Dungeon & Commander (18)
Choi Min-su unleashed Myeol-ok-su.
His hand, now translucent, brimmed with ferocious power capable of shredding anything in its path.
Choi Muhyun's only defense was Geumgangbyeok.
Though it shoved him back three meters, Geumgangbyeok held firm against Myeol-ok-su.
"Moon Shadow Golden Heart Technique. Father, you mastered it too."
"Did Go Cheolmin tell you? That guy's got a big mouth for once."
"Master didn't say a word. I figured it out studying raid footage on my own."
Choi Muhyun skipped any mention of Kim Jun.
His father, who dismissed carriers' worth entirely, would prejudge Kim Jun the moment he heard the name.
"Hah, studying, you? Go Cheolmin's better than me at this. To change you like this."
Even as he spoke, Choi Min-su pressed his son with Pacheon-gong. Pacheol Sword, Cheon-geuk Fist—techniques from Pacheon-gong flowed one after another.
"I saw you use Geumgang Fist there too."
Choi Muhyun kept retreating but blocked solely with Geumgangbyeok.
"I figured we'd have this talk someday. Pacheon-gong is incomplete. No matter how much you train, it hits a wall. Moon Shadow Golden Heart Technique is whole. Simple, but once it's in your body, it unleashes far greater power. Even if you learn others later, it'll help."
"...Father."
Choi Muhyun's eyes grew misty.
"Now, take your stance. I want to see your Geumgang Fist."
His father crossed his arms.
Choi Muhyun took a deep breath, hands at his waist, legs spread wide, sinking his center low. His inner energy flowed naturally down through his legs to his soles, then surged back up from the Yongcheon acupoint.
Hyeon Jung-se, the basic stance of Geumgang Fist!
"Not bad."
At the curt praise, Choi Muhyun clenched his fists—his energy wavered, nearly buckling his knees.
"It's only been a short time training. No way it'd meet your standards, Father."
A sullen tone.
"The shell's perfect. But no core. That's the issue."
"Core?"
"You won't get it without seeing for yourself."
Choi Min-su mirrored his son's stance.
Creak.
The sturdy wooden floor groaned and twisted.
Moments later, crack—a board splintered beneath him, unable to bear his weight.
Choi Muhyun's jaw dropped. It was clearly Hyeon Jung-se! How could it overflow with such power?
As Choi Min-su relaxed, the floor warped again.
"Ji Ryeo-se."
"...Not Hyeon Jung-se?"
"Hyeon Jung-se is the shell. Ji Ryeo-se is the core."
"First I've heard of it."
"Not just anyone can learn it. If Hyeon Jung-se is day, Ji Ryeo-se is night. Day lets everyone see clearly, but night? You only recognize faces by firelight."
His father leaned close and whispered the inner energy flow for Ji Ryeo-se.
The key: a serpent coiling around the earth! Energy descending through both legs spiraled like a snake in a coil. One leg channeled energy down; the other drew it back up, fused with the earth's qi.
Choi Muhyun was speechless at the profound principle.
"Your turn."
His father stepped back, hands clasped behind him.
The same stance, yet the energy flow changed everything.
Sweat poured down. Rotating energy was far harder than imagined. No giving up now—he wanted to achieve something, anything, before his father.
His legs trembled.
The floor went tap-tap. Not the sound he wanted. It should groan under crushing weight.
His father approached, hand on his shoulder. A torrent of energy rushed down to his legs, guiding his struggling flow into Ji Ryeo-se. Intense.
'Ah! The shaking stopped. Effortless.'
In that instant, he felt energy rising from his left sole.
His father pulled away, ending the bliss.
A wistful son.
"Ready for the real fun?"
His father doubled his energy output. Until now, mere play.
The son felt its full might on his skin.
"F-Father?"
"Here I come."
A groan escaped.
Outside the training hall, listeners pitied Choi Muhyun.
Two hours later, he staggered out, barely upright.
"So fragile."
The door slammed shut behind him.
Choi Muhyun revoked the awe he'd felt moments ago. His father... wouldn't change. No more expectations.
Still, his heart felt light.
He wasn't a talentless child discarded by his father.
Finally out of Cheonhondan, he called Kim Jun. Just ringing.
"Still training?"
Choi Muhyun hailed a taxi.
At Uramata Guildhouse, savory fried chicken scent hit him. Chicken and beer on the table, Yeom Sang-taek and Kim Jun seated before it.
"Choi Muhyun!"
Kim Jun waved.
Choi Muhyun shook his head and walked over.
* * *
The sky lightened gradually.
Shadows from buildings shrank; roads filled with cars. Kim Jun, up early as always, was running.
Buses belching exhaust, taxis cutting in expertly, loaded trucks, commuter sedans—motorcycles weaved through the packed traffic.
Kim Jun stuck to the narrow gap between road and sidewalk.
Nearly three years of this.
Thinking led to screaming muscles.
No-mind, no-thought running was best. His hard-won secret.
Focus solely on each silent step—the only way to sustain daily sprints.
Still just a carrier, but lately, he was happy.
He could beat Yoo Min-jeong's relentless challenges—at running, at least.
Yeom Sang-taek was as close as Choi Muhyun now.
Choi Muhyun visited his father three days a week for Geumgang Fist lessons.
Not being ignored by the three raiders, holding his presence—satisfaction enough.
Then, a motorcycle roared up behind.
"Fuck off! Run on the school track!"
Kim Jun instinctively dodged the helmeted man's swung fist but slipped on a pebble.
Momentum sent him tumbling sideways into a ginkgo tree, rolling onto the sidewalk. No witnesses, luckily.
"Dumbass, serves you right. Haha!"
The rider's laugh faded.
Kim Jun glared at the bike, eyes hardening. He stood quickly, but his twisted ankle throbbed painfully.
"Damn."
Rage boiled inside.
He limped, then slumped into an old chair outside a shuttered pharmacy. How long to cool off? Venting alone was pointless.
Roads were lawless.
People gripped wheels and turned primal.
This happened more than you'd think.
Anger every time just hurt him.
Fifteen minutes gone. Training plan ruined. Fury surged again.
His phone rang.
Kim Jun pulled it out, smiling.
"Calling this early? What's up?"
—Whoa, you picked up. You ignore everyone while running.
"On a break. About to hang up."
Get to the point.
—Finally! I did it! Dad nodded, even if his face said otherwise.
Voice bursting with excitement.
"Whoa, impressive. You mastered Geumgang Fist properly."
—Haha, all thanks to you. I'll treat you big time later. See you at the guildhouse.
Choi Muhyun hung up first.
Kim Jun stared at the phone. Nearly dropped it, strength gone.
He'd clawed his way here, yet his friend strode ahead. Like a sports car blasting past your pedaling bike.
He shoved the phone into his back-hugging bag and stood.
"...Gotta go."
He walked the sidewalk before hitting the road, building speed—but not running yet.
Stopped at lights.
Commuters waited beside him.
"Heard dungeons are reopening."
"Good. We'll see Lee Hwan again."
"I prefer Yoo Wan-seop."
"Yoo Wan-seop's done. Daily Raider said he's holed up at home."
"Don't care. Lee Hwan's enough."
Conversations seeped in unbidden.
Weeks ago, news broke: Dungeon Association's decision—major nationwide dungeons open August 22.
Reporters swarmed top guilds; stories spread.
Even Uramata got one. Go Cheolmin's spittle-flecked rant made zero papers.
Kim Jun reined in his haste.
'I'm... a carrier. Tolerated at Uramata, but a carrier's a carrier. In dungeons, I clean up and grab cores. That's the job.'
He merged onto the road.
Focused on his shoe soles hitting asphalt. That's how he ran.
Dungeon thoughts faded.
Rhythmic breaths, legs propelling forward like flight, arms slicing air filled his mind.
Pain melted away.
Immense joy soaked him. Endorphins' mighty gift!
Runner's high!
The overwhelming ecstasy only sprinters knew!
Lately, runner's high brought a strange sensation.
Running road's edge, eyes forward—yet sides and rear fully perceived.
Senses sharpened, vivid and precise.
Not moving his body; it ran itself.
Familiar engine hum.
Kim Jun veered to the sidewalk, threading trees, speed steady.
That instant, the punch-throwing rider lost balance.
The bike veered wildly, smashing a pole; axle snapped. He hit a tree, staggered, head-butted a convenience store window.
Cracks spiderwebbed the glass.
The buff owner emerged—built like a gym trainer.
"You fucker!"
The helmeted man yelled.
Kim Jun's earlier assailant, apparently heading elsewhere post-errands, spotting him.
"What'd you say?"
The owner scowled; the man shut up.
Kim Jun couldn't hold back laughter, resuming his run. Even lights seemed to aid him now. Compensating those wasted fifteen minutes.
Entrusting himself to this prolonged, eerie runner's high. Roads weren't lawless anymore.
His body ran on autopilot. Speed built; wind whipped his ears fiercely.
Gazes turned his way. Bus riders pointed; some snapped photos.
A scream shattered the rapture.
Slowing off the road, Kim Jun spotted a tiny old woman.
Seventy-plus, pointing at a fleeing man clutching a shabby bag.
"Pickpocket! Pickpocket!"
Kim Jun was already chasing.
Thought he'd catch quick, but distance held. The thief spotted him, pulled ahead. Even jogging lazily, shockingly fast.
'Faster than Yoo Min-jeong.'
Cornering into an alley, Kim Jun ditched his sandbag against the wall. Full throttle now.
"Let's run."
Unmatched speed.
The thief startled, blundered into a dead end.
Kim Jun blocked the entrance. Panting.
"Who the hell are you?"
Early twenties guy glared. Breathing hard too.
"Hand it over."
Kim Jun pointed at the bag.
"You think I'm a pickpocket? Yeah, I get it. But I'm not. Absolutely not."
"Bag."
"Words ain't working. It's all true, though."
Grinning thief.
Kim Jun jabbed a finger at the bag.
"Kid, you'll get hurt."
Cracking knuckles.
"Will I?"
Kim Jun grinned, advancing.
Sudden punch—Kim Jun flinched, barely dodged. No room for ease.
That fist's speed neared 150 kph pitching machine. Pro boxer?
"Oh ho."
Barrage incoming.
Kim Jun dodged frantically, face stiff. Failing against one thief? No dreams beyond carrier.
Whoosh.
Now a side kick to the ribs.
Kim Jun swung his elbow like swatting a baseball. Could snap an ankle.
Thief spat curses, retreated.
"You're a raider, huh?"
Kim Jun, breathless, stayed silent. Analyzed instead: fists like boxing jab/straight. Legs... taekwondo-ish.
"How do you know the granny? Ah, new disciple. Right?"
"Disciple?"
"You'll get used to it. Gotta snag her ever-present core this week. Fail, I'm out. Damn, not here either! If not in the bag, where?!"
Rummaging futilely, he grumbled.
Kim Jun baffled.
Reading his face, the thief smirked.
"You'll learn soon enough."
He tossed the bag at Kim Jun, kicked the wall, vaulted the fence.
Gripping the bag, tension fled; Kim Jun nearly collapsed. Exiting slowly, he felt the world's vastness.
Need to get faster.
Stronger.
Contentment shattered.
Kim Jun returned the bag to the granny.
She eyed it, eyes sparkling.
"Snatched it right from that bratty grandson."
"...Grandson?"
Thought it a mad thief's tale, but her grandson? Both nuts, apparently.
Her hands roamed his abs, chest, arms, thighs boldly.
"...Granny?"
"Thanks, young man. Body like steel. This old lady's smitten."
"Uh, sure."
"Where's my card? Somewhere here. Ah, found it."
She fished a crumpled business card from the bag's inner pocket and handed it to him.