1.
About four months had passed since then.
When the shadows of sunset began to fall thickly along the forest’s edge, a group of teenagers dragged themselves toward the living quarters. They were around fifteen or sixteen years old, and every face showed extreme exhaustion. Naturally, they were students of Lion’s Moat. The group from the Third Moat, to which Kun belonged, was returning to the barracks after completing the day’s training.
“Ugh…” one of them groaned, unable to hold back.
“No… strength left,” he muttered.
The tips of his fingers were deathly pale, and a strange rash resembling fever spots showed on his face and body. Soon other students, who looked no better, began groaning as well.
“Me too…”
“I’ll die soon.”
“M-my stomach… burning like fire.”
It was obvious from their faces that the cause was not only heavy exercise. There was another reason. At that moment, one student walking nearby suddenly widened his eyes and shouted:
“M-my stomach! Suddenly—!!”
Rrrr, gurgle, grrr—.
Before he could finish, a thunder-like sound echoed inside him.
“Ugh!” Several students immediately covered their noses and openly mocked him.
“Damn, what a stink.”
“No kidding. Hear that? Someone let one slip?”
“Maybe he filled his pants? Heh-heh.”
Crude, childishly cruel jeers. Not everyone behaved that way, however. Only the few who looked relatively healthy mocked him. Most watched the fleeing boy with sympathetic gazes.
Naturally…
Mild cough, chills, stomach trouble — the symptoms differed only in severity. Nearly everyone present experienced something similar. Moreover, the number of students, once exceeding one hundred fifty, had quietly shrunk to one hundred thirty. All consequences of taking Witch’s Garden.
Still, considering three had died on the very first day of poison intake, getting away with mild sickness was luck.
While Kun thought this over, he had already reached his dwelling.
Creak, click.
Unlike the other children, Kun’s face looked perfectly healthy. Aside from dust settling on it and slight fatigue, his skin showed no spots or traces of the poison’s harmful effects.
Noticing his reflection in the window glass, Kun slowly raised his hand. The moment his palm touched his chest, a heavy resonant power answered from deep within.
Uuuuuung…
A sound like the hum of a swarm of bees. It felt as if a predator lurked behind his ribs — one that had just eaten its fill and become temporarily docile. This was the Mana-heart of his technique Supernatural Power and Divine Madness. Its influence had become noticeably larger. A faint smile appeared on Kun’s lips.
It’s grown almost eighty percent?
Without exaggeration, his magical power had nearly doubled. An unbelievable leap in only four months. Such a thing would be impossible without consuming a rare elixir. Meeting his reflection’s gaze, Kun continued:
Who would’ve thought my technique can devour toxins.
And not merely devour. His power digested the poison, turning it into energy and expanding. Kun involuntarily shook his head. His magical strength grew as if he had been taking a precious medicine.
In essence, I’ve taken an elixir every three days…
Naturally his strength had increased.
The problem is, in the fragments of memory Myung left me, there was no mention of such an ability.
Kun sat down more comfortably, lost in thought.
Hm…
And it was not only that. It concerned his insights in hand-to-hand combat, swordsmanship, and the dark arts as well. Myung’s memory was fragmentary, as if cut to pieces and covered in fog.
But why… why did Myung cut exactly those parts of his memories?
Despite the incomplete picture, the answer came quickly. Like the question itself, the answer lay in Myung’s teachings.
The dark arts were methods beyond ordinary laws. Even studying the same thing, the result could change depending on the practitioner’s life.
Does that mean the poison-devouring ability is a new result born because I am the one practicing the technique? Or is it simply information from the missing fragments?
After brief thought, Kun shook his head.
Huu…
He had pondered this hundreds of times over recent months but never reached a final conclusion. More important now were immediate matters.
For example… satisfying hunger with protein and raising magic level by taking more poison.
There were plenty of ways to find toxins besides Witch’s Garden.
Outside the window, the pale moon slowly began to rise. Seeing it, Kun quickly stood. Leaving his room, he headed beyond the camp — toward the forest’s boundary where darkness thickened and lately the rustling of wild beasts had grown frequent.
And… several pairs of eyes carefully watched his departure.
2.
“Where’s he sneaking off to again?” grumbled the boy with protruding teeth nicknamed Rat, jutting his lip.
He watched from the barracks window as Kun’s figure disappeared into the forest. His lackeys immediately began chattering:
“Seriously. Hm.”
“Maybe he’s…?”
Their gang, once three people, had now grown to five including their leader Barison. While the children exchanged guesses, one added:
“Maybe that freak secretly goes there to train?”
“Train? Again?”
“Yeah. After dinner we have free practice time. You can rest or train.”
That made sense. Some nodded.
“Hm. Maybe…”
No matter how you looked at it, Kun was among those in the Third Moat who had changed the most. Nothing remained of the frail weakling who couldn’t keep up. Now he trained with a ferocity in his eyes that made others shiver. But even more shocking was his progress in swordsmanship.
“I remember when they first started teaching us — his stance was shaky and he lacked strength. Then suddenly he began swinging that Lion Sword like he’d practiced his whole life.”
Even for a basic level, his growth speed was absurd for a beginner. But the most shocking incident happened a couple weeks ago. The struggle for food among the children had intensified, and during one scuffle two boys ambushed Kun — a dirty two-against-one attack. And what happened?
“In the end the two attackers were beaten into bloody pulp. He took down two alone without a scratch. And they weren’t weak either…”
Gulp.
Remembering how Kun wielded the wooden sword like lightning that day, someone swallowed nervously. At that moment Barison, eyes fixed on the forest where Kun had gone, ordered:
“We follow him.”
“Yeah, let’s follo— what?!” Rat froze. “Y-you serious? Follow him?”
Hearing the fear in his voice, Barison gave him a heavy look.
“What, scared?”
Rat immediately fell silent. The image of Kun dismantling two opponents alone still lingered in his mind. But admitting fear was impossible — he would be thrown out of the gang. Becoming the next outcast punching bag was the last thing he wanted.
Stammering, he forced out:
“O-of course not. H-he’s alone and we’re five. Nothing to fear? Th-though…”
“Though?” Barison narrowed his eyes.
“In the f-forest there are poisonous snakes and beasts. They say not just lynxes and foxes live there now, but b-boars too…?”
Huge bodies with sharp tusks capable of toppling ancient trees — boars were deadly even for adults. Rat hoped this would stop the leader.
“Oh yeah? But that bastard went there alone,” Barison showed no intention of backing down. “And as you noted, there are five of us.”
On the contrary, he looked even more determined. Turning to the others, he added:
“If we don’t rein him in now, we may never get another chance.”
Considering Kun’s growth speed, it was no exaggeration. Besides, Barison’s lackeys were far from angels — bitter youths used to bullying the weak and stealing from others. Barison shrugged and added:
“Besides, no one will help him in the forest.”
The argument worked. The children nodded.
“R-right?”
“W-we’re five and he’s alone…”
“L-let’s just teach him a lesson, ha-ha. Tomorrow it’ll be easier to take his rations.”
The atmosphere fully shifted to aggression. Squeezing his eyes shut, Rat blurted:
“O-okay, let’s go!”
It was the desperate cry of someone choosing to drift with the current. Barison grinned.
“Good.” He looked toward the dark forest again. “Everyone grab wooden swords.”