***
"You can complete me."
The old man’s shoulders flinched greatly.
He slowly turned his head.
His blue eyes were trembling.
His expression was as though he had come face to face with a ghost from the past.
"······Complete, you say."
Charles gave a bitter laugh and set down the stick.
He took a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
The fingertips that lit one trembled faintly.
"You came to the wrong address. I am not someone fit to teach anyone. My sword has already broken, and my era is over."
He exhaled a long stream of smoke and avoided my eyes.
The eyes of a loser.
A typical old man’s routine, treating himself like scrap.
Ordinarily, this would be the point where one backed down, or appealed to shallow sentiment.
But I knew that accurate "calculation of interests" moved people more than "emotional pleading."
Especially if the person was a Hunter.
"No. Your sword is not broken. That blow just now was a realm even active Hunters cannot imitate."
"Only your mouth is alive. Are you trying so hard to flatter an old man?"
"I am not saying empty words. I need power, and you···."
I paused for a moment and stared at his empty right sleeve.
I aimed precisely at the place that would hurt him most.
"Do you not need revenge?"
CRUNCH.
The cigarette filter Charles was biting was crushed between his teeth.
The helplessness from a moment ago evaporated in an instant, and a sticky, cold bloodlust rose.
I had touched his reverse scale.
"Revenge? What do you know, brat, to run your mouth?"
The air grew heavy.
The killing intent of an S-Rank Hunter.
It was a pressure that would have made an ordinary person foam at the mouth and faint.
But I received that bloodlust without blinking once.
Rather, it became the trigger that convinced me of my hypothesis.
A short while ago, when I mentioned Campania Gate, he had become furious enough to break his soju cup.
In my memories before the regression, Campania had been a "land of glory" for him.
But this place was different.
In this world, there was no Sword Saint Kang Tae-yoon.
'Campania without Kang Tae-yoon.'
Then there was only one answer.
He had lost.
Instead of glory, there must have been only a wretched massacre there.
There, he had lost his arm, lost his comrades, and lost even his honor as a Hunter, becoming the sole survivor.
The world must have pointed fingers at him as a coward who abandoned his comrades and ran.
It was obvious.
Because I, too, had gone through countless such scenarios in the ruined world.
'So that was your wound. A rotten, festering scar.'
Once I was certain, my words went out like blades.
"Campania Gate."
The moment I spoke that name again, Charles’s expression twisted like that of a vengeful ghost.
"Reinforcements probably never came, and you must have been isolated."
"······."
"You must have watched your comrades being torn apart one by one. Someone like you would never have let go of your sword until the end, but··· in the end, you had no choice but to give up one arm and escape."
Charles’s eyes shook violently.
The reaction of someone struck in the sore spot.
I did not stop. I dug further into the wound.
"Rather than relief at surviving, the guilt of being the only one alive must have eaten away at you. Along with hatred for the bastards who pushed your back into that hell."
"Shut up···."
"Do you drink to forget that? Or do you drink so you will never forget that hatred?"
"You bastard!"
Charles’s foot struck the ground.
A shockwave swept over me.
I was not pushed back.
If I backed down here, the conversation was over.
I glared straight at him and shouted.
"There is no way you ran away. You are not the kind of man who would do that."
"······!"
"Then there is only one answer left. You were driven out. You were cast out after barely keeping your life at the cost of one arm. And that is why you are stuck in this corner, waiting for a death that never comes and gnawing yourself away, is it not?"
"Do you want to die?"
The stick pointed at my neck.
Killing intent pierced my skin.
But I smiled.
"No. I want to kill."
"······What?"
"Like you, I am going mad because there are bastards I want to tear apart and kill. That is why I need power."
I grabbed the stick pointed at my neck with my hand.
"You are old, and you have no arm. You cannot take revenge yourself. But your sword remains."
"······."
"Teach me the sword. Then I will become your blade. I will become the right arm you lost, and tear that Gate and those bastards apart for you."
This was not the plea of a disciple asking to serve a master.
It was a contract.
A bargain secured by each other’s hatred.
Charles breathed roughly.
His blue eyes swept over me.
Was it merely reckless bravado, or was it the real thing?
I, too, did not back down and stared into his abyss.
After a long silence, he withdrew the stick.
"······Ha, hahaha."
A dry laugh burst out.
The corner of his mouth twisted.
It was not a kind smile.
It was the smile of a beast before its prey, no, the smile of a villain who had met an accomplice.
"You are insane. Not in your right mind."
"Would I have come this far if I were in my right mind?"
He took a new cigarette from his pocket and bit it.
"You are right. I am old and ill. I cannot cut off their heads with my own hands. Every night, I kill them in my dreams, but when I open my eyes, there is only a crippled old man."
He rose from his seat.
The shadow of his huge body fell over me.
"But I can sharpen a blade. A very sharp, very mad blade."
He tapped my shoulder.
It was heavy.
"Do not misunderstand, young man. This is not a lesson. It is Refining (forging)."
"······."
"Master and disciple? I do not play at such ticklish games. I am a blacksmith, and you are metal. I will heat you and beat you to draw out the impurities. It will be pain that grinds your bones and burns your flesh. Even if you want to run, I will not let you."
He was seeing me not as a person, but as a tool.
An agent who would complete his revenge.
That did not matter.
I, too, intended to use him to become stronger.
A thorough symbiotic relationship of mutual exploitation.
It was exactly what I wanted.
"That is what I am best at. Enduring pain."
At my answer, Charles chuckled.
"You are quite the madman."
He held out his hand.
A rough, cold hand covered in calluses.
I took that hand.
"Keep just one thing in mind."
Charles tightened the hand he was holding and pulled me in.
His blue eyes shone coldly.
"I will use you thoroughly for my revenge. I will not care whether you break or fall apart."
I gave a small laugh and met his gaze.
"Then take the tuition fee first. Give me one card for now."
"······Pardon?"
"I am hungry, you see."
The empty palm he shamelessly held out.
The murderous atmosphere from a moment ago was nowhere to be found, and he had returned to being a shameless drunkard.
For a contract with a legend, it was an excessively realistic beginning.
***
The moment I returned home and closed the front door, my pocket vibrated.
It was a text message.
[Card approved: 452,000 won - D Mart]
"······What?"
I doubted my eyes.
I had handed him my card and told him to buy one bottle of soju and some snacks, and it was 452,000 won?
I checked the details.
Thunderbolt Soju (Box) x 3
Mana Stone Cartridge (small household) x 10
Spicy Ramen (5-pack) x 2
Assorted Dried Seafood Set x 1
Tofu Kimchi Meal Kit x 3
Daily necessities (soap, toothpaste, toilet paper, etc.)
Mirror (extra-large) x 1
"This old man."
A hollow laugh burst out.
This old geezer said he was only buying alcohol, but he had gone grocery shopping with full intent.
Buying boxes of soju was absurd enough, but the list of items was a spectacle.
Tofu kimchi and ramen?
Was he not from England?
He had even frugally picked up daily necessities.
"Does he··· have no money?"
It could be true.
After retiring, he must have blown all his pension on alcohol, and he was a one-armed old man living alone with no family.
A legend suffering from poverty.
It was bitter.
"Hoo···."
I threw myself onto the sofa.
Fatigue came over me, but my mind was full of Charles’s empty sleeve.
I took out my smartphone and searched for "Campania Gate."
Before my regression, articles related to Campania Gate had poured out endlessly.
Because a Hunter affiliated with Korea had subjugated an S-Rank variant Gate.
But now, it was as expected.
[The Fall of the Swordsman of Blue Thunder]
[Catastrophe of 45 Hunters, Who Is Responsible?]
[Italian Hunter Association Decides Permanent Sealing of Campania Gate]
[Invictus Expels Charles, Citing Painful Sense of Responsibility]
[International Hunter Association Fully Withdraws Discussion of Hunter Charles’s Promotion to S-Rank]
'Butterfly effect.'
The countless disasters my brother had stopped.
There was no shield to stop them.
There would be countless Hunters who had been crippled or killed like Charles.
A weakened humanity.
And the clock of destruction approaching as scheduled.
'Then··· this world is far more dangerous than I thought.'
A chill ran down my spine.
Evil God Dragon Zephyros, ten years from now.
I had to stop that monster, which could not be stopped even with my brother there, alone in this weak world without him.
'I have to become stronger.'
Simple leveling up would not be enough.
Charles’s swordsmanship.
I had to make the technique that exploded mana and exceeded physical limits my own.
That was the only solution.
"Airi."
[Yes, Successor.]
"The slash from old man Charles earlier. You analyzed it, right?"
[Yes. It was aura control of an astonishing level.]
[It is a method of compressing aura inside the muscles, then opening it only at the moment of impact.]
"How does it compare to my aura? Numerically."
[Analysis result: there is no large difference in quantitative aura amount compared to the Successor.]
[On the contrary, the Successor may have the greater total amount.]
"······What?"
An unexpected answer.
I shot to my feet.
"That can’t be. That old man was a monster. The pressure was different."
[Data does not lie.]
[Charles Edward Blake’s aura core is damaged due to aging and injury.]
[His output itself is similar to the Successor’s.]
It was a shock.
A similar output.
But the result was as different as heaven and earth.
If what I had swung was a club, he had fired a cannon.
"In the end··· is it an issue of efficiency?"
My [Synchronization] method of converting mana into aura.
The loss and delay that came from that.
And my lack of technique in handling aura.
Even using the same fuel, it was like the difference between an F1 engine and a cultivator engine.
'I have to catch up.'
There was only one method.
Stealing his technique.
Carving that sense into my body.
I did not think I would be able to sleep tonight.
***
4:00 a.m.
The forest before dawn was as dark as pitch.
A hill behind City Hall.
In a clearing untouched by people, Charles stood.
He was still dressed in that old trench coat.
In one hand, instead of a liquor bottle, he held a wooden sword.
"You came."
"I did."
"You have a good expression. There is venom in it."
He nodded as if satisfied.
Then he threw me a wooden sword.
A heavy oak wooden sword.
"Now, let us begin. I will not give complicated explanations."
He drew a line on the ground.
"Ten thousand times. Ten thousand cuts."
"······Pardon?"
"Just cut. Do not use aura, only pure muscle strength. Do not even think of resting until you finish ten thousand."
An extremely simple training method.
But I took my stance without complaint.
If this had been before my regression, I would have been horrified.
But right now, I was inheriting the Sword Saint.
"I like that it is simple."
Hoo, swish.
Hoo, swish.
Repetitive swings.
One thousand, two thousand.
Sweat ran down, and my shoulders grew stiff, but my speed did not fall.
Rather, the more the number increased, the more it felt as though my body was loosening.
The Sword Saint’s physical memory was optimizing the movements.
'This is manageable.'
Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine.
Ten thousand.
After finishing the last swing, I caught my breath.
I was in better shape than I expected.
"I finished."
I reported confidently.
Charles had been dozing off while sitting on a rock, and he opened his eyes at my voice.
"Hm, your body is more useful than I expected."
He approached while yawning.
Then he grabbed my wrist.
"Have you ever learned swordsmanship?"
"No."
"You look like it. Your sword work is completely all over the place. Like British food. Full of strength and without any finesse."
Charles’s gaze turned cold.
A strange force flowed from his grip.
Pressure.
My wrist grew heavy, as though it weighed a thousand pounds.
It was not simply a force pressing down.
It felt as if gravity were acting ten times more strongly only on my wrist.
The air seemed to cling stickily and drag the sword downward.
It was pressure using aura.
"What··· is this?"
"A shackle. To control that rampaging strength of yours."
Charles let go of my hand.
But the weight remained the same.
A single wooden sword felt as though it weighed a hundred kilograms.
My arm trembled.
"Now, round two."
The old man smiled cruelly.
"This time, thirty thousand. But if the tip of your sword wavers by even one degree, you start over from the beginning."
That was insane.
Thirty thousand in this state?
My arm would be torn off.
"Why? Can’t do it? You were going on about revenge and all that, and this much is enough to stop you?"
His eyes were not smiling.
A silent pressure telling me to give up now if I was going to.
I clenched my teeth.
Stubbornness surged up.
Who was I?
The man who had reached the peak of the 9th Circle while coughing up blood.
Did he think I would kneel to something like weight play?
"I will do it. I will."
I raised the sword again.
My shoulder ligaments screamed.
But I did not stop.
One.
The sword fell, drawing a trajectory.
Heavy.
It felt as though I was swinging a blade inside a swamp.
Two.
My posture nearly collapsed.
I endured by putting strength into my lower back.
Three, four···.
Once I passed a thousand, my senses disappeared.
A state of selflessness where I could not even feel pain.
Only the sword’s trajectory and the contraction of muscles remained in my mind.
'It works...!'
In that process, I realized it.
I was not supposed to win with strength.
I had to ride the flow.
How to cut by using the weight instead of resisting it.
This was what Charles wanted.
The old man opened a bottle of soju from a distance.
Like an audience member watching a circus, he watched my desperate struggle with interested eyes.
***
SHAAAAAA—
The shower stream struck my back.
The hot water melted my hardened muscles.
My whole body throbbed, but it did not feel bad.
'I did it.'
Thirty thousand.
At the end, I had no feeling in my hands, but I never let go of the sword.
And I felt it.
The sensation, however faint, of aura’s flow assimilating with my muscles.
This training had an effect.
I shook out my hair and changed clothes.
Instead of a neat suit, I wore a comfortable shirt and slacks.
The commuting clothes of a civil servant Hunter.
I checked the clock.
8:30 a.m.
Thirty minutes remained until work.
'I should go a little early.'
I headed to the second floor of the annex.
The morning air was refreshing.
I opened the office door.
Jingle.
It was quiet.
No one was there.
An empty office.
Hong Tae-hwa naturally would not have arrived, and Kim Dae-han seemed to be out on external duty as well.
I sat at my seat and opened the file folder Kim Dae-han had given me.
[Supernatural Ability Management Department Work Manual].
Manage reports of Awakened moving into the jurisdiction
Control scenes and take initial measures when small-scale Gates occur
Dispose of small monster corpses and perform disinfection
Receive civil complaints (mainly noise, property damage, etc.)
"He said there were no odd jobs."
Extremely civil servant-like duties.
When would Kim Dae-han retrieve the bait he had cast?
I tapped the desk and sank into thought.
It was then.
"Oh? You’re early."
The door opened, and someone entered.
It was Chu Jae-hee.
The same checkered shirt and horn-rimmed glasses as yesterday.
In his hand was a convenience store sandwich.
"Good morning, Appraiser. You are diligent."
"Ah, no. Actually, I kept thinking about the part where I got stuck while appraising yesterday."
He scratched the back of his head shyly.
Dark circles lay heavily under his eyes, but his pupils were shining brightly.
"I couldn’t sleep at all, so I stayed up until dawn, and as soon as the sun rose, I ran over. I was going crazy because I wanted to check it quickly."
"Pardon?"
A workaholic.
No, that was madness.
The faint mana powder on the ends of his sleeves told me what he had been doing all night.
He had not simply come early.
He had stayed up all night, obsessed with an artifact.
'This man··· is not normal either.'
There was not a single normal person in the Supernatural Ability Management Team.
I gave a small laugh and operated the coffee machine.