37. The Belated Judgment (10, Ouroboros)

"What would you choose, Father?" someone asked in the darkness.

The Lion woke at the sound. Before he had even opened his eyes, he reflexively slashed out with his sword. A tree was split in two by his violence, yet did not fall; the crowns of the other trees supported it together, sparing the surrounding grass from being bent at the waist.

The Lion slowly lowered the Lion Sword.

Had he let down his guard? No, he had not, though it certainly appeared that way. It was an obvious deception. No opponent with even a little intelligence would take it as a sign that he had relaxed.

But if he had truly arrived in a place surrounded by demons, then those inferior breeds incapable of restraining themselves would surely come howling out from the surrounding thickets.

It was in their nature—to be noisy, always screaming, craving sustenance in any form. They were born without the ability to judge the situation, and that was in fact the deliberate design of their creator.

The Lion slightly loosened his fingers, lowered his head, and breathed quietly twice.

He was listening to this unfamiliar world. A torrent of information that ordinary people would struggle to detect rushed toward him, only to be held back by a dam he had built within his mind. Only a few crucial pieces of information were allowed through.

They were combined with an unusual purity, becoming a "perception"—a precious ability born from the union of innate instinct and acquired training, an intuition capable of surpassing all else.

That intuition made Lion El'Jonson understand, very unwillingly, that he was still on Caliban.

Then he began to consider: Caliban at what point in time?

He could not help trying to deduce it. The precedent was still laid plainly before him; it