The Hidden Sword

Thud-!!!

As I took my stance, tensed my legs, and leaped, the piled-up snow scattered like powder. [Cough! Cough!] The small rabbits with horns flinched at my jump and scrambled to flee. But I'd already predicted their escape routes, so I thrust my sword at one of them.

Splurt……!!

My blade cleaved straight through the Snow Pole's head. It nearly turned gruesome, but just before its skull split in half, it vanished with a whoosh! like a player's corpse oxidizing.

'Not bad.'

The body dissolved into smoke, but the chilling feedback at the sword's tip felt vividly real. I nodded in satisfaction.

"Hup……!!"

The moment I felled the first Snow Pole, I pivoted on my left foot, gripped the hilt inward, and swung.

Whoosh-!!

Raising the sword from low to high, I caught the second monster. 'Their weak points are the neck joints or severing the horns.'

Taking down these surprisingly nimble Snow Poles in one strike wasn't easy. At first, even I had whiffed my sword through empty air several times, but as time passed, my blade grew attuned to their movements, piercing their vitals with precision.

Crack-!!

I slammed my raised sword down into the ground, embedding it in the third Snow Pole's nape. Its HP plummeted in an instant, and as the body vanished, only drop items—a horn and a tuft of fur—remained on the snow.

'Getting the hang of it.'

In Dimension World, hunting was mostly skill-based. Non-skill attacks—like manually swinging a sword—required actual physical effort, making clean hits tough. That's why early-game level 1 hunting felt brutal.

But skills auto-corrected your aim. Not perfectly, but the compensation made combat far smoother. That's why most hunts and PKs devolved into skill duels, birthing efficient mana/stamina combos as meta staples.

Yet in the arena's chaos of endless variables, relying solely on skills was foolish. Knowing that true victory hinged on basic attacks was why I'd held the top spot.

"Hoo……."

I exhaled softly. 'Still, this sword's from decades in my dreams. Feels off doing it for real.'

Ironically, I was using the first form of Yong-gong Geom-sik. The royal Iron Kingdom style's five forms weren't system-registered, but they were manifesting more perfectly from my memories.

'This must be what real swordplay feels like.'

No skills meant no aura blades like in dreams—just pure swings. But the light breathlessness felt good.

'Reminds me of early Dimension World 1.'

Each form wrapped around my body like a glove, stirring old memories. Back when Dimension World 1 launched worldwide, there was a Mastery System. For sword arts, skills only triggered with precise footwork and stance as the system judged.

This system scaled skill power with mastery accuracy, earning praise for immersion but backlash from players. Games were for fun; hyper-realism meant grinding effort no one wanted.

It got axed fast, replaced by target correction on casts for easier fights.

Whoosh-!!

I swung freely, tracing stances from memory. 'Maybe the scrapped Mastery System got repatched? Since I mastered the system versions perfectly, it lists them as recallable.'

To an onlooker, I'd look like a medieval movie swordsman dancing—or a cringy chuunibyou lost in fantasy.

"……."

How much time passed? Sweat beaded on my forehead and dripped. Snapping to, I scanned around.

Both players and Snow Poles were gone. I'd lost myself in the sword.

"Hm?"

No signs of life. 'Did they sense my killing intent? Or did I clear them all...? Respawn takes time, maybe.'

Yeah, the population had thinned with each swing. My hunt ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠speed outpaced respawns.

'Yong-gong Geom-sik doesn't reskill, so Memory Borrower is one-shot per recall.'

Less regret, more curiosity for experiments. 'I know more styles than this... If Yong-gong works, maybe...'

[Pyu?]

A Snow Pole met my eyes, innocently staring. I grinned.

'Time to test.'

Tang-!!!

I gripped low and charged. 'Like this, right?'

Fwoosh!!

I leaped over it, slashing diagonally mid-air.

[Pyu!!]

It bolted, too late. Zig-!!!! My blade wove zigzag, impaling its back.

[Pyu…… Pyuu……!!]

It shrieked and vanished ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in one hit, dropping a horn.

"Hm... No dice."

I picked it up thoughtfully. Hit landed clean, no alert. But if Iron Kingdom royal arts existed as skills, this should too.

It was Pokgeom, the knight order's basic style. No aura blade meant no explosion, but the form was more perfect than Yong-gong Geom-sik.

I'd learned Yong-gong from a master; Pokgeom was my creation.

"Hmm... Still unclear on recall criteria. Need more tests."

I shrugged lightly.

"What was that sloppy swordplay at the end?"

A voice from behind. I turned.

"It's worlds apart from the guard style you used on those thugs—hard to believe it's the same person."

It was Kael, the tribe's gatekeeper. I'd sensed presence earlier, so no surprise.

'Yong-gong's Legendary; Pokgeom's basic knight stuff—Rare grade? NPCs don't see grades, but his eye for swordplay's sharp.'

I gave a wry smile. 'Figures you'd scoff at Pokgeom. You mastered Sword God Gulak's arts, after all—the Fighting God.'

Oddly nostalgic, like reuniting with dream figures—NPCs or not.

"You. Who are you?"

Unlike my fondness, his reaction to my display was hostile.

"What identity? Just a traveler. Investigating Northern Plateau legends."

"Legends? Even we Northerners know none. What legend of our village does an outsider claim to know?"

Red warning alerts blared uneasily, but I pressed on.

'Dimension World quests aren't easy. For hidden ones, treat NPCs as real people sharing the world—not AI.'

I met his gaze steadily. Dimension World was man-made, yet NPCs were its true inhabitants. We had the real world; to them, we were outsiders.

'That's why players obsess over its extreme freedom.'

But freedom cut both ways. Quests weren't scripted loops—they breathed like the world, but rarity barred newbies.

'Hence the 'workshops' and guides...'

Simple ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leveling? Buy quests at the board. But 'quests' meant hidden ones—world events turning into objectives.

'World events shape the game's future, tangled in causality. Immersion unlocks them.'

I held the edge: foreknowledge of future events.

I smiled faintly. "I know."

"Until now, no Northern legends. But the one I'm after will be newly written."

"……?"

"By you."

I spoke low to his puzzled stare. "Northern history."

Shing-!!!! Kael drew his waist sword, glaring murderously.

"Arrogant words. You babble without knowing the North."

I casually pulled up the quest window, ignoring his growl.

Last time I found a hidden quest, I didn't accept immediately—closed it outright.

Why? 'Dimension World quests aren't player-friendly. Blind acceptance is suicide.'

Quests were event chains. 'Now the real game begins.'

Hidden quest paths warp content via chain events, yielding varied results/rewards.

"The hidden tomb's a closely guarded secret, right?"

"Don't care where you heard it. You're courting death."

"But even that elite few haven't found everything there."

I spoke calmly despite his warning.

Thud-!!!

His high-level pressure crushed me—a level 10 couldn't bear it. Heart-squeezing dread.

"Gulak's sword."

I forced the words out, enduring. "Don't you want it?"

His blade tip trembled faintly at me; the pressure vanished like a lie.

"……What?"

Staring at his hardened face, I thought.

The gamble paid off. Alert chimed; the quest window blurred, transforming.