Chapter 167
If it had been the old me, it would've taken several slashes just to sever a neck like that. My arm strength had improved over time, and all that slashing practice had paid off handsomely. Training really does yield results in proportion to the effort. Nothing came from slacking off.
Han Yaseong gripped the Wild Sword in his right hand and swung it. His left hand needed to handle the crossbow, short spear, or hand axe, so wielding the sword one-handed was the way to go. Forest scouting meant ferocious beasts could lunge from anywhere at any moment—both hands had to stay free for whatever came. Gripping the blade two-handed during patrols was just inefficient.
For a while, Han Yaseong panted through his sword drills. It'd be nice to have a real master teaching me, the thought bubbled up again. Some systematic training... maybe I should check out a sword dojo somewhere. But that sounded boring as hell, so he just kept swinging one-handed. He hated swords with rigid forms. Those were for kids who'd started young and drilled endlessly. Learning now wouldn't make him a master overnight. Just keep at it, and it'll work out somehow.
Gripping the hilt right-handed, he slashed at imaginary foes in front of him, over and over. After about two hours of that, Han Yaseong headed to the stream for a bath.
A month slipped by. He trained steadily, heading out to that vast plain once a week for hunts. After a few trips, he got comfortable enough to roam freely. He'd mapped a safe route to the plain, then teamed up with Yadong-i to bag ostrich chickens. The birds weren't the sharpest—always easy pickings. They seemed to flock together, but they didn't lift a wing to save a buddy in trouble. Hit one, and the rest bolted. Just like impalas or gnus back on Earth—timid herd beasts.
The bigger beasts? Still way out of his league. Too massive to kill easily, and even if he managed, he couldn't haul all the meat. It'd just be a feast for the plain's hyenas. He'd figured that out after a few visits: this endless expanse had its own Earth-style scavengers. Ugly brutes the size of buffalo, always in packs, preying on the sick or wounded megafauna. Mostly, though, they scarfed down leavings from larger predators or straight-up stole kills mid-meal. He'd watched from afar once—total lowlifes. Their antics put street gangs to shame. The megacarnivores busted their asses for a meal, only to lose most of it to these hyenas.
The plain teemed with massive carnivores of every stripe and size—near-dinosaur scale. He occasionally spotted ones standing four or five meters tall. But nothing in the ten-meter class yet. The plain was so vast, though; maybe he just hadn't found them. It stretched at least tens of kilometers, no end in sight—like the size of Seoul at minimum. Jagged mountains snaked across its edge, vanishing into clouds. Hell, it might span the whole Korean Peninsula. Hard to gauge.
To cover ground like this, he'd need a mountain bike. Walking was out of the question. If this planet matched Earth's size, circling it entirely could take a century on foot. Someday, when I'm loaded, I could buy a light aircraft, disassemble it, portal it over, reassemble, and buzz around scouting the planet. Stockpile fuel, stash it everywhere, fly routes—and boom, full survey in a year max. But that meant building fuel depots and refueling stations across the globe. Impossible. How the hell do you set up gas stations in a world like this?
Every time he hit that wall, he longed for a pro expedition team with their gear hauls. Exploring this sprawl solo was brutal. But sharing it? No way—they'd claim it, draw lines, and bar the door. Exploration over. Better to grind alone than get locked out. Plus, that asshole who'd ditched the canned coffee was out there somewhere. If he blabbed to his government, they'd swarm with teams—and Han Yaseong could end up evicted. Or worse, silenced permanently. Complicated mess all around.
The fix for it all? Get stronger. Only that.
Schuk! Another clean neck slice through the ostrich chicken. Frontal assaults were a joke now. Lead with a crossbow bolt to the body from his left hand, dodge the enraged charge, then one right-handed stroke with the true sword to end it. He'd panicked on the first hunt, but practice made it routine—easy kills.
Yadong-i, dagger in its mouth and nothing to do, wandered nearby. Han Yaseong carved off the bird's two legs up to the hips, lashed them together, and slung the load over his shoulder. No more struggling two-handed carries like before—over twenty kilos, no sweat.
"Wanna play a bit before heading back?"
Han Yaseong eyed the roaming megafauna as he spoke. The hunt wrapped too quick; he wasn't ready to leave. Yadong-i seemed bored too—no rush home. So they strolled the plain a while.
Elephant-sized grazers munched everywhere, barely wary. The longer he watched, the more wondrous they seemed. Aliens would probably gawk at Earth's wildlife too. Maybe that's why UFOs swing by so often.
After some leisurely wandering and gawking, the ground trembled. Han Yaseong froze. Yadong-i went on alert too. Massive beasts on the run—that vibration was the telltale sign. Or a savage apex predator on the prowl.
A dust cloud billowed far across the plain. Megafauna scattered in panic every which way. No doubt—a colossal predator.
"Yadong! Let's go!"
Han Yaseong bolted for the grass. Yadong-i dashed after. But they'd wandered too far—nearly three kilometers to cover. Plus the twenty-kilo load on his back. He huffed hard, pushing sprint speed. Yadong-i's short legs churned furiously.
They pounded on like that until the grass loomed close. Fleeing behemoths barreled nearby, chased by something. One wrong step, and he'd be paste. What the hell could terrify these titans into such frenzy? No clue—but self-preservation first. If it spooked herds this bad, it was nightmare fuel. No need to ID it; just haul ass, don't look back.
Han Yaseong and Yadong-i dove into the grass and hunkered down, gasping. For long minutes, they crouched silent in the thicket. Thunderous footfalls shook the plain as hulking beasts fled nonstop. What could chase behemoths like these into blind panic?
Curiosity won. Han Yaseong flattened prone, parted the grass with both hands, and peeked. Yadong-i huddled tense beside him, peering too.
Hundreds of megafauna stampeded endlessly—then deeper booms, louder than theirs, rattled the earth behind. Bigger than the beasts. But the rhythm felt off. Two-legged? Grass blocked the view.
Moments later, a gap revealed it: the thundering runner, crystal clear.
"What the hell is that?"
Han Yaseong stared, mind blank. Trailing the herd was something almost humanlike. No—bipedal like a man, but towering ten meters tall. An immense giant. Not human, though. It resembled a colossal ape.