Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Chapter 43
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Strongest in the Human Realm
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The relationship between Overlord Im Chang-yeol and Park Chan-woo could best be described as "perfect strangers."
They had no reason to cross paths directly, nor did their forces ever clash. It was a connection utterly devoid of any contact points.
Im Chang-yeol operated strictly from the shadows.
He reigned as the king of the underworld, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes.
He had focused on building his organization rather than honing his personal martial prowess.
The polar opposite of Park Chan-woo.
But that didn't mean Im Chang-yeol's individual strength was lacking in any way.
"The Invincible Overlord, Master of Ten Thousand Weapons, Slaughterer of the Battlefield."
They said there was no weapon he couldn't wield, no human he couldn't slay.
Once he took up arms, he reduced the battlefield to ruins, earning the moniker of Slaughterer.
They claimed that in peak condition, mastering myriad weapons, he could stand toe-to-toe with even a level 99 powerhouse.
Putting all these tales together led to one inescapable conclusion.
"Human Realm's Strongest."
Indeed, Im Chang-yeol was one of those hailed as the "Human Realm's Strongest."
And Park Chan-woo was another.
The Human Realm.
In other words, excluding the "Heavenly Realm" inhabited by monsters like Han Shin or Sword King Lee Hyuk-soo, he was the unchallenged pinnacle among humans.
He didn't quite reach Heavenly Realm status, but the acknowledgment was there.
"When it comes to wielding weapons, they operate on a whole different plane of understanding."
Both Han Shin and Sword King Lee Hyuk-soo had attained the sword's ultimate essence, its absolute pinnacle.
The depth of their mastery over their signature weapons was beyond catching up to.
Simply put, they were different.
If they were talking swords specifically, then Park Chan-woo had been born human, while they had been born lions, tigers—or elephants, dinosaurs even.
How much had he floundered, refusing to accept that gap?
It wasn't that he couldn't handle a sword.
He wielded it skillfully enough, but he never breached the wall to true transcendence.
His real gift lay in magic.
He had entered the world of magic late and earned the title "First Magic Swordsman," but to Park Chan-woo, it felt more like a curse.
Meanwhile, what of Im Chang-yeol?
"...The rumors aren't exaggerated."
Truth be told, he was curious.
About the abilities of Im Chang-yeol, another called "Human Realm's Strongest" like himself.
Mastery of every weapon implied a lack of profound depth in any one.
But that had been the wrong assumption.
"Im Chang-yeol is a genius. A genius of murder, unbound by any weapon."
To Im Chang-yeol, weapons were just tools.
Tools for the hunt.
Sword, axe, spear, bow—it made no difference.
With senses like a monster's, he knew precisely how to dismantle his prey. He pierced through the optimal weapon, the perfect approach.
"To think he'd pinpoint the durability flaw."
Even more, that durability weakness was intel that surfaced only later.
All Abyss gear had durability. As long as it wasn't zeroed out, it held its form.
So most assumed it wouldn't shatter before then, power and defense intact.
Yet those with transcendent senses could detect the "gap" in weakened gear.
"Something I can't do."
Regrettably, Park Chan-woo lacked that gift.
In truth, only those in the "Heavenly Realm" possessed it.
In a word, Im Chang-yeol's talent rivaled the Heavenly Realm's monsters.
Was that why?
As he watched Kim Byung-han clash with Im Chang-yeol.
"My blood's boiling."
...His heart raced, blood surging hot.
Sword King Lee Hyuk-soo, whom he'd seen before, was still in his growth phase.
But Im Chang-yeol's genius had fully bloomed.
He had mastered wielding weapons, slaying foes, hunting prey—every method under the sun.
The zenith of raw prowess.
That must be why he'd surged ahead of all others since the Abyss emerged.
"What are you mulling over?"
Im Chang-yeol eyed Park Chan-woo, eyes alight.
From the outset, even now with Kim Byung-han down, Park Chan-woo's gaze remained utterly "impassive."
No flicker of surprise, no trace of fear.
He had merely observed their duel with cold detachment.
At the same time, Im Chang-yeol discerned the hunger kindling in those eyes.
"Unbelievable."
That hunger was pure "fighting spirit."
What was absurd wasn't the simple urge to clash.
"He's gauging me."
Eyes probing to verify if Im Chang-yeol was authentic.
It bordered on scholarly curiosity masquerading as battle lust.
He, long the apex of blade-masters, a living legend. No formal martial arts training, yet revered as a virtuoso of armaments.
Naturally, those who knew Im Chang-yeol never regarded him with such a look.
His prowess needed no proof.
Yet here was Park Chan-woo, unsatisfied even after witnessing Kim Byung-han toyed with.
He craved a fiercer display from Im Chang-yeol.
"One or the other. Lunatic or legit."
True steel recognizes true steel.
Lunatic or legit—was Park Chan-woo?
Seemed the former, but he hoped for the latter.
"Do I just pick any weapon from over there?"
Park Chan-woo slowly indicated the wooden box.
Im Chang-yeol replied in a stifled tone.
"...You can use one from the Abyss if you want."
"No. From the box."
Park Chan-woo's only weapon was the World Tree Staff anyway.
Not something he could whip out here.
"Park Chan-woo. Don't do anything foolish!"
Kim Byung-han clutched his wound and bellowed.
His vision whirled, but he couldn't afford weakness.
Besides, crazy or not, Park Chan-woo was outmatched against Im Chang-yeol.
"I leaked that opening on purpose. Im Chang-yeol's the genuine article."
He'd dropped his guard to blatant bait.
Blind to the inducement.
Hooked clean.
Even unhooked, the outcome stayed the same.
He'd believed levels and gear decided all.
No one had overturned that until now.
Im Chang-yeol was first.
"How's a low-level scrub supposed to beat a freak like that?"
Kim Byung-han was certain Park Chan-woo hadn't breached the first level cap.
Low level, shabby gear—how to topple a blade-life veteran like Im Chang-yeol?
The Park Chan-woo he knew was just some office drone.
Zero chance of victory.
"This'll do."
At last, Park Chan-woo drew his weapon from the box.
Im Chang-yeol's brow twitched.
"...Twin hand axes?"
He gripped a pair of hand axes.
The stuff of movies or dramas.
Stylish, sure—but practical?
Im Chang-yeol sighed inwardly.
"Just a lunatic after all."
Disappointment soured to disdain.
No one dual-wielded hand axes in real scraps—not in his experience.
Time to lop off a finger.
Keep him in line for good.
"Then... let's start."
Im Chang-yeol assumed position.
Stamped forward, closing gap.
Planning swift, brutal closure.
First.
"Left flank."
From observing Park Chan-woo's moves, right-handed leanings.
Im Chang-yeol dashed in low on the left side.
Aimed dagger thrust under the armpit.
Swoosh!
But Im Chang-yeol missed his mark.
Park Chan-woo pinned the dagger beneath the axe blade and bore down.
As Im Chang-yeol's stance dipped forward, a tripping foot hooked in.
"This bastard...!"
Pinpoint timing—unfeasible sans calculation.
Who'd envision jamming a dagger in that axe blade-handle crevice!
Trip averted, but his half-roll evasion met Park Chan-woo's torso twist and instant right-axe riposte.
"Hup...!"
Axe whistled past his ribs.
Stiffer flexibility, and chunks of meat gone.
Ukemi roll, Im Chang-yeol sprang up fast.
"......"
Once.
That split-second exchange told all.
"...This guy's legit."
Park Chan-woo was the real deal.
Unlike Kim Byung-han—nay, beyond compare—a true monster!
No tales of hand-axe mastery like this.
No, wait.
Im Chang-yeol corrected himself.
"Battle-scarred beast, plain and simple."
Thinking five moves deep minimum.
Optimal paths, every one.
In seconds, pruning possibilities to prime kill-lines on Im Chang-yeol.
Spine iced over.
One more lapse, ancestors calling.
"Heh, this one's a subordinate?"
Kim Byung-han deluded.
This breed bows to none.
Now crystal: that "zeal-filled" gaze sizing him up.
"Fine. Feast your eyes."
Im Chang-yeol grinned.
His killer instinct roared awake.
Years since this thrill?
One glimpse reveals ten; one bout sizes skill.
Soon, smile vanished.
Abyss-cold eyes reset stance.
"......Let's get serious."
Leaping.
Heart leaping.
World leaping.
Me too.
Park Chan-woo grinned.
Blood vessels clamping tight—this rush.
Fingertips crackling electric.
Shivers at every clash of chill steel.
"Forgot this."
Despair of untouchable pinnacle.
Park Chan-woo had forsaken his gifts.
Post-mage path, his core slipped away.
"Started as a Barbarian Warrior."
Prime class.
Park Chan-woo's "true lineage" was Barbarian Warrior.
Then Barbarian Hero, class-up to Knight.
Traversing barren wastes, scorning death—unbreakable berserker!
Smashing all comers, sweat-stinking frenzy of combat.
Zero ties to sorcery.
No talent fixation.
Charging opaque tomorrows, tomorrow's survival uncertain.
That Park Chan-woo: warrior, trailblazer.
"Warrior's brawl."
Tension long absent.
Numerical edges voided.
No flair techniques, no polish poise.
Dogfight proper underway.
Park Chan-woo savored the fray raw.
Blood spray, flesh flay and fly—indifferent.
Barbarian Warrior's creed.
Park Chan-woo blew it off.
Breath heaving, vision swimming.
Cells shrieking body-wide.
Limit-pushed muscles quaking mad.
Frail, frail frame.
Faster fatigue, swifter ceilings—curse rankling deep.
But fine.
No curse halts him.
When did Barbarian Warriors baby themselves?
Besides, this foe: rare heart-pounder.
Warrior blood-boiler.
Park Chan-woo devolved to that bygone Barbarian Warrior.
"...You're out of your mind."
Grin!
Im Chang-yeol cracked up at Park Chan-woo.
Three decades blade-for-life.
First encounter with worse madness.
Park Chan-woo: berserker incarnate.
Mad yet mighty.
He'd figured himself unique in duality.
"This one's gold."
Lifelong first "kindred soul."
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