The First Offering
Beneath the orc’s skin, where Ha-ri had seized its wrist in the moment after she awakened from death as a maid, something like black threads spread for the briefest instant. They resembled veins or perhaps worms—those slender traces slithered beneath the flesh before vanishing almost immediately. The moment was so fleeting that even Ha-ri could not be certain she had truly seen it. Yet her senses told her without doubt that something had entered him. An unfamiliar, sticky, cold presence that, the instant it touched, had slid down her hand and slipped inside him like a shadow.
The orc’s eyes widened at Ha-ri’s sudden movement. That was all. It seemed to interpret the human female’s action as mere struggling, twisting its crude lips. When nothing happened, it dismissed the resistance as trivial. The pointless defiance even appeared amusing. A low, reeking laugh slipped between its yellowed teeth. It reached for her again.
In that instant, Ha-ri’s body moved before her thoughts could catch up. She twisted her shoulder to slip free of its grip, then immediately stiffened her palm. Even a temple dog learns to recite poetry after three years. She had watched martial artists injure themselves during training more than once. A powerless maid like her who had never fought properly would only sprain her wrist if she threw a punch. Therefore, the palm. Specifically, the thick base known as the palm heel—striking the orc’s jaw with that.
“Ugh!?”
A dull impact rang out as the creature’s head snapped sideways. Contrary to the soft image of a palm, the heel was among the hardest parts of the human body. Connected directly through the wrist to the forearm muscles, it delivered the full force of the blow. The orc possessed a massive frame, but as a subhuman its skeletal structure was not entirely alien. Just like a human, a strike to the jaw sent shock straight into the brain. Its eyes glazed over, and strength drained from its legs.
Thud.
One knee slammed into the ground first. Every gaze in the area snapped toward the sound—orcs, goblins, the surviving martial artists and servants alike. Their expressions were a mixture of shock, disbelief, and utter incomprehension. The female before them did not radiate the same internal energy as the other warriors. She was nothing more than an ordinary, powerless human woman. The fact that an orc had dropped to one knee before such a female was bizarre by both monster and human standards.
The orc’s face flushed crimson with rage. A warrior of his stature, brought to his knees by a mere human female! What shame! What humiliation!
“Kwaaaaaah!”
The orc roared and forced itself upright, lunging at Ha-ri. But its movements were strangely off. Power refused to flow properly; its feet would not plant where it willed. Its upper body pitched forward while its lower half lagged by half a beat, like gears grinding out of alignment inside a broken machine.
Ha-ri did not miss the opening. Another strike. As her palm drove upward into its jaw, the orc’s mouth slammed shut. It had bitten its own tongue with brutal force. The scream of agony was trapped in its throat, emerging only as a wet, choking gurgle. The creature’s body arched backward and collapsed heavily to the ground.
It tried to rise again, planting an elbow to lever itself up—then its movements froze mid-motion. Its fingers trembled with spasms, pupils quivering with unease. The shaking that began in its jaw and neck spread to its shoulders, chest, belly, and finally its limbs. When it tried to draw breath, the air would not come; its mouth gaped open in desperate, ragged gasps. The massive body convulsed violently.
Then, abruptly, it stopped.
Ha-ri knew. The orc was dead. The moment its life ended, she felt something rising in her lower abdomen. A sharp tingle raced up her spine. The sensation was unpleasant, yet carried a strange serenity. Even the limbs that had trembled from the fierce exertion moments ago now felt fresh strength seeping back into them.
What is this? With just that?
The voice echoed inside her skull—the voice of the white snake. It was clearer than before. No longer did it feel like a hallucination. It seemed to whisper from within her own body. Ha-ri could not tear her eyes from the corpse as she asked inwardly.
Poison? I only hit it twice.
As she listened to the white snake’s explanation, Ha-ri recalled the orc’s unnatural movements. At first she had thought it simply lost balance from the jaw strike. In truth, its equilibrium had been collapsing from the inside out.
The faster one circulated internal energy—whether a martial artist or a powerful monster—the quicker the venom would spread. Ha-ri did not deeply understand the principles of martial arts, yet she instinctively grasped how twisted this power was. The stronger the opponent, the faster they crumbled. Just as a snake sank its fangs into prey and injected venom, her touch had become invisible fangs.
Ha-ri looked down at her own hand. It was an ordinary hand. The hand of a maid who had washed laundry, scrubbed floors, and carried water jars. Yet that hand had just killed an orc.
Ha-ri’s heart pounded fiercely. Yet her breathing remained steady. For the first time in her life she had fought monsters in a battle of life and death, and instead of fear, her body felt lighter, more responsive.
Sacrifice. She murmured the word inwardly. If the snake was telling the truth, this was the price received in exchange for offering the creature’s soul. It was not some grand divine power or lightning bolt of strength, yet in a situation where death had been moments away, there could be no more practical reward than fresh strength returning to her limbs.
The surroundings came back into focus. With one of their own fallen, the other orcs twisted their faces in fury. The goblins stopped their cackling and rolled their eyes. Two orcs gripping iron weapons approached from either side, while three goblins armed with bronze blades and sharp spears crouched low. The martial artists were still occupied on the other side of the battlefield. No help could be expected. The fight was not over.
Ha-ri swallowed dryly. If she ran, they would seize her from behind. She had to fight. She had to trust the alien power now residing within this body.
Meanwhile, an entirely different battle was unfolding inside the Gate.
Yang Ha-yeon was ravaging the interior. Her Ascending Wind Step was not merely fast footwork. True to its name of riding the wind, the sound of her feet striking the ground was faint, and even when she changed direction her body moved with such smoothness that it seemed to glide without friction against the air. Goblins fired arrows in frantic haste, but the currents swirling around her twisted their trajectories. The shafts never came close, embedding instead in random rocks or trees.
Each time Yang Ha-yeon’s sword moved, it generated compressed blades of vacuum that flew forward. They severed goblin necks, sliced orc waists in half, and crushed the eyes of distant enemies. Wherever she walked, dismembered monsters toppled belatedly.
The interior of the Gate existed under laws different from the outside world—an alien realm of pillar-like trees, viscous earth, shallow mist, and the pervasive stench of rot. Most problematic of all was the complete severance of communication with the exterior. Messages sent from outside and reports from within simply did not reach their destinations. Each faction had researched internal Gate communication technology for a long time, yet no successful public cases existed. Even if success had been achieved, they would have kept it hidden as a secret weapon.
Ha-yeon kept these facts in the back of her mind and remained unshaken. Only one thing mattered to her now: cutting down the master of this Gate, the wedge-like entity that anchored it.
While the warriors who followed her cleaned up the remnants, the last foe remaining was a troll clutching a staff. Far larger than a human, its moist gray skin had the texture of something halfway between stone and flesh. A being passed down in Nordic myth as a malevolent fairy, infamous for its powerful regenerative ability and cunning sorcery.
The troll wore a grotesque smile.
“Hee hee, you are strong. Truly strong.”
A troll that spoke human language. It meant the man-eating monster of legend had poured considerable power into this avatar. And beside it were bound children. Their hands and feet were tied; some sat on the ground sobbing exhaustedly, others stared with vacant, frozen faces.
The troll rapped its staff once against the ground.
“Well then, will you fight even in front of these brats? The moment you lay a single finger on me, these brats will die. No matter how fast or strong you are, can you stop me from killing them?”
The Yang family warriors who had followed her faltered. No matter how stratified society was, no matter how lightly commoners were regarded, there were no humans so depraved as to deliberately allow children taken hostage to be slaughtered. Any such monsters would have been weeded out by the Yang family long ago, for those who would bite their own masters were mad dogs.
Yet in the next instant, Yang Ha-yeon’s sword moved. The blade wind severed the children’s throats. It was so fast that even the warriors noticed a beat too late. The children collapsed without a sound. The troll’s mouth fell open.
“Y-you crazy bitch!?”
Yang Ha-yeon’s expression did not change. Eyes devoid of any emotion fixed upon the troll.
“I have heard that one of the troll’s signature atrocities is ‘changelings.’”
Her voice was calm, and therefore all the more chilling.
“They swap their own offspring for human children. After we subjugate your kind and rescue the hostages, it turns out they were troll spawn disguised as humans. There are recorded cases in which, on the very night the warriors returned the children to their parents and left, the creatures revealed their true nature and turned the village into a slaughterhouse.”
The warriors’ faces hardened. They too must have heard the stories. That it was impossible to distinguish human children from troll offspring through internal energy sensing alone.
Ha-yeon took one step forward.
“Even if they are young, a troll is still a troll. They can easily slaughter third-rate martial artists. By the time we returned, countless civilians would already be dead. I will not gamble on the chance that no troll spawn is hiding among those children.”
Wind coiled around her blade. At first it hummed lowly, then split into three separate currents that began rotating in different directions. Even a layman could tell that anything touched by that savage sword energy would not simply be cut—it would be torn to shreds.
Ha-yeon spoke.
“Scholars, farmers, artisans, merchants. Do you know why those of us who belong to the scholar class stand foremost among the four classes and possess the right to rule them?”
The words were spoken not only to the troll but to the warriors behind her as well—granting justification to the act she had just committed and wrapping it so that the loyalty of those who followed her would not waver.
“It is in exchange for protecting the weak from external threats like you that we receive their loyalty and devotion.”
The troll, sensing its death was near, instead let out a cackling laugh. Its gray lips split wide.
“You claim to protect the weak humans outside from us? Hee hee, then you are already too late. The orcs and goblins I concealed with sorcery must have slipped past you and gone outside by now!”
At that cry, Ha-yeon’s eyebrows twitched for the first time.
“…!”
The image of Kang Ha-ri flashed through her mind. The powerless maid. The woman who attended her in the early mornings and handed her water bottles at the training grounds. If the troll’s words were true, then right now she—
The troll laughed loudly, delighted by her reaction.
“It doesn’t matter if I lose! Tormenting you is the very reason for my existence!”
Ha-yeon’s voice cut sharply.
“Warriors, exterminate that monster! Unit Leader Won Yeon-jung, follow me!”
“Yes, Young Lady!”
Won Yeon-jung was a veteran who had served the Wonju Yang family for more than twenty years. A man who had been recognized for his achievements, promoted to unit leader, and even granted land and hereditary rights. He issued orders to the other warriors and immediately followed Ha-yeon without hesitation.
Ha-yeon unleashed her Light Body Technique as well. It was a sprint that pushed aside air resistance and glided forward. Even Won Yeon-jung had to regulate his breathing to keep up.
“Young Lady, if you act rashly—”
“Shut up and follow.”
Though the words were short and harsh, Yeon-jung detected the impatience woven into them. It was rare for Ha-yeon to show such open concern for the safety of the warriors and servants outside the Gate.
When the two emerged from the Gate, the scene outside was nothing like they had expected. Yeon-jung’s feet stopped.
“This… what is this?”
In the middle of the battlefield stood Kang Ha-ri, her maid uniform filthy with dirt and dust, surrounded by the corpses of monsters. Some had their necks bent at unnatural angles; others foamed blood at the mouth. There were also the bodies of warriors and servants. Clear evidence of a brutal fight. Yet there were survivors, and at their center was Ha-ri.
Ha-yeon immediately approached her. Both hands seized Ha-ri’s shoulders.
“What happened?”
Her voice was calm, but her grip carried strength. The moment her body heat reached Ha-ri’s skin through the clothing, Ha-yeon belatedly realized how desperately she had run.
Ha-ri opened and closed her lips. She hesitated, unsure how to answer. At that moment, one of the surviving warriors staggered over, panting. Blood spattered his face and a deep wound marked one arm, yet his eyes gleamed with excitement.
“Young Lady! This servant has witnessed something truly eye-opening today! A true martial artist awakens in the midst of battle! That maid—she was a genuine martial artist!”
Ha-yeon’s gaze turned to the man.
“What nonsense are you spouting?”
“It is not nonsense! This servant saw it with his own eyes. That maid used the Lazy Donkey Roll to evade their attacks, then persistently closed in and felled the monsters with palm strikes. At first I thought it was coincidence, but after the first fell, then the second, and the third began vomiting blood—everything began with her hands!”
Ha-yeon looked at Ha-ri again. Her face was smeared with dirt and someone else’s blood, her hair disheveled, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Aside from scrapes that would have come from rolling across the ground, there were no other wounds. It was unbelievable.
“That is possible? This maid is powerless…”
Won Yeon-jung quietly stepped forward. His eyes had already assessed the situation.
“To be precise, it is impossible for her to accumulate internal energy.”
He regarded Ha-ri with a gaze that was both intrigued and approving.
“Because of excessive reverence for internal energy, it has been forgotten, but martial arts originally began with external arts. Every living being is born with its own energy. Internal cultivation methods merely increase and refine the quantity of that energy. It is not entirely impossible for one to instinctively awaken the use of their innate energy in a desperate fight for survival.”
Ha-yeon frowned slightly.
“Does such a thing happen often?”
“If it did, the world would already be overflowing with experts.”
Yeon-jung gave a small chuckle.
“Most die before that point. But this maid possessed talent, and the luck for that talent to awaken. Moreover, the fact that she fought with palm strikes rather than fists is noteworthy.”
He pointed at the fallen orc corpse.
“Compared to a fist, a palm strike causes less external injury but delivers greater internal impact. Striking vital points properly is more than enough to destroy the balance and breathing of humanoid monsters.”
While he explained, Ha-ri kept her eyes lowered. Yeon-jung’s explanation sounded perfectly plausible. So plausible that it sent chills down her spine. Without knowing anything about the snake and its venom inside her, everyone was accepting it as “talent in external arts.”
Yang Ha-yeon remained silent for a moment. She stared intently at Ha-ri’s face, then let out a short breath.
“Unit Leader, I leave the cleanup to you.”
“Understood.”
“I will… take care of the maid who distinguished herself.”
Having spoken, Ha-yeon took Ha-ri’s hand. Ha-ri let out a small, startled sound.
“Y-Young Lady…”
Without turning around, Ha-yeon said,
“Even when rewarding merit, one must first cleanse the body. Return to the mansion, wash, and change your clothes.”
She paused for a beat, then added,
“I will also check whether you are injured.”
She did not know whether Ha-ri had truly awakened as Yeon-jung described, or how. For now, the only thing that mattered was that Ha-ri had survived safely. And Ha-yeon did not want to acknowledge the feelings behind that urgency. The worry for a single maid, the reason she had rushed out so hastily, the reason she would not release her hand now—she rationalized it all as simply looking after a servant who had rendered distinguished service.
Ha-ri walked after Ha-yeon. Behind them came the sounds of Yeon-jung and the surviving warriors sorting corpses and tending to the wounded. As she moved, Ha-ri carefully turned her awareness inward. Something deep in her lower abdomen still remained, quietly coiled, as if waiting for what came next.
Ha-ri asked inwardly.
Can I keep deceiving them?
Even someone as ignorant as Ha-ri understood. This was not martial arts. It was closer to the kind of power that the current martial world and its practitioners sought to reject. The snake seemed to laugh softly.
As expected. That white snake was the being that caused Gates to appear—an fragment of the gods cast out of myth to disturb the world. If she were discovered, it would not end with mere execution. Ha-ri said nothing. Instead, she curled her fingers ever so slightly around the hand that held hers. It was warm. A heat completely different from the hand that had just struggled against monsters.
The door of the luxury car opened, and Ha-yeon ushered Ha-ri inside first. For an ordinary maid to ride in her car would normally have been unthinkable, yet no one dared object now. Inside the vehicle it was far quieter than outside. Once the door closed, the stench of blood was shut out, replaced by the scent of leather seats and a faint, elegant perfume.
The driver started the engine at Ha-yeon’s glance and began to move. Ha-yeon stared at the maid sitting beside her for a moment, almost glaring, then spoke.
“Is it true you did all of that?”
Ha-ri immediately lowered her eyes.
“This servant… my mind was so chaotic that I do not clearly remember how…”
“Do not dodge with claims of ignorance.”
The voice was cold, yet the end of the sentence trembled faintly. Ha-yeon noticed it herself and pressed her lips together. After a pause, she continued as if choosing her words carefully.
“It must have been terrifying.”
For the first time, Ha-ri lifted her head. Ha-yeon’s face still wore its usual stoic mask, but deep in her eyes lay an indescribable tension. If one had to name it, it was closest to relief.
“…It was terrifying, Young Lady.”
Ha-ri answered softly.
“I truly thought I was going to die.”
At those words, Ha-yeon turned her gaze slightly aside. She pretended to watch the mountain road passing outside the window, but her fingers moved for the briefest moment atop her knee.
“Yet you did not run.”
“Even if I ran, I would have been caught.”
Ha-ri spoke that far, then hesitated slightly. The snake had whispered for her to say exactly this.
“…And above all, I felt that if I were caught like that, I would never see Young Lady again.”
“!?”
“So I struck out with my hand, at least.”
Ha-yeon’s eyes shook violently. What was she saying with another person right there!? She reflexively glanced toward the driver. He had flicked a look at them through the rearview mirror but said nothing. Ha-yeon decided to believe he would tactfully keep silent.
“A foolish thing to do.”
“Yes, Young Lady.”
“But… since you survived… you did well.”
Ha-yeon turned her head completely and stared only at the scenery beyond the window. The tips of her ears had turned red; even Ha-ri could see it. Thinking that today she had witnessed a truly rare sight, Ha-ri turned to look out the opposite window. The car was returning to the mansion. Inside it, Ha-ri’s transformation was beginning.
Her life as a maid would not end. On the surface it would continue almost the same—washing laundry, attending her mistress, obeying commands, lowering her head. Only now, within that body, there lived a snake—a goddess. The remnant of a goddess who poisoned through contact and grew stronger with every death offered to her.
Inside the car descending the mountain road, Ha-ri glanced for a moment at her reflection in the window. Even covered in dirt, blood, and sweat, something about her was different from before. In her eyes, in her expression. Today a monster had died. And perhaps the maid named Kang Ha-ri had died as well. In her place, something entirely new was quietly opening its eyes.