To think I'd feel a little lonely without her..."

Iger didn't know why, but he still offered advice. "Varkas is much stronger than me. You can't beat him with tricks. His sword hits hard, hard enough to decide the match with one blow."

"Thank you," Ashe said with a small smile. "This time, I won't rely on cheap tricks."

"Then what will you rely on?"

"My life. I'm betting his first strike won't kill me."

As Varkas entered the ring, Ashe stood. "If he doesn't kill me with his first strike, the second will be my opening to counterattack."

1. The raw text mentions that Varkas has a lean face, but adding that detail here disrupts the flow, so I left it out. ☜