The Reluctant Master's Fundamentals
“Ha… haha, if you teach me, I’ll learn as hard as I can. But you must’ve been incredibly handsome in your youth. I guess after death, you can live in whatever form you desire.”
I tried laying on some flattery—my specialty—to score a few points.
“Whatever form I desire? This is what I looked like when I died.”
“Pardon? But it says you passed from old age after endless training to reach the pinnacle of the sword.”
“What nonsense. I was assassinated at 34. By the lord I trusted—the man who was both my comrade and my sovereign.”
“You don’t mean…”
“Orlando Lycan. Just thinking of the name sends chills down my spine. Come to think of it, you must be from the same world as me.”
The founder of the Lycan Empire.
The fact that he killed Hamus was probably a secret even the emperor didn’t know.
Real history really is written by the victors, huh.
It was brutally unfair.
“Y-yes! Haha! I’ve always admired you.”
“Anyone who studies the sword should admire me.”
He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and with his thick black hair and handsome face, it was annoyingly convincing.
“Please, teach me even one technique. I’d be grateful.”
“Hmm, you’ve got manners. What do you do for a living?”
It felt like visiting grandparents during the holidays, with the interrogation kicking off.
The key here was to play nice and earnest.
“I’m a soldier, honing my swordsmanship diligently during service.”
You know what swordsmen love?
Diligence and integrity.
Nail that, and you’re basically done.
“A soldier, eh. Tough life.”
“Haha, not at all.”
The mood seemed to be flowing nicely.
I figured he’d start teaching any second, but that was wishful thinking.
“So you’re diligently playing vanguard for the Lycan Empire. For the empire built by the bastard who killed me.”
“Pardon…?”
“Can’t teach you. Just hearing the name Lycan gives me goosebumps.”
Flop.
Hamus lay back down like he was going on strike.
I was speechless at the sight.
What the hell is this guy?
I had no idea what he was playing at.
How much time left?
I glanced at the timer ticking down second by second.
Already ten minutes gone.
Not a huge loss, but the problem was that wasting more time here wouldn’t change a damn thing.
“I’m only soldiering to make ends meet right now—I don’t like the Lycans much either. Especially that princess. What a bitch. Right?”
I even threw in some imperial treason that’d get my head chopped off back home, but it didn’t land well.
“In the end, if I teach you and you get strong, it just helps the Lycans. Isn’t that right?”
“W-well…”
His logic was annoyingly airtight, making it hard to argue.
This is driving me nuts. I can’t complete the swordsmanship.
The points were a waste, sure, but not advancing the techniques I’d built over months was even more critical.
“I’m sleeping. People need enough rest. Remember that.”
He dropped that useless nugget and actually closed his eyes.
“Sigh.”
A deep sigh rose from my dantian.
I checked for a 30-minute refund policy, but of course, nothing like that existed.
No customer service or anything?
Getting screwed like this with no one to complain to? Unacceptable.
“You said time flows twice as slow here, right?”
Unfair, but I had to stay rational.
What could I get out of this?
Unfortunately, just time.
Might as well train and bounce. There are facilities here.
Sitting idle would just piss me off more, so I grabbed my sword and stood before a straw dummy.
“Mind if I use this?”
I didn’t really want to ask, but ingrained Korean politeness won out.
“Yeah, sure.”
Swish, swish.
If you speak kindly, expect kindness back—but he waved dismissively with a half-assed reply.
Fuck, seriously. Should’ve paid full price for an hour. Got blinded by the discount.
Cheap deals always have a catch.
I’m the idiot for thinking the system had its shit together even briefly.
Vowing never to trust it again, I positioned myself before the dummy.
This is that asshole.
Imagining the dummy’s face as Hamus, I swung.
Slash!
The dummy’s head lopped off cleanly along the stroke.
Far from sating my rage, I kept swinging relentlessly.
Hmm, makes me wanna puke.
What the hell was this guy swinging at in front of me?
Was he doing slapstick for laughs, or dead serious? Hard to tell.
Slash!
Palan’s swing sent the dummy’s neck flying.
Well, damn. What a mess.
No major issues at a glance, but the cut wasn’t perfectly even.
That meant it’d slice dummies fine, but against anything tougher, the blade would snag.
Crucial stuff—but Palan, who’d only done free rhythm-game tutorials, wouldn’t know.
“Haaap!”
“Hap!”
Palan bellowed war cries, toppling dummies regardless.
Pity started welling in Hamus.
Nice voice, but no talent, no training. Poor kid, born wrong in a Lycan-run empire. Tsk tsk.
At some point, Hamus’s view of Palan solidified: a pitiful youth denied proper learning.
“Haaaap!”
Slash!
Finishing a Hamus-style form, Palan sheathed his sword and caught his breath.
“Around 71 points, I’d say. Not bad.”
“Aigo.”
Unable to hold back at the absurd self-score, Hamus groaned aloud.
Palan’s gaze followed.
Hamus awkwardly placed a hand on his lower back.
“Why’s my back killing me? Aigo.”
Lame acting, but Palan ignored it and dove back into training.
“Hap! Haaap!”
Endless Hamus sword forms.
Who the hell taught him that garbage?
And the satisfied look after such shit moves—that was the most infuriating and pitiful part.
Just… teach him a little?
Soldier of the empire founded by his killer.
That was mostly an excuse.
Too much time had passed to rage at the past.
So why not teach?
Simple.
Too much hassle.
Way too annoying.
He’d never understand properly, just frustrate him.
In life, Hamus took no disciples.
Those claiming to be were just pilgrims who crossed swords with him and gained enlightenment.
“Haaap!”
As Hamus pondered, Palan bellowed again and swung.
Completing another form, he sheathed and muttered softly.
“Hmm, feels mastered enough. Time for something else?”
“Hey!”
At the ridiculous line, Hamus shot up.
“Hey!”
“Yes…?”
Hamus, who’d said he was sleeping, suddenly rose and strode over.
No way he’s bitching about the noise?
If so, I’d headbutt him without hesitation.
But what came out was different.
“Mastered what? You can’t even walk yet. Does that look mastered to you?”
Voice tinged with anger.
He’d clearly heard my mutter.
Fuck, picking fights when he won’t even teach.
Total asshole customer.
Koreans can’t stand those.
“It’s decent enough by now. The system rated it that way too.”
“What do they know? You’re pulling out less than 1% of swordsmanship potential. Sigh, this isn’t why I left my art.”
Hamus looked genuinely frustrated.
Probably pissed watching my swings.
“You were watching even while ‘sleeping’?”
“Uh…? Well, gotta be noisy enough to sleep through. How with all that yelling?”
Obvious lie, super awkward.
This could lead to a lesson if played right.
“Oh, really? I’ll train quietly from now on, so sleep well. Mastered Hamus swordsmanship, gotta learn new stuff—busy schedule.”
“Wh-what? Didn’t you hear me? Less than 1%!”
“Nah, the system and my instructor said it’s good enough.”
Lie about Lieutenant Alpen, whom I hadn’t seen in ages.
“You trust some low-level hack over me? Are you insane?”
“Not insane. You’re not teaching, just backseat driving. You’re bothering me—go sleep. No time.”
I waved him off, just like he did earlier.
Ooh, that felt good.
The legendary swordsman Koreans revere like a god.
Humiliating him like this? Endless drinks forever—if they’d believe it.
“Hey… hey, fine, I’ll teach you. I’ll teach.”
“Pardon…?”
“Me, I will teach you. Damn irritating.”
Sweeping back his hair, Hamus caved.
I couldn’t help cheering inwardly.
Who knew it’d turn out like this.
Hard work really brings opportunity.
“For real?”
“Yeah, you think I’d lie?”
“Hmm.”
Would you trust you?
Wanted to say it, but held back since he’d teach.
“Then, please bestow a technique.”
“Lucky bastard. Be grateful.”
That nose in the air, sky-high ego.
What a prick.
“Yes, wasted a lot of time, but I’m grateful.”
FYI, 50 minutes left—we’d burned 1 hour 10.
“Plenty with this. First off, before swordsmanship or anything—you lack basics. Basics.”
“Pardon…? Basics?”
Not critiquing my form, but hitting fundamentals out of nowhere.
“Yes. Key to swordplay is uniting body and blade. Yours? Nowhere close.”
Treating me like a total newbie.
To his eyes, I probably looked like a baby—fair enough.
I’ve kept up basics pretty well, though.
A bit miffed, but learning time, so I nodded.
“I see.”
“Build basics first. Slash that dummy.”
Hamus pointed at the one in front of him.