Chapter 22
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 022
Chapter Title: Strange Talent
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"..."
His eyes snapped open.
He silently scanned his surroundings. The familiar ceiling, his gear bag, and bedding. The instant he saw them, Woojin realized he was back in reality.
Naturally, he fell deep into thought.
'What the hell was that just now?'
Was it just a dream?
But it felt too alien to dismiss so easily. Derek and Cedric—the brothers' thoughts, emotions, and pain had all come through so vividly. It was as if he'd possessed one of them.
A dream so lifelike it blurred the line between reality and illusion. For Woojin, this was familiar territory.
'I've gone through it every night until I'm sick of it.'
For the past twelve years, Kim Woojin had shuttled between two worlds every time he slept. His sense of self had split accordingly: a factory worker in South Korea, and a beast hunter in a dark fantasy realm.
But recently, his real-world self had died. That turned him fully into a resident of this dark fantasy world... and he hadn't dreamed once since. Not even yesterday.
'Why the sudden dream like this...'
There was only one likely culprit.
'...The abomination's inner core.'
The abomination that was once human—Derek and Cedric's inner core. Had consuming it let him experience fragments of the brothers' lives?
That guess in mind, Woojin replayed the dream. The murdered brothers and the red-haired witch. He'd seen that woman with his own eyes before.
'The one I spotted while staking out last time.'
A few days ago, Woojin had perched in a tree, watching the brothers' tent. A female cleaner had gone in, then emerged with a chamber pot. Her appearance matched the witch from the dream perfectly.
'Her name... Linda, I think.'
Linda. Missing since Tarasque's rampage. The mercenaries had concluded she'd been devoured by an abomination.
Her role on this job had been part prostitute, part caretaker. She'd kept the mentally unstable brothers company, cleaned their filthy tent, and occasionally satisfied the men's urges.
Woojin recalled Linda's movements from the dream. Approaching from the holy knight's blind side, then precisely stabbing through a gap in his armor. The blade had shimmered with a dark blue hue.
An assassin of exceptional skill, at first glance. Woojin found it oddly puzzling.
'...She didn't seem anywhere near that strong when I saw her before.'
Not to brag, but Woojin could gauge a being's level just by looking. Call it reading the vibe. A few minutes of observation, and he had a solid estimate.
In that sense... the Linda he'd spied on back then hadn't radiated any real power. No matter how he looked, she seemed like an ordinary civilian.
'Did I miss something?'
Time for a cross-check.
He delved back into the brothers' memories. Lewd gazes and groping hands on Linda's body. He analyzed the details one by one.
'She was skinny, but no muscle at all.'
No trace of training anywhere. As that thought crossed his mind...
'...Hold on.'
A flicker of unease hit him. Woojin narrowed his eyes and probed deeper into the memories.
It wasn't his imagination. At some point, Linda's body had firmed up. The change was subtle, but the texture under their hands felt different. Skin over taut, packed muscle.
But Derek and Cedric, drunk out of their minds, hadn't noticed. Linda's smile seemed more seductive than before. Entranced, the brothers ravaged her body like madmen...
'...That woman wasn't Linda.'
Someone had swapped places during the journey.
Yet no one had caught on. The witch had the exact same face, build, and voice. Her perfect disguise fooled everyone.
Even the ever-cautious Golden Beetle must have fallen for it, losing his life.
'The ability to steal someone else's appearance... Not just makeup. Magic, maybe?'
Hard to say for sure.
Woojin was only just starting with magic; his knowledge was limited. He'd need to consult an expert.
He rose and stepped out of the tent. Outside lay the campsite, shrouded in deep shadow.
'...It's early.'
The dream must have woken him earlier than usual.
Best to catch more sleep, but after that eye-gouging agony in the dream, he wasn't the least bit tired.
'Might as well prep breakfast.'
To kill time, he started cooking.
He filled a pot with water, tossed in dried veggies, potatoes, and diced turkey meat, then salted it. A stew he'd picked up peeking over Hector's shoulder in his cabin. Simple, but surprisingly tasty.
'The flavor from those dried veggies really punches above its weight.'
Woojin eyed the bubbling pot.
Dried tomatoes gave the stew a reddish tint, and juices from the turkey meat formed a glossy sheen on the surface.
Perfect for a hearty fill-up before a trip. But maybe the noise woke someone—the tent flap rustled, and Claire shuffled over, rubbing her eyes.
"Did I wake you?"
"The smell hit me and my eyes popped open. My appetite's been ramping up lately..."
Claire licked her lips, staring at the boiling stew. Worried the sunken ingredients might burn, she grabbed a ladle and stirred.
It'd take a bit for the stew to finish. Perfect timing—Woojin had a question.
"Something that crossed my mind when I woke up."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"Ever think a transformation spell that lets you impersonate someone would make assassinations a nightmare? Turn into a friend, get close, one stab, done."
Claire tilted her head slightly, staring into empty space. Her habit when deep in thought.
"...Dunno. Never heard of such a spell... If it exists, it'd be some high-circle, advanced incantation. Unlikely for assassinations."
"Why's that?"
"Anyone wielding high-circle magic would be a big shot in the Mage Tower. Why would someone with that kind of power dirty their hands on a hit?"
Besides, elite mages took immense pride in their craft.
Like an artist's attachment to their work—they rarely wasted high spells on something as crass as murder.
In other words, slim chance the witch's shapeshifting was magical. Woojin stroked his chin, pondering.
'Not magic... then maybe she ate a beast's inner core like me.'
Eating cores sometimes—rarely—let you inherit the beast's talents. The witch's impersonation ability likely stemmed from that.
Simple reason: the black potion that turned Derek and Cedric into abominations. It screamed Demonic Realm origin at first glance.
'If she handles Demonic Realm knowledge, she's probably embraced karma too.'
Karma, shapeshifting, killer instincts. She sounded dangerous all around. The thought nagged at him like a persistent fly buzzing his ear.
Track her down and kill her to sleep easy? Didn't feel like a day-or-two job.
As Woojin mulled...
"...Jin, can't we eat yet? The potatoes are gonna mush."
Claire, sitting beside him, voiced her worry. Woojin shelved his thoughts and grabbed the ladle. Food was always priority one.
Two days later.
Woojin and the mercenaries entered the Third Pioneer City. As Tarasque carried the Golden Beetle's wealth in a line through the gates, curious citizens gawked at the procession.
Holy Knight Raymond headed straight to the Church Alliance to report the incident. Whether the mercenaries continued the job or not hinged on their decision.
Or, put differently... the mercenaries were stuck in the city until that call came.
'...Nothing to do.'
Claire, exhausted from the nonstop march, had gone for a nap.
Alone for the first time in ages, Woojin savored the idle moment. Lounging back in his chair, yawning contentedly like a layabout.
Languid.
Anything fun around?
As boredom set in... he realized he might need to get used to this leisure.
The barrier wasn't far now. Meaning no more rolling in the Demonic Realm mud.
Woojin had claimed the werewolf bounty from the Church Alliance branch. His savings neared a hundred gold coins. Enough to live easy inside the barrier for a decade at least.
'Leisure sounds great.'
But what to do with it?
No phone, no computer. The city's amusements felt dull to Woojin.
Seemed mercenaries killed time gambling... but flushing hard-earned cash like that? No thanks.
'Their sleight of hand's obvious anyway.'
No desire to call it out and stir trouble. Nor play the sucker.
Long story short, nothing appealing left. He half-wished someone would toss him a task...
...And as if his wish was heard.
"Hey, Jin."
A familiar voice. Woojin turned to see Holy Knight Raymond.
"Thought you were reporting to the Church Alliance. Done already?"
"Had the report prepped ahead. Anyway... if you're free, mind coming somewhere with me?"
"Sure."
Woojin jumped up. Raymond blinked, mildly surprised.
"...Didn't expect instant yes. Was bracing for questions."
"Anything I should know?"
"Someone wants to meet you. Hopes for a bare-handed spar if possible. Up for it?"
Answer was obvious.
"Let's go."
"Great by me... You really were bored, huh."
Woojin strode ahead eagerly. Soon, they reached the Church Alliance training grounds.
In the center knelt a man. An elderly figure in worn training robes. A wooden prayer bead necklace around his neck caught the eye—each bead nearly fist-sized.
'Not heavy?'
Shifting gaze to his face, Woojin inwardly startled.
'...He's blind.'
A scar slashed across his eyes. The old man's pupils were cloudy, lifeless—like cataracts.
His sparring opponent was blind. As Woojin reeled, Raymond approached and bowed politely.
"Elder. I've brought the man I mentioned."
"You've done well."
The elder rose, turning precisely toward Woojin.
"Pleased to meet you... Name's Bow. If it's no trouble, may I have yours?"
"Call me Jin."
Bow extended a hand in greeting. Woojin clasped it, stating his name.
The elder's palm felt like gripping a stone—calluses thick beyond belief. But something puzzled him more...
"...Can you see me?"
He voiced the nagging oddity. A faint smile touched Bow's lips.
"I closed these two eyes to awaken the third."
A cryptic reply. But the elder spoke plain truth.
Woojin sensed it—actual gaze upon him. Like being watched from all sides by a crowd...
He'd met a rare one indeed.