Maybe I'll Give That a Try Too
The battlefield was utter chaos. A literal melee. Gunfire poured down in sheets while swords, magic, shamanistic arts, and sorcery clashed against youkai on the same field. Never in human history had there been a battlefield this disordered.
Yet because we understood the enemy’s countermeasures, it was simply a matter of adjusting our tactical doctrine. Ordinary youkai that possessed ki but no neidan could technically be killed with untreated firearms. Their numbers, however, were overwhelming, so for the sake of efficiency we used catalyst-treated bullets and high-explosive ordnance.
The great wall of modern weaponry—the Tujutdaegam—was the domain of the Awakened, who moved to ensure the line was never encircled. That was the theory. Reality, as always, had other plans.
“Keueok.”
The protective qi of an Awakened who had been turned into a human pincushion by the enormous spines of a hedgehog-like Tujutdaegam finally shattered. The spines punched through his lung; he collapsed, foaming blood.
“It’s poison! Cover your mouths!”
“No—retreat! It poisons on skin contact!”
A poisonous old tree shook toxin sacs from its body and swept the Awakened with a single strike packed with razor-sharp branches. Because any operation is built on the assumption of victory, the battlefield had become pure pandemonium drenched in blood. This region in particular suffered from especially severe contamination and curses.
And what shook a battlefield like this was—
The morning sunlight, overflowing with favoritism that sets all things right, poured fatal radiance upon the monstrous youkai and divine blessing upon the humans.
“It’s the Divine Maiden!”
“The Divine Maiden is bestowing her blessing!”
“The Divine Maiden fights with us!”
““Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!””
“…!”
The roar that rose across the battlefield lifted the Awakened’s morale to its peak. More than simple fighting spirit, a sacred power found its direction and solidified. At the center of that power stood Kim Yuseong, the god’s representative.
Of course, she herself wanted to die of embarrassment every time she heard the cringeworthy title.
I told them to call me shrine maiden because “Divine Maiden” sounded so awkward!
Yet the word she had never uttered had already lodged itself firmly in everyone’s minds. Still, that was secondary. Bringing victory to this battlefield was the only priority.
Yuseong raised her sword high, eyes fixed on the cursed giant tree rampaging across the field, then looked to the sky.
“I don’t know why you chose me, but—”
There was only one thing to do. She offered a prayer to a god whose face she had never seen. Strangely, the target of her prayer did not blur. She felt its presence with absolute clarity in a corner of her chest. The moment she resolved to carry out its will—
Abundant heavenly energy surged. The sword came down.
Falling Heaven
“For some reason the East has always been less popular than the West.”
“Not ‘for some reason.’ Massively less popular.”
“Really? I thought it was fun.”
Honestly, back then I couldn’t understand it. Swordsmanship had been my main focus, so I didn’t have much time to spare. Even that limited time had been shortened thanks to the help I received with items, yet I had still played for an incredibly long stretch. By my standards it was an absurdly fun game, but everyone else had flocked to the West.
“It’s because the game’s setting sits squarely in the uncanny valley.”
“Uncanny valley? The setting itself?”
I at least knew the term. It referred to the discomfort that arises when something non-human is subtly too similar to a human. In other words, this game—whatever it was—existed right in that zone of unease.
“What exactly made it feel that way?”
“First of all, it’s supposed to be a martial-arts world, yet talismans are everywhere, along with TVs and cars driving around like it’s normal.”
“Is that not allowed? I mean, ninja manga in Japan do the same thing…”
“That isn’t martial arts!”
In the end I was forced to sit through an in-depth lecture on the genre. One of the topics was the hierarchy of strength.
“From third-rate to second-rate to first-rate, even ordinary people can manage it.”
So, simply picking up a sword put you at least at first-rate—roughly equivalent to a first-grade modern fencer. “From the Jeoljeong stage onward, you can manifest sword qi freely.”
That would be… somewhere between first and fourth dan? I wasn’t entirely sure. No, more fundamentally—
“My character could fly the moment I started running. What was that about?”
“Exactly. That’s why they call it the uncanny valley. It felt like a foreigner took a superficial glance at martial-arts tropes and threw together a setting. In real wuxia, you’d need to be max level to pull off half that stuff. And in traditional martial-arts novels, swords don’t shoot lightning.”
“What about spinning chakra balls??”
“Exactly.”
It was a shock. I had never realized that “normal” martial arts was actually a genre for ordinary mortals who couldn’t even split the sky. I later read proper wuxia novels, and while they were entertaining, none of them had the scale or impact of Glorious Land.
“How dare you take your eyes off this body! I’ll grant your wish and kill you!”
“Ah, sorry. A more precious memory came to mind than something like you.”
Gangcheol’s roar snapped my consciousness back to the present. Inside the inferno hot enough to incinerate the world, Gangcheol and I were dancing. Or rather, it only looked like dancing because I was trapped inside his domain. Now I finally understood: his flames could never burn the heavens and earth.
Dragon Slaughter Threads
From the five claws of Gangcheol’s hand, lines of searing heat shot out like iron wire freshly drawn from a furnace, twisting chaotically toward me. Their power was easily enough to snap even ki-infused steel. They tore through ground and air alike as they rained down.
I dodged the first. The second and third I deflected by swinging my sword to bend their trajectories. The fourth and fifth, however, could not be avoided without giving Gangcheol an opening for a follow-up. So I leapt high to evade them.
Dragon Claw
As expected, he attacked instantly. Or rather, he had been attacking until our eyes met, at which point he hurriedly withdrew. He had read my intent. But I had already entered my range.
Using the senses of Ilwidocheon, I stepped on the air and leapt toward him, aiming for his throat.
-Kagagak!
I failed. Gangcheol thrust his forearm into the path of my blade. Scales met steel with violent friction, the repulsion forcing us apart again. A brief lull hung between us as I descended from the air until my feet touched the ground.
The scales on his forearm had been stripped away and the flesh beneath cut, blood flowing freely. That was all. His true form was a colossal imugi; his regenerative ability was still an unknown factor.
“…Tsk.”
Blood boiled up, new flesh and fresh scales forming in its wake. This was not the artificial trace of improper vital-point arts but pure natural healing. My sword had been impossibly sharp; it should have sliced through scale, muscle, and bone. But that was already past tense.
The “sign” state had sacrificed size and grandeur for durability, recovery, and speed. I would have to sever bone. If not—
The instant my feet touched earth we both leapt again. I thrust at his throat; Gangcheol swung upward from below in a massive uppercut-like motion, claws flashing.
Yet my thrust never reached his neck. When I had leapt I had kept my left leg fully extended. The moment before impact I braked with that foot, halted my forward momentum, bent my right knee, and threw my body backward with everything I had. Gangcheol’s claws barely missed the tip of my sword.
The large motion left many openings—an opportunity. But the space his claws had passed through burned with unnatural flame and heat, and above all, his eyes seemed to be smiling strangely.
-BOOM!
The residual heat from his claws erupted, swallowing me. A mere follow-up attack like that could never break my protective qi. Gangcheol knew it too.
I endured the blast and leapt upward—only about a meter. Using my waist, legs, arms—my entire body—I spun in midair.
-Shaaak!
Gangcheol’s claws rushed beneath me. He had tried to use the explosion to blind me and strike while I was suppressed, but I had already gathered enough rotational force to swing my sword.
-Slash!
The blade split Gangcheol’s right eye. The feedback from my fingertips told me I had cut not only the eye itself but the socket as well. It had gone in cleanly. Any attempt at regeneration would be obstructed by my ki.
Yet something completely unexpected blocked my vision. I hastily raised my left arm to guard, but the tremendous impact sent me flying. My body slammed into the ground and then a tree.
“Just a broken arm, huh.”
My left arm was fractured. But only fractured. In exchange, Gangcheol had permanently lost an eye.
“It will grow back once I ascend anyway. If not… I’ll simply take one of yours, bitch.”
Gangcheol licked the blood running down his face and rose. From his pelvis something massive swayed. Upon closer inspection, it was a tail. It hadn’t been there during the fight until now. He must have hidden it while in his sign state, saving it for a surprise attack.
The price of the six is as diverse as the number of stars.
“Like I’d let you!”
Earth Ghost
I tried to mend the fracture using improper vital-point arts, but Gangcheol’s spell—omitting even the urgent delivery rate command—forced me to abandon the attempt and dodge. A giant flaming demonic hand immediately slammed down on the spot where I had been standing.
Fair was fair; they could drive me into a corner just as easily. What I needed now was one decisive blow.
“Shall we try it, then?”
“…Try what?”
“You know. Those sword techniques where you shout the name while using them.”