With my experience and the knowledge upon which it’s founded, that’s how. And … if I have another advantage, it’s this.
In the palm of his hand, he idly rolled the murky-black jewel—the so-called beast gem, the poisonous crystal he had never swallowed.
To be young was not to know fear—and to be obedient. When told to take the jewels, they took; when told to swallow the jewels, they swallowed. If courage and open-mindedness were to blame, then Sheep had discarded those concerns a long time ago. He knew that to live was to be cautious, and to survive was to avoid taking risks—and to live was to win.
Sheep wasn’t a master poisoner and hadn’t recognized the jewels for what they were, but precisely because he couldn’t identify the objects, he let the other fighters take theirs first, and no matter the orders of that silk-hatted judge, Sheep didn’t swallow his jewel. The moment the Duodecuple said, “However, I’m going to have to ask you to swallow only one,” Sheep concluded that those little orbs were dangerous.
And so he only pretended to swallow his, instead stowing it in his breast pocket. Compared to some of his competitors’ actions, like Chicken’s Eye of the Cormorant and Sky Burial, which technically speaking called in the help of outside actors and might have been considered by some as a breach of the rules—or at least as occupying a gray area—Sheep’s disobedience was a clear and flagrant violation. Even Dog, who neutralized his poison within his body, was a different story. If anyone had noticed Sheep’s actions, he would have been immediately disqualified. In other words, Sheep, informed by his life experiences, determined that the risk of obeying the instructions and swallowing the jewel outweighed the risk of getting caught.
If I had to identify the tipping point, Sheep thought, it was that the jewel’s cut seemed unnatural. The murky-black color had a beauty to it, but the cut did not.
Call it a sense for aesthetics cultivated over his long life. He had been right; the jewel’s cut wasn’t for appearance’s sake but to prevent the fighters from regurgitating the crystals. By not panicking when told they had just swallowed poison, his opponents showed themselves to be warriors—but as far as Sheep was concerned, a true warrior would never swallow poison.
This means that I alone am free from the time limit. But I can’t let this advantage tempt me into remaining frivolously idle.
Dog, having neutralized his poison, had decided to keep himself hidden until his foes were nearly out of time. Sheep was not clairvoyant, nor did he have the Eye of the Cormorant, and had no way of knowing Chicken had upturned Dog’s strategy. Nevertheless, Sheep chose to pursue a different approach. Unlike Dog, who possessed absolute faith in his strength in combat and the power of his fangs, the old man ranked himself in tenth place or below. A poor fighter in perfect health was not guaranteed a victory over a top fighter weakened by poison—or at least that was how Sheep saw it.
Also, unlike Dog, Sheep had committed a serious violation of the rules. If he waited out a prolonged battle, he risked exposing his transgression, which would mean immediate disqualification. Even if his strategic goal remained the same as Dog’s—to let the stronger fighters kill each other off—he couldn’t merely sit around and wait for it to happen.
That’s why I need to put this advantage to work in another fashion. I have in my hand a jewel that everyone else has swallowed. I can use it as a bargaining chip.
He needed to go after someone in the middling ranks—ideally somewhere around fourth, fifth, or sixth place—someone not particularly worried about losing, but who must have also devised a strategy to compete with the top three who stood so far above the rest. A fighter in that position would be seeking an ace in the hole. By offering that ace, Sheep might be able to secure himself that thing that every fighter wanted but only rarely seemed to find—an alliance.
Of course it’s clear to see that as long as there can be only one winner, any alliance, and any form of cooperation, will collapse at the end. But I know of a way to preserve that relationship until the last possible moment.
Sheep might have been the only fighter who could use that method. When he decided not to swallow his jewel, he paid close attention to the other fighters to see who swallowed theirs—and all, save for the already dead Snake, had indeed ingested the poison.
And no matter how calm and collected these people may try to act, I know they’re anxious—even if they might be a natural, like Ox, or a hero. Not only do they have to battle one another, they are fighting against the pressure of knowing they must win before the poison kills them. Maybe, due to some blunder on the part of the organizers, their poison will act more quickly than intended. Or maybe, rather than just react to the poison, their bodies will have an allergic reaction to the foreign objects. No matter how resolute the fighters may be, once that poison is waiting in their stomachs, there’s no end to the doubts and worries.
The poisoned fighters wouldn’t be able to remain sound in mind or body—well, except for the ones who weren’t sound in the first place, like Rabbit, but aside from such exceptional exceptions, some crack would appear. And into that crack Sheep would strike—but with a gentle touch.
Sheep ran through the scenario in his mind.
First he would establish contact with a fighter in fourth place or below on his list, and then he would attempt to make a deal—while displaying the poison gem in his hand. He already knew what he would say.
“With my special power, I can manipulate quantum tunnels at will and enable objects of my choosing to pass through solid matter.”
This, of course, was a complete lie. Whatever special combat powers he might have once possessed had faded to nothing over the years—no necromanticism or Eye of the Cormorant for him—but pretending he had something he lacked was easier than pretending to lack something he had. After all, he held an object that was supposed to be in his stomach—convincing his mark that he had reached past his skin, flesh, and organs to pull out the jewel was entirely possible, if he sold it right.
Because Sheep had encountered a soldier with a similar ability in the past, he could bring a certain air of truth to the lie. This was where he needed to put his life experience to work—otherwise, if his target began to have an inkling of doubt, his tale would fall apart.
But this was merely his lead-in. To simply announce that he was free of the poison would earn him only animosity, but if he were to offer, “I can remove yours from your body without causing you any harm,” then a negotiation could start.