Ch.6Omens of Civil War (2)

Outside the smithy.

The gang members waiting for their big brother to return from collecting money stood up when they saw someone walking out from inside the smithy.

They figured the old man Hogel wouldn’t willingly pay up, so their brother must have seized plenty of swords instead. Two members quickly rushed forward when they heard the rattling of a box.

“Brother, let me carry that—?”

The gang member’s words trailed off. The person walking out of the smithy wasn’t their brother. Or rather, their brother was there, but he wasn’t the one walking out.

“Ugh… urrrgh…”

Their brother, groaning and collapsed face-down.

And a boy, dragging him by the hair. Just as one of the gang members was about to widen his eyes and shout—

Thud!

The boy threw the box he was carrying in front of the gang member. It was the very box they had brought to confiscate the smithy’s swords, but instead of swords, it contained their big brother’s neatly severed arm.

“Huh, huh!”

“Brother!”

The two gang members backed away in horror.

The boy, Najin, tossed aside the one-armed man he had dragged all the way here. The two gang members approached their discarded brother, keeping a wary eye on Najin.

While they tended to their brother, Najin lowered his gaze silently.

There were three men waiting outside.

Two were unremarkable thugs, but one was different. Najin shifted his gaze toward the man who had been staring at him without moving.

“……”

A man sitting on a suitable rock, glaring at him. His face was hidden by a deeply pulled hood.

“From what I can see.”

Najin exhaled briefly.

“You seem to be in charge, so let’s talk. We have things to discuss, don’t we?”

At those words, the man let out a hollow laugh.

“Heh, look at this guy.”

The man removed his deeply pulled hood.

The face revealed bore a long scar. A scar that ran from his right ear all the way down to his neck. Najin frowned when he saw it.

Najin had memorized the faces of all the executives among the Earthworm organization’s members. And that face was in his memory.

“Sigh.”

Najin let out a sigh.

“Sending an executive? This is getting ridiculous.”

“You know me?”

“The Earthworm Horsey’s sixth leg. One-eared Flicks, right?”

“Not sixth, eighth leg. And it’s Friks, not Flicks.”

“If you’re eighth out of eight executives, that means you’re the weakest.”

“That’s not true.”

Friks became serious.

“The leg number doesn’t indicate strength. I’m stronger than the sixth guy.”

“Your tongue is quite loose. Whether sixth or eighth…”

Najin nudged the box in front of him with his toe. The arm inside the box wobbled back and forth.

“Why would an executive-level person enter Ivan’s territory? This is a clear violation of the agreement. One thug’s arm isn’t enough to settle this.”

“Haha. Are you saying you want my arm too?”

“An arm would be too much.”

Najin raised his middle finger.

“Let’s just cut off one finger.”

“You’re truly insane.”

Friks laughed loudly at the boy who showed no fear in front of him. He stood up from his seat.

Then, shing.

Friks drew his sword.

It was a sword with a glossy sheen, well-maintained. Najin glanced at the sword in his own hand. A blackened, rusty sword.

Tsk, Najin adjusted his grip on the sword with a click of his tongue.

2.

One of the eight executives under Earthworm Horsey.

The eighth leg, Friks.

In the upper town, he had been a squire to a knight.

Of course, he wasn’t a proper knight’s squire. The knight he served was old and sick, treating Friks more like a slave than teaching him properly.

But even so.

Friks had learned swordsmanship from the knight and had picked up, albeit minimally, how to handle mana. He didn’t realize it at the time, but after falling to this city, he understood how valuable those teachings were.

‘In this city, I am strong.’

Though he was nothing but an insignificant knight’s squire in the upper town, in this city, Friks was clearly powerful. This fact gave him a sense of superiority. In this garbage city, he was special—someone who had received “proper education.”

A strong person who knew how to strengthen his body with mana.

Although he hadn’t reached the Expert level of drawing out sword energy, just knowing how to handle mana made Friks one of the top fighters in this city.

To Friks’s eyes, those who brandished blades seemed ridiculous, and those who boasted about beating people up seemed pathetic. Nothing was funnier than seeing people who couldn’t even handle mana walking around with their shoulders squared.

‘That boy looks similar.’

Friks observed the youngster standing before him.

He had heard rumors about this boy. Ivan’s hunting dog. He must have talent since Ivan had his eye on him, but…

‘I don’t sense any mana.’

The boy didn’t emit even the slightest trace of the aura that mana users naturally release. It seems he hadn’t received mana training from that so-called Ivan.

If that’s the case, then this boy is no different from all those other riffraff who strut around thinking they’re special. Having reached this conclusion, a smile formed on Friks’s lips.

“Hey, kid.”

Friks smirked, flicking his sword tip.

“I’ll give you the first move. As you said, this is Ivan’s territory, so you deserve that much courtesy.”

Imitating a knight’s sword etiquette, Friks yielded the first move. Najin silently glanced at him and adjusted his grip on the sword. He wouldn’t refuse.

Thump.

Najin took one step forward.

He put weight into that step. A posture with bent knees and a lowered sword. It looked more like a stance for jumping rather than for swinging a sword.

‘What kind of rootless…’

To Friks, who had learned proper swordsmanship from a knight, Najin’s stance looked terrible. At this rate, he wouldn’t be swinging the sword—the sword would be swinging him.

Was his opponent even less impressive than expected?

Just as Friks felt disappointed—

Kwang!

Najin stomped the ground. The sound of his foot striking the ground and the clang of swords colliding rang out almost simultaneously. Friks’s eyes widened.

The gap between him and the boy had been about ten paces. The boy’s movement, closing that gap in a single leap and swinging his sword, far exceeded Friks’s expectations.

Ka, gagak!

Najin’s rusty sword vibrated along the colliding blade. Friks was startled by the heavy weight he felt in his grip. Hastily drawing up mana, Friks pushed away Najin’s sword.

Chwak, Najin slid back three steps.

Though it was just a momentary exchange, Friks couldn’t hide his bewilderment. His sword hand was tingling.

‘…Is he really unable to handle mana?’

That weight couldn’t come from just swinging a sword?

Friks glared at the boy in front of him. Standing three steps away and lightly exhaling, the boy showed no signs of strain.

Najin silently looked at Friks.

Then he looked at his own hand holding the sword.

After clenching and unclenching his sword hand a couple of times, Najin narrowed his eyes. Friks couldn’t understand what this series of actions meant, but he could tell the boy was sizing him up.

“Such an insolent bastard…”

Friks frowned.

Unlike before, Friks fully drew up his mana and adjusted his stance. The upper stance of Imperial swordsmanship, learned directly from the knight. A heat haze rose from Friks’s body.

A phenomenon created by uncontrolled mana leaking from within. A trace that appears in unskilled mana users.

Najin stared at Friks with narrowed eyes.

* * *

Najin doesn’t know how to handle mana.

Because Ivan and Ofen didn’t teach him. So Najin thought he couldn’t handle mana.

‘Is that mana?’

Najin looked ahead.

Friks, emitting a fierce aura. Najin glanced at the heat haze rising above his body. Najin had sparred with Ivan and Ofen occasionally.

‘I don’t think that kind of heat haze rose from those two.’

Ofen and Ivan were skilled practitioners who had reached the Expert level. In contrast, Friks was just a novice compared to them, an unskilled practitioner. That heat haze was the difference between a skilled practitioner who could fully contain mana and an unskilled one who couldn’t…

But Najin had no way of knowing that difference. So Najin decided to think that this too was a type of mana operation.

At that moment, tak, Friks stomped the ground.

The basic stance of Imperial longsword technique. Exhaling briefly, Friks took one large step forward. As he stepped, he swung his sword. A diagonal slash straight from the Imperial swordsmanship textbook.

Swaaek!

However, when combined with a body strengthened by mana, even the simplest slash becomes a lethal strike. With the sound of cutting wind, the blade fell toward Najin.

“……”

Facing the oncoming blade, Najin thought.

Mana is certainly amazing.

Najin clicked his tongue at Friks’s noticeably faster movements. So this is what’s possible when you can handle mana?

‘But…’

It doesn’t seem that fast.

It was still a speed visible to the eye, still a speed he could respond to. Having made his judgment, Najin moved.

Tak.

Instead of avoiding, Najin took one step forward.

He dove into the arc of his opponent’s swinging sword. At first glance, it seemed like a suicidal decision. However, as Najin dove into Friks’s range, he swung his sword.

Before Friks’s sword could complete its arc.

Before that strike could fully gather its power.

Kaaaaang! Najin’s sword struck Friks’s blade. Breaking the opponent’s technique with minimal force, Najin thrust his sword toward Friks’s opening.

“…!”

Surprise flashed across Friks’s face.

But only for a moment. The heat haze rising from Friks’s body intensified. Forcibly pulling back his deflected sword, Friks’s body accelerated further.

The sword’s trajectory bends. The sword that had been deflected and knocked away returns to its position.

A movement impossible for an ordinary human body. A bizarre movement made possible only with the help of mana. The strike created by this bizarre movement was one that Najin, in his current stance, could neither avoid nor counter.

An unexpected strike.

Just as that strike was about to tear through Najin’s shoulder, Friks saw it. Najin’s eyes, still following his accelerated movements. That chilling gaze fixed on the tip of his swinging sword.

Thump!

Then Najin stomped his foot down.

In that split second, Najin’s body accelerated. He twisted the sword he had thrust and raised it diagonally. All these movements were bizarrely fast. Even faster than Friks, who was using mana.

‘How on earth?’

Clearly, he hadn’t sensed any mana until just now.

But at this moment, Friks felt mana from the boy. Mana that flashed and dispersed in the blink of an eye. Though just for a moment, the boy had clearly used mana to accelerate his body.

So smoothly and naturally.

As if breathing in and out.

‘This, bastard…!’

Friks was furious at the realization he had been deceived.

However, Najin had no intention of deceiving Friks. Najin thought he couldn’t handle mana, and he didn’t even know that his current movements were aided by mana.

Always efficiently.

Maximum efficiency with minimum force.

Najin was simply moving according to the combat basics ingrained in his mind, relying on instinct for the secondary elements.

Ka, gagagagak!

Friks’s sword slid along Najin’s diagonally raised sword. The falling sword roughly scraped the surface of the rusty sword. And thus, an opening was created.

“…Kuk!”

Aware of Najin’s sword, Friks hastily pulled back his sword, but Najin’s sword didn’t move. What moved was Najin’s leg. Najin brought down his raised foot onto Friks’s knee.

Wudduduk.

Thanks to the mana reinforcement, the knee didn’t bend inward, but Friks’s expression contorted. His stance was also disrupted. A sword swung from an imperfect stance couldn’t carry proper weight.

Najin lightly deflected the lightweight sword.

As he deflected it, Najin stepped in even closer.

A distance too close to slash with the blade. But from the start, Najin had no intention of slashing Friks.

‘Then he’d die.’

He didn’t want to kill him.

He needed to keep him alive to extract information. Right in front of Friks, Najin swung the sword hilt like a hammer.

Bbeok!

With the pommel, the weight at the end of the hilt, Najin struck Friks’s temple. True to Ivan’s sword, which was heavier than other swords, the impact sound was solid.

“Kuk…!”

Friks’s head tilted back from the unexpected blow. But his eyes still remained focused. Seeing this, Najin clicked his tongue.

‘Mana really is good.’

So with mana reinforcing the body, one can avoid fainting even after being hit in the temple? From Najin’s perspective, still thinking he couldn’t handle mana, this was surprising.

‘Still.’

Najin reached out and grabbed Friks’s hair.

‘If I keep hitting him, he’ll eventually pass out.’

With one hand gripping Friks’s hair, Najin swung the sword hilt with the other. He struck Friks’s face with the pommel multiple times.

Bbuk, bbeok, and wuduk…

After swinging about five or six times, Najin finally released Friks’s hair. Friks, with his nose broken, was streaming blood. His shattered teeth clattered to the ground.

Thud.

Friks, with his eyes rolled back, collapsed face-down. Najin exhaled briefly and turned his head. Glancing at Horsey’s gang members who had been about to charge with their blades but had missed their timing, Najin spoke briefly.

“Put those down.”

Najin flicked his finger.

“I’ll just cut off one finger from each of you and go. That’s the rule.”

It was the rule established between Horsey and Ivan.

Though the rule hadn’t been observed very often, they realized they couldn’t ignore it at this moment.

3.

“This is damn heavy.”

Najin walked, dragging the unconscious Friks by the nape with one hand while carrying the box containing the arm and fingers with the other.

‘I’d like to just dump him somewhere…’

While he might do that with a low-ranking member, he couldn’t casually dispose of an executive.

‘Things have been noisy lately too.’

The Earthworm keeps crossing the line.

He had heard Ivan muttering that. And not just heard it. Najin was the organization’s executioner, and he had personally seen that many of those he had dealt with recently had connections to the Earthworm.

And now, a clear territorial invasion.

Whatever they were planning, it was clear they were up to something.

And since an executive-level person would likely know something, he planned to extract information this time.

…That aside.

Najin reflected on the recent battle.

After reviewing the techniques and movements he had used in combat, Najin smiled faintly. He had confirmed that his sword was effective even against someone who could handle mana.

‘It was worth learning diligently.’

The things he had learned from Ivan and Ofen.

While Ofen had taught him how to wield a sword, Ivan had taught Najin about combat itself. Thrust when you see an opening. Dive in when you see a big movement. Don’t just swing your weapon—use whatever you can.

How to move the body efficiently.

How to block an opponent’s attack with minimal force.

Close-quarters combat where the sword can’t reach.

Utilizing terrain and methods to knock someone out.

Najin had learned countless miscellaneous skills from Ivan. Recalling the techniques he had learned since he was ten, getting beaten by Ivan, Najin involuntarily frowned. The long scar on his shoulder blade was throbbing.

‘Come to think of it, it’s not something a knight would teach.’

Knights in fairy tales were noble and dignified.

But Ivan, who was said to have been a knight in the upper town, was also skilled in all sorts of dirty work like torture and covert operations. Sometimes even more so than Ofen, who had reportedly worked as a mercenary.

“Watch carefully.”

“You’ll be doing this someday too.”

The torture Ivan performed.

“He doesn’t yield to torture?”

“That’s nonsense. They say that because they don’t know how creative human nerves can be, how many different pains they can feel.”

“Let’s bet on how long this guy can hold out.”

The process of forcibly opening tightly closed lips and crushing someone’s mind. Flickering torchlight. Blood splattered everywhere. Long, drawn-out screams.

“See?”

“Want to try it yourself?”

As Najin was recalling those memories, he suddenly looked back. From there came the sound of Friks groaning, “Urrrgh.” Judging by his twitching body and groans, he seemed to have regained consciousness.

Friks, blinking slowly, met Najin’s gaze. Seeming to grasp the situation, Friks gritted his teeth. But there was no grinding sound. Many of his teeth had been knocked out when he was struck with the pommel.

“Let me give you some advice.”

To Friks, who was glaring at him with murderous intent, Najin advised with an indifferent gaze.

“It’s better to just talk rather than act tough. You’re going to talk eventually, so isn’t it better to end the torture while at least one part of your body is still intact?”

Najin pointed ahead with his finger.

Friks’s eyes moved accordingly. When he saw where Najin was pointing, Friks’s eyes shook violently. There stood a building that everyone in this underground city knew.

The residence of Ivan, the ruler of the underground city.

Pointing at that building, Najin said:

“Ivan is a scarier person than you all think.”