The Birth of a Sword Genius
Genius. A chill ran down his spine as the cold edge pressed against his throat. The razor sharpness of real steel was in a completely different league from a wooden practice sword. The look in Rolls’ eyes was nothing like the usual glazed-over stare of a drug addict.
“Why? What the hell did I do?” Tae-oh shot back, but Rolls’ gleaming gaze was filled with unmistakable killing intent and suspicion.
“I asked where you learned that sword style. That’s a trajectory no ordinary conscripted recruit could even dream of copying. And that weird alchemy on top of it. Who the fuck are you really?”
Rolls’ voice had dropped low and heavy. Tae-oh swallowed dryly. Shit, this bastard… what about your own damn identity? And what the hell is that sword style anyway? But he couldn’t say any of that out loud. He certainly couldn’t admit he’d learned it after hundreds of regressions.
Still, he understood where Rolls was coming from. Tae-oh had gone far beyond simply grasping the basics overnight. He’d perfectly reproduced the unique rhythm and trajectories that normally took years of brutal training. It was only natural for Rolls to be shocked.
This guy definitely has a shady past too. Tae-oh instinctively sensed that Rolls’ history was far from ordinary. A drug-addicted recruit who possessed secret sword techniques and genuine talent? The odds were high that he was some big shot hiding his identity in this hellish reconnaissance unit.
“I can’t tell you. Not unless you tell me about your own past first.”
Tae-oh stared straight into Rolls’ eyes. Any excuse he gave now wouldn’t dispel the suspicion. In that case, it was better to at least squeeze out some information.
“Ha? Then die here. If you know that sword style, the answer’s obvious.” Power flowed into Rolls’ blade.
Tae-oh made his decision. This bastard had no intention of revealing his own secrets. There was no point dragging this out. He pushed his throat deeper into the edge of Rolls’ sword.
“Then kill me.”
Rolls frantically tried to pull the blade back, but it was already too late.
“You crazy son of a bitch!?”
Shunk—
The world flipped upside down as a spray of crimson blood erupted. The pain was momentary. Then darkness claimed him once again.
“Huk!”
Another regression. No matter how many times he experienced it, death was still horrific, but he’d grown somewhat used to it.
What now…? That bastard doesn’t look like he’s going to talk about his past at all…?
Tae-oh sat on his cot and mulled it over. He needed a way to extract everything from Rolls without triggering his suspicion. After a moment of thought, a decent idea surfaced.
Well, if it doesn’t work, I can just regress again.
Tae-oh knocked out his hundreds of times-repeated daily routine like it was homework. The moment he finished, he headed straight for the training grounds.
Same air, same sunlight as yesterday. Rolls was once again rolling a cigarette between his lips. Tae-oh approached and asked to be taught swordsmanship, just like the day before. This time, however, he added a small variation.
“Hey, can’t you show me your sword style just once? When you fought that sergeant yesterday, it looked pretty damn impressive.”
Rolls snorted. “Ha? Show you? What, you think you’d understand it?”
Tae-oh shrugged. “What’s so great about it that showing it once is such a big deal?”
He deliberately scratched at Rolls’ pride. Though Rolls hadn’t shown it openly, it was clear he took great pride in his swordsmanship.
“…This bastard, acting like he knows what this is. Fine. I’ll show you. Watch closely. I won’t demonstrate it twice.”
Rolls swung his sword lightly. Power flowed from his toes through his waist and into his shoulder, sending the blade carving a strange trajectory through the air. It was the exact same path Tae-oh had seen to the point of nausea across hundreds of loops.
“It might look simple, but to understand the meaning behind this trajectory…”
That was the moment. Tae-oh took a short breath and perfectly replicated Rolls’ movement.
“Like this?”
He added a touch of deliberate clumsiness, pretending it was his first attempt, but the core trajectory and rhythm were flawless.
Whoosh—
The sharp sound of air being sliced rang out. The cigarette fell from Rolls’ lips and dropped to the ground. He stared at Tae-oh with the expression of someone who had just seen a ghost.
“You… what the hell was that? Did you just copy me?”
Tae-oh looked down at his sword with a deliberately indifferent expression. “I just swung it the way you showed me. What’s the big deal? It wasn’t that impressive.”
The plausibility of how Tae-oh could use this sword style. He had decided to play the genius.
“…Not that impressive? Do you even understand what you just did?”
“What about it?”
Rolls let out a disbelieving laugh. “No, seriously, you just copied it? How?”
“I don’t know. I just did it when I tried. Why?”
“You crazy bastard…”
Rolls circled around Tae-oh in confusion. He examined his palms and checked the muscles in his legs.
“This guy really has a body that’s never learned swordsmanship?”
No matter how he looked, it was an ordinary physique. That left only one conclusion.
“Ha? Fuck, are you some kind of genius or something?”
Tae-oh cheered inwardly. Rolls’ suspicion had turned to shock, and that shock was rapidly shifting into fascination.
“Genius? I don’t know. Maybe.”
Rolls let out a hollow laugh, then tapped Tae-oh’s chest with his wooden sword, his eyes now composed.
“Ha? Fine. You’re a funny bastard, I’ll give you that. Alright, I’ll teach you swordsmanship. Let’s see how far you can follow.”
From that day on, the intensity of training skyrocketed. Rolls no longer treated Tae-oh like a beginner. He began pulling out the most difficult and dangerous techniques from his secret sword style one by one.
Every morning Tae-oh returned from death and absorbed Rolls’ teachings. The good thing was that even if his “genius” act was exposed, he could simply regress again.
“This bastard isn’t a genius? Hey, you cheated, didn’t you?”
“What? What do you mean? That first one was easy to copy, but the next one’s actually hard.”
“What kind of bullshit is that… Ha… Maybe it really was just a coincidence?”
After Tae-oh somehow muddled through and came back after training like hell, Rolls’ tone would change again.
“Hmm… It’s a bit disappointing, but… you do have talent?”
“Whoa, you got that in one look?”
“Hey, you really are a genius, you crazy bastard. Why the hell are you wasting time on alchemy? You’re a swordsmanship prodigy. Focus on the sword. No question.”
Hundreds of loops. The time was tedious, but watching Rolls’ reactions change was entertaining. The training ground floor repeatedly grew wet with Tae-oh’s sweat then dried again. The grip he used to hold the sword hilt would harden like stone only to become soft again after each reset, but Tae-oh’s mind grew sharper with every passing day.
Then one day.
“Hey, let’s have a proper match.”
“A match?”
“Yeah. This is ridiculous. You copy everything I teach you instantly? I need to see what your actual combat sense is like.”
The moment had finally arrived. Rolls had never sparred with him while teaching.
“With your current skill? No matter how much of a genius you are, real combat is different.”
He had avoided sparring with those words. But now he was finally suggesting they fight. It was an emotional moment of growth, but Tae-oh answered as if it were nothing.
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
A crooked smile formed on Rolls’ lips.
“Come at me, you little shit.”
But the duel ended in a single exchange.
“As expected. You’ve barely got any real combat experience. Even a genius can’t overcome that, huh?”
Tae-oh ground his teeth. “Let’s do it again.”
“Hey, that’s not something you pick up immediately. Sparring with me will just break you. You need to build real combat experience step by step.”
“No. Again.”
“Ha, this bastard… Fine. Let’s see you get your ass beat to death.”
And so the infinite sparring loop began once more.
Then one day.
Thud—
“Kugh!!”
Rolls’ wooden sword slammed into Tae-oh’s side. The pain felt like broken ribs, but Tae-oh didn’t stop. Instead, he used the impact to spin and thrust his own wooden sword toward Rolls’ throat.
Clang—!
Rolls blocked the attack and let out a gasp of admiration.
“…Does this even make sense…?”
Tae-oh smiled crookedly as he readjusted his grip. “Why? What’s so strange?”
Rolls tilted his head with an incredulous expression. “No, fuck… I’ve never been called untalented anywhere, but maybe I’ve just never seen a true sword genius before. Do people like you actually exist?”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Hey, fuck… that’s not a compliment, it’s pure shock. I’m seriously doubting if what I’m seeing is reality right now. You really never learned swordsmanship before?”
“I told you I didn’t. You’ve groped my hands and legs how many times now? Why do you keep checking?”
“This doesn’t make sense… Your combat sense is genius-level too…?”
To Rolls, it was an incomprehensible situation. He himself had been called a genius while learning the sword in the past. Yet the monster before him was shattering all common sense in the most absurd way possible. After seeing a move a few times, he would internalize it with his body, and his combat sense was outstanding as well.
“I’m starting to wonder if I’m creating a monster…”
Tae-oh grinned at those words. “Swordsmanship is nothing special. Alchemy is way harder.”
Rolls clicked his tongue in disbelief. “You little shit. If you spout that anywhere else, you’ll get yourself killed on the spot.”
Tae-oh knew better than anyone how difficult swordsmanship truly was. Even with the same trajectory, the meaning and intent behind it could differ completely. Combat sense was the ability to read those things. On top of that, Tae-oh was gradually feeling the sword become one with himself. It no longer felt like he was simply swinging it. The tip of the blade moved as freely as an extension of his own fingers.
Through these hundreds of loops, Tae-oh discovered joy. The more he trained, the more his drive to improve surged without limit. It was a pure ecstasy incomparable to the thrill he’d felt when killing the sergeant. The sensation that he himself was growing stronger wrapped around his entire body.
It was different from the past when he had relied on item crafting and traps. Now he was gaining the confidence that he could carve out his own fate using only his muscles, senses, and the sharp steel in his hand.
His sparring sessions with Rolls grew longer and longer. At first he couldn’t last even one exchange before rolling across the ground. Now he could trade dozens of blows, enough to make sweat bead on Rolls’ forehead.
Sometimes during training Rolls would stop and simply stare at Tae-oh in a daze.
“You were really born in the wrong place.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If someone with your talent had entered the Imperial Central Military Academy as a kid, you’d probably have the youngest knight title by now. The heavens really don’t give everything to one person. What a waste. What a shame.”
Tae-oh would simply shrug it off. He had no interest in becoming a knight. His only goal was to slit the throat of that invisible reaper who visited every night and escape this hellish loop.
The night grew deep. Back in the barracks, Tae-oh listened to his comrades’ steady breathing as he stared down at his own hands. Those rough, callused palms now clearly contained real power.
He gently stroked the real steel sword placed by his pillow. The time had finally come.
Today, I’m going to fight it.
Tae-oh’s eyes gleamed sharply in the darkness.