The Weight of a Hero (8)
The moment Choi Yongki split the sea in two, every hunter on the scene was left dumbstruck.
And how could they not be? No one could stay calm in the face of a power so monstrous it had forcibly twisted nature itself out of shape.
The dazed hunters each found themselves overwhelmed by a different feeling.
First was Na Sang-min, the S-class hunter from Dio Guild.
What he felt was a strange, almost unsettling sense of dissonance.
Na Sang-min had spent his life meeting strong people.
He might be Dio Guild’s strongest now, but there was always another sky above the sky.
He had even fought hunters above his own rank—SS-class hunters.
Their abilities had been overwhelming, no question about it.
And SS-class was the goal Na Sang-min himself had once chased.
But now, Choi Yongki was…
He was at a level that made even SS-class look like nothing more than trash.
…He’s different. Something’s different.
Hunters were not gods.
No matter how outstanding an Awakener might be, they were still human, and humans had limits.
Even with his own eyes seeing a skill that cleaved the open sea in two, he could hardly believe it.
He’s different.
Choi Yongki seemed to possess something that had set him apart from hunters from the very beginning.
Since Na Sang-min had personally taught him Ilcheon-illyu, he’d believed he understood Choi Yongki to a certain extent.
His conclusion about the man had been simple.
An ordinary talent, but a bastard who works himself to death.
When someone told you to swing a sword ten thousand times, most people would cut a few corners somewhere along the way.
But Choi Yongki was different.
He kept moving, without stopping, without resting, until the task was done.
Whenever Na Sang-min came in to work the next morning, he would often find Choi Yongki collapsed somewhere after having swung his sword through the night until he passed out.
This isn’t something effort alone can explain. That thing…
Maybe he simply had a rare talent that was especially suited to the sea.
Talent was the unique trait each Awakener possessed.
No one had ever fully figured out how it was determined, but the common expert opinion was that it was influenced by a variety of factors—personality, the environment one grew up in, habits, lifestyle, and the way one lived.
Still, Na Sang-min had come up with his own standard.
He believed talent was decided by…
Will.
The more desperately a person wanted to achieve something, the stronger a talent they would gain. That was Na Sang-min’s personal belief.
What the hell are you, Choi Yongki…
How resolute must a man be to bear this?
What kind of thorny road was he trying to walk?
Na Sang-min forced his eyes wide open in the middle of his confusion.
Beside him, another man clenched his fists tightly.
Lee Ji-jun, the white-haired hunter, was also sunk in thought as he looked at Choi Yongki.
Damn it…
This wasn’t jealousy, nor was it envy.
Inferiority only came from a gap you could compare yourself against.
Ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times… maybe even more.
Looking at Choi Yongki displaying skill that far surpassed him, Lee Ji-jun hunched in on himself.
Damn it. Damn it!!
A cold sweat ran down the back of his neck.
That was fear.
Just how much did Choi Yongki intend to crush him?
The sea, sliced open by a blade, sent up waves as large as houses.
It was a sight so breathtaking that any human being would have felt awe rise in them by reflex.
And in the middle of everyone’s stunned silence, the hero holding the white trident-like sword lifted his head.
The sea had split to either side, exposing the ocean floor.
Seahorses floated listlessly within the enormous submerged walls.
Fish that had been hiding among the coral on the seabed flailed in panic.
Incredible. Truly incredible.
One hundred million won at a time.
The price was steeper than usual, and the remaining money had visibly dwindled.
The people watching could barely close their mouths.
“M-my God.”
“Am I dreaming, or am I awake?”
“O-oh… Lord…”
The phenomenon was only temporary.
The split sea quickly surged back together, restoring itself to its original state.
Dirty Kraken was floating on the water, its body cleaved cleanly into two pieces.
Hope flickered across the faces of the navy personnel.
“At last.”
“...Is it dead?”
I pressed my lips together.
No.
I already knew it.
That bastard wasn’t going to die so easily from a hit like that.
“Kk. Kk. Kk-eh…”
Dirty Kraken gave a strange, twisted cry as it wriggled.
The two halves of its body began to draw back together.
The severed surfaces slowly started to reconnect.
For now, leave it like that.
Planaria, when cut in half, regenerate separately and form new individuals.
One creature had even regenerated after being sliced into 279 pieces, and it had done so in just two weeks.
Dirty Kraken had a nature not unlike planaria.
If I interfered with the reconnection, that miserable octopus might end up becoming 279 of them.
The next move is…
I straightened the knee I’d been keeping bent and tried to stand.
“Urgh.”
My legs gave out and I dropped back down.
Then I remembered what Simon had told me when she explained the secret of the Demons Bone.
“It’s hard, right? Maintaining that state isn’t easy. A demon’s sword burns through black mana like it’s nothing.”
White Revenge, split into three prongs, boasted explosive power.
But the recoil from the risk was just as brutal.
It feels like my whole body is going to rip apart.
The hand gripping the sword trembled uncontrollably.
As much damage as I inflicted on Dirty Kraken, my own body was racking up the same punishment in return.
“Kk. Aaaagh!!!!”
After healing its own wounds, Dirty Kraken let out a roar so loud it churned the surface of the water.
Then it started firing tentacles in every direction.
Na Sang-min moved at once.
“What the hell is this bullshit.”
He spat out the words and thrust his spear so fast it became invisible.
The tentacle that met the spearhead burst apart in an instant.
My lips parted before I realized it.
Impressive.
It hadn’t even been a year since Na Sang-min abandoned the sword and switched to another weapon.
And yet, at this level…
He’s on par with an S-class spear user.
Now that I thought about it, I’d heard the reason he’d gone to Japan was to learn spear techniques from a master.
He might look like a laid-back bastard on the outside, but…
He’s been grinding in places nobody can see.
Na Sang-min rested the spear over his shoulder.
“Done throwing a tantrum?”
The octopus launched more tentacles.
“I said it’s useless!”
This time, it wasn’t attacking.
Dirty Kraken used its tentacles as decoys, then vanished into the distance in the blink of an eye.
“Jus—t wai—t!!!”
Its shout echoed over the water.
Na Sang-min, left looking like a dog that had been chased off after the chicken it was after, gave a hollow laugh.
“Hah. What a fucking bastard. Running away like a coward.”
Na Sang-min couldn’t pursue Dirty Kraken.
No, if this had been on land, he probably could have.
The sea was Dirty Kraken’s battlefield.
A reckless chase would only be dangerous, and without a proper means of movement, it would be impossible to maintain speed anyway.
“Ugh…”
One of the sailors on the deck groaned.
The Iseonggye had suffered a great many casualties.
Because it had sunk and then been raised back up, smoke was still leaking from within the vessel.
The surrounding area was a complete mess.
Na Sang-min let out a sigh.
“Let’s get the line back in order.”
Chamsuri fast patrol boats gathered around the Iseonggye.
The medical team had been reinforced.
The wounded were ferried away.
The hunters, myself included, climbed onto the deck of the Iseonggye.
The dead were laid out in a row on the deck.
Their faces were covered with white cloth.
They were all navy personnel who had been killed by Dirty Kraken.
“……”
“……”
“……”
A heavy silence settled over everything.
Some of the sailors were crying softly.
Out of more than 300 navy personnel, only 46 had survived.
And even that had only been possible because Captain Geumwi was an S-class healer.
I lowered my head.
“I’m sorry.”
I apologized to the survivors.
Even if it hadn’t been my fault.
I still wanted to acknowledge the mistake and ask for forgiveness.
It wasn’t because I was trying to look noble.
It wasn’t because I was righteous.
- Murder: < 100/100 >
Unintentionally, I had gained a new skill through the sacrifice of the navy.
So how free could I really be from this incident?
“It’s all my fault.”
“No, sir. It’s not your fault, Hunter Choi…”
The sailor’s attempt at comfort didn’t help.
Guilt clung to my body like a sticky film.
Truth was, I didn’t have time to be standing around like this.
Dirty Kraken had suffered a fatal wound and was drifting through the sea.
I needed to chase it down now and cut its life short.
Hurry.
I should be moving already, but…
The wronged spirits of the dead sailors were grabbing at my ankles.
“I’ll take responsibility for this incident, so please—”
Someone slapped me across the face.
“Ghk.”
My vision spun.
Captain Geumwi had hit me with his fist.
It had felt that way from the start, but Captain Geumwi’s strength was absurd.
I managed to steady myself, though I was still swaying.
Na Sang-min bristled at once.
“You bastard, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You think you can put your hands on our kid?”
Blood was thicker than water, as they said.
He might not mind bullying me himself.
But apparently he couldn’t stand to see someone else lay a hand on me.
“I’m fine, Hunter Na.”
I raised a hand to calm him down.
Captain Geumwi hadn’t lost his reason.
He just glared at me with his usual blazing eyes.
There had to be a reason for that sudden blow.
Captain Geumwi said, “What, you’re gonna go all gloomy and whimper in front of everyone? I’m a healer. I’ve seen thousands, tens of thousands of people die! Don’t start whining on the battlefield!”
He was right.
If I became weak over something like this, I wouldn’t deserve to call myself a hero in the first place.
Captain Geumwi grabbed me by the collar.
“Listen carefully, Choi Yongki.”
Only then did I realize it.
Seen up close, his eyes were red around the edges.
He was trying hard to act like it meant nothing, but even he was probably struggling under the weight of this disaster.
Captain Geumwi looked at me with wet eyes.
“You didn’t kill hundreds of people.”
The hand gripping my collar tightened.
“You saved 46.”
His words struck me deep in the chest.
“Yeah. Choi Yongki, the so-called Hero of Gangnam—you saved people again this time too.”
For the first time, the word hero came to me with a weight heavy enough to press on my shoulders.
This was the burden of a hero.
Sometimes heroes went through pain they could never truly bear.
The people around them would be sacrificed to villains.
Sometimes they had to watch someone precious leave them forever.
A true hero was supposed to swallow that bitter pain, then quietly rise and keep going.
Is this the time for that?
I felt lighter.
A dry laugh slipped out of me.
“That hit felt pretty good. Thanks, Captain Geumwi.”
“Hmph! So you’re finally coming to your senses?”
Just then, one of the sailors pointed toward the horizon.
“Look over there!”
Something was rushing toward us, cutting through the waves at high speed.
Dirty Kraken’s tentacles.
There were so many I couldn’t even count them.
What was more, the tentacles were tangled together, making them longer and bulkier than before.
As if in revenge, Dirty Kraken had sent an enemy on an entirely different level from the one we’d been facing.
Maybe it had been hiding that in reserve.
Probably to buy itself time to recover.
At this rate, it would only turn into a war of attrition.
What Dirty Kraken wanted was simple: to keep us tied down.
I stepped forward.
“Let’s split into teams. Pursuit and defense.”
Captain Geumwi said, “I’ll stay. I still need to treat the navy.”
Lee Ji-jun had been strangely quiet for a while now.
“...I’ll stay too.”
He looked as if he’d lost the will to fight.
Na Sang-min swung his spear.
“I’m going after it—”
“Could you stay too, Hunter Na?”
“What? You little shi— Fine, then you stay. Choi Yongki. Am I your underling or what?”
I didn’t have time for bickering.
“As you know, the extermination of Dirty Kraken is my request.”
“You cheating little bastard! Again with the bullshit!”
The justification was clear enough.
Na Sang-min had rejected Lee Chun-bae’s request.
Morally speaking, he wasn’t in a position to take the lead here.
There was another reason too.
“It puts me at ease if you stay here, Hunter Na. Please cooperate.”
The navy shouldn’t have to suffer any more losses.
An S-class spear user was a reassuring shield to have here.
Na Sang-min understood what I was getting at.
“Tch! Do whatever you want. But if you do.”
Na Sang-min turned halfway, then looked back over his shoulder.
“Finish it properly and come back. Otherwise, I’ll kill you myself.”
The dead sailors on the deck said nothing.
Honoring them, I stood at attention and straightened my back.
I saluted with the same solemnity the navy would have shown.
“Victory.”