The Sword Emperor Is a Terrifying Person
A few hours earlier.
Kwon Garam was browsing the Marketplace from home, a thoughtful hum caught in her throat as she scanned the listings. She was checking, just in case, whether another S-rank skillbook had slipped past her. Unfortunately, the boards had other ideas — a heated argument over the Sword Emperor's recent conduct was in full swing.
Out of habit, she searched her own alias again.
Keyword: Sword Emperor
The malice was running thick. She didn't particularly care. She was used to it by now, and she already knew the best response was no response at all. They simply couldn't see what she saw — none of them had an S-rank unique skill.
...Not that that stopped her from searching her name every single day.
Most of them had already given up, one way or another.
Was that support, or resentment? She couldn't quite tell.
Garam started to compose a Marketplace post, then stopped.
"...No. What's the point of telling them in advance?"
The Sword Emperor had to remain heavy. Grave. Composed. Even on the Marketplace, posting and commenting too often was a mistake. React to every little thing and you started to look frivolous — and the moment you showed you were reading the room, people came out of the woodwork specifically to needle you harder.
Something else was eating at her far more than the comments.
"Hah. Why hasn't he written back?"
The mysterious S-rank skillbook crafter had gone stubbornly silent. She had even sent a warning to be careful, and the least he could do was say thank you. That was how she saw it — because it had not, even for a second, occurred to Kwon Garam that the other party might be unable to reply for lack of Points.
The longer she waited, the more the anxiety chewed through her. On a restless impulse, she called her unnie.
"Unnie, it's me. Have you still not found that person?"
"Mm. We're analyzing everything we can, but we've only got the one photo. Sorry. Just hang on a little longer."
Of course even the NIS couldn't crack the System's security. The attached photograph had been their one thin hope of pulling something — anything — out of it.
"...We need to find him fast."
She had left her phone number, so all that remained was to wait. And still, nothing. Not a call, not a message, not a word — even after he had accepted her friend request!
She opened the refrigerator and studied the S-rank skillbook waiting inside.
5-Minute Timed Skillbook
Upon use, the wielder's blade is honed to a sharpness capable of severing molecular bonds.
"...Right."
With this, clearing the 40th Floor was a certainty. Five minutes of overwhelming offensive power. She would have to handle it with extreme care — engraving an S-rank skillbook couldn't have been easy. Circuits this precise would have taken far more than a day or two. He must have been hunched over the work for days at the very least.
...Come to think of it, news of the 40th Floor challenge should have dropped by now.
She cracked the Marketplace open and flicked a glance at the boards. The reaction was exactly what she had expected.
"...Hehe. See?"
Garam smiled, warm and thoroughly pleased. Public opinion had flipped in an instant. The people who had been mocking her were diving for the nearest mouse hole.
She was still bouncing between the Marketplace, the internet, the news, and YouTube, drinking in every reaction, when the phone started to ring.
"Garam, interview's in a few minutes. Get ready."
"Yes. I'll do my best."
The Sword Emperor's 40th Floor challenge was a national event. She was confident she could clear it, and a strong interview followed by a strong result would lift everyone's morale.
Still wearing the disguise artifact necklace, she headed for the mini studio in the other room. The set was already waiting. She watched the news while she stood by, and at the anchor's cue, the broadcast went live.
"And now, we go live to the Sword Emperor, Kwon Kang-il. Sword Emperor?"
"Yes. This is the Sword Emperor, Kwon Kang-il."
Garam moved through the interview with the unshakable confidence of her public persona — the same heavy, measured gravity she had spent years performing. She had no way of knowing for sure, but hundreds of thousands of people were probably watching. The thought made her hands want to tremble. The Sword Emperor, however, did not tremble in front of a camera.
The interview proceeded as she and the anchor had agreed beforehand. And then, in the middle of it—
F-Rank Rice Eater has published a new post.
The mysterious S-rank skillbook crafter had just posted something new.
"...?"
Garam frowned. Mid-interview or not, she pulled up the Marketplace post at once. It could have been a matter of seconds.
The title was impossible not to tap. The contents were a shock.
Every single line of it—
"...I like this way too much."
The words slipped out before she could stop them. He had even volunteered to climb the Tower himself. Patriots existed in this world, but a patriot like this was something else entirely.
She fired off private messages in a rapid burst.
No matter how precious this person was — especially because he was precious — she had to stop him from setting foot in the Tower.
That was when the anchor's voice cut back in.
"Sword Emperor? What is your view on that?"
Garam snapped back to the interview. It had gone slightly off the rails, but the anchor covered for her well enough that she managed to steer it through.
"Sword Emperor, a final word on your ambitions, if you would."
And just like that, she found herself wanting to say something that had not been in the briefing at all.
The interview ended. The camera link was well and truly cut. She checked the YouTube news feed and the chat to be sure — the interview segment had already passed.
Only then did Garam take off the artifact necklace.
"Hahh. That should have gotten through, right?"
She let out a long breath of relief. He hadn't been answering her private messages, so she had simply said it on national news.
On the off chance he still hadn't seen it, she reached to send another message — and then it hit her. How many had she sent in total? It already felt like dozens.
...If I keep going, am I just being annoying?
Worry was one thing. Flooding someone with messages they weren't answering was another, and it did not look good. A restless, sinking feeling crept in.
...I'm the Sword Emperor, though.
She started the next message, then deleted it. Started it, deleted it. Should she hold back? Or was one more acceptable? She wrote and erased the same message five times, turning the question over and over.
The Sword Emperor currently represented the Republic of Korea. If the image became too light, that was a problem. And she was worrying about him, so... then he had no reason to ignore her, did he? He could at least write back.
That was when she happened to look in the mirror.
She studied herself as a woman, slowly, from head to toe. Then she put the necklace back on and did it again — and only then did she find the problem.
"...Ah. Of course."
The Sword Emperor's outward image landed on her all at once, late and obvious. The reason was simple. The current Sword Emperor was a perfect national hero, and the worst possible person to try to befriend. A frightening, humorless, severe middle-aged man sending dozens of private messages was someone anyone would ignore.
Garam bit down on her lower lip. She had already sent dozens. She scrolled back through them slowly, and stripped of context they did not look like concern. They looked like a lunatic. She chewed at her fingernail, restless.
24 hours have passed. You may re-enter the Tower.
The Tower entry cooldown had reset. Under any other circumstances she would have gone in immediately, counting every second. But finding this person was a matter that ran straight through the future of the Republic of Korea.
"Fine. Just a few more."
This time she chose them with real care, picking and discarding until only a handful remained, and sent those. Three minutes passed. Then five. The reply still did not come.
"...Hah. I'll clear the 40th Floor first."
The Tower had to be climbed. Once she beat the 40th Floor, there would be more to talk about anyway.
Meanwhile, Ha Dohyun was savoring the explosive flood of comments on his post.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. The comment alerts would not stop. Most of them were mockery. This time, though, he made no effort to fire back — and that was the point. Ha Dohyun was deliberately branding the name F-Rank Rice Eater into the public mind. Under that handle he was going to keep setting bizarre records in the Tower, and as an EX-rank Artisan he was going to unveil what he could make to the entire world.
The first step in that plan was a collaboration with the Sword Emperor — a branding partnership. They had not actually discussed it, but it counted. The Sword Emperor was going to keep looking for S-rank skillbooks either way.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
"...?"
The alerts pouring in were not comments. Every last one of them was a private message from the Sword Emperor. Most were warnings about how dangerous the Tower was, but a few stranger ones were mixed in among them.
"...What is this?"
The messages did not stop.