Chapter 44: The Gladiator’s Bond

– Gladiator of Chains

The bastard son of the Yokai King found salvation in the form of maternal care from the Silent Swordsman.

A futile existence that had once been expelled from the palace, unable even to dream of revenge, now brimmed with purpose. In gratitude for her warmth and understanding, he vowed to do whatever it took to repay her.

“What is your purpose for entering the arena, Mother?”

The Silent Swordsman pointed toward the palace.

Whatever she sought to achieve there, whatever she desired, became his goal as well. His devotion was unflinching, his resolve unquestionable.

“If the palace holds your objective, then victory is imperative. I’ll find the strongest gladiators to aid us.”

His confident declaration spurred a fiery wave of jealousy and rivalry in the chatroom.

[Chatroom Comments:]
– Mom-Swordsman’s son (not actually her son)
– Yokai King’s son (technically illegitimate)
– Charming Half-Yokai (more like Charming Mom’s Half-Yokai)
– IDK (idk indeed)
– Kimchi Stew for Breakfast (without meat!)
– Didn’t Ask (did you add tofu?)
– Follow This Simple Trick (you can’t, actually)
– What the Hell (stop derailing!)
– You’re Cursing Already LOL (please keep it PG!)
– We Loved Her First! (says Reaction-Only Viewer)
– Field Boss Incoming (longer the wait, longer the stream)
– What Are You Doing? (not like I care, tho)
– When’s Her Son Getting Married? (never, but you knew that)
– Self-Destruct Yokai LOL (like you didn’t fail too!)
– If Mom-Swordsman’s my mom, I’d marry her!
– Get Lost! (seriously?)
– MIA Ping (your mom!)
– Whatever! (stupid Water Yokai Leader)

As always, the chaotic chat devolved into arguments and spiraled into absurdities, ultimately ending in the familiar internal collapse caused by the Self-Destruct Yokai fanbase.

2.

Mother.

Even upon reflection, it felt like an absurd request.

Had it been a demand or a negotiation, she might not have entertained the idea of letting him call her that. But of all things, it had been framed as a request.

It brought back memories of another plea—one made long ago, during her time with the Cognitive Sect.

The requests may have differed, but both the Yokai King’s bastard son and the humanoid Yokai Inmyeon Jiju had something in common: their yearning for emotional connections and understanding.

And in her heart, she understood their loneliness.

More than that, guilt lingered.

A plea for help from the young crown prince of the Daemyeong Empire haunted her. Back then, she couldn’t fulfill his request.

‘This won’t erase the guilt I feel for what happened to him.’

Even slaying the emperor had left the boy with a fate he never desired—to ascend as emperor in his father’s place.

Her actions had sealed his doom.

No amount of self-serving gestures to ease her conscience could change the past.

“This… princeling,” came a voice, cold and sharp, “why do you fight alongside filthy humans? That wasn’t part of our deal.”

In that sense, dealing with the enslaved gladiator was far easier.

The Silent Swordsman could focus solely on her combat prowess without worrying about guilt or heartache.

The sinister voice echoed from the dark interior of an open wardrobe, its unseen depths brimming with palpable malice.

The Silent Swordsman raised her blade.

A sinister aura, black and broiling, oozed out from the wardrobe’s depths. Like a ticking bomb, the atmosphere grew heavy, tension thick enough to snap.

Boom!

The Silent Swordsman’s blade struck like lightning, deflecting the pitch-black hand that had emerged from the wardrobe.

[Chatroom Comments:]
– It deflected the Silent Swordsman’s sword?!
– Classic faceless monsters: ridiculously OP.
– A proud tradition in this genre, lol.

The viewers reveled in the monstrous display of power, but Hae Eung Eung sensed something was off.

‘Impressive. Even the Executioner of the Hill of Corpses, a top-tier external martial artist, couldn’t fend off my strikes so perfectly.’

Since beginning her journey in the Half-Yokai Song, this was the first time her attacks had been rendered so ineffective.

This monster boasted iron-like skin akin to the Executioner, always hiding in the shadows to conceal any weaknesses. Its grotesque arms stretched unnaturally, defying all conventional limits of length and joint movement, striking with sudden precision.

“So, you’re no ordinary human,” Hae Eung Eung murmured, adjusting her grip on her sword.

However, the monster did not lunge again.

“The terror within the wardrobe, the shapeless assailant. From now on, you may call me… Boogeyman,” the voice intoned.

As Hae Eung Eung acknowledged the Boogeyman’s presence, so too did he recognize her strength.

Ordinarily, no human could withstand the Boogeyman’s incorporeal form, a unique power that rendered him immune to physical attacks while enabling him to strike with impunity. Yet her blade, imbued with inner energy, had left a distinct and undeniable impact.

The force of her strike was extraordinary—far beyond what any mere human could produce.

“Well, well,” he remarked with a sinister chuckle. “You’re impressive, young lady. To be acknowledged by a Yokai infamous for killing its own allies… not many can claim such a feat.”

Before she could respond, a sly, mustachioed man approached her. He wore a green traditional robe typical of the Hui people, paired with a white scarf tied around his head like a turban, giving him the look of a traveling merchant.

“You may call this humble servant Maga-nom,” he said, bowing theatrically. “Though I scarcely deserve it, I’ve inherited the great surname of Mahamud, albeit in its simplest form.”

“I recognize no such title,” the Boogeyman growled. “You’re nothing more than a pitiful human who knows how to flee.”

“Quite so,” Maga-nom agreed without hesitation. “Even the prince himself has declared that my sole value lies in ensuring a single match ends in a draw. I beg your pardon for my humble talents.”

Despite his sycophantic tone, Maga-nom carried himself with the confidence of someone who could hold his own. If even a monster like the Boogeyman tolerated him, it was clear the man had his uses.

Soon, heavy, resounding footsteps drew everyone’s attention.

A towering figure, over three meters tall, emerged. The air grew colder with each step, frost spreading at his feet. His massive form exuded a stench so foul it was nearly unbearable. With antlers like a deer’s and a grotesque, beastly face, he appeared to be something caught between man and monster.

“An incomplete Yokai,” the Boogeyman muttered. “A Half-Wendigo.”

Maga-nom clasped his hands together, his sly voice dripping with flattery.

“Wendigos, rejected for their vile stench and feral temper, are rarely chosen by masters. Though unappealing as candidates, their strength and abilities are undeniable. The prince’s foresight is truly remarkable.”

Including the Silent Swordsman, their team now consisted of four members: the Boogeyman, Maga-nom, the Half-Wendigo, and herself.

It wasn’t a full roster, but their distinct skills and personalities made them stand out far more than the nameless s*ave gladiators with collars around their necks whom she had seen in the streets.

“These are the gladiators I managed to gather,” the prince said. “Though the team isn’t complete, they are more than capable of helping you achieve your goals, Mother.”

Hae Eung Eung assessed the group, feeling a mix of surprise and respect.

‘I didn’t expect much, but the prince’s abilities are impressive. Is it charisma? Or influence?’

He wasn’t the incompetent man-child she’d initially taken him for. Despite his emotional immaturity, the bastard prince of the Yokai King possessed remarkable potential.

Her evaluation of him rose. If he could command the presence needed to unite this ragtag team and solidify their loyalty, her opinion of him might climb even higher.

As if sensing her thoughts, the prince blushed slightly, his ears turning red. He asked hesitantly, “Are you satisfied with the team I’ve assembled?”

Hae Eung Eung nodded, silently acknowledging his efforts.

Among the gathered fighters, the Boogeyman stood out as someone whose skill would make him difficult to match even within the blood-soaked sands of the arena.

Hae Eung Eung knew this all too well.

“Then, if I may dare to ask… could you grant me a small request?”

A request. Another attempt to probe her vulnerabilities.

Though her brow furrowed slightly at the prospect, Hae Eung Eung found herself unable to outright refuse. It annoyed her—this persistent weakness of hers—but she eventually nodded.

“Then, I’ll humbly make my appeal to you, Mother.”

His voice trembled as he nervously wrung his hands, his face taut with tension.

“My father, the Yokai King, once spoke of how much trouble you had managing your long hair. He said you used a jade hairpin to keep it neat and tied easily.”

Hae Eung Eung stiffened, her wariness spiking. Was he about to start calling her “Mommy” or plead for hugs like some clinging child? She braced herself against the oncoming awkwardness.

Instead, the prince shyly held out a jade hairpin.

Her eyes fell to the delicate ornament, her expression momentarily blank as she processed his intent.

“Your ebony-like hair is so beautiful,” he said earnestly, “but I fear it may become damaged in the rough battles with the gladiators. Please, take this. It’s to help protect it.”

A gift.

An expression of genuine sincerity—one offered by a man, not as a romantic gesture, but as a token of thoughtfulness.

“Please,” he said, bowing his head, “accept this jade hairpin.”

But Hae Eung Eung hesitated.

If she accepted this, what would it signify? Would she not cease to be herself—both the Silent Swordsman and Hae Eung Eung? Would she instead become a stand-in for the mother this bastard prince had lost?

Could she truly accept the symbolism of being someone’s replacement?

“…”

Her silence stretched on, her indecision evident.

The longer she refrained from taking the hairpin, the more the prince’s expression hardened, uncertainty creeping into his features.