Second Trial (2)

I meticulously adjusted the clumps of blood I'd extracted from them, compressing each one individually before hurling them at the gangsters. Actually, while using this ability—and even earlier—a question had popped into my head.

'Can I make the volume small but the density high?'

Proficiency. It's the most straightforward metric for how efficiently you perform any action or technique. Like handling a tricky tool with ease, or manipulating a combo-heavy game character as smoothly as flowing water.

The idea sparked by that question was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠more powerful than I'd imagined. The density was incomparable to what I'd flung at those punks before. In an instant, agonized screams erupted from all directions.

And then the notification frenzy.

A feast of points. But it was only for nine of them. One short.

I tilted my head and turned. A shadow loomed right in front of me. The big lug was swinging his fist.

Reflexively, I threw up a cross guard, wrapping my arms in blood. I imagined hardening it.

Bang!

'Blocked it. So I can form it like a weapon or armor, huh?'

I couldn't help but marvel at the excellence of Blood Manipulation.

The brute grinned. "You blocked that? As expected from number one, number one!"

"Then die."

I siphoned off 50ml and fired a compressed bullet. Like a pitcher who'd been throwing 140km/h fastballs suddenly cranking it to 150, then 160.

The brute charged in defenselessly. It looked reckless as hell. What an idiot.

But then something surprising happened.

Scraaape, splat!

Incredibly, the moment the blood bullet hit, his skin transformed. Like metal, it deflected the shot.

He closed in again and threw another punch. I dodged and leaped back. He stomped the ground and narrowed the gap once more.

I thrust my foot out at him. My sole shoved his thigh.

'Front push kick.'

Taekwondo fundamentally starts with leg ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠checks and counters. The key is targeting the opponent's lower body early to throw them off balance—like throwing jabs in boxing to gauge distance.

The brute clicked his tongue and launched a low kick. It looked heavy.

'Can't dodge. I'll get cornered.'

We were fighting in a narrow alley. I grabbed his ankle, pulled in close to seize his leg, and shifted my center of gravity. I swung my hand open and struck his neck.

'Normally it'd be the chest, but why bother?'

A technique meant to kill. But metal wrapped around his neck and blocked it. Defensive skill, for sure.

He countered with an elbow. "Tch." I retreated. He stepped forward and spun into a back kick. I raised my arm to block and got pushed back.

I checked his status window.

'So that's it.'

I knew exactly how to take him down. Endless other options, sure, but I'd smash this guy with my blood ability.

He grinned and swaggered. "Whoa, damn. Tough as hell, yeah?"

"Wish you were tough too, yeah."

"What?"

I condensed 100ml of blood to its limit. Focused. Not a bullet this time—I shaped it into an arrow, exhaling as I compressed it repeatedly, like ancient Damascus steel.

'Now!'

As the brute sneered coldly and charged, I unleashed the ultra-compressed arrow. His entire body turned metallic in unison. The arrow met metal from the tip.

Would it bounce? Vanish? Shockingly, it pierced right through, burrowing into his neck.

"Wha—gurgh?!"

"Then croak."

I extended my hand toward the embedded arrow. Squelch—like slaughtering a pig.

'Knife jab!'

Direct hit. A thick crack echoed as the brute flew backward. I approached; he wasn't dead. No point notification.

'Tough, alright. High stats for an enforcer.'

If even the underboss was this strong, the real bosses had to be worse.

"I know you're not dead. Open your eyes."

"Ugh, grrr, you... what the hell are you? How are you this strong?"

"Are you stupid?"

"What?"

At this point, it was ridiculous. What gave him the confidence?

"Think about it. You're like picking a fight with Messi or Faker with your amateur skills. I told you, I'm the local number one."

Of course, "local number one" was from zombie kills, not pure one-on-one brawls. But I was consistent, at least.

The brute shuddered. "Even so, this is beyond expectations!"

"No wonder you're still playing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gangster in this mess—with a brain that fried."

"Shut up. Gangsters know loyalty and brotherhood!"

Mental case. I stomped his lips. He writhed in pain. I lifted my foot and pressed a finger to his mouth. Torn lips and shattered teeth fragments.

I sighed and smiled. "I ask, you answer. Bullshit or silence, and we'll have fun."

"Fuck you, no way, man."

"Hah, your cursing game's so old-school!"

I wrapped 100ml of blood around my left hand. If it could be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠armor, why not gloves? I hardened it and slammed his solar plexus.

"Urgh! Cough—hack!"

"Feeling chatty now? Hey, even a retard like you needs to report back to the boss."

"Y-you'll let me go?"

"Yeah, gotta deliver my message."

A faint smile flickered on his face. He schooled it quick. "F-fine. What is it?"

"Your boss's name and gang."

"K-Kwak Man-ho, boss. We're Bangju-pa."

"Bangju-pa?"

"Yeah, operating in Jungkye-dong."

"Spilling it yourself? Your boss sent you, huh?"

"Yeah."

I'd meet Kwak Man-ho soon enough. Didn't expect the chance this quick. A grin spread naturally. Heaven-sent.

"Guess we're fated."

"Huh?"

"I wanna see your boss too. Owe him indirectly."

"You know our boss?"

I skipped answering. Asked instead. "Where do I find him?"

"Th-that's..."

Figured. Gangsters are weird. They know it's pointless but show loyalty. Like cultists clinging to faith.

I clenched my left fist and smashed his crotch. A soft splat—sweet sensation.

"Aaaagh! Grraaaah!"

"Right nut's busted. Congrats, thrilled yet?"

"Y-you fuuuck!"

"Next is lefty. Break that, you're done for."

I tilted my head and smiled. Kept the pain coming—but dangled survival hope too. Funny. That hope loosened his tongue.

Red-faced, teary brute clutching his groin, groaning. "Ugh."

"Where do I find him?"

"Urk, H-Hwiya Auto Cue."

"That's a car dealership."

"B-boss loves cars, ugh, spare me, please."

"One more. You guys use skills well."

He shook his head. Chicken-shit tears down his cheek. Ruined the view. Should've gouged his eyes?

"Just me, little bro, and big bro. Rest don't know."

"Why? If your grunts had skills, you'd own the area."

"I-it's..."

Weird, yeah. Numbers win in this world. Why was Joo Jintae gathering crowds so desperately? Craving human warmth? Nah. Bodies mean utility anywhere. Easiest for gangsters.

But in the fight, only this guy used skills. Others, and I'd have struggled.

Looking down, I smirked. "Bet big bro kept it from you on purpose. Petty bastard."

"What?!"

"Teach grunts skills, risk rebellion. Kept 'em dumb like some peasant policy."

"How'd you figure that?"

"Basic thinking. Know your place. Quit the loyalty-brotherhood crap, you Yakuza knockoffs."

Humiliation burned his face. Whatever. He nodded slowly. "We control the local punks too."

"Let me go now. Spilled it all."

Ballsy. Like a witness, not a perp.

"Fine. Know where Hwiya Auto Cue is. Not bullshitting?"

I stared blankly. He trembled. Big guy shaking—visual violence.

"N-no, real!"

"Prove it."

"How?"

I grinned. Hooked so easy. Couldn't hold back laughter. Acted invincible, now quaking animal. Total moron.

'Humans are such animals.'

Steadying my breath. "I'll talk to you now. Your answers prove it."

"Fine, ask anything."

"Anything?"

"Yeah!"

"Then die."

Left hand crushed his face. Splat.

"Fist says you die. Bye."

Cold smile as I stood. Surveyed the area. Drained blood from the corpses. Ten portions gathered mid-air.

Shraaala!

Most poured back out. What I could control now:

"Eh, plenty enough."

Probably was, actually. Amateurs might think it's less. Grinned, satisfied. Fucking thrilling. Killed 'em my dream way. Like diving into a new world.

Haa, this apocalypse rocks. My power lets blood do anything. More volume, exponential power. Perfect at my proficiency. Just scale up gradually.

For safety, scattered 30ml everywhere. Detection worry. Dry up and evaporate eventually?

Rifled their pockets. Tilted head. 'No ration coupons?'

Checked the brute too. Nada. Not one.

Thought hit. Cursed. "Fuck. Boss hoards 'em all, huh. Sigh."

Ridiculous. Gangsters handing lifeblood coupons to the boss? Nah, probably strong-armed. Prove loyalty.

Made sense. Boss betrays, they're done. "High loyalty or retard pigs?"

Long sigh. Left for Hwiya Auto Cue. Decent dealership. Awkward spot, but I'd passed it.

En route, tested senses. 'On/off with my will, huh?'

Mind-blowing ability. Made sense on think. 'Yeah, my blood or Sa-eun's electricity—imagination and application key.'

Loosened up, smacked lips. Real fun now. 'Boss's coupons—all mine.'

Who knows what I could do. More than expected. Walked slow, then sped up. Soon kicked off, wind-like.

Heart pounding with anticipation. Hoping Kwak Man-ho thrashes more upon meeting me.