Heukgu's True Identity

During the time when magic realms appeared and vanished in Chromore, numerous vacancies arose. In the brief period they influenced the area, many people died, and to replace them, a flood of outsiders poured in.

"Damn it!"

Terramit kicked open the door of a newly opened large tavern in the city, then barged straight into a private room inside and plopped down. The organization members he had befriended—and mutually aided—upon arriving in Chromore welcomed him with resounding cheers.

"You've arrived, Terramit."

"Yeah, bring me the strongest booze you've got—something that'll set this place ablaze."

"Right away, sir."

Alcohol served as a material favored by flame mages, but it was also their most cherished indulgence. Whether Terramit loved booze and thus used alcohol as a catalyst, or the catalyst use naturally fostered his love for it, he was particularly fond of drink. Yet sourcing enough of it was no easy task, so he had allied with thugs to secure it.

Just as vacancies opened in Chromore's back alleys, Terramit struck deals with the gangs aiming to seize them. In exchange for using his magic to erase any obstacles without a trace, he received an unlimited supply of alcohol.

"Something the matter, mage?"

A scantily clad woman entered with high-proof liquor, and Terramit downed it in one gulp before venting his grievances.

"Damn it, that old fart keeps spouting nonsense like 'to boost firepower, you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠need control,' and welcomes that talentless wench who got lucky as his disciple!"

With his high body temperature and rapid metabolism, Terramit got drunk almost instantly and began his drunken rambling. The woman beside him thought he whined like a brat, but years in the booze trade had honed her skills—she flattered and soothed him expertly.

No matter how childish he seemed, Terramit wielded powerful flame magic and studied under Chromore's elite, Lutisat. He still had plenty of use. With the promise that success in this takeover would free her from her own noose, she redoubled her efforts to placate him.

Terramit's pyromaniac hobby—burning people alive and reveling in their screams—made his rages a golden opportunity to eliminate organizational threats. The woman exploited his alcohol-fogged, short-sighted mind to coax him into dealing with a new back-alley thug.

While the tavern woman sweet-talked Terramit, Heukgu was slowly torturing the man who had ambushed Daiyen. Yanking out the shoulder joint and stretching the muscles bit by bit, he reduced the thug to tears, snot, and piss.

Daiyen grimaced at the wet stain between his legs, so Heukgu folded the man's waist to hide it.

"Gaaah!"

The strain on his pelvis drew a scream, but Heukgu couldn't care less about the thug's pain—only Daiyen's expression mattered. To serve as her escort whenever Nautilus docked, he needed her favor. Desperation fueled him.

To escape Suhyun's brutal regime of leather whips and blade lashes—in place of carrot and stick—they had to prove their worth.

Finally, the ambush leader broke under Heukgu's torment and spilled everything.

"Urk... We're the Wolf's Bastard Clan from the neighboring territory."

"A back-alley gang kidnapping a merchant who deals with nobles? That doesn't add up."

Back-alley clans strutted in their turf but groveled before anyone with real power or connections. Even guards fawned over them, some offering their girlfriends. Unlike mana-awakened regular troops, the clans lacked proper weapons; their bosses were just burly civilians.

Daring to touch not just a caravan manager, but the head administrator herself? Madness.

Heukgu glanced at Daiyen and moved to re-dislocate the man's shoulder. Panicking, the thug blurted,

"Our boss is the lord's bastard son from the next ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠territory!"

"What?"

Daiyen's eyes darkened at the sudden revelation.

"The boss learned mana refinement and stands on the cusp of knight-level. With the lord's backing, he summoned you to negotiate with the caravan master."

Daiyen pieced it together. An ambitious bastard son—talented enough for near-knighthood, savvy enough to run a clan—using his father's support to devour the weakened Lutisat. From outside, it looked like opportunity: claim rights, secure income, leverage ties for merit in territorial wars, maybe even branch off as a vassal.

Irritated by this mud-caked intruder trampling her carefully laid board, Daiyen recalled Suhyun's unique ability after ages.

It was work she had to do anyway, but the extra gift sweetened the deal—Daiyen smiled. Heukgu, watching her, thought inwardly,

'Thanks to that bastard, I've got my shot.'

Daiyen's plan against the bastard was simple: report to the lord.

"Filthy orc-spawn!"

Dragging the attacker to Chromore's lord, Daiyen calmed the man who raged to grab his sword and slaughter them all.

"You know handling it yourself is impossible, my lord."

The evidence pointed to the neighboring lord's schemes, but killing a noble's bastard on thug testimony alone lacked proof. In this classist society, commoner criminals' words held no weight. Slaying him without evidence risked territorial war—something Chromore, depleted by magic realm monsters, couldn't afford. The lord quickly regained composure.

Though itching to behead the bastard outside, duty restrained him as Daiyen proposed,

"My lord, there's a perfect solution."

"What is it?"

"Simple: indebt them."

"Hm? Explain."

"To ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠settle in Chromore, they've borrowed heavily, but Nautilus cut their expected profits."

Before departing, Daiyen had stocked her fief with food and necessities from the lord, selling them affordably within the territory. The bastards, planning to gouge flood victims, took losses from the cheap prices yet persisted—shifting from financial to violent takeover of back alleys.

"But if we sell construction timber now?"

"Ho! They'd scramble to buy it dear and expand influence."

"Yes. Sell just a quarter of ours—they'll think it's all we have. While you tour neighbors for timber, an unrelated caravan 'urgently' sells some."

"They'll frenzy in my absence!"

"Whether he begs his father or others, it doesn't matter. Cut the cash flow, and thugs or caravans alike crumble."

"Excellent. So I pretend to hunt timber?"

"Yes, and dangle trade rights for 'lack of funds.' The more they bite, the hotter they get."

Meanwhile, as Daiyen conferred with the lord, Heukgu raided the ambushers' hideout. Nautilus Trading Company's expanded rights—including self-defense and arrest of first aggressors—Daiyen wielded freely.

'Capture if possible, kill if not.'

Thrilled by her trust to go solo, Heukgu burst into their tavern, buoyed by hopes of escorting her on future docks.

"Nobody move! You're under arrest as suspects in the assault on Nautilus Trading Company's head administrator."

"Huh?"

The stereotypical thugs stirred nostalgia in Heukgu. Under the black mage, he'd beaten and extorted freely—how had Suhyun snared him? Pitiful, yet he itched to test Suhyun's martial arts.

The monster heart implant barely tapped its power before, but sufficed for back-alley dominance. Post inner power and mugong from Suhyun, his own strength surged, and the heart's monster force amplified: sharper reflexes, tougher hide, radiating intimidation.

'What monster was it?'

Malik's journal only noted a "canine monster heart from the black mage black market." Curiosity about its origin faded quickly.

"Die!"

As thugs drew daggers without checking him, Heukgu moved like lightning. Three ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Talents Fist Law, Three Talents Step Method, and Golden Lock Hand—enough.

"Guhk!"

Suhyun's lessons were ruthlessly practical: devise dozens of variations per form. Identical responses got dismantled. Thus, the rehabilitation squad personalized techniques, diversifying by personality and context.

Even basic Three Talents Fist Law's Heavenly Wind Hard Strike varied: reduce upper body inertia for flow control and faster follow-ups. Some punched blindingly fast; others probed gaps for vitals; some focused combos to shatter guards.

Heukgu clawed with it. The implant sharpened his nails beast-like, shredding flesh on contact. Realizing no need to fist it, he reveled in raking foes—hard to block without armor, pain disrupting counters for finishers.

"Argh, fuck, help!"

Brutal: rapid tears sprayed blood, shallow gashes maddening. Heukgu noted he'd faced only tough nuts lately; these screamed after a few swipes. Against rehab squad, he'd maul till rags, exploiting pain or bleeding them out. These softlings wailed early.

Grabbing a dodging foe, he toppled and hurled—the sight revealing full mangling.

"Hmph, too weak?"

These were the ambush elites—others, mere profit-chasers, tucked tail at the gore.

Then a bellow from inside: "Who's ruining my drink?!"

"Terramit!"

Terramit, boozing within, stormed out irritated. Thugs brightened, banking on the mage.

"Sorry. We got a tip Nautilus assault suspects hid here— we'll wrap quietly."

"What?"

Terramit's red brows shot up. Already stressed and drinking, he bristled at the interruption. The commoner garb and absent booze lackeys irked him—he swaggered to eject Heukgu.

"Daring to disturb my drink? Insulting me?!"

Absurd, but mage status made it stick. Normally, Heukgu would yield to mage risk, but under orders, no. Pondering retreat or push, Terramit snapped.

"Ignoring me?!"

Fresh wounds—ignored by Lucy, crushed by Ilgu—fueled drunken rage. Recalling Ilgu's resistance, he unleashed stronger magic.

Ash-infused physical blast flew; Heukgu dodged cleanly. Terramit fumed more.

"Dodging my attack?!"

"Should I take it?"

Heukgu's sarcasm enraged him further. Absurd even to allies, but the "lowly" dodge incensed—Terramit drew his catalyst: a chain-wrapped black dog monster, a Barghest chain.

"Infernal hellhound, lend thy power! Summon a fragment of hell's chains here—sinners shan't escape burning iron's grasp!"

The belt-length chain ignited and elongated toward Heukgu. Persistent even dodged, he gritted teeth, grabbed it left-handed—trading flesh for bone.

Expecting screams, Terramit smirked vilely. But Heukgu felt shock first: heart's monster mana seized the chain, binding Terramit instead.

"What?!"

"Huh?"

Both stunned, Heukgu realized: his heart was a Barghest's. Awakening dormant powers—half-spirit beast's Mingled Soul Step, chain mastery, spirit strikes—he grinned darkly.

Terramit summoned the chain, but Heukgu's claim was stronger. Instinctively yanking, he reeled him in.

"You bastard!"

As Terramit chanted mid-pull, Heukgu lightly punched—knocking out the untrained hothead. Thus, Heukgu claimed the mana-flaming chain.

"S-surren..."

A surrender choked off as chain whipped a face—bones cracked, burns felled him. Tavern thugs sweated coldly.

High on the awakened monster might, Heukgu—who'd never tasted thrill like this—bounded through the tavern like a pup in snow.