You...!
Esai warriors stared back and forth between Jin-cheol and the guy passed out on the deck, their faces blank with stupidity. Jin-cheol looked at them like they were idiots.
"What? You thought you could punch without getting punched back?"
The sky was still clear. The Baika merchant ship glided smoothly along the Sidalria River, and from the primal forest beyond the water came the cries of birds and insects filling the woods. Right here on deck, though, one Esai lay slumped in a heap, out cold.
Jin-cheol lifted his head indifferently to face the sun again, while the other Esai froze, still not grasping what had happened. Only when some nameless bird let out a distant peep did they snap out of it.
"...You dare strike an Antela warrior!"
The short-haired Esai lunged at Jin-cheol in a fury. True to his self-proclaimed warrior status, his punch was fast and precise. Jin-cheol shoved the guy's forearm aside with his left hand and drove a short jab into the soft spot under his chest plate with his right.
"Urk!"
As the guy crumpled, the other two charged. The nearest one snapped a leg up toward Jin-cheol's head. Jin-cheol leaned back to dodge, but the Esai spun with the momentum, planting his pivot foot and whipping around a back kick. Instead of evading, Jin-cheol caught it mid-air at chest height. Without missing a beat, the Esai lifted his other foot toward Jin-cheol's head. The combo was so fluid it seemed like his feet never touched the ground—astonishing agility and flexibility. He was swinging those legs like whips.
Jin-cheol didn't dodge. He raised an arm to guard his head and shoved the captured leg forward. The kick glanced off harmlessly.
"Eek!"
With both feet off the deck, the Esai tumbled across the boards. As he rolled, the last one dove low, tackling for Jin-cheol's waist. Their bodies collided with a solid thud.
"...?"
"You kidding me?"
But Jin-cheol didn't budge. The Esai wrapped his arms around Jin-cheol's waist and twisted, trying to upset his balance—a judo or wrestling move.
"You think I'm just gonna stand here?"
Jin-cheol grabbed the guy's face with his right hand, shoving it aside while hooking a foot behind his. The Esai's body flipped violently, slamming his head into the deck with a loud crack.
"Hiiya!"
The one who'd tried the kick earlier scrambled up with a guttural yell and leaped forward. But as he rose, Jin-cheol's short hook smashed into his face. Another thud, and he crumpled backward again.
All four Esai lay sprawled out. Jin-cheol dusted off his hands like he'd just finished some chores and scanned the deck. The first guy and the last two groaned on the floor, while the one who'd taken the gut shot knelt glaring up at him.
"Guh... You bastard...!"
"You done? Let's call it even—you guys started it."
Disbelief twisted the Esai's face.
"What? It's true, ain't it?"
"..."
Maybe he realized Jin-cheol was right, because some emotion welled up—shame, by Jin-cheol's guess. And like most young hotheads, he couldn't swallow it.
"...I'll defend Antela's honor!"
As he shouted, the ornate chest plate he wore began to glow faintly.
"Oh! Esai magic."
Jin-cheol muttered it without thinking, and in that instant, the kneeling Esai blurred. It was an afterimage from sudden, explosive speed—he looked like a streaking mass with a long tail. To him, the world had frozen while he alone moved. And that movement ended at Jin-cheol's face.
A sharp crack as his fist slammed into Jin-cheol's left cheek. Jin-cheol's head snapped back like a boxer eating a clean right hook. His ponytail came undone, hair spilling loose to his shoulders—Tobi's handiwork.
"..."
But the Esai couldn't follow up. Jin-cheol's body hadn't whipped any further than that tilt, and a sharp ache throbbed in his punching fist and wrist.
"...What was that hero who moved at the speed of sound?"
Jin-cheol rubbed his jaw, mumbling nonsense. His cheek felt split inside; a metallic tang lingered.
"That all your Esai magic's got?"
His eyes locked back on the Esai, who clenched his trembling hand—taking it as mockery. Fury ignited his face, and the chest plate glowed again.
"That all? You shit! Try it again!"
The Esai accelerated once more, the world slowing like stretched rubber as he lunged. But this time, in that sluggish world, Jin-cheol's eyes tracked him perfectly. The fist aiming for his jaw... got caught.
"...?"
"Think I'd fall for it twice?"
Jin-cheol chopped the edge of his other hand into the guy's throat.
"Gek."
The Esai choked once and rolled across the deck. Jin-cheol looked down at him gasping on the floor. His own eyes darkened.
He'd rolled through the heart of war. He knew bare-knuckle fighting, and he didn't hesitate when he had to. He could tell when to hold back and when not to. Battlefields demanded it—kill or be killed. He wasn't debating whether to silence these sprawled Esai permanently. What troubled him was that his war-hardened past shouldn't have let him drop four foes without a scratch. He wasn't some pro fighter or martial arts heir. His specialty was rifles.
Given their speed earlier, he should've been bleeding from the nose, loving every brutal second. By his memory of his old brawling skills, anyway. But he'd matched their magic-boosted acceleration twice. Combined with the last few days' experiences, it planted a grim suspicion—not that this world was fragile compared to his body, but that something had been injected into him without his knowledge.
"...Fuck. Wasn't that old bastard dead?"
No way that Mad Scientist fucker survived? Too little info. The unease he'd softened around the Kampoeni sharpened into thorns. Why had he woken on a riverbank, buried in a collapsed lab? Had the doctor lived underground, experimenting on his body? This wasn't another world? Then what the fuck were those walking furballs and mini T-Rexes?
Conservatively, he was dead and hallucinating. Leaping to extremes, he'd been isekai'd.
"Heh. Ridiculous, goddamn..."
Jin-cheol chuckled to himself. Too vivid for a hallucination, too many familiar bits for isekai. His imagination couldn't wrap around it.
Mistaking his solo giggles for mockery, the Esai who'd tackled him—and face-planted—reached for his waist in rage. His hand gripped the sword there. A soft shing as the blade peeked out, green mist trailing from it like fog.
"Enough!"
A firm voice boomed across the deck. Another Esai man, eyes sharp as he surveyed the scene. The sword-puller flinched at his arrival.
The newcomer strode over steadily.
"Captain..."
"Fools. Is this how Antela warriors behave?"
"B-but that guy—if we fight armed—"
"That's your excuse? You think drawing steel on an unarmed man makes you win?"
The warrior glanced at Jin-cheol and his fallen comrades, speechless. He chewed his lip like something boiled inside, then dropped his head in silence. The blade slid back into its sheath.
The captain's sunken gaze shifted to Jin-cheol, who met it with a quirked brow.
What, you wanna go too?
"...You speak Esai?"
"I get it fine."
"I'm Antela's Amuta. You're Kang Jin-cheol, right?"
How'd he know? Jin-cheol guessed quick.
"Captain told you."
"Captain Romuto honors Antela requests."
"Valuable. Wonder what he charges per customer info."
Amuta tilted his head, missing the sarcasm. Then:
"Who started it?"
"That one." Jin-cheol nodded at the still-out guy.
Amuta sighed despite himself. He shut his eyes tight, then opened them on Jin-cheol.
"I'll apologize on their behalf. Sorry, Kang Jin-cheol."
The straightforward apology tilted Jin-cheol's head instead.
"You buy that easy? What if I'm lying?"
"So you insulted four Antela warriors first?"
"Nah..."
"If you had, it'd be blades, not fists—and you wouldn't be standing here chatting."
Heh. Smart or proud? Either way, the vibe was de-escalating, so Jin-cheol didn't care. No lawsuit, no payout. Isekai favored thugs.
He spun the fish-gut knife—Aimaukai's gift, named for its jagged length perfect for hiding in a gut—before sheathing it neatly. Amuta's eyes narrowed watching.
Yeah, I saw that sword draw too.
"Sorry our first talk's so messy. I'll make proper amends later."
"No need. Water under the bridge. Call it even."
Jin-cheol gathered his loose hair, tying it back casually. He'd been the target, but they ate deck. Resentment measured by damage, not who swung first. Amuta's clean apology made him decent.
"'Even'? Antela's name isn't so light. We'll compensate."
"...If you insist."
Bit awkward. Amuta's face was stone—blank to hide boiling emotions, obvious even to Jin-cheol. Aimed at him or his men? Jin-cheol bet on himself. Crab protects its own; boss gets mad when idiots get smacked outside.
Still proud enough to offer recompense. Jin-cheol nodded anyway—further refusal might drag it out.
"Alright."
Amuta bowed slightly, then herded his ragged quartet off-deck. Once they'd vanished below, Jin-cheol slumped against the rail with a heavy sigh.
"Picking fights like a dumbass. Great job, Jin-cheol..."
But they hit first? Self-defense. His isekai king body made it easy; as a green grunt back then, it'd have been a bloody slugfest till one side ragdolled. Best woulda been smooth-talking it down. He'd learned that post-violence.
"...Not that easy."
He flexed a hand before his eyes. Control felt better this time—no burst skulls like last. One scrap, and dialing it in got easier. But he wasn't itching to test limits by baiting randos. Too tiring.
"Sky's damn clear."
The river flowed serene, like the brawl never happened. Jin-cheol gawked at the view, face blank as if he hadn't just whomped Esai warriors.
"...Parm's waiting."
He turned soon after. Esai should've cleared out.
*
"...Sorry."
"Forgot Ishanka's order from last night already?"
Amuta's cold glare dropped the warriors' heads.
"Sorry. Thought it'd reveal his identity fastest..."
"Fools. That's why you rolled on deck?"
"...Sorry. Gladly take punishment."
"Back to trainee status the moment we return. I was the idiot bringing you on easy duty. Can't even remember last night's orders."
"Captain...!"
The four paled. Onlookers hid dismay. Trainee meant retesting for warrior rank—stripped after barely five months since Sun Festival.
Peran disagreed. She'd wanted to teach them anyway. Arrogant pups, drunk on Antela pride, stirring trouble in packs. Pricey lesson, but that's the name's weight.
Amuta eyed her.
"Ishanka?"
"Better. Ate. Awake—says come right when you return."
Amuta nodded at Peran's crisp report. He scanned the rest slowly.
"No bullshit. Stay put. I get cabin fever, but misuse energy like them, and you'll taste my blade before home. Own your Antela warrior pride. Guard even at rest."
Amuta stormed inside stiff-faced. Tension lingered, the rookies corpse-pale. Peran smirked privately. Tasted sweet.
*
"Med bay too stuffy for you?"
Parm noted as Jin-cheol returned.
Jin-cheol cocked his head. "Huh? Why?"
"Long time on deck."
"Ah. Bit of a thing up there."
"...A thing?"
Jin-cheol grinned. "Deep philosophical exchange."
Parm stared like he'd lost it. Jin-cheol laughed it off awkwardly. Not like he'd admit brawling.
"Anyway, Parm."
"Yes?"
"Skip language for now. Something else."
"Like?"
"You said you're my teacher till Siol. Answer anything I ask, right?"
"...Kind of you."
Parm smiled. "Teacher-student bond. Short time, but I'm your teacher."
Thought only furballs were suckers. This guy's soft too.
Jin-cheol shook it off. "Parm, you know history?"
"History?"
"Y'know, old stories..."
Parm fiddled his mask like a beard. "Not my field—no daily timelines like a historian. But known past? Sure. Curious?"
Jin-cheol nodded seriously. Parm grinned again.
"Good. Where from?"
"Beginning."
Parm's eyes widened. "Beginning?"
"Beginning."
Anxiety flickered in Jin-cheol's gaze. Could isekai king drop the "i"? He hoped so.