Star's Breath and the Orc's Demise
Consecutive messages poured in, brimming with the constellation's excitement and bewilderment. But Ji-hyun was just as baffled.
What the hell did I eat?
Setting aside the crude phrasing, he genuinely had no memory of eating anything unusual. From his perspective, it was like being asked to recall what he'd eaten two years ago. People couldn't even easily remember dinner from a few days back.
The God of Magic cries out in shock, "This can't be!"
The God of Magic says something that shouldn't exist is flowing through your body.
What's flowing?
He couldn't even guess.
The God of Magic soon cried out as if in desperation.
The God of Magic shouts, "You must learn magic!"
He'd planned to do that anyway. But hearing it shouted with such fervor somehow carried real weight. Something flowing through his body? If so, it was probably mana.
If not, there'd be no reason for all this fuss about learning magic.
But mana? In a way, that was even more absurd. Ji-hyun's talent for magic hovered near zero. It was a blessing he hadn't chosen mage during class selection.
It wasn't a lack of skill in memorizing spells or using them effectively. His body simply didn't let mana flow.
As adventurers climbed the Tower, even non-mages picked up utility spells, but Ji-hyun struggled to learn even a basic light spell.
Jo Myeong-hun had loved teasing him about it—ghostly sharp in combat, yet useless at simple tricks. Inability to use magic was practically Ji-hyun's weakness, a favorite chew toy for his close comrades over drinks.
"He'd have been a powerhouse as a mage."
"Shut it, you trying to steal my livelihood?"
Standard banter.
But everyone agreed on one thing: that guy as a mage would've been unstoppable.
Of course, he couldn't have led the Knights Order then. But what Ji-hyun needed now wasn't an army to command—it was raw power.
A body unfit for magic. He'd wondered if the constellation's power could fill that gap. Tough for humans, maybe not for gods.
Yet the "God of Magic's" words exceeded even his expectations.
The God of Magic analyzes the power flowing through your body.
The God of Magic calls it "Star's Breath."
Not mana?
The God of Magic bursts into anger.
The God of Magic shouts, "Don't compare it to that trash!"
"What?"
The words slipped out aloud, not just in thought. Calling mana "trash" left him dumbfounded.
More than that, Star's Breath was a term even veteran adventurer Ji-hyun had never heard.
The God of Magic sighs heavily.
The God of Magic explains that it is the power constituting the Tower.
Why would that flow through his body?
And suddenly, Ji-hyun recalled the path to the Tower.
That strange power seeping into him then.
Was it not a delusion?
The God of Magic explains how extraordinary Star's Breath is.
The God of Magic complains about why it can only convey info this way.
The God of Magic….
Conversation ends. All points consumed.
Ji-hyun muttered in disbelief.
"…What the hell is it?"
The constellation had vanished, but the impression was indelibly stamped.
And there was no leisure to mull over the exchange. The moment the God of Magic disappeared, the Orc Warrior stirred.
Ji-hyun's eyes ignited with calm fire.
Like a sculptor meticulously carving fine details, he chipped away at the battle itself.
And at last, the decisive moment arrived.
As if awaiting it, new messages appeared.
The God of Magic scowls fiercely.
The God of Magic rages, "What the hell are you doing?!"
"If sending messages consumes points, maybe save some?"
The God of Magic declares that's not for adventurers to worry about.
The God of Magic quietly adds that messages themselves don't cost much.
Then the cause was likely that spell—stopping time to examine his body.
The God of Magic marvels, "Quite perceptive."
Did thoughts transmit too?
Ji-hyun flinched in surprise, but it didn't seem to read everything. He'd harbored rude thoughts aplenty, yet no reaction.
This was probably like conversation.
Whatever this "function," it was time for the main event.
The constellation disapproved of this blood-soaked slaughterfest, but it raced toward its end.
The pattern held. Dodge the attack, disrupt balance to topple it, evade the hands and exploit the gap with a kick. The struck orc raged in pursuit, drawn exactly where Ji-hyun wanted.
Reading the trajectory, Ji-hyun kicked the orc's right shin as if planned. Balance shattered with the impact; the orc crumpled in an instant, its back slamming into a half-collapsed bookshelf.
The shelf, bearing the orc's heavy weight, fully crumbled. Wood shards, sawdust, and dust rained down upon it.
Plan executed.
But this alone couldn't fell it—physically impossible.
Ji-hyun swiftly snatched a broad wooden plank from the debris. He swept aside the illuminating candle, grabbing the candlestick. No great durability expected, but metal was metal. He bound it to the plank with frayed rope scattered about.
The motions were ruthlessly swift and precise. As he finished, the orc—fortuitously—stirred.
Fortune? He'd simulated it dozens of times in his mind.
Gripping his "shield," Ji-hyun charged. Just holding it stabilized and refined his stance. His class was knight; one-handed weapons and shields were his forte.
A shield was armor, but also one of the most effective, potent weapons—especially in this cramped space where swinging massive arms proved difficult.
The Orc Warrior reflexively swung its axe. But the plank-shield approached at an angle blunting the force.
Screeeeech!
The axe blade viciously scraped the surface, clattering to the floor.
That was it. Ji-hyun swung the shield like a bludgeon, smashing the orc's face.
Krwoooogh!
The orc reeled with a grotesque sound. In Ji-hyun's left hand gleamed a long chair leg, now a club hammering the orc's gut once more.
It resembled upper-floor orc warriors in appearance, but lacked their skill and freedom of movement. Ji-hyun maximized that flaw. Amid this breathless barrage, the orc couldn't even counter properly.
An unforeseen scenario—it must be disoriented.
Blood sprayed. But now, it wasn't Ji-hyun's. Crimson belonging to another soaked into the floor.
The chair leg splintered after a couple swings, but Ji-hyun felt no disappointment. Broken was good—sharp edges made weapons.
Reverse-gripping the shard, he thrust at the orc's eye. Regaining wits, the orc tried to dodge, but its pattern's recovery motion exposed the gap.
A sound like slaughtering a pig echoed through the room. Desperately, the orc balled its left fist and swung; Ji-hyun blocked with the shield, pouring all force and weight into the chair leg.
The point dug deeper, bit by bit.
Shield held, but the fist's penetration sent dizzying shocks through his body. An improvised shield had limits. He'd feared the rope handle most, but the plank shattered first.
It had never taken a full-powered hit before, yet a few clumsy punches in this clinch wrecked it.
Ji-hyun bit his lip hard. This was his one shot. No missing.
Letting out an inhuman cry—scream or kiai?—he drove power into the chair leg. The orc's frantic punch finally pulverized the shield, shoving Ji-hyun back.
But curling his body minimized the impact. He toed off instantly, reverse-gripping the candlestick to hammer the chair leg like a nail under mallet.
The leg, buried deep in the eye, crushed it utterly with the candlestick's force, finally piercing the brain. Unable to endure, the Orc Warrior collapsed.
Pain at its peak—this was the moment.
Like a madman, Ji-hyun bore down on the wood chunk. Full body weight behind it. A gruesome scene of blood and screams, yet laced with desperation.
No different from an ant felling a human.
The Orc Warrior shuddered violently, then went limp.
Ji-hyun, drenched in blood and cold sweat, crumpled there.
No words came. Exhaustion brought only bitterness to his mouth, vision blurred and unfocused. His innards burned bitterly; blood trickled from his lips.
But euphoria pierced his spine, beyond the pain.
Even as a top ranker, this was insane. No one would attempt what Ji-hyun had—and he hadn't rated his odds highly.
Yet he'd succeeded.
Ji-hyun's eyes flashed. Through blurring sight, the monster's corpse vanished, leaving an object behind.
A Short Sword. Longer than a dagger, shorter than a longsword. Crafted for easy handling by novice swordsmen.
Enchanted too.
Faint magic circles etched the blade. No focus to discern them, but this was solid reward. With a proper weapon, no need for such desperate measures.
He wanted to collapse and sleep, but that would worsen wounds. Head to the next floor's lounge. Injuries healed there.
Forcing his surely broken body up, he dragged his feet onward.
The God of Magic acknowledges it.
The God of Magic is convinced magic suits you.
After this dogfight?
Ji-hyun reflexively retorted, but the God of Magic declared confidently.
The God of Magic says that wasn't a fight—it was tactics.
A faint smile tugged at Ji-hyun's lips.
Having someone recognize his intent felt pretty damn good.
Ji-hyun barely cleared floor 2 before blacking out.
The God of Magic threatens, "This adventurer is mine."
Another god coveting the adventurer rages.
A horrific spell begins flowing from the God of Magic's mouth.
Ji-hyun awoke from corpse-like sleep, eyes fluttering open. In his vision appeared the constellation straining to protect him—or rather, fury-laden text.