To Cut Down the Sun (5)
In the distant past, Geomseon had been a greedy swordsman. His goal was singular: to cut down everything that existed in the world. He sliced the wind. He sliced the leaves. He sliced the branches. He sliced the trees. He sliced the forests. He sliced the mountains. After cleaving through all the things others claimed could never be cut with his razor-sharp blade, what Geomseon ultimately set his sights on was the thing far above in the distant sky.
Perched at the center of the blue heavens and gazing down upon everything below, it was what people called the sun. To the Geomseon of that era, it was the farthest, most colossal, and most imposing existence he knew. And so his greed turned its blade toward the sun. He wished to cut it down and carve his name into history with that single stroke.
Some called it a ridiculous fantasy. Others laughed that he would die chasing nothing but a dream. Still others clicked their tongues and said he had gone mad. Yet every time, Geomseon would simply smile and answer:
When he opened his eyes to the warm energy shooting toward his face, Geomseon saw the sun still firmly seated in the blue sky above.
Hoo. So I failed to cut it after all.
Thinking about it, the outcome was only natural. In the end, he had never truly drawn near that sun. He had merely imitated the night, nothing more.
How he missed those ignorant old days. The time when he knew nothing except the sword, when the only tool he needed to reach his goal was the sword itself. If he had never become a Shinseon. If he had never encountered Taoist magic because of it. If he had remained the same foolish man who knew only the sword and swung it recklessly as he once did—would he have drawn even a little closer to that sun by now?
As those thoughts swirled, Geomseon realized they were all nothing but excuses. He let out a small, bitter laugh.
He tried to force his sluggish body upright, but quickly understood it was impossible and simply lay back down on the dirt. Turning his head, he saw his sword—or rather, what remained of it. Shattered fragments scattered across the ground.
It was not a weapon he had held with affection. To him, swords had always been mere consumables. Yet today, the broken blade looked somehow pitiable, as though he were staring at his own reflection.
Thud. Thud.
The sound of footsteps treading across the dirt echoed from afar. The monstrous martial artist who could have erased his presence completely if he wished was deliberately announcing his approach.
“I’m sorry, Min-ga. I cannot rise. It seems this old man found such a battle too much to endure.”
“What nonsense are you spouting? A being who has transcended the limits of mortal flesh and become a Shinseon.”
The rebuke came the instant Geomseon admitted he could not stand. It was perfectly logical. For an ascended immortal, the body was merely an extension of the will.
“Even so, what is difficult remains difficult.”
He had believed he had fulfilled his dream, only to realize it had been self-deception. This was not the finish line but the midpoint of a far longer race. The path stretching ahead was still impossibly vast.
He knew he should rejoice as a martial artist, yet the overwhelming sense of futility refused to leave him.
“So you’re giving up on reaching the sun?”
“As if I ever could.”
Please do not read too deeply into my grumbling. At his core, he remained a greedy swordsman. Giving up was not in his nature. So long as his head remained attached to his shoulders, he would keep swinging his blade.
“Then why are you moaning like that?”
Aha. He has a point.
Geomseon, who had thought himself thoroughly defeated, was staring at the sky and chuckling when black hair suddenly filled his vision. The face that appeared was that of a woman.
Indifferent, emotionless black eyes. The eyes of a transcendent being detached from all things.
“Will you kill me?”
If that was what she desired, he had no choice but to accept it. The victor held the right to decide life and death. Having been the one to pick the fight, begging for mercy would be pathetic.
“No.”
Yet Min-ga’s answer was a flat refusal.
“You are not yet worth dirtying my hands.”
Not worth dirtying her hands. The unexpected reply drew another burst of laughter from Geomseon.
An opponent not worth killing. To think he would one day hear such words directed at himself.
“I believed this old man was at least an opponent worth facing. Was that merely my own delusion?”
“Yes. It was nothing but your delusion.”
“How very picky you are.”
One should savor fine delicacies in moderation to earn respect. With a palate that demanding, even those around her would surely grow disgusted.
“I’m sparing your life, yet you still have so much to say.”
“That is true.”
He was well aware he was currently in a position where he should be begging for her mercy.
“But are you not curious? If even I cannot satisfy you, then who in this world would be worth killing to you?”
These days he could hardly claim to be the greatest of all time, or even the strongest under the heavens, but one truth remained clear: he was strong. When surveying the world, it was far faster to look down from above than to gaze upward from below. If even someone like him could not satisfy her, then who possibly could?
When Geomseon glared into those eyes and asked, Min-ga hummed in thought for a moment, waved a finger through the air, and finally answered.
“Someone who can threaten my life.”
“Hm? That seems rather odd.”
Had he not pressed his sword against her throat multiple times? In fact, the first time they met, he had taken her life.
The natural question made Geomseon tilt his head, but the motion soon turned into a nod of understanding.
“This place is not what you mean.”
“...It is about the outside. A realm and body that match the depth of your enlightenment.”
When he voiced what had occurred to him, Min-ga gave a small nod.
Staring blankly into her eyes, Geomseon tried to suppress the laughter rising in his throat. In the end he failed completely and exploded with mirth.
How absurd! He had considered himself greedy as a martial artist, yet this person was even worse! It was true that the higher one stood, the greater one’s desires became, but this had gone far beyond reason!
“You wish for the impossible! At this rate you will never be able to kill anyone!”
“That isn’t so bad in its own way.”
Seeing Min-ga’s faint smirk, Geomseon staggered to his feet, picked up the shattered remnant of his sword—nothing but the hilt remained—and pointed it at her.
“Very well, Min-ga. You stand high above the heavens, gazing down with lofty detachment. You truly deserve to be called the sun.”
“Do I?”
“Therefore, I swear I will one day cut you down.”
Wait for me. Even if you have no desire to feel motivated, I will make certain you have no choice.
At those words, Min-ga blinked, then let out a soft laugh and took one step back.
“I will be waiting.”
*
Enry stared blankly at the collision between the two martial artists. The sight of their accumulated martial truths crashing against each other, each side roaring that their own path was correct.
She knew she was in danger. It was not difficult to imagine what would happen if she were caught in the aftermath the moment their clash reached its conclusion.
Even so, Enry could not tear her eyes away.
She had experienced countless VR games. She had played many roles within them—sometimes a hero saving the world, sometimes a genius mage of the age, sometimes a warrior destined to defeat the demon king, sometimes a magical girl who symbolized love and hope.
Because of that, Enry had always been lenient toward whatever happened inside virtual worlds. No matter how extraordinary the scene before her eyes, she could laugh and think, It’s just VR. These things can happen.
But this was different.
The collision between two people who had devoted their entire lives to martial arts. The contest to determine whose will burned more fiercely. It carried a heat that seemed to set the soul itself ablaze.
It kindled a small flame inside Enry’s heart. The desire to step into that clash herself.
It was utterly unlike watching through a broadcast screen. The heat that reached her through her eyes, her ears, her skin—through every sense she possessed—was an intensity she could not possibly reject.
The moment the collision, which had felt both instantaneous and eternal, finally ended, a massive shockwave erupted outward from its center.
Enry tried desperately to hold her ground, but it was impossible. Feeling her feet lift off the ground in the aftermath, she clutched her head with both hands and squeezed her eyes shut.
It was then that someone grabbed her sleeve.
“That Min-ga fellow. She’s really worked up.”
With those words, gravity reclaimed Enry’s body, but she still could not open her eyes. The roar continued to thunder in her ears.
Some time later, when the noise around her had finally died down, Enry opened her eyes and took in the devastated landscape.
The aftermath of a clash between a martial artist who had reached the realm of Shinseon through swordsmanship alone and one who had attained the pinnacle of fist techniques was anything but light.
The once serene bamboo forest had been not merely half-destroyed but completely erased, leaving nothing but an empty clearing. At this point, speaking of restoration felt meaningless. It would be more reasonable to simply suggest they build a new structure while they were at it.
“Min-ga’s friend. Are you unharmed?”
At the voice that slipped through the ringing in her ears, Enry turned and saw Baru with her lips pursed in a pout. She nodded frantically.
“Y-yes! I’m fine!”
“Good. That is a relief.”
When Baru swung her staff and swept something away, acrid dust brushed past Enry’s nose. Only then did the realization truly hit her: if not for that small, adorable girl, she would have blacked out without understanding why.
“So this… is what happens when people clash with one another…”
Martial arts were far more tremendous than she had imagined. When she had met them in Apis, she had never felt anyone except Ara was particularly impressive. Could she reach this level too if she learned properly?
“Min-ga’s friend.”
“It’s Enry, Lady Baru.”
“Very well. Enry. There is an error in your statement that must be corrected. That was not a clash between people.”
“What? But then—”
“How could those two possibly be defined as mere people? Speak accurately. That was a clash between a Shinseon and the Heavenly Demon.”