Contradiction (2)
Yohan led me into the sword hall inside the Paradise Garden.
Compared to the cult leader’s lavish villa, this place was a relic. The old wooden floorboards and peeling wallpaper wore the years openly, without shame, and a faint smell of wood hung in the air. Stepping into such an unreal place made something in me stir.
Classic, huh. Not bad.
We were standing in the middle of enemy territory, and yet I still felt a strange reverence, as if I’d entered some holy ground for swords.
On the wall, a huge brush-written placard had been hung in black ink:
Ganro
It was the kind of weapon used to block swords, spears, arrows, and the like in war, but in Cheonyang-ji, it meant a shield.
Yohan followed my gaze.
“The cult leader wrote that himself. Every time I see the force in his brushwork, I can feel his fighting spirit.”
His tone was rigid. The way he spoke was as formulaic as reading from a book.
So he doesn’t trust me.
Across from the Ganro sign, as always, hung a large cross made entirely of skulls.
It made me feel like I’d stumbled onto something ugly that didn’t belong in a sacred place.
An eyesore.
Suddenly, I was curious.
Ganro-ryu was a sword style created solely for the cult leader by a man once called a master of the sword, after he began believing in Cheonyang-ji.
How had Yohan ended up falling for a sect like this?
It was forbidden for Apostles to ask about each other’s private lives.
In that case—
“Yohan, your faith must be extraordinary. I’m curious what kind of connection you have with the cult leader.”
I took the roundabout approach.
“……”
Yohan said nothing.
To grease the conversation a little, I added, “I envy you. I want to reach a realm like yours someday. Whether it’s with a sword or with faith.”
“Hm.”
Only after dropping his suspicion did Yohan finally speak.
“My life was nothing but the sword. I spent it all thinking about how to swing it more simply, more quickly.”
There were people like that. People who walked a single road in silence, like an old man patiently shaving a stick, never waiting for anyone’s praise or recognition.
Just as I had once dreamed of becoming the strongest hero, maybe Yohan had dreamed of becoming the greatest swordsman.
“Once I reached a certain level, I felt as if I’d slammed into a massive wall. To climb over it, I needed an opportunity.”
Dust drifted through the air in the sunlight that fell in through the window.
“That was when I met the cult leader.”
Yohan extended his right hand and rolled up his sleeve.
From the back of his hand to his elbow, his arm was covered in red spots that glistened with a viscous sheen.
“By the cult leader’s grace, my sword gained infinite potential. His unique charisma and mysterious rituals captivated me and drew me into the world of heaven. And at last—”
In the blink of an eye, Yohan drew his sword and slashed.
The force of the air made my hair whip backward.
For an instant, gooseflesh rose on one cheek.
If Yohan set his mind to it—steel, or anything, any hard thing at all—
it would be cut.
Yohan met my eyes and slid the sword back into its sheath.
“Is that enough of an answer?”
To sum it up, when Yohan had been stuck against a wall and feeling hopeless, the cult leader had reached out to him, and with that help, he’d broken through.
Pathetic.
Yohan still didn’t know it.
Just like Ji-ye had been cursed, those red spots were also a black magic curse.
Forced awakening might dramatically boost the body’s capabilities, but if the one who cast the curse didn’t continue controlling it, backlash would eventually hit hard.
No, he probably does know.
There was no way he didn’t realize he was dependent on the cult leader.
He’d dressed it up in respectable words, but in the end, Yohan had simply run from reality in order to break his limit.
“I see. Thank you for telling me.”
Yohan straightened the wrinkles out of his sleeve.
“That was a long diversion. Judah. What school are you from?”
I thought for a moment.
Whether I should tell him the truth or lie.
If I, a novice swordsman, tried to be clever for no reason, he’d see through me.
“Ilcheon-illyu.”
I confessed the unique sword style I had learned from Na Sang-min.
Yohan’s masked head tilted slightly.
“Ilcheon-illyu. I’ve heard of it. But it would be a closed-off group that passes its techniques down to only a select few…”
He wasn’t wrong.
If it hadn’t been for Na Sang-min, I’d never have inherited such a special sword art.
I still had mountains left to learn.
“I was lucky.”
Yohan didn’t press further.
What had happened in the past didn’t matter to Apostles.
But the moment the subject turned to a new sword style, his eyes shone.
“From what I’ve heard, Ilcheon-illyu focuses every one of its forms on offense.”
“That’s right. Ilcheon. To put it simply, it’s the attitude of a single sword that could cut down even the heavens.”
“I see.”
Yohan straightened his back and rolled his shoulders.
That’s...
I could roughly tell what he was feeling.
Curiosity.
For the first time, Yohan let out a faint snort of laughter.
“We’re conveniently a spear and a shield, aren’t we.”
Standing in the sword hall, we stared at each other like contradiction itself.
Was it the joke of fate?
Or was this an inevitable meeting?
One thing was clear.
This is the perfect chance.
Yohan let out a sigh and regained his bearing.
“Then I’ll carry out the cult leader’s command. You said you wanted to learn Ganro-ryu? I’ll show you the basics. Ganro Chapter One…”
His voice echoed through the sword hall.
If I could steal Ganro-ryu from Yohan, that would be ideal.
But—
We’ve already lost too much time.
The longer I dragged this out, the more likely I was to miss my chance to kill the cult leader, and Jo Jeong-hwan, disguised as Ji-ye, would be in danger too.
So—
Let’s kill him.
Right now.
...How?
Could I beat Yohan with a sword?
While I was buried in thought, Yohan’s explanation continued.
“Take your stance like this. As if the cult leader were behind your back.”
From our brief conversation, I’d already gotten a handle on Yohan’s character.
He was exactly what the cult leader had described: stubborn, rigid, and painfully inflexible when it came to swords. But when the topic turned to unfamiliar sword arts, he showed an inquisitive mind.
The thing I had to do was—
“And because the cult leader might move to the side, you should never let your guard down…”
“Let’s have a match.”
I cut him off.
“I’m dumb, so I can’t understand theory by itself. If we spar, I’ll probably get it a lot faster.”
Rude. Crude.
It was all deliberate.
“And there’s already bad blood between us, isn’t there.”
Yohan had dragged me through the mud in front of the cult leader, branding me a traitor.
His instincts had been sharp, but with Simon’s help I’d escaped suspicion.
And because of that, there wasn’t really any bad blood between us at all.
I just needed an excuse.
Yohan had to accept the challenge.
I stepped forward until I was right in front of him.
“A spear that pierces anything, and a shield that blocks anything. Don’t you want to see what happens when they collide?”
Yohan’s shoulders rose again.
He knew he should reject my proposal.
And yet the fighting spirit boiling inside him was probably hard to suppress.
“...Then let’s do it like this.”
Yohan walked over to a basket set in the corner.
Inside were countless long, thin objects.
Practice swords. Slime-coated blades.
They’d been used so many times for training that the slime on their surfaces had been worn away in places.
He picked one up and threw it to me.
I snatched the practice sword out of the air.
“This should be fine.”
“Good.”
I drove the provocation deeper.
“Yohan.”
With the tip of the practice sword, I pointed at the skull-studded cross.
“He’s watching. Take this seriously.”
The moment I mentioned the cult leader, Yohan’s body twitched.
Silently, he removed the real sword from his waist.
He placed it carefully on the floor, then stood.
“I judged wrong.”
Yohan spun the practice sword once in his hand.
“Judah. Before I teach you, I should have instilled some respect for your teacher first.”
To call himself a teacher so shamelessly made my skin crawl.
Sorry, but the only true swordmaster here was Na Sang-min.
I took the practice sword and walked to the center.
Then I assumed a peculiar stance.
One hand on the blade, body half-turned.
Not the Ganro-ryu Yohan had just shown me.
It was the ready stance of Ilcheon-illyu.
“I’ll go first.”
* * *
The sun had set, and pale moonlight slipped into the sword hall.
My breath came hard, as though I’d swallowed a thorn.
Yohan, on the other hand, was as calm as ever.
“Three hundred and ninety-four.”
His voice rang out.
“That was your chance to kill me.”
It sounded like a childish boast, puffed up with arrogance, but it was the truth.
Despite giving it everything I had, I hadn’t even managed to graze his collar.
“Want to keep going? I should be getting back. I’ve been away from the cult leader for too long.”
The creator of Ganro-ryu.
Yohan really was a master of absolute defense.
More than that, the scope of it was beyond imagination.
If Nike or Matthew protected a circular area around themselves with a radius of two or three meters, then Yohan—
could probably cover the entire sword hall.
He possessed enough skill to protect not only the cult leader, but everyone around him too.
That made it clear.
I couldn’t beat Yohan.
I expected that, but damn, it pisses me off.
The outcome had been obvious.
I had obtained the Magical Circle Blessing of Effort, but I’d only trained with Na Sang-min for half a month.
The gap between me and Yohan, who had devoted his whole life to the sword, was obvious.
“Ten years is too early.”
Yohan tossed the words out as if spitting them.
He lowered his head and shook his shoulders.
“Heh.”
Yohan lowered the practice sword.
“What’s so funny? Have you gone insane from frustration?”
No.
I wasn’t frustrated, and I wasn’t despondent.
I had lost to Yohan, yes.
But that loss was limited to swordsmanship.
Na Sang-min had said it so often my ears could’ve bled from it.
“Ilcheon-illyu emphasizes pabucheomju. Smash the pot you cooked rice in and sink the boat you came on—fight with the resolve that there’s no way back. Ah, my head hurts. So basically—”
Na Sang-min had grinned.
“The one who wins is the bastard who fights to the death and comes out on top.”
I lifted my head.
“Yohan, let’s do this for real.”
Without the cult leader’s permission, no one could kill here.
If we both drew real swords, one of us would certainly not walk away unscathed.
“If I die, tell the cult leader I ran away.”
“……”
“To draw a sword with the resolve to die—that is the determination of Ilcheon-illyu.”
“……”
“What is the vow of Ganro-ryu?”
“……”
Yohan hesitated.
As a believer, there was faith.
As a warrior, there was pride.
Those two values must have been colliding violently inside him.
By the rules, he should have refused.
And yet Yohan picked up the sword from the floor.
“You’ll regret this.”
I tossed aside the practice sword I’d been holding and gripped Heoksikdo.
The sharp blade pointed at me.
I gathered my mana and activated my hero abilities.
Not one—
Two at once!
Ding. Ding.
Judgment of the Superhuman from Super Kid and Infinite Acceleration from Speeder activated.
I kicked off the wooden floor.
The planks caved and shattered beneath me.
I charged Yohan and brought Heoksikdo down on him.
KWA-GA-GA-GAK!!!
The terrifying destructive power of Judgment of the Superhuman was amplified by the utmost speed of Infinite Acceleration.
For the first time, the expression on Yohan’s usually unshakable face wavered.
“Kuh!”
One second, two seconds, three...
In the blink of an eye, I struck downward hundreds, thousands of times.
“Aaaah!!!”
Veins bulged in my neck as I howled like a beast.
I drove my momentum skyward, my whole body surging with murderous force.
It was less swordsmanship than a brutal beating with a club.
No one could stop that attack.
And yet Yohan’s resistance was just as formidable.
Ganro-ryu achieved defense close to perfection. That meant as long as he stood within his own domain, he could inflict fatal wounds on an enemy at will.
Yohan cleanly sliced through my left eye and right wrist.
“Urk!”
Red blood spurted upward.
I should already have been out of the fight, the match over.
If I hadn’t possessed a hero’s power!
Ding. Ding.
I triggered Super Kid’s God Aura and Speeder’s Regeneration.
Real time, money was deducted, and my wounds healed.
Lightly glancing blows were deflected by the barrier wrapped around my entire body.
The miracle made Yohan reel in shock.
“What the—!”
In the instant light stretched out of the darkness, a crack appeared in the solid shield.
Clang!
The sword that had barely been blocking my attack shattered.
Got through.
Yohan lost his balance and dropped to one knee.
Swish—
I pressed the broken edge of Heoksikdo to Yohan’s neck.
Under the moonlight, the hero who stood so proudly now looked down at the swordsman who had been forced to his knees.
“Just once.”
The count of how many times I had killed Ganro-ryu.
Cold sweat slid down from beneath Yohan’s mask.
“Go to Cheonyang.”
In the pupils of a man who had once walked the right path only to sink into the pit through a twisted belief, fear flickered.
Schk—
Blood sprayed as Yohan collapsed.