Chapter 364: The Fetters of Karma (6)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 364: The Fetters of Karma (6)
Even as I willingly walked into their trap and came face to face with the Fire Man, I was curious.
Why was this guy pulling a stunt this ridiculous?
I found the answer to that question soon enough.
“Wrath….”
He told me himself.
That he had been chosen by Ira, Wrath, one of the Seven Deadly Sins.
That alone was enough for me to deduce… no, to be certain of the answer.
He was pulling this pathetic stunt to accumulate Karma.
That must have been why he so readily responded when Kim Oh-jung said he wanted to target me.
The most promising rising star in South Korea.
A perfect target to suspect of being one of the 504 chosen, just like himself.
And even if I wasn't, it wouldn't have mattered.
If I died, the world would be thrown into chaos, however briefly, and all of that would add to his Karma.
“Hmm… I’ll admit, it’s a well-prepared trap.”
A plan to track my movements, use Kim Oh-jung as bait, and lure me into a pre-arranged trap.
The process itself was simple, but the elements prepared for the trap were quite impressive.
I was especially surprised when the barrier surrounded the area.
That thing is strictly controlled by the government. How did he get his hands on it?
And one more thing.
What surprised me even more than the barrier was the ability the guy displayed.
“The Divine Authority of Wrath….”
The Burning Wrath, was it?
His mana, imbued with the Divine Authority of Wrath, incinerated all the mana floating in the air.
In other words, the Divine Authority of Wrath is the natural enemy of a mage.
That must be why he so confidently appeared before me, spouting all that nonsense….
He just picked the wrong opponent.
“Keoheok…!”
The man coughed up a mouthful of blood, one knee slamming into the ground.
Disbelief was etched deep on his face as he struggled to lift his head.
“H-How…?”
It's common knowledge in the Hunter industry that mages have poor physical abilities.
Without exception.
Because no mage on Earth had ever possessed superior physical prowess.
Of course, if you looked at a thousand, or ten thousand, you might find a mage with decent physical skills.
But that was the limit.
Just 'decent for a mage.'
The kind who defies the frail image with a muscular build, just enough to turn a few heads.
If they focused any more on physical growth, their development as a mage would stagnate. What mage in their right mind would abandon their main strength to focus on their body?
In that respect, his confidence and the preparation of his trap were perfect.
Yes.
“Because his opponent was me.”
If it hadn't been me, that is.
Unfortunately for him, I'm the only… no, one of only two mages in this world with exceptional physical abilities.
Who's the other one, you ask?
Who else could it be?
My daughter.
“Hah… So you’ve been deceiving the whole world. To think your physical abilities are at the top of A-rank… And that movement from before, what in the world was… cough!”
Well… it's not that I wanted to hide it.
I just had no choice but to.
“Keuk…! Now I see who chose you.”
The man continued, a sinister smile on his face.
“Pride… You must be the Priest of Pride.”
Pride.
The trait of showing off, flaunting oneself, and looking down on others.
“What’s your reasoning?”
“Hmph… Experience. The Priest of Pride I saw before was just like you.”
“Oh, is that so.”
Lucky him.
It's not every day you get to meet someone like me twice in one lifetime.
A thought occurred to me.
“Have you met many others like me?”
“…Hard to say.”
He seemed to sense something and chose his words carefully.
He's quicker on the uptake than I thought.
He smirked.
“By the looks of it, I’m the first for you.”
“You’re right.”
I admitted it readily.
No, wait. On second thought, he's not the first.
My daughter is one of the 504, isn't she?
Though I have no idea whose attention she caught to get chosen.
“Keuheuh….”
He struggled to his feet.
“The match seems to be over. Why don’t you just stay put?”
The Association will be here to get you soon.
I'd appreciate it if you'd just wait quietly until then.
“Heh… I haven’t lost yet.”
He laughed, roughly wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve.
“Did you think Burning Wrath only burns mana?”
His mana, which had completely died down after successive defeats in our clashes, flared up again.
Fiercer and more violent than before, beyond comparison.
The color of his mana, once a chilling blue, began to change.
Shifting to an ominous black and red.
“Keeeeuk…!”
A groan, stained with both pain and ecstasy, escaped his clenched teeth.
Thick veins started bulging on his clean-cut face. I asked him,
“…What did you burn?”
He had said it himself.
That the Divine Authority of Wrath didn't stop at just incinerating the mana in the air.
That meant he had burned something other than mana to gain his current power.
Just as I easily deduced the fuel source, he grinned, revealing blood-soaked teeth.
“My… life!”
The moment the words left his mouth, he lunged.
With every foot the distance between us closed, an afterimage trailed behind him like a tail.
A speed on a completely different level than before.
It's a trait that sometimes exists.
Those who gain power by using their own life as collateral.
They're all the same.
For a very short time, they vastly surpass their limits.
And then they die.
I could tell from his attacks.
“Die—!”
Kwaaaaaa!
A shower of fists flew at me, wrapped in a violent gale.
He charged without a thought for the vulnerabilities exposed by his all-out offense—a form only someone who has resolved to throw away their life can take.
“This is getting annoying.”
He may be weaker than me, but he seemed to have a clear advantage in terms of information.
That's why I was planning to capture him alive and extract that information.
“But now…”
I can see it.
His physical functions, which had nearly doubled, were slowly shutting down.
His death was now a foregone conclusion.
“Then I have no choice.”
It's not pleasant, but I'll have to use even his death.
The intention of an opponent who rushes in while burning his own life is obvious.
He doesn't plan on going alone.
I plan to use that resolve.
“This bastard…!”
It was only for an instant, but he had clearly surpassed my speed.
But does that mean I have to get beaten like a dog?
Not at all.
I have a secret weapon to match his speed.
Hwoong! Hwoong!
Kwaaaa!
“You rat…!”
It's called prediction.
To grasp the entirety of a coming movement from a small motion and move one step ahead.
That way, I can react no matter how fast the opponent is.
How do I do it?
It's quite simple.
Train every single day for over twenty years.
And survive about a thousand near-death experiences during that time.
The sense perfected through that process holds a new possibility.
The possibility of seeing a split second into the future through the present—a pathetic but undeniable form of foresight.
“Haa, haa…!”
His desperate resolve scattered before my movements, which were like a gentle breeze.
He paused to catch his ragged breath.
Though dismayed, he hadn't given up yet.
I made him an offer.
“You know what kind of death awaits you if this continues.”
A dog's death. [A meaningless death]
That is his future.
No one wants to die a meaningless death, but for a man on the verge of dying, that urgency must feel even stronger.
“Let’s make a bet.”
“……?”
He showed a flicker of interest.
“The terms are simple. We clash with our best single attack, no dodging. If I lose, I’ll be your companion on the road to the afterlife. If you lose… you give me your information.”
What do you say?
No one facing a meaningless death would refuse such a tempting offer.
“Keuk… Fine. If you can defeat me in my current state, I’ll give you all my information.”
“Can I trust you on that?”
In truth, the only problem with this offer was trust.
Could I trust the word of a man who had so readily snapped up my offer?
He's going to die anyway. If he just keeps his mouth shut and dies, I'll be the fool.
“Of course.”
he replied with that same unpleasant smirk.
Hmm… something about this feels ominous.
“I’m just saying this just in case.”
“……?”
“If you break your promise and just die, I’ll kill you a second time. Got it?”
“What a pathetic joke.”
“…It’s not a joke.”
I'm serious.
“That won’t happen, so stop wasting my time.”
“Well… if you say so. That’s a relief.”
I don't particularly want to experience killing the same person twice.
He slowly lowered his stance, pulling his right fist back behind his body.
The immense, black-and-red mana he’d gained by burning his life force was all sucked into that single fist.
What a shame.
“Tsk, tsk… With that much talent, he could have lived a lavish life as a Hunter.”
The skill to condense that much mana into a single fist is something most talents couldn't even dream of.
If he'd walked the path of a Hunter from a young age with that level of talent, he could have easily aimed for an S-rank position by his thirties.
The thought of losing a future S-rank Hunter left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Can’t be helped.”
Everyone has their own story.
Regardless of its validity, he must have had his reasons for doing what he did.
I'm the same way, aren't I?
Swallowing my pity, I rummaged in my pocket and pulled out a squishy object.
Slap!
Kkamseul-i, which had been stuck to the inside of my pocket, transferred itself to my palm.
Brrrr!
The way it gave me a prim look and shivered its body reminded me of a teenager going through puberty.
It's been like this for a month now. Do slimes go through puberty these days…?
I gently coaxed the slime, which was making a displeased face.
“Come on, Kkamseul-i. Be a good slime and transform into a hilt for me, just this once.”
Brrr!
Despite its reluctant expression, it melted its body and reshaped itself into the hilt of a sword.
Maybe it's not puberty, but tsundere.
Gripping Kkamseul-i, now a hilt perfectly sized for my hand, I drew up my mana.
Wooooong…!
Soon, a golden blade materialized above the hilt.
Seeing this, the man cried out in shock.
“S-Sword Ki…!?”
Sword Ki (劍氣).
A skill that any A-rank Warrior-class Hunter can use.
But mine is a little different from theirs.
Sword Ki is originally formed by layering energy over a steel blade.
However, the Sword Ki I just displayed formed the shape of a sword in the empty air above the hilt.
You might ask what's so great about that.
In fact, this Sword Ki itself isn't much different from a normal one.
However, my opponent was shocked by the level of mastery required to produce such a Sword Ki.
Sword Ki can slice through steel as if it were a radish.
Transcend that by one more step, and you achieve Aura of Strength (罡氣), which is said to be able to cut through anything in the world.
Aura of Strength is known as the proof and exclusive domain of the S-rank.
Only those who can wield it freely can manifest a Sword Ki that is not bound by any medium.
What does that mean?
“Y-You… Don’t tell me you were S-rank…!”
It means it's a trick of the eye sufficient to make my opponent misunderstand.
“Who knows.”
An ambiguous answer.
I wish I were S-rank, but unfortunately, I'm not.
This is merely a result I created based on past experience.
The man forced a laugh.
“…It doesn’t matter. My current power can surely match an S-rank!”
About that… I wonder.
An S-rank isn't someone you can beat with a simple superiority in stats.
I didn't bother explaining.
Why waste my breath on a guy who's about to die anyway?
His eyes gleaming with killing intent, he fixed them on me and threw his punch.
“Come with me—!”
A furious wave of energy poured from the tip of his fist as it cut through the air, heading straight for me.
I slowly took my stance.
It's impossible to generate power that surpasses the energy gained from burning one's life.
In that case, I just have to fight him with what I have that's superior to his.
And that is technique.
“Hup…!”
After pressing mana into the Sword Ki hovering over the hilt,
I swung it from left to right.
Hwooooong—!
The motion was simplicity itself, but the years layered within it were anything but.
A single arc of light that flowed from the Sword Ki proved it.
People called it this because its shape resembled a half-moon in the sky.
“H-Half-Moon Slash…?!”
But he was wrong.
I never gave my technique such a name.
This technique has its own real name.
And that is.
“It’s Half Split, you bastard.”
Half-Moon Slash, my ass.
It's called Half Split because one swing splits the opponent clean in two.
The arcing Sword Ki shot forward and split the furious, black-and-red wave it finally met in half.
The energy, having lost its original form, rippled in the air before vanishing without a trace.
“See? It really is a Half Split, right?”
If this isn't a Half Split, what is?
Witnessing his all-out attack disappear before his eyes, the man collapsed.
Thud!
“H-How can you use Half-Moon Slash…? That’s Son Si-woo’s technique…!”
“No… it’s not Half-Moon Slash… Ugh, forget it.”
What's the point of arguing with a dead man walking?
Let's just call it Half-Moon Slash.
Damn it.