Before I knew it, the User Academy had already reached its seventh week of training. As the weeks went by, the schedule grew tighter, and the instructors had to move even busier than before. That included me, even as a special instructor.
But despite the hectic days, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jin Suhyun. Rather than chasing after a hidden chick playing an endless game of hide-and-seek, I prioritized recruiting Jin Suhyun, who was practically a guaranteed asset. Not that I gave up entirely on searching for the chick, but Suhyun was my main focus.
Still, I hadn’t had any direct contact with Jin Suhyun yet. He wasn’t just a promising prospect evaluated solely on potential anymore. In fact, Jin Suhyun was more like a massive corporation than a single investor—a user of considerable scale. So, approaching him wasn’t a simple one-on-one recruitment; it was more like a merger and acquisition.
In that sense, I first needed to understand exactly who Jin Suhyun was.
Jin Suhyun.
A user known for his high potential and secret class as a swordsmanship expert, infamous enough to be called the nightmare of mages.
But those were just surface-level factors. Since I had already decided to recruit him, there was no need to dwell on those. Instead, I had to dig deeper into his inner motivations to devise a recruitment strategy.
There were two main reasons I believed recruiting Jin Suhyun was possible.
First, his current situation was like a duck egg floating down the Nakdong River—adrift and vulnerable. Second, in the first round, Jin Suhyun wasn’t a clan lord like he was now; he was active as a subordinate user.
Take Woo Jungmin as an example. In the first round, he led a very famous clan called the Red Fangs, but in the second round, he was just a mercenary clan member. If that could happen to Woo Jungmin, why couldn’t it happen to Jin Suhyun?
According to Seraph, Jin Suhyun had lived like the protagonist of a novel in the second round. He had been on a successful path, leading subordinate comrades as a legitimate clan lord. Seraph’s use of the word “captain” was meant in that sense.
I understood Seraph’s concern. There can’t be two captains on the same ship. The question was whether I was capable enough to embrace a user like Jin Suhyun. Ultimately, before any recruitment could begin, breaking down his pride—or at least his ego—was a prerequisite.
“Instructor Kim Suhyun is here!”
At that moment, I heard my name called loudly from a classroom down the hall. Then came the clatter of footsteps and a sudden hush as the noise quickly died down.
Had I been lost in thought for too long? I had been walking absentmindedly, thinking about Jin Suhyun, and before I knew it, I had arrived in front of the classroom. After checking through the window to see the trainees hurriedly taking their seats, I calmly pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Today’s class was about fifty trainees, all swordsmanship students. Honestly, there wasn’t much for me to do here. I had already observed them with my third eye and concluded there was no one worth recruiting.
Still, as the schedule got busier, I occasionally got requests to take on certain classes—like today. It wasn’t an obligation, but it was better for my reputation to accept. You can’t live doing only what you want.
“So, today’s schedule… all the close-combat classes are doing outdoor training, right?”
I asked, hands behind my back. A slightly deflated voice answered, “Yes.” Understandable, since outdoor training was basically physical conditioning or practical combat training.
I wasn’t thrilled that the life-or-death matches we used to have on weekends were gone. But that didn’t mean the other training was easy.
You could tell just by looking at the trainees’ reactions. Outdoor training usually meant physical drills, which explained their gloomy faces. Some were already patting their thighs in anticipation.
I spoke quietly.
“Today’s outdoor training isn’t physical conditioning. We’re going to do some other practical exercises, so relax and come outside. Looks like all the other close-combat classes have already gone to the field.”
This time, a lively “Oh~” of surprise came from the room. Watching the trainees perk up and eagerly gather their gear, it was clear they really hated physical training. They’d regret neglecting it later, though.
I smiled wryly—three years ago, I would have worried about my own stamina—and stepped out of the classroom less than five minutes after entering.
“Instructor Kim Suhyun, all 57 swordsmanship trainees are ready.”
“Then let’s move out.”
As soon as the class representative reported, I started walking. The other close-combat classes had already left; the classrooms we passed were eerily quiet.
“Phew. I thought it was going to be physical training. I was totally despairing.”
“Don’t celebrate yet. You never know—this might be even tougher than physical training…”
“Come on, no way. At least the instructor’s Kim Suhyun. Better than that bastard Gong Chanho, anyway.”
“True. His classes are at least fun. Gong Chanho’s training is just pure ignorance. Heh heh.”
Listening to the trainees whispering as we walked, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Did they think I couldn’t hear them?
By the way, the talk about Gong Chanho was pretty amusing. “Pure ignorance,” huh? I wondered what kind of training he ran to earn that reputation.
Curious, I tuned my hearing a bit more. Just then, stepping outside into the sunlight, I heard it—
Boom.
A massive explosion, like a bomb going off. Given the distance, it was loud enough to be considered a blast.
I stopped instinctively. The trainees halted too, and the hallway filled with murmurs. I heightened all my senses and spread my magic detection to the max.
Boom… boom…
Another explosion followed. The sound came from about 300 meters northwest—probably the training field.
That’s when I was sure something bad had happened. And since the sound came from the field, it meant the other close-combat classes were there.
I immediately called the class representative.
“Class rep, lead the trainees back to the classroom immediately.”
“…What? But you said we were doing outdoor training today?”
“Something’s happened. I don’t have time to explain. Just get them back to the classroom.”
“Ah, aah! Help! Help!”
Just then, as the class rep opened his mouth, a loud shout came from one side. We all turned toward the source of the distress call.
About a dozen trainees were running at full speed toward us, their backs to the field.
“Understood. We’re heading back right now.”
The class rep seemed to realize the seriousness and didn’t argue further.
After confirming the trainees were hesitantly retreating, I turned to see more trainees running toward the entrance. They were looking for an instructor—me—and their faces were desperate, gasping for breath.
“Instructor Kim Suhyun!”
One trainee reached me, nearly collapsing as he grabbed my arm.
“Yes? What’s going on?”
“Big trouble! You need to come to the field right now!”
“Calm down and tell me exactly what happened.”
“The two instructors… they had a fight! No, wait. They suddenly said they’d spar! But the sparring… ah! It’s not what it’s supposed to be!”
The trainee was so flustered he babbled incoherently, clutching his head. I thought to myself, definitely not recruiting this guy, and carefully parsed his words: two instructors, fight, sudden sparring, but the sparring wasn’t normal.
“So, you’re saying the two instructors got into an argument, then suddenly started sparring, but it didn’t look like a normal sparring match. And that’s why you need me to check it out?”
The trembling trainee stared blankly for a moment, then realized what I meant and nodded quickly.
I patted his shoulder to show I understood and immediately pushed off the ground, sprinting. The still scenery instantly blurred past me like flowing water. It had been a long time since I’d run this hard since the war.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.
The field was about 300 meters away—a distance neither long nor short. But with my agility fully engaged, I closed the gap quickly. The louder the explosions sounded, the closer I got.
After running for a while, the destination finally came into view. I frowned deeply. Now I understood why the trainee said the sparring didn’t look like sparring.
The field was surrounded by hundreds of trainees scattered far and wide. But more than half of them were slumped on the ground, unable to stand. It was no wonder. A chilling, ominous aura radiated from the scene—so thick it made me wince. How could the trainees possibly hold out against that?
But that wasn’t all. The center of the training ground was thick with dust, the earth cracked and split apart as if dozens of claymore mines had detonated there. There was no way mines were buried in the hall plain; someone had clearly slammed the ground with immense physical or magical force.
Thinking this, I focused my gaze on the center.
The culprit was easier to find than I expected.
“…Gong Chanho?”
Using my heightened spiritual perception, I pierced through the swirling dust and immediately spotted Gong Chanho. His eyes were wide open, pupils flashing sharply, before he suddenly raised both arms high above his head. Clutched in his hands was the Suramachang—a spear pulsing with dark magical energy. It was clear he was preparing to strike down on someone.
I didn’t know the full situation, but seeing Gong Chanho like that left no room for hesitation. I immediately crouched low.
I was readying the Bow-Body Shadow-Strike stance.
Bang!
A powerful charge slammed into the young man’s body.
“Ugh!”
He reflexively tried to defend himself, but was sent flying through the air, crashing harshly onto the ground. Before he could even regain his senses, the spear’s dark, gleaming blade swept like a storm near where he had fallen.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Instinctively, the young man rolled across the ground, biting his lip in frustration.
Just one hit. Only one. He had planned to dodge Gong Chanho’s overwhelming strength and wait for an opening, but instead, he’d fallen into a trap and taken a hit.
He was managing to roll and avoid further blows for now, but he was reaching his limit. Even though the strike had glanced off, his lower body trembled uncontrollably, nearly losing all sensation.
“Huh. Your dodging skills are impressive. You’re quite the master.”
None of Gong Chanho’s four strikes had landed, so he dragged the spear along the ground, closing the distance between them. From the spear’s tip, a sinister black haze began to rise.
“Guh.”
Finally facing the young man, who had collapsed to the ground, Gong Chanho smirked suddenly. It was a clear provocation, as if to say, “You’re no match for me.”
A strange unease stirred in the young man’s chest, but his face twisted with rising humiliation.
Did he realize that the more he showed that expression, the happier Gong Chanho became?
The young man shouted.
“Are you crazy? Is this supposed to be a sparring match?”
“Hmm? Of course it is.”
“Ridiculous…!”
“We’re not rookies. I’m an elite user from the Northern Continent, here as an instructor. I’m just showing you the level you should be at. Isn’t that right, Instructor Suhyun?”
At that, the young man—no, Jin Suhyun—flared with determination. He tried to push himself up with his hands, but only his upper body moved. His thighs, struck earlier by the spear, were still numb.
“Or maybe you’re so weak you can’t even handle a sparring match, and you only came here pretending to be an instructor? Ha ha ha!”
Watching Jin Suhyun, Gong Chanho laughed loudly, looking around with delight.
His face was full of joy. Plainly put, this situation was pure entertainment for Gong Chanho.
The rookies all looked at him with fear. And there was Jin Suhyun, sitting on the ground, unable to stand, glaring at him with frustration. All of it stirred a wild excitement inside Gong Chanho.
Then, abruptly stopping his laughter, Gong Chanho curled his lips into a smirk and looked down. In his gaze, the face of someone overlapped with Jin Suhyun’s—the same person who had dealt him a crushing blow two years ago at the user academy.
Recalling those arrogant eyes that had judged him so disdainfully, Gong Chanho let out a twisted smile. He looked down at the young man before him, who bore a striking resemblance to that someone—even sharing the same name.
“Well? Ready to surrender, Instructor Suhyun?”
“Don’t talk nonsense! There’s no surrender in sparring!”
Gong Chanho responded with an exaggerated gesture, feigning admiration.
“Then let me make it clear who the true master of the Suramachang is! Hahahahahaha!”
“What the…!”
Jin Suhyun opened his mouth to retort but suddenly fell silent.
Suddenly, a chilling light flared in Gong Chanho’s eyes as he raised both hands high. A terrifying aura of death swirled ravenously around the spear. A faint glow appeared on Jin Suhyun’s face.
But it was only for a moment. As Gong Chanho shook the spear, Jin Suhyun, sword in hand, ignited his fighting spirit. Seeing that his provocation had worked, Gong Chanho chuckled.
Then, before Jin Suhyun could react, Gong Chanho struck down with all his might. It was a surprise attack.
Seeing Jin Suhyun thrust his sword upward in response, Gong Chanho laughed wildly. He didn’t intend to kill, but crushing at least one part of his opponent was acceptable. The magical power in his spear was enough to shatter steel in an instant.
Just as the spear aimed for Jin Suhyun’s right arm and the sword for his chest, the two weapons were about to clash—
Whoosh.
A gust of wind blew, ruffling Gong Chanho’s hair.
And then—
Crack! Crack!
Bang!
The sharp clash of steel and the roar of earth being torn erupted in rapid succession.
Gong Chanho gasped. He had clearly struck first, but instead of crushing the intended arm, he felt his attack collide with something else, the sensation of their weapons missing each other.
At the same time, a tremendous shock surged through his body, as if the force he had unleashed was rebounding back at him.
“Ugh?!”
Gong Chanho clenched his teeth, gripping the spear tightly. Because the spear was deeply embedded in the ground, he barely managed to keep his balance. Swallowing his nausea, he steadied himself and looked ahead—and his eyes widened in shock.
A soft glow shone before him.
No.
A man stood there, holding a softly glowing sword at an angle, blocking Gong Chanho’s path.
No one knew when he had arrived. Not Gong Chanho, nor any of the users nearby had sensed his speed. Before anyone could even blink, the man had slipped between Gong Chanho and Jin Suhyun like the wind.
And he hadn’t just deflected Gong Chanho’s attack. The sword Jin Suhyun had been thrusting upward was now held in the man’s left hand—without even looking back.
Ooooh…
As the dust settled, a mixture of relief and awe rippled through the trainees.
But for Gong Chanho, none of that mattered.
The face that had overlapped with Jin Suhyun’s earlier was now truly standing before him.
A guttural, beast-like groan escaped Gong Chanho’s lips.
Those cold eyes from two years ago.
The moment their gazes met, the soaring pride Gong Chanho had felt crashed down to the ground in an instant.
---------------------------= Author’s Note =---------------------------
Next time, I’ll show you just how pathetic Gong Chanho can get.
And today, I have a very important note to share. Please, please, please read it all the way through.
First, thank you to all the readers. I’ve fully recovered mentally. There won’t be any more notes like yesterday’s, and if things get rough, I’ll try to step in with comments to keep things on track. Hmm.
Also… readers, I have a question.
Do you know what it means when the sand cries?
Sob sob…
Ah, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Yes, I was totally wrong.
This isn’t the real note, though. Actually, I have a confession to make today.
Sigh… I don’t even know how to say this… I’m still a little hesitant, but I’ll be brave and tell you.
The truth is…
(Note: Postscript deleted.)