A Swordmaster's Fundamentals
Receiving an apology didn't improve Gaon's mood any. He asked in a hollow voice.
"But if I really seemed like a Swordmaster, shouldn't you have snuck off and reported me to the military instead of asking me to my face?"
"Why would I?"
"You're a Westerner from Earth, aren't you? Then Gaon would be the leader of an enemy nation. You couldn't just leave him infiltrating this place."
"Enemy nation or not, that's none of my concern. I came to this land to cultivate the sword — not for the sake of capitalists."
"How noble. So what would you have done if I'd said I really was Swordmaster Gaon? Would you still have taught me swordsmanship?"
Gaon sneered, but the instructor answered with genuine reverence.
"I see no reason I couldn't. I would consider it an honor to teach you."
"Wouldn't Gaon refuse, though? Why would a Swordmaster bother learning some neighborhood sword style that can't even produce Sword Qi?"
At that, the instructor gave an embarrassed laugh, then replied.
"Even if Lord Gaon refused, I'd still want to try teaching him. I'd explain that it would certainly be of help."
"Help? How?"
"Well, isn't it famous that Lord Gaon was repeatedly defeated by his nemesis? By Swordmaster Hago, I mean."
Wait — why does even a game NPC know about that? Gaon's face hardened.
"That unicorn bastard's a fossil who's been stuffing his face for over ten thousand years. Of course I was going to lose. The fighting experience is on a completely different level."
"Experience alone cannot explain an absolute advantage so complete as to win three times in a row. And while Lord Hago is the eldest among the Swordmasters, he isn't the one with the highest win rate in duels between Swordmasters, is he?"
"If it wasn't experience, then why did Gaon keep losing?"
"If I may dare to speculate... I suspect that while Lord Gaon handles a blade well, he doesn't actually know theoretical swordsmanship."
The sheer gall of it left Gaon speechless. Some swordsman he'd never even heard of, daring to evaluate a Swordmaster?
"What kind of nonsense is that?"
"Well, a sword is typically a tool for fighting people, and Swordmasters naturally have abundant experience fighting other humans — but Lord Gaon is the exception. Unusually, you became a Swordmaster by instinctively learning how to fight while surviving against monsters in another world, didn't you? Originally you were a priest, not a swordsman."
"Well, yeah."
"That's why I believe you slaughter beasts and armies far better than other Swordmasters, but when you go up against another Swordmaster, the results aren't as good. Because you wouldn't know swordsmanship meant for fighting people."
"Once you're a Swordmaster, you don't really need sword theory, do you? You've heard of combat instinct, right?"
At that, the instructor argued with a serious face, as if delivering a sermon.
"Even so, swordsmanship practiced with the mind is important. You need theory to formulate strategy and tactics. And if you fight without strategy and tactics, you may win the battle but lose the war."
This man lost to me, and now he's trying to lecture. How irritating.
Gaon was about to snap that at him, then stopped. He thought about why he'd decided to pick up this mentally exhausting game again in the first place.
Once he'd sorted through his thoughts, he asked.
"That claim of yours — that even someone who's already good with a blade would benefit from learning theoretical swordsmanship. I'm not Swordmaster Gaon, but coincidentally, I'm a swordsman who's never formally learned swordsmanship yet happens to fight pretty well. Would it apply to someone like me too?"
"Yes. Probably. As I said before, new students are welcome. Your name?"
"Gaon."
"Uh..."
"Not that Gaon..."
"Ah. Yes."
Gaon offered an explanation.
"This isn't an excuse, but even if I really were Swordmaster Gaon, I would've hidden being a Swordmaster in front of other people."
"Why?"
"Swordmaster Gaon, you know. He's famous as a man of willpower, right? The public thinks he's been in closed-door training for decades, honing the blade of vengeance. If it got out that he was actually slacking off doing other stuff, it'd be humiliating. If I were Swordmaster Gaon, I'd want to keep up the closed-door training persona, so even when I went out for some air, I'd polymorph into a human. And then only secretly reveal my identity when I needed to teach some villains a lesson..."
The story was so thoroughly absurd that even an NPC let it wash over him.
"Ah. Yes..."
"Anyway, whatever. Let's just start learning, teacher. What do I do first?"
Only then did the instructor take up his sword again. Toward a master of the blade who had long since attained the highest realm, he spoke with care.
"If you truly wish to learn properly, you'll have to start from the fundamentals again. How about beginning by swinging according to the correct form, over and over? It will be tedious — will that be all right?"
"Well, no reason it wouldn't be."
A flippant answer. One could reasonably expect his training attitude to match. The instructor expected as much as he began the lesson.
But contrary to expectation, Gaon proved an extraordinarily diligent student.
Far more so than anyone else.
On the first day of instruction, Gaon swung his sword like a madman. And the next day as well.
Up to this point, the instructor had no particular reason to be impressed while teaching. Diligent students in the early stages of learning were a dime a dozen.
But Gaon swung his sword for sixteen hours straight on the first day, and did the same the next. Throughout that entire stretch of time, he did not rest even a little. Not even a little.
The instructor expressed his admiration at the fact that anyone could concentrate to that degree.
"Truly magnificent... Right, you seem to have that down perfectly now. Next movement..."
Because each training session took so long, the experience gain rate was much slower than expected. Even so, he kept swinging his sword without concern.
The sight of him swinging a blade all day long apparently left an impression even on the ARMA members watching. With passion like that, he more than qualified for membership. An ARMA member who reached that conclusion made a recruitment attempt.
A middle-aged man approached Gaon and said,
"You're really going at it, huh? Looks like you want to learn swordsmanship properly. Join our club and let's train together, yeah? We can swap numbers and keep in touch."
"Sorry."
Gaon, who had been concentrating, refused immediately.
The middle-aged man laughed awkwardly and went back, then said to another member,
"Guess he doesn't like being hit on by a middle-aged geezer. Mi-ri? You go try to reel him in."
Lee Mi-ri was an exceptionally rare female player in this game, and in ARMA, she was the only one. She approached Gaon with brisk, confident steps and spoke.
"Hey, handsome. Want to have a good time with me?"
Only then did Gaon turn his head. As Lee Mi-ri smiled, overflowing with confidence, Gaon answered with genuine interest.
"You're pretty, miss. How old are you?"
"A blossoming twenty-four!"
And Gaon's expression went dead serious.
"The twenties are a bit much... Come back when you're exactly forty years older, kid."
A short while later, when Lee Mi-ri returned with a twisted expression, the middle-aged man asked,
"Did he turn you down?"
"He's a lunatic. Says he likes grandmas."
"Hmm... Let's respect that."
Every word of that insulting exchange carried over perfectly, but Gaon ignored it. While he was concentrating, it wasn't worth his attention.
He focused on the goal at hand. He swung his sword according to the form he'd been taught, again and again. Just as he had two hundred years ago, when he'd been trapped in another world.
He recalled the goal he'd set a few days prior.
He intended to try beating Hago. Against a fellow Swordmaster.
Some forty years ago, Gaon had dueled Swordmaster Hago and lost.
He hadn't given up. He'd applied for another duel, and the result had been the same. In the end, he had even discarded his pride and launched a surprise attack — only to be miserably defeated once more.
Physically, he hadn't been hurt much. Spiritually, the battle had wounded him deeply. That fight became the last Gaon ever fought as a Swordmaster. Afterward, he secluded himself in a fortress of his own making.
For a time, he hadn't even tried to recall his nemesis's existence. All his drive had vanished, and he couldn't see much chance of winning besides.
But now, having confirmed that that humiliating defeat had been nailed into the internet of another world, the will to restore his honor had barely managed to rekindle.
He had started this game again to lay the foundation for that revenge.
According to the original plan, he would level up massively, make his character powerful, then blindly challenge Hago — who existed in this game with abilities perfectly identical to reality. That way he'd grow accustomed to his enemy, wouldn't he?
If he became familiar enough, he might eventually win. Then he'd have a chance against the real Hago as well. That was when he'd challenge him again.
That plan hadn't changed even now. He'd simply added another: not merely adapting to his enemy, but training his swordsmanship anew as well.
It was the fourth day of devoted training.
His level had gone up by exactly one, and he had completed only a tiny fraction of the training camp's curriculum. He was satisfied, at least, that he was training diligently — when suddenly, an uninvited guest entered the swordsmanship school. Seeing the visitor, Gaon frowned.
Jijonmussang demanded,
"Hey, what kind of training takes this long?"
"There's more training than I expected. Wait a bit."
"Is the swordsmanship side that hard? Then just train at the shooting range over there. I already finished training and leveled up several times — I'm level 5 now..."
More whining about making money. Just as Gaon was about to say something —
"Oh, you're all here..."
Another uninvited guest entered the swordsmanship school.
Jijonmussang recognized the face and smiled brightly.
"Ah, my public-service pal! You looking for me?"
Lee Bok-dong didn't like being called a public-service worker, but he didn't have the luxury of caring about that right now.
"Yeah... The items we listed on the auction house haven't sold yet, right?"
"Nope, not yet. But they're all popular items, so they should all sell soon. Probably by tomorrow they'll all sell and we can cash out."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Then we're fucked."
"Huh?"
"We're fucked."
After the public-service guy muttered that, a sound rang out from beyond the village.
Mic check... mic check... Speaking on behalf of this city. It looks like a war is about to break out. The White Skull Unit has marched an army on this city.
It was a public address from the city hall. What had the broadcast said?
White Skull something — an organization he'd heard of.
"The White Skull Unit? The ones who tried to shake us down at the fortress and failed?"
That seemed right. The broadcast mentioned that exact incident.
Those bastards are claiming that the raid on their fortress a while back was something our city pulled. And if that's not the case — if it was really some newbies with nothing to do with this place — then those newbies who looted the fortress are probably in this city, so find them and hand them over...
"What the fuck!"
...We refused because it was such a ridiculous demand, so they took it as a declaration of war and say they're going to occupy this place and take back what was stolen. Which means everything in the city right now gets taken. If you don't want it taken, you have to fight. Anyone in this city who has property to protect, or who just hates these insect bastards, please come out and fight.