Dungeon & Commander (178)
As a Ju Shin Raider, he'd held back from using lethal force against Raiders from other guilds.
But this bastard had to die. He needed to make an example of him for the others.
Kim Se-wi, who had been flung back in one strike to secure a ten-meter distance, unleashed his Bone Fire.
A pale bone arrow forged from his signature mana hurtled toward Go Cheolmin. Go Cheolmin lightly executed a Mokhonbo Dang step to evade, but the bone arrow pursued relentlessly.
When Go Cheolmin shattered the approaching bone arrow with a hand chop, the fragments scattered, releasing a cloud of powder.
“Hup!”
Go Cheolmin held his breath, but he'd already inhaled some of the Dark Powder.
Staggering back, he glared at Kim Se-wi.
“You... despicable...”
Kim Se-wi smirked.
He recalled the fates of those who'd glared at him like that.
Pathetic weaklings who couldn't hack it, spewing their grievances and curses outright. Some flailed and thrashed in desperation, but it never lasted—they all ended up dead soon enough.
One couldn't fault the will to survive. It was just regrettable that they lacked the dignity befitting the weak.
Kim Se-wi approached Go Cheolmin slowly.
In that instant, Go Cheolmin's face drained of color as he threw a punch. The counterattack, full of resolve... was surprisingly feeble.
Kim Se-wi sidestepped and seized his wrist's pressure point.
He was startled. He'd expected at least ten exchanges to subdue Go Cheolmin. To think he'd be caught this easily.
Was this a trap he'd fallen into?
In his haste, he jabbed his fingers into the opponent's Shinju and Chungwan acupoints.
What the hell? There's barely any resistance. What happened to him?
Only after probing his energy meridians did Kim Se-wi realize Go Cheolmin's internal energy was depleted. He chuckled. It seemed the man hadn't trained properly since retiring.
Well, it was ridiculous to train like an active Raider when you weren't even entering dungeons anymore.
That's why retirees should just leave the guild. Huh, but why does his energy feel so stagnant?
Kim Se-wi pushed his own internal energy into Go Cheolmin's meridians to probe his body.
He felt Go Cheolmin's gaze.
Paralyzed by the acupoint strike, all he could do was grind his teeth and glare. The energy reached the dantian without obstruction. An odd suspicion arose.
Could someone as formidable a tanker as Go Cheolmin really deteriorate this much just from slacking on training? His state was worse than a newbie Raider who'd barely passed the awakening test.
If the opponent had been a Ju Shin Raider—or from Cheonhondan, Miracle, or Brave—he might have stopped there. But Go Cheolmin was just the master of a third-rate guild.
Kim Se-wi pushed his energy even more boldly into the dantian.
Unexpectedly, a substantial reserve of internal energy lurked there.
Then, it surged out like a flood, racing through the meridians.
A trap after all?
The two energies clashed, swirling into a vortex.
An internal energy duel had begun. Kim Se-wi gritted his teeth. Go Cheolmin had used a trick unworthy of his bulk, and he'd fallen for it out of curiosity.
No matter. He had no reason to lose an internal energy clash either.
He knew why Go Cheolmin had drawn him into this. The man had underestimated him—a mage who was also a martial artist.
That miscalculation would lead Go Cheolmin to his death.
It might have been sound judgment against an ordinary mage. But Kim Se-wi hailed from a prestigious family and had received internal energy transmission from the elders since childhood.
His body now harbored a full 60 years of cultivation—one full gapja cycle.
Go Cheolmin, who'd built his energy alone like a tortoise without any foundation, could never exceed 40 years no matter how hard he tried.
A 20-year gap!
Kim Se-wi smiled triumphantly as he poured his dantian's energy into Go Cheolmin's body.
Go Cheolmin's face twisted satisfyingly. Blood soon trickled from his nose, and his eyes bulged with burst vessels.
Symptoms of juwa-ipma—internal deviation.
Suddenly, Go Cheolmin's energy boiled over, rampaging wildly. It cycled through the Dokmaek and Immaek meridians in bizarre directions. Joints cracked audibly. Sweat poured, and his complexion flickered between red and blue.
It resembled juwa-ipma, but something was off.
Observing closely, Kim Se-wi reached a startling conclusion.
He burst out laughing.
Go Cheolmin had a terrible disease!
Go Cheolmin glared at him. Kim Se-wi looked down with the face of a victor and whispered,
“Dungeon Sickness, huh?”
“......”
Go Cheolmin gaped like a goldfish.
The sight was so comical that Kim Se-wi nearly rolled on the ground.
The dungeon gods were fair indeed. They'd delivered divine retribution to this chaos-monger who defied order. For a moment, he considered just leaving him be.
The man would suffer from Dungeon Sickness and die in agony. Over half of afflicted Raiders ended up suicidal, after all—Go Cheolmin might too.
But that thought passed quickly. It wouldn't sate his rage.
Fine. Decision made.
He'd bulldoze him with internal energy.
Make him bleed from eyes, nose, ears, and mouth until he dropped dead.
Show these punks a lesson they'd never forget.
Kim Se-wi drew up his energy.
* * *
“Left turn!”
The Pink Team moved in perfect unison, blocking Yoo Gwan-ho's flanking charge.
The dense defensive barrier formed by two tankers was tough for even Yoo Gwan-ho to breach alone.
The fire mage freely unleashing devastating spells was a threat too. Above all, Kim Jun—gripping the Cheonroegeom, poised to strike any opening—gnawed at his nerves most.
Thanks to his friends, Kim Jun regained his confidence.
After a day of torment, he'd felt like a total idiot who could do nothing.
Now that he'd taken enough hits, it was time to strike back.
He spotted Yoo Gwan-ho's signature erratic footwork, bouncing left and right. It was too fast to chase.
He had to lure him into a trap.
“Hey.”
Kim Jun called out.
Yoo Gwan-ho's eyes hardened. No matter how stoic, he was a proud Ju Shin Raider. To him, Kim Jun was a lowly junior.
“Deaf or what?”
Kim Jun provoked once.
“Wanna die?”
A low, icy voice.
“Crazy bastard, you think I was trying to spare you till now? You were the one flipping out like a maniac. Forgot already? Got dementia?”
Kim Jun's words were so crass they startled even his friends. Simple goal: enrage a Ju Shin dealer unused to such treatment.
Yoo Gwan-ho charged, teeth clenched.
Clang clang.
The double barrier shuddered under his jackknife but held.
“Attacking time—three, two, one.”
At Yeom Sang-taek's countdown, Yoo Min-jeong targeted him with a fireball.
Boom!
Yoo Gwan-ho dodged urgently, but his hair singed, leaving him looking ridiculous.
“What kinda outdated hairstyle is that? Grilling just the left side? Gotta do the right too. C'mere, I'll style it nice—granny perm style. But dang, no ears? Born without 'em? Poor thing.”
Yoo Gwan-ho's face stiffened as he TV-walked behind the Pink Team in a flash.
“Left turn!”
Yoo Gwan-ho was faster, but since they just needed to pivot, the Pink Team still faced him head-on.
His gaze locked on Kim Jun.
“Mad 'cause of your hair, gramps? So sensitive. How you gonna Raider like that? Ah, that's why you kill people—to vent stress.”
“...What?”
Yoo Gwan-ho's eyes wavered.
“How many you killed so far? Five? Way more? You're a total murderer, huh? Ju Shin dealer killing that many—cool with that? Oh, doesn't matter? Ju Shin's untouchable? Fair point. I buy it!”
Kim Jun went wild with glee.
His friends had his back. He could rake this fucker raw.
His friends, adapting to his trash talk, chimed in awkwardly—new territory for them.
But Yoo Gwan-ho's aura shifted. From instinctual killing intent to genuine fury.
Kim Jun frowned.
Hit a nerve? Guess he really loves killing...
He stepped forward behind Choi Muhyun.
“Moon Shadow Net?”
“Set.”
“Good job.”
Returning to position, Kim Jun provoked once more.
“What kinda knife is that? If you're carrying, make it count. Want mine? For real. Style's trash, but a good blade might save you. Think you can even hold it? Anyone else touches it, boom—dead.”
“You little shit!”
Yoo Gwan-ho glared at Kim Jun, then turned to the isolated Hwang Myeong-su.
Kim Jun feigned shock, mouth agape.
“No!”
Yoo Gwan-ho moved toward Hwang Myeong-su—and stepped into the trap.
Kim Jun broke formation with a Mokhonbo Dang, chaining Tan steps toward him.
TV-walk speed trapped Yoo Gwan-ho perfectly.
He sliced at the sticky Moon Shadow Net with his jackknife, but escaping an internal-energy snare instantly was impossible.
Kim Jun slowed, thrusting the Cheonroegeom forward.
He vividly envisioned piercing pink cherry blossom petals falling from a tree.
Yoo Gwan-ho spotted him.
The more he struggled, the tighter the net bound.
He blocked with the jackknife, but Yeon Yeop's edge was superior.
The blade's force flung the knife away. The recoil tore Kim Jun's grip. Grunting, he raised the Cheonroegeom and plunged it into Yoo Gwan-ho's net-covered instep.
The razor-sharp blade pierced foot and floor deep.
No footwork would save him now.
Crackle.
Sparks from the Cheonroegeom raced up his leg through his body. Yoo Gwan-ho convulsed and passed out.
Hwang Myeong-su, who'd bravely played bait, caught his eye. Pale-faced, he'd been terrified.
“Myeong-su hyung, you did great.”
“I-I just... s-stayed put like you s-said.”
“That's the hardest part.”
Kim Jun beamed with pride. The plan, tailored to Yoo Gwan-ho's style, had worked flawlessly.
This vile dealer shunned nothing for his goals. He'd struck Choi Muhyun and slashed Yoo Min-jeong's cheek.
Kim Jun had predicted he'd target Hwang Myeong-su if things didn't go his way—hence the Moon Shadow Net there, at Choi Muhyun's request.
The Pink Team rushed over.
Their faces glowed. Having people as thrilled as—or more than—he was felt amazing.
Kim Jun turned to the guild master.
Mere moments ago, fierce clashes raged; now, both stood frozen.
The Medici team leader gripped the master's wrist.
Something about the stance felt off.
Kim Se-wi was skilled in acupoint strikes. Like with Choi Muhyun and Yoo Min-jeong, the master might be immobilized.
“Pink Team, diamond formation!”
Kim Jun shouted.
They converged on the team leader—including Hwang Myeong-su this time.
The Pink Team advanced.
Yoo Min-jeong joined Kim Jun. Seeing the knife mark on her cheek ignited his fury.
Unthinkingly, he glared at Yoo Gwan-ho—sprawled, pinned like an insect. Was one foot enough? Maybe pin the other with the flung jackknife?
“Looks like an internal energy duel.”
“...Ah.”
Kim Jun grasped it instantly. Master and Kim Se-wi hadn't budged.
Internal energy duels were shunned even by fighting-cock Raiders.
Death awaited at the end.
Clashing energies wreaked havoc inside the body. Unlike external martial clashes, this ravaged meridians—far deadlier.
Injuries to meridians led to juwa-ipma for one—or both.
Closing in, Yoo Min-jeong's assessment gained weight. Dried blood under his nose stood out, along with unnaturally pallid skin.
At fifteen meters, Kim Jun ordered,
“Defense formation. Hold here.”
“What now?”
Choi Muhyun asked.
“Observe first.”
Kim Jun slipped from the team to inspect the master closely. Kim Se-wi eyed him.