The Surge of the Three Strangeness
Clang-! Clang-! The forge's air filled with the resounding clash of metal. Days and nights blurred together indistinguishably. The order from Doyokshini was no small task.
Crude, brutish armaments for the dokkaebi to wield. No need for fancy techniques, but unwavering fidelity to the basics made the work all the more grueling. Seojun swung his hammer without even a moment to wipe the streaming sweat from his brow. The forge's heat clung to him relentlessly, wrapping his entire body. His skin burned red-hot, his muscles screamed in protest. But he couldn't stop. The blacksmith's unyielding determination and insatiable hunger for mastery drove him on.
He endlessly repeated the techniques passed down from Sintanjae. The process of trapping heat and twisting the metal's properties to heighten its strength. His initially clumsy movements gradually grew fluid. Bit by bit, completed flails and armor piled up in the forge.
Just as his body reached its absolute limit and even his focus began to scatter—
“Hoo.”
Seojun set down his hammer and released his kaeyi transformation. The world snapped back into focus, and he became aware of the trickle of nosebleed running down his face.
Resonance Value Increased
Kaeyi Affinity: 8%
The more he handled kaeyi byproducts, the more his affinity ticked up like getting soaked in a drizzle. Still low enough not to raise alarms. Moreover, there were perks as it climbed.
Feels like I can handle up to about 3% now.
The total capacity grew, speeding up his adaptation to kaeyi transformation. Not ideal in the long run, but nowhere near crisis levels yet.
“Hoo...”
Seojun exhaled raggedly, shaking off his thoughts. He wet his parched throat—burned raw from the endless labor—with lukewarm water.
“Good thing I wrapped it up early.”
He'd met Doyokshini's first batch deadline. Physically spent, yet his mind felt strangely clear. He tidied the disarrayed forge, showered off his sticky grime, and wolfed down a mix of ramen and rice to fill his starving gut. As languor set in with the respite, just as he was about to catch some shut-eye—
Bang, bang.
Someone pounded on the shutter. Rare for anyone to visit the forge with the shutters down, so he rolled them up.
Rattle.
As the shutter rose, a familiar face appeared.
“You look busy.”
It was Hunter Management Bureau investigation team leader Kim Hyungseok. Unlike last time, he was alone. He scanned the forge's interior and stepped in slowly.
The rules aren't applying.
Seojun clocked it from the man's unhesitant demeanor. But this wasn't like with Doyokshini. Kim Hyungseok wasn't a customer.
“I've stopped by a few times, but turned back when you were deep in work.”
Kim Hyungseok's gaze locked onto the gear stacked on the workbench. Hulking steel armor and flails studded with savage spikes. Proportions warped for non-human frames. He reached tentatively for a flail, then froze. The core rule had kicked in: no threatening the blacksmith. Ordinary folk couldn't even register the wrongness.
“This doesn't look like gear for humans.”
“If a customer's asking, a blacksmith makes it.”
“Makes me curious what kind of customer.”
Kim Hyungseok's expression said otherwise—zero interest. Visiting the forge hinted at another agenda.
“Do you know about the Three Strangeness?”
“Who doesn't?”
The Three Strangeness—monsters, ghost stories, kaeyi—was the established term across Asia.
“Lately, they've been surging.”
“Surging?”
“Especially the ghost stories and kaeyi that lurked only in whispers—they're showing themselves now.”
Kim Hyungseok instinctively reached for a cigarette but paused. He pocketed the unlit smoke and continued.
“It's been twenty years since dungeons appeared, and things are shifting fast. Dungeon researchers blame breaks from ghost story-type dungeons.”
Ghost story dungeons were notoriously hard to clear, bound by ironclad rules that neutered even top hunters.
“Hunter Management Bureau's short-staffed. Guilds are on high alert too. But...”
Kim Hyungseok turned, fixing Seojun with a probing stare. His eyes gleamed with scrutiny.
“Oddly, this area's dead quiet. Like the eye of a storm. Everywhere else is hell with ghost stories and kaeyi.”
A certain kaeyi sprang to Seojun's mind, but he wasn't green enough to show it.
“Safe is good, then.”
“Safe... yeah, could be. Or someone's managing it.”
Kim Hyungseok dropped the loaded line. He seemed convinced Seojun knew something. No proof, though—no grilling possible.
“Anyway, fine by us at the Bureau to have a safe zone. Problem is, others are eyeing this phenomenon too.”
Seojun listened stone-faced.
“If you're clear, no issue. If not, watch your back.”
His gaze flicked to a failed piece on the display rack. With that, he wrapped up and left the forge.
“......”
Seojun stared holes into the man's retreating back. Then dropped the shutter.
And crashed until Doyokshini showed.
The dead of night bleeding into dawn. He'd sorted the finished gear and waited. The forge's air shifted in an instant. Crushing pressure bore down on the ceiling. Beyond the sealed shutter, shadows rippled. The door stayed shut, yet Doyokshini was inside.
“A true master craftsman, indeed.”
Her voice reverberated through the forge. Small girl form, but a colossal spirit loomed behind her.
“Delivering the full set on the promised day. Impressive.”
Doyokshini inspected the ten pieces with admiration. Tiny hands tested the steel armor, hefted a flail. Every motion carried solemn weight.
“With just the scrap I provided, it should've fallen short. How'd you meet the quota?”
“Mixed it with steel that could handle the yin energy.”
“Splendid.”
A smile crept across Doyokshini's lips. Utter satisfaction. The yin-infused flails and armor were flawless.
“My underlings will love 'em. Overkill for holding down Hanyang's streets.”
She flicked her hand; the stacked gear vanished into thin air. In its place, mountains of scrap collected from her minions piled up.
“Speaking of, tried working the will-o'-wisps yet?”
“No time.”
“Hm, pity, but there's tomorrow. We'll save it for next time.”
She seemed ready to distribute to her troops right then. Seojun spoke up urgently.
“Got a question.”
“Speak.”
Doyokshini halted, hands behind back, looking up at him.
“Heard the Three Strangeness is surging. Monsters, ghost stories, kaeyi. You're said to manage the peninsula with your dokkaebi. Any guesses...?”
Doyokshini's eyes darkened. Playful smile gone, chill aura spread. Silence, then she hopped onto the workbench. Legs dangled, not touching floor.
“Three Strangeness... that's what humans call it, eh.”
She pulled out a sticky candy from her robes.
“Monsters spawned from the void? Beasts with naught but instinct. They can't disrupt the land's order.”
She chewed the candy, drawing out her words.
“Threats to the land's order come from void-spawned ghost stories and kaeyi. Rootless ones, in a way.”
“Rootless?”
“Not born of this land. From the void humans call dungeons—foreign intruders pouring in from beyond.”
Seojun listened quietly.
“Ghost stories and kaeyi were woven with this land's history. Passed down by humans, or wronged spirits twisted by grudge.”
She pointed at herself.
“We know order. We harm humans, play pranks, but it's karmic balance. Lines not to cross, duties to uphold. That's coexistence.”
Strength laced her voice. Pride of a native kaeyi ruling the peninsula's underbelly for ages.
“But these new rocks rolling in? Different. No tales, no history, no code. Pure hunger and destruction.”
Disgust twisted her features. Hostility toward order-disrupting interlopers.
“Leaders sent underlings early on. But ghost stories flood from the void daily—endless rootless foreigners. Too much even for us.”
Ghost stories birthed kaeyi; more of one meant more of the other.
“Still, humans and kaeyi can't mix. Which makes your role on the boundary crucial.”
“Me?”
“Crafting arms for my minions with such care? What else could help?”
Doyokshini laughed heartily, hopping down. She left a warning and vanished.
“Not time yet. Stay safe.”