Sword Saint Yeo Seon-hui
Sword Saint Yeo Seon-hui. A grandiose title straight out of a wuxia novel, but in truth, her interest in swordsmanship wasn't all that long-lived. She wasn't a physical-type hunter who wielded weapons herself, nor did she take pleasure in swinging a blade with her own hands—so it was only natural. And even after reaching S-rank, that hadn't changed much.
Of course, if you asked whether she outright disliked swords, that wasn't true either. The chilling gleam of steel on the blade, its elegant curves—they definitely captivated her heart. But putting real strength into her arms to wield one herself? That was a different story altogether. She preferred admiring them with her eyes and savoring them with her soul.
Yet even in such circumstances, the moniker "Sword Saint" stuck to her solely because of her ability. Telekinesis. A power that was common enough and highly versatile, but one so dependent on a person's thoughts and concentration that wielding immense force with any stability was nearly impossible. Human focus wavers at the slightest thing, after all. Thoughts are bound to one idea yet inevitably wander free. Even if you could surpass that and bind your mental strength into one, it would only last a moment. Could anyone truly enter and maintain peak concentration whenever they needed it, on demand?
A tasty breakfast that morning, or a disappointing cake for dessert after lunch, or even the scent of hot or cold coffee in your hand—such trivialities shake human condition and mindset. Telekinesis fundamentally infuses physical power into mental fortitude, which means it inherently carries that same instability. A wielder of vast telekinesis was like a bomb that could detonate at any second.
Of course, hunters with other special abilities weren't exempt. But if others were bombs with one or two safety mechanisms, telekinetics were publicly likened to nitroglycerin. Other ability users might think, "Should I just kill that bastard?" in a flash of anger, only for their body to hit the brakes before acting—but a telekinetic's power moved the instant the thought formed.
Because of this perception and risk, telekinetics—who were already so vulnerable to mental states—limited their own potential. In fact, before Yeo Seon-hui climbed to A-rank, there weren't any telekinetics at A-rank or higher.
That's when she appeared. During her C- and B-rank days, she was evaluated as one whose power output fluctuated wildly among telekinetics. Her free-spirited nature, like a wild wind, reflected in her ability. The "dice-roll human" type often mentioned in various fields even before the Gate incident. 1-Seon-hui and 6-Seon-hui. The gap was so vast that her teammates joked her die had faces up to 100, not just 1-6.
Naturally, this was a huge source of stress for Yeo Seon-hui. She knew her teammates meant no malice. Honestly, back then, she was more burden than help to them, yet they always treated her with warmth and kindness. In a hunter's life, where life-or-death battles erupted constantly, instability itself was a massive risk. That's why it infuriated her even more—anger at her own inconsistency, lament at this damned telekinesis that wasn't fully hers despite being her power. For a telekinetic, where mental stability was paramount, this was catastrophic.
Pressure builds until it bursts. During a routine monster hunt, a minor slip-up snowballed like an avalanche down a mountainside and engulfed her. That day featured an unusually massive monster wave. It was supposed to be a rest period, but an urgent call for support forced them into the fray. Fierce combat, harsh gunfire and cannon blasts. A misfire amid the chaos. An outburst that felt almost inevitable. Her teammates' desperate efforts to stop it. There was an obvious yet tear-jerking story in there, but no need to delve into details.
The result? She survived and became S-rank. That's it. The thin, long scar on her neck was the dark memory she'd carry for life. And that incident was the day she... the day Yeo Seon-hui fell for the blade that shone alone in a cold, twisted world of gray.
She gained a conduit to channel her immense telekinesis whenever she desired. Starting with one sword, then two, three... until finally five. That's when the ordinary telekinetic became known as the Sword Saint. An S-rank who wielded those five blades like limbs, unleashing her telekinesis with devastating force.
What should have been a lofty sky battered by fierce winds felt instead like plunging deep into a vast, azure sea. Yeo Seon-hui soared through the heavens, embraced by that immense expanse, feeling just the right breeze—pleasant, invigorating. Her eyes drank in the world below.
From dizzying heights, the ground was vertigo-inducing yet awe-inspiring. And somehow insignificant too. Everything shrank to miniature scale as she passed over it. Flight with sleek silver blades as her companions. Skyscrapers that loomed gigantic and towering from the ground, buildings that exuded overwhelming presence—all reduced to tiny pebbles scattered beneath her feet.
This intoxicating sense of overwhelming freedom was like an addiction she couldn't quit. Not that she'd ever tried real drugs, of course...
Not long ago, after punching another hole through the smooth window of the Association President's office, she took to the skies as always. One blade beneath her feet, the other four orbiting protectively like wings, she glided over the city.
Faint cheers rose from below as people spotted her and looked up in excitement. Even those flying at lower altitudes gazed up at her in admiration. Ever since she stabilized her telekinesis by focusing it through swords as a medium, other telekinetics followed suit—using cherished or fixated objects as conduits. Flying on personal items became a hallmark of telekinetics.
But gliding with not one, not two, but five swords? That was Yeo Seon-hui alone. No one mistook her for some common flyer. Among S-ranks, she was one of the most visible to civilians, and a superstition spread that seeing her meant good luck for the day—another reason folks recognized her easily.
Feeling especially cheerful today, she waved back at the cheering crowd before darting away. Past the denser, taller skyscrapers and luxury apartments post-Gate era, toward the enclave of high-end residential districts.
"Hee-hee. Found it."
One building caught her eye—a Western-style mansion. S-rank personal info was hard to access, even for fellow S-ranks... but the world always had backdoors. Pinpointing a hidden S-rank's location was tough, but tracking materials for top-tier physical-type gear? Effort made it possible. Especially recent, low-volume transactions. Or specialized items demanding only extreme durability—far beyond standard A-rank needs. As a veteran S-rank guardian of the nation, she had more than enough pull to trace destinations.
Especially when the buyer wasn't an S-rank hunter, major guild, or agency—but a lone individual.
And so, she arrived. Even suppressed by a mana barrier for training, an undeniable tremor rippled through her body.
"Mm. Impressive."
The intense mana resonance alone screamed that this new S-rank hunter packed serious power.
"That said... a high-end training facility like this already? Has he already got backers clinging to him?"
Yeo Seon-hui figured whoever it was must be damn capable. Or lucky. Amid such idle thoughts, the ground thrummed with heavy impacts—echoes of tremendous force clashing. Learning that Seong Ye-han, even as a fresh S-rank, was still grinding away at training lifted her spirits.
Yes! Another solid one who's gained power.
With that in mind, she stopped herself just short of barging into the training ground. Interrupting a sweat-drenched session would be rude. First meeting with a new S-rank? She could wait a bit.
"More importantly... who's his sparring partner?"
Even in training, drawing this much out of an S-rank marked them as rare talent. Smiling at the prospect of scouting another gifted hunter, Yeo Seon-hui waited.