Mission: The Theft Incident
Choi Muhyun couldn't sleep.
When he closed his eyes, the image of Kim Jun squaring off against Do Jin-yong floated into his mind.
Kim Jun had stepped out of the range of Magic Earth Reversal, which tore up the ground to prove his worth. Not only that—he'd dodged the rock-hard clumps of earth hurtling toward him like cannonballs, closing in on Do Jin-yong by a hair's breadth.
And in the end, he'd won.
Even if Do Jin-yong had been exhausted, that match had been incredibly dangerous, with Kim Jun at a clear disadvantage.
Kim Jun had taken that risk to earn recognition from Do Jin-yong and the rest of Blue Lightning.
Damn, he was fast.
He could vividly recall Kim Jun's fluid dodge of Do Jin-yong's extended punch.
The moment Kim Jun slammed Do Jin-yong into the ground, Choi Muhyun had unconsciously clenched his fist. A thrilling shiver had raced through his entire body at that perfect timing.
His blood boiled.
He wanted to throw everything he had into a fight against Kim Jun.
Choi Muhyun got out of bed and headed to the training room. He needed to cool his heated body, even if just a little.
He assumed the Hyun Jung-se stance.
Qi burst from the Yongcheon acupoint on the sole of his foot, making the training room floor creak.
The moment Hyun Jung-se shifted to Ji Ryeo-se, the floor clattered like piano keys. The far more powerful force was shaking the boards.
He deployed Geumgangbyeok.
Unlike in a dungeon, a very faint golden mist formed in front of him.
Next came Wolunmak. It could envelop the entire team, but its range came at the cost of defense compared to Geumgangbyeok.
"Huff... huff..."
After three repetitions, Choi Muhyun was utterly spent. In real combat, he'd distribute his power, but this was practice—he'd poured everything in.
That's when someone entered the training room.
Turning his head, Choi Muhyun spotted his father.
"You're working hard late into the night. Let's have a beer. Come on out."
"Huh?"
His father, suggesting beer out of the blue? As Choi Muhyun pondered how to respond, his father added one more line before leaving the training room.
"I grilled some squid, too."
Something felt different from usual. It made him uneasy for no reason.
His father was seated at the dining table.
Six cans of beer and a plate of perfectly grilled squid.
Choi Muhyun sat across from him and grabbed a can.
"What's going on?"
"How long are you planning to stay at Uramata?"
"That again?"
Choi Muhyun downed half the can in one go and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I'm asking as your father."
"We already settled this. I'll stay there as long as I want. You even agreed."
"Fine, fine. That guy... Speaks just like his old man. Always so serious."
As Choi Muhyun's voice rose, his father, Choi Min-su, glanced toward the master bedroom. It was the look of a husband checking for his wife's eavesdropping.
"Anyway. You know my birthday's coming up soon, right?"
"Of course."
Even when their relationship was rocky, his father always reminded him like this. He'd thought it was just about getting a gift, but looking back, it seemed like the gruff man's way of bonding.
"What're you giving me this time?"
"Anything you need? A phone? The new model's out—gaming console would work too."
His father loved gadgets.
"I actually want something for real this time."
There was a gravity to his father's tone.
Muhyun tensed instinctively.
"What is it?"
"Cheonroegeom."
"......"
Choi Muhyun was speechless. It was the last thing he'd expected.
"Son, put your gratitude for the father who brought you into this world into that sword. No need for a ribbon."
"Dad."
"Getting serious again? It's a joke, a joke. I wouldn't take a sword anyway. A man's fist is enough."
Choi Min-su raised his massive fist.
Choi Muhyun felt uneasy. There seemed to be a barb hidden in the joke.
Truth be told, there was no reason his father would want Cheonroegeom.
No—he wasn't the type to care about it, even as an old-timer. So why bring it up?
Does he know Kim Jun's the owner of Cheonroegeom?
Choi Muhyun chugged the rest of his cans in quick succession.
Having polished off five of the six, he glanced around and stood.
"Tell me whatever you want as a gift. And get some early rest."
Choi Muhyun hurried back to his room.
Left alone, his father stared at his son's door and let out a long sigh.
"Why the hell did you bring out something that dangerous? A storm's brewing. The Yeon family won't sit idle."
His father finished the remaining beer and headed to bed.
Yeon Mujin stood on the rooftop railing of a moonlit building, gazing down at the tiny guildhouse below.
"Choi Muhyun, you say?"
Choi Muhyun? A name he'd never heard.
No matter that he was Choi Min-su's son—a green rookie just stepping into raiding couldn't have found Cheonroegeom.
By Association rules, the sword's ownership belonged to that kid. But Yeon Mujin couldn't accept it. Neither that Choi Muhyun was its master, nor that the sword had chosen him.
The original owner of Cheonroegeom was his grandfather, Yeon Chung-jae.
Thus, only someone from Yeon Ga—and the sole direct descendant, himself—could be its true master.
Yeon Mujin checked his watch.
His gut burned.
Then, the phone in his hand vibrated.
Begin.
But this... there's no way...
Yeon Mujin hesitated briefly but soon shook off the thought. He was just a tool right now, not a leader.
Yeon Mujin leaped downward.
Yeon Mujin slipped into the Uramata Guildhouse.
With expert finesse, he disabled the security gear, recalled the building's layout, and ascended the iron stairs. The master room door was wide open.
He snorted.
To think it's this sloppy.
Entering the master room, Yeon Mujin frowned. Even for a small guild like Uramata, he hadn't expected it to be this rundown and messy.
Pearls before swine.
Yeon Mujin steadied himself. Cheonroegeom didn't belong in a dump like this.
He already knew where the safe was.
To get a guild license, you had to submit detailed info to the Dungeon Association's Guild Management Licensing Division. Thanks to that, Yeon Mujin removed the landscape painting on the wall without hesitation.
The problem was the passcode.
Three wrong tries triggered an alarm. Forcing the door would blare it too. This security linked straight to the Association—and couldn't be disarmed.
If the safe was tampered with, cops would arrive in under ten minutes.
"Doesn't matter. By then, neither the sword nor I will be here."
Yeon Mujin attached three blobs of homemade explosive—laced with trace Pyrodium—in a perfect triangle on the safe door. He stepped back and extended his right hand.
A flash erupted from his fingertips, sparks branching toward the safe.
Boom!
The sturdy alloy door blew off, and an alarm like a siren began wailing.
Yeon Mujin pulled out Cheonroegeom, wrapped in cloth, and the Legio from inside, grimacing again. Wrapping this treasure in rags? Unfathomable.
He left the guild documents that could fetch cash.
I'm no thief. I'm here to right a wrong.
With Legio and Cheonroegeom in hand, he exited the guildhouse. The street remained quiet.
Clean work.
No pursuers, no suspicious signs. Yeon Mujin felt a bitter taste but was satisfied with the mission's success.
Heading home, Yeon Mujin glanced sideways.
The cloth-wrapped Cheonroegeom seemed to call to him.
He reached out. His fingertips nearly brushed the hilt.
No. I'm retrieving it on the patriarch's orders. Stick to the mission.
Then, his phone rang.
Startled, Yeon Mujin hit the steering wheel button.
"Ah, Young Master."
Yeon Mujin recognized the voice instantly.
"Of course."
The condescending tone irked him, like barking orders at a subordinate, but Yeon Mujin hid it.
The call ended.
Damn it!
Grinding his teeth, Yeon Mujin pulled over immediately. He pounded the steering wheel mercilessly. Still fuming, he got out and kicked a roadside tree.
Thud.
The ginkgo snapped and crashed onto the sidewalk.
Spitting on the ground, Yeon Mujin opened the passenger door and stared at Cheonroegeom. Any Yeon clansman would covet this sword. He'd been suppressing that urge while transporting it home.
"No funny ideas? Avoid the risk and reap the rewards, huh?"
Yeon Mujin unwrapped the cloth.
Cheonroegeom revealed itself.
His jaw dropped. It was utterly different from photos or videos. The power dwelling within... he could feel it raw.
Grandfather died in a dungeon. A rookie like Choi Muhyun might've found it, but no way the sword accepts him as master. It's ownerless now. If I... if I could be its master...? If I become the Cheonroegeom Master...?
His hand trembled.
Cheonroegeom was Yeon Ga's symbol, Cheonhondan's treasure.
Its master—the Cheonroegeomju—would elevate his status. He might even displace the young master, who was nothing without the patriarch's name.
Yeon Mujin gripped the hilt.
A jolt like electrocution.
Lifting Cheonroegeom effortlessly, laughter burst from Yeon Mujin.
"Hahaha! I'm the Cheonroegeom Master!"
In that instant, an enormous surge of electricity erupted from Cheonroegeom, blasting Yeon Mujin away.
His hand charred black, Yeon Mujin flew across the road into the opposite brush. Cheonroegeom vibrated on the ground, faded to transparency, and vanished.
The night sea viewed from the cliff shimmered silver.
Bathed in moonlight, the place felt impossibly peaceful.
Kim Jun sat at the edge, legs dangling into the void, and raised his hand.
The thrilling rush from when pure white light burst from Cheonroegeom, slicing and incinerating the Absorption Tree, lingered in his fingertips.
Cheonroegeom... it's the real deal.
He wanted to grip it again, swing it.
Cleave through anything—Absorption Trees or whatever.
As if the sword rested in his palm, Kim Jun clenched his fist tight.
Then, the spasms began.
His left hand steady, but his right fingers twisted wildly, trembling out of control.
A name surfaced in his mind.
Yeon Chung-jae.
Cracking sounds from his knuckles, pain like shattering bones and tearing muscles. He gritted his teeth, swallowing the cry. The contraction climbed his arm to his forearm.
Cold sweat drenched his face. Hair plastered to his forehead.
As suddenly as it came, the trembling and pain cut off.
Kim Jun gasped for air. Only his ragged breaths echoed on the silent cliff.
As the pain faded to a faint trace, a familiar texture met his palm.
"Huh?"
Under the moonlight, Kim Jun recognized Cheonroegeom gleaming and lost his words. It should be locked in the master room safe.
"Not a dream, is it...?"
He gazed quietly at its beauty.
Kim Jun smiled faintly.
Cheonroegeom cleaved the air. A resonant whoosh spread wide.
"So that's Cheonroegeom."
The voice came from behind.
Kim Jun turned.
Nam Eung-ryeol approached with hands behind his back, ghostlike. He walked on two legs, yet glided low effortlessly.
"...Elder."
"I've seen it before. The sword crossed space to find Chung-jae once. Looks like Cheonroegeom came to you here."
At those words, Kim Jun examined Cheonroegeom anew. It seemed even more mystical now.
"Let's take a closer look."
"Yes."
Kim Jun handed Cheonroegeom to Nam Eung-ryeol.
Sparks flew from the deep indigo blade in his grasp, but soon settled. Nam Eung-ryeol scanned it with the fond eyes of a man reuniting with a long-lost friend.
"The pommel must be sturdy. It's key for blocking ambushes and countering."
Nam Eung-ryeol caressed the hilt's rear end, engraved with a goblin-like seal.
"The most vital part of the hilt is grip. No matter how hard you clutch and swing Cheonroegeom, its textured ridges never wear. They even mold to the owner's hand over time. A custom fit."
Nam Eung-ryeol gripped the hilt two-handed and swung Cheonroegeom down from overhead. A thunderous ku-kung emanated from the blade.
Next, the round guard separating hilt from blade.
"This is the godong. Novices rely on blade and edge, but masters use the godong fully. Why do you think that is?"
Absorbed in Nam Eung-ryeol's words, Kim Jun pondered but shook his head.
"Enlarge the godong in your mind. What does it resemble?"
Kim Jun mentally magnified Cheonroegeom tenfold, isolating and rotating the godong. An idea struck.
"...Like a shield."
"Exactly. The godong is a swordsman's shield."
Nam Eung-ryeol's eyes gleamed.
"But it's too small for a shield."
"Why do you say that?"
"Can't block arrows."
"Hahaha!"
Nam Eung-ryeol's laughter carried far.
"You don't know swords yet, so that's natural. Fair point, though. The godong specializes in parrying swords, spears, sometimes polearms. In fierce exchanges where life hangs on a split second, it turns defeat to victory. You'll learn the details with swordsmanship."
"Yes, Elder."
"Call me Master from now on."
"......"