Swordsmanship? Swordsmanship!
The Republic of Korea, the safest country in the world as acknowledged by one and all, where I lived. Even that Korea might not be safe anymore—that was Hoya's story.
Of course, there was no ignoring Hoya's words. Hoya knew more about gates than I did. It was a shame we couldn't communicate perfectly, but since I could grasp the gist of what Hoya was saying, I had to trust her.
"The problem is..."
My family. Now that I knew the world wasn't safe, shouldn't I take some measures for them too? Until now, I'd only thought of boosting their stats as preparation because I figured the threats were human.
Of course, the world where monsters overrun everything hadn't arrived yet. If it had, there'd be eyewitness accounts popping up online. Korea, boasting the world's fastest internet speeds, couldn't possibly clamp down completely on something like that. They say the people running a country hate SNS the most—uncontrollable information is exactly that.
So if the world had shifted to one where monsters appeared everywhere, we'd know somehow. If monsters existed outside but no one knew about them, it meant their numbers were extremely low, and they weren't showing up in populated areas.
And yet Hoya was warning me about safety.
"Hoya, is there something targeting gate owners?"
That was the conclusion I'd reached. Something might be gunning for gate owners.
Meow! She confirmed I was right.
So the reason Hoya was telling me it was dangerous was because I was a gate owner. Then why target gate owners?
"Why?"
Nyaa!
"You don't know? Well, even you can't know everything. But how did you figure out they're targeting gate owners?"
Nyaa? She played dumb on that question too.
How the hell did Hoya know that? She hadn't been out of the gate long—how?
What kind of time had Hoya spent in there? But I had a few guesses.
"Something's in that forest, right? Like, you can go to other gates through it?"
Meow! Hoya got mad. Don't pry, that meant.
"Keep that up, and I'll just go into the forest!"
Thwack!
"Okay, okay."
Hoya wouldn't tolerate any backtalk. But going this far meant entering the forest was dangerous for me.
"Then if I level up, can I go in?"
Nyaa. That was possible.
So how many levels would it take?
"Level 30?"
Meow! No.
"Level 40?"
Nyaa. Meow meow.
"Around there, I could hang out near the entrance? But you're only level 47 yourself."
Pfft! Hoya just made a sound no cat should. Or could cats make that? Maybe no cat acted like that.
Anyway, it was obvious: she was scoffing at me.
"Hoya! Is that how I raised you, mocking your dad?"
Pfft!
"Fair enough. I didn't teach you much—just fed you and gave you treats."
If it were a dog, I'd have trained it, but with a cat like Hoya, I'd just watched, fed her, gave snacks, and played.
"I did play with you!"
Meow. Hoya rubbed against me affectionately at that. She acknowledged it, at least. Brat. More magnanimous than I thought... no, was this why I'd raised her like that all this time?
Lick lick. Pretending to cry, I felt Hoya lick my hand. She knew I wasn't really crying. Why? She was smarter than me.
Still, it meant she was going easy on me.
"So I need to level up more, right?"
Meow!
"What about our family? They're not in danger?"
Nyaa!
"They're not? Why?"
Meow!
"So whatever's targeting gate owners isn't human?"
Nyaa meow meow. Right.
So the monsters targeting gate owners weren't people—they were literal monsters. Even if I didn't know why, if they weren't human, no taking hostages or threats. Instinctively hunting gate owners, or whatever they were.
Maybe they were after the gate owner themselves.
"But I haven't heard much about gate owners dying."
Gates hadn't been around long, so few known cases of owners dying.
"Maybe I should report to the government and get official protection?"
Reporting meant handing over a lot to the government under the guise of "cooperation." You might think that doesn't fly in 21st-century Korea, but even America does it. Think Korea wouldn't? Too naive.
Publicizing the gate ends my current gate life. It becomes a forced business. Freedom gone, every action exploited for "national interest."
You might cry foul in democratic Korea, but becoming a gate owner wasn't democratic either. They'd swing the "national interest" club, and resistance makes you a traitor—or the world's most selfish jerk.
Emigrating? Gate's fixed in place.
Maybe an exaggeration, but I thought it possible. If I were running the country, that's what I'd do—efficient and convenient.
I'd heard U.S. gate owners can't leave the country or travel far from home. From some owner's SNS post via another's phone—deleted quick, but already spread everywhere.
They dangle carrots too, of course. Whip alone, and owners might go extreme. Funny thing: carrots go to the family, not the owner. Refuse, and you're selfish to nation and family—shunned by all.
You might say screw it, but living like that? Plenty of ways to break you if that fails.
That's why I hadn't reported. Lucky gate owner or not, no reason to sacrifice my life.
"Ah, too many useless thoughts. Hoya, let's go in."
Meow!
I headed into the gate to cool my head.
Baekya and Kkamangi greeted me. Yeah, I didn't want to ruin a life like this.
But...
Cock-a-doodle-doo! Moooo!
A massive racket welcomed me too. Not tamed, but they knew I was the boss of the chicken coop and barns—trying to impress? It was deafening.
"Quiet!"
The chickens and cows shut up at my command. I glanced around, grabbed the wooden sword I'd made before.
I still hadn't generated a swordsmanship skill. Archery came easy; this didn't.
"What's the reason?"
Couldn't pinpoint it. Some skills form easily; others like swordsmanship, not at all.
"Must be some condition."
Problem was not knowing what.
"Baekya, fetch me an orc."
Grrr!
Baekya soon dragged back an orc with a longsword and some armor.
"Where do these guys even get gear?"
Suddenly wondered that. Then I swung at the orc, mana-coated blade.
Terrified of Baekya at first, it saw me and swung confidently—underestimated me.
I watched its swordplay closely. Sad, but I wasn't weak enough to die to a level 15 orc anymore.
Fight dragged on; orc tired. Confidence turned to fear in its eyes. Funny reading dread on an orc face with Observation.
I started mimicking its swordsmanship bit by bit. Then forgot the orc, lost in the blade.
For a good while.
You have learned Hertian Beginner Swordsmanship (Active) Level 2.
"Huh?"
Startled by the alert. First, I'd zoned out with an orc right there. Second, my first named skill.
"Hertian? First, this guy."
Tried to kill the orc, but it trembled in fear. I beckoned with a finger—might work.
It tossed its sword, rushed over, stood ramrod straight, arms pinned.
"You understand me? Nod if yes."
Nodded.
My skill was Animal Affinity. Worked on orcs too? Animal? Novels call them pig-men, but this was different—just another species. Minotaur was closer to a cow.
Understood me, though. Smart, or other reason? Not sure yet.
"Stay put. Move, you die."
Vigorous nod. Dealt with it for now, poured mana into Observation.
Observation skill used.
"Hertian?"
Swordsmanship made by some "Hertian." Human? Orc? Monster? Other race? This orc probably knew.