S Calibur: Sword from the Cursed Source
S-man, aka S Calibur, real name Lee Seongjin—the man without flaws or shortcomings, one whose virtues alone could fill a sleepless night. Even this perfect specimen had a nagging worry: he couldn't recklessly jump into the fray against demons.
'I want to help the boss!'
Of course, he was helpful. He handled every task Han Daeri assigned without fail, even evacuating victims from the lodging house just before it collapsed entirely. But that was the extent of it. Born with strong yin energy, he was vulnerable to supernatural phenomena. He saw illusions more often than others, heard strange noises with greater frequency, and lost his mind at crucial moments. In short, he was useless in the thick of real action.
Yet a man's burning passion boiled deep in his chest. It wasn't some cheap heroism fueling him—if it were, Han Daeri would've kicked him out of the Supernatural Phenomena Resolution Office first. This wasn't a game to stumble into. It demanded pure resolve. Not because someone ordered it or some event triggered it, but a choice made by one's own will. The consequences were yours alone to bear, no blaming others, just silently walking the path you'd chosen.
He'd lacked that resolve before? Not entirely, but failing to intervene at decisive moments was fatal. So there, before the massive sinkhole where the lodging house had crumbled, S-man sat cross-legged.
'I need to ascend to a higher level.'
He'd watched Haksik train under Yonghwa Seonnyeo's steel fan whacks. A genius, naturally sharp-eyed. What he saw or heard once, he could mimic without much trouble. But Haksik and he were fundamentally different, so he'd tweak the method.
'Our one commonality... overwhelming innate yin energy.'
If Haksik was a vast ocean brimming with yin, he was Siberia's snow-swept plains. Similar, yet essentially distinct—and that essence would guide similar power usage.
'My yin originates from my manhood. That's where it's soaked in deepest, circulating through my meridians.'
Like blood rushing south causing an erection, grasping blood flow was easier than expected.
'Until now, I treated yin like scattered air freshener. Potent, sure, but inefficient. Yin grows strongest when concentrated, not dispersed.'
Haksik was the exception. No matter how vast Siberia's plains or deep the snow, they paled against the sea. Only someone like her could sway the world just by spreading yin. His half-baked imitation had proven useless—best as bait for phenomena. That wouldn't cut it. He needed more.
'Deeper, to the root. Not yin itself, but its source.'
Why was his body laden with yin? His clan had long ago sacrificed an innocent village maiden, cursing them. Resolved? No. It lingered. He'd only dodged death; the curse remained. A grudge potent enough to frost midsummer wouldn't lift easily.
'If this curse won't lift in my lifetime... I'll hijack it instead!'
Recall the patricidal prince scaling eternal snows to draw the gleaming blue sword.
'I inherit the curse, fuse with it, wield it. The yin flowing from my curse becomes my will, my blade.'
Fantasy turned vision, vision turned reality. S-man quietly opened his eyes. In the mental world of nothingness, only he and the sword before him stood tall. A pitch-black blade embedded in ice etched with vicious curses—so venomous that gazing alone chilled the soul. The result of a maiden's sacrifice and centuries of tormenting villagers. He'd reshaped it as a sword, but it brimmed with ages of resentment and malediction. Most would freeze solid just touching it.
'I have to draw it.'
Instinct screamed: pull that blade, and he'd reverse-dominate the curse ruling his body.
'What I learned before—suppressing yin, boosting yang, avoiding vicious entities—was just risk mitigation, not a cure.'
Yonghwa Seonnyeo's guidance minimized rampages. But if he could turn the tables? Convert all risk to reward? He might die. Worth the shot.
'A man lives by swagger, dies by swagger.'
A lame man wasn't a man; one without bravado couldn't call himself one. Drawing that sword might upgrade him from S-man to SS-man. Even SSS-man wasn't impossible.
'Damn, that's kinda cool. Drawing Excalibur from the jewels.'
Han Daeri would've wanted a go, probably punching his own groin to hurry the sword's forging. With a boss like that, no hesitation. Uncrossing his legs, S-man rose, parting the stiffening yin like a mannequin's shell, and gripped the black sword's hilt in the ice.
Instantly, all suppressed curses, grudges, and poisons surged through skin, nerves, veins, stimulating every brain cell.
'You're my childhood friend! Least you can do for me!'
More like debris his "friend" left before ascending. Unused anyway—why not claim it?
"Raaagh—OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"
With every ounce of infant strength, he yanked the hilt. Ice cracked and shattered; the blade emerged. The mental world vanished. In its place: the massive sinkhole, and himself wielding a sword leaking black yin.
Knock, and it shall open; pull, and it shall come. S-man now had a finishing move he could proudly shout.
"From now on... you're S Calibur!"
A man draws a sword? Time to cleave foes. With victims evacuated beyond the now-snowless woods, S-man dove into the sinkhole like an Olympic diving champ, flips and all.
"They've all gone to heaven. You're the last one left."
"A man does what he sets his mind to."
Once he declared they'd believe in Jesus and go to heaven, he was obligated to make it happen. He wouldn't eat his words.
"And you say I never landed a hit? True. But what if I have an ace up my sleeve?"
The giant alligator glaring from the darkness curved its red eyes like a crescent moon. No sound, but clear mockery.
"If I pray earnestly to the universe, it might just answer."
I spread my arms wide, gazing at the endless sky above, and shouted.
"Send down the ace I need most right now! Amen!"
Then S-man plummeted. Or rather, was plummeting.
"I'M HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE!!!!!!!!!!"
Honestly, zero expectations—but the timing was so perfect it gave me chills. My foe matched my surprise, jolted by the sudden falling S-man.
"See that?! Jesus sent supplies just for me!"
"Haat!" With a sharp kiai, I leaped high—opposite last time—piggybacking S-man onto my shoulders.
"This is a piggyback fusion?!"
"Yeah! I'm the mount this time! No time for top-bottom debates—we end this now!"
"...Let's do it!"
"That sword's perfect for fusion. New combo name... Starburst Stream!"
"Copyright violation!"
Shame. White sword and black sword dual-wield finisher—I thought it fit perfectly.
"Find a copyright-free dual-wield technique name! Quick!"
"Hey Bixby!"
S-man, riding piggyback, called Bixby in this signal-dead pit. Shockingly, it answered, searching for our resolve-boosting dual-wield name.
> A dual-wield finisher befitting you two is...
"The name?!"
"The name?!"
> Revealed in 60 seconds.
We'd just jam in a nameless finisher. As Saleos charged, mouth agape, opposing auras from the white and black swords surged skyward like dragons, pulverizing its skull.
"Jesus heaven!"
"Nonbelievers hell!"