Let's All Die Together!
No. 18 was a guy who'd given himself the tacky name Bi Ryu-hyang.
He boasted grades almost on par with No. 2. With his sharply slanted eyes and strangely lithe, bird-like frame, he seemed acutely aware of it, always lingering silently like a shadow.
No. 2 glanced lightly at No. 18 standing beside him by way of greeting. They must've plotted the escape together.
And then...
A figure silently slipped between Jang Chil and Won Seung.
It was No. 27, a woman with a massively built frame for her gender.
This one's special-grade, right?
No. 27 was the only special-grade among the girls.
The rumor that the training camp produced just four special-grades was common knowledge among the kids. And who they were was no secret either—they'd rolled in the dirt together through training.
No. 2 and No. 13, No. 18 and No. 27.
Won Seung turned to No. 27.
"What's your name?"
With a bashfulness that belied her hulking build, No. 27 replied,
"I'm So-hyang. You?"
"No. 50!"
Another figure stepped up beside So-hyang.
It was Bing-seol.
"This fight's on me. Can't sit it out."
Hmm. You might wanna bail, though...
But Won Seung couldn't stop her. Bing-seol had her own path, and fleeing now would mean she'd never walk it.
"I'll drag you into it. Take the antidote pills first."
Won Seung made the call. In this cramped dining hall... the instructors wouldn't be able to swarm in. He'd scatter the poison powder without mercy.
The dining hall, built of logs as thick as So-hyang's legs, was sturdy. The windows were too small for anyone to squeeze through. The only doors were the main entrance and the side door to the kitchen—both barred tight and guarded by two kids.
"I'll open the door."
Won Seung headed for the dining hall door, but there was no need.
Boom!
With a thunderous crash, the thick log door shattered. In its place stood the chief instructor.
His face was terrifyingly grim.
"Which little shit should I kill first? Drop your weapons and grovel, and maybe I'll spare you!"
The brainwashing from childhood ran deep. A few kids froze in terror, hands inching toward their weapons to discard them.
Won Seung bellowed,
"Bullshit! Who said anything about sparing who? I'll handle my own neck—you worry about yours!"
With that, he lunged forward. The chief instructor—that bastard has to die!
"Hmph!"
The chief instructor glared at Won Seung and thrust his sword like lightning.
Ugh! So fast!
As expected of the chief. Won Seung had attacked first, yet the instructor's blade was already piercing toward him. In that instant, Won Seung's sword twisted oddly, shoving the instructor's aside.
Four Directions Heaven Watch!
The chief instructor's brow twitched. He snapped his wrist back, his sword spinning along it to stab at Won Seung again—a thunderbolt technique. He meant to crush Won Seung and break the kids' spirit.
But...
Won Seung's blade twisted queerly once more, batting the instructor's away and lunging for his throat. The chief flinched in shock, jerking his torso aside.
Both swords missed simultaneously.
Won Seung's Four Directions Heaven Watch still wasn't second nature. His sword tip had wavered at the end, letting the chief slip away.
Even so.
"Wooah!"
The kids' morale soared at the sight of Won Seung holding his own against the chief. Their fighting spirit ignited.
"I'm in too!"
With the chief blocking the door, no enemies had even entered yet, but someone shouted anyway.
No—don't fight.
Won Seung felt dizzy seeing strands of his hair sliced off by the chief's sword.
Clang-clang-clang!
Their blades clashed in aftershocks, then parted.
"......"
The two glared at each other from a zhang apart.
The chief instructor was inwardly stunned. The kids had maybe twenty years of internal energy apiece. Yet... this one was matching his forty.
Impossible.
The chief had earned his rank through past merits and consumed a Myeonggeon Dan—a pure one, untainted by Swolhyeol San, granting him over a decade more than his peers. That's how he'd claimed the top spot among instructors... and now this kid matched him?
Just then, instructors slipped in behind the chief like shadows, fanning out to the sides.
Won Seung tallied them on instinct.
One, two, three, four...
As the fourth moved aside, Won Seung charged the chief again.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
His sword blurred beyond sight—a ferocious Spectrum Sword Art, pressing the chief hard.
Last time he'd used twenty years of energy bolstered by Musanggyeol's yin-yang acupoint link. This time, all forty years poured in.
Shing!
Sword ki erupted from Won Seung's tip, stabbing at the chief's vital points.
"Sword ki!"
Someone cried out in recognition. The chief's face darkened as he raised his sword to block, stepping back. The instructors trailing him got jammed behind.
Won Seung yelled,
"Kill the ones who made it in first!"
Jang Chil reacted instantly, springing forward with a cleaving saber strike.
Slash-slash-slash!
His saber light bore down on one instructor.
"You cocky little shit!"
The instructor parried Jang Chil's saber and kicked at his torso. But someone appeared at his side, plunging a dagger into his calf.
Pfbt!
"Gah!"
The instructor stumbled back against the wall.
It was Bi Ryu-hyang. Now Won Seung saw—he was a master of movement arts. He'd stabbed the calf in a flash and vanished.
Meanwhile, Dongho-gun and So-hyang charged the newly entered instructors. Bing-seol hurled flying daggers from behind.
Whish-whish-whish!
As the instructors batted away the daggers, Dongho-gun and So-hyang stabbed wildly. Bi Ryu-hyang struck at the last one with his saber.
Clang-clang-clang!
The instructors, caught off-guard by the kids' full-force assault right at the door, swung wildly and retreated step by step.
"Oh!"
The kids' spirits lifted as Won Seung's vanguard seized the momentum. Overcoming the memories that had cowed them, their resentment blazed hot.
"Kill 'em!"
Forgetting all about escape, the kids surged forward, thrusting swords and sabers at the instructors. Too many jammed in, clashing weapons with each other.
The instructors secured space between them, linking defenses. The result: a farce of blades clanging blindly.
"Fall back! Two at a time! Remember? Linked strikes on the masters!"
Won Seung shouted while pressing the chief. The chief's sword was swift; Won Seung had no chance to draw the hidden dagger from his sleeve.
The chief grasped Won Seung's ploy instantly: let them in in small groups, then swarm and kill.
The chief advanced, pressing Won Seung.
"Retreat for now!"
The instructors fell back through the gap the chief opened, fleeing the hall. But one finally dropped.
Jang Chil beheaded the instructor with the calf dagger.
"Gurk!"
The groan came from Jang Chil, stabbed in the side—but his foe lost its head, silent.
Roll-roll-roll. The head tumbled to Won Seung's feet. Ironically, the very instructor Jang Chil had sworn to kill—the one who'd turned away as No. 92 died.
Facing the chief, Won Seung sensed the rolling head and shuddered, sidestepping.
Murder machine—mission accomplished!
As the head rolled across the floor, spilling acrid blood, the kids' eyes turned bloodshot.
With the instructors out, the chief's sword suddenly whipped up and down savagely. Won Seung retreated; the chief bolted outside.
"You little fucks. You're all dead!"
Even the chief had snapped.
"Set it on fire!"
He eyed the hall. Ten years old, logs bone-dry in autumn. A blaze would flush them out.
"Kill anything that comes out!"
The warriors lit torches, igniting the log walls everywhere.
Won Seung hurried to Jang Chil.
"You okay?"
"Hurts like hell!"
Jang Chil grimaced. A three-chi gash in his side, blood gushing in clumps. Any deeper and his guts would've spilled.
Won Seung cursed.
"Damn it. Why'd you take a hit!"
"He's dead, ain't he? I'm fine."
Jang Chil grinned through the pain. He'd avenged No. 92 at last—ecstatic.
Won Seung sighed.
You psycho. Gotta stay alive to keep killing.
Won Seung swiftly applied golden sore salve, stood, and shouted to the kids,
"Life's only once. Think it's a joke? Did I antidote your Swolhyeol San so you could die like moths to a flame?"
"......"
The kids stared at Won Seung. Even Dongho-gun's lips trembled—he wanted to speak but couldn't.
Those faces... the ones he'd seen nonstop for ten years. The ones he'd been too scared to approach, fearing they'd die...
Now they looked at him. And tonight, some would vanish.
Brats... I said escape—what were you doing? Though, escaping's no guarantee either.
Fine. Let's all break through together.
Won Seung's throat tightened as he yelled,
"Don't die! Don't even get hurt! Together, we can punch through! You wanna die in this shithole training camp?"
His choked cry boiled the kids' blood. Power surged through them.
They roared as one,
"Let's all die together!"
Fuck—these idiots... I said don't die, why're they yelling "let's all die"?
Won Seung's eyes welled up. Pathetic bunch...
"Let's all die together"... it was the slogan they'd chanted in training. That vile Jeokhyeolsan had even twisted that into their brainwashing.
Won Seung had no time to dwell. He needed to see what the chief was doing outside.
"Dongho-gun, organize the kids into teams."
The recent fight showed they needed structure.
Fwoosh!
Won Seung scattered poison powder first, then cautiously stepped out. He took in the scene.
Instructors with torches, setting the log hall ablaze everywhere.
"Ah, fuck. Fuuuck...!"
Curses spilled out.
Ah, today's a bitch.
He'd barely survived the chief one-on-one... now roasted alive?
The chief, three zhang away, smirked slyly.
"Not too late yet. Drop your weapons and surrender—I'll guarantee your safety."
"Would you live like a coward?"
Won Seung sneered.
The chief's temper flared. This snot-nosed brat he'd raised from a runt... standing tall now? Infuriating.
"You fucking punk? I'll kill you with my own hands."
Fucker's the Sangyang mad dog...
Won Seung snorted.
"What to do? I wanna kill you too."
Won Seung stepped forward from the door, lowering his sword.
"Wanna go for real?"