The Old Man and the Sea (3)
Let me go back to the first day I was reborn.
Before I even had time to realize I’d returned to the past, I was rushing to work when I ran into Big Lava, who had slammed a bus head-on.
That was when I gained the hero power of Super Kid and got through the crisis.
The second hero was Speeder.
I gained the ability to move at blinding speed and crushed the gang boss, Cha Chi-do.
The last was Mr. Eden.
As the absolute master of black magic, I won the fight against the Cheonyang-ji cult leader.
If the order had been different, what then?
What if Speeder had appeared first?
What if, instead of Mr. Eden, some other hero had shown up?
What if Super Kid had never appeared at all?
Could I have beaten the villains I’d run into so far?
...I didn’t know.
The more battle experience I gained, the more I naturally came to understand certain things. Fights weren’t decided by strength alone. Outside factors mattered a great deal too—the battlefield, my condition that day, split-second improvisation, mana compatibility, and more.
The heroes I had purchased were all powerful, but there was another essential element at work.
Luck.
I had already died once. After that, through awakening, I’d been lucky enough to be given a new chance. Gaining the rare talent Purchase was luck. Surviving by making the most of whatever random hero I drew was luck too.
So did that mean I had to keep living by relying on luck?
I could answer that clearly.
No.
Luck settles on those who struggle for it. The reason I’d survived this long was probably because I’d clawed and fought my way through everything on my own. This reward was the true gift the system had given me for giving it everything I had.
I stared at the blue window floating in the air.
1 use.
Once.
I could draw the hero I wanted directly.
Not through vague luck.
Only through my own will.
HERO SKILL SHOP
38. Katoichi
39. Fantastic Rubber
40. Invisible Man
...
...
999. Zin Shak (ZIN SHAK)
The list had kept unfolding beneath it. These were the ones that had been locked until now, the ones I hadn’t been able to see in full. There were so many they couldn’t even fit on one screen, so I scrolled down.
One by one, I looked at them.
A blind swordsman.
A man whose body could stretch like rubber.
A transparent man whose whole body was visible through and through.
And then the thought hit me: How many of them are there?
Down.
Down.
Down.
...
There was no end.
Among them were plenty of heroes I’d never seen before.
...Ali Abbas Jafar?
Who the hell was that?
At a glance, he looked like some kind of Indian hero.
The farther I scrolled, the more unfamiliar names appeared—titles I didn’t even recognize when I saw them.
Then again, that made sense.
Between the two major American comic publishers, Atlik and its rival, the number of heroes alone was already in the hundreds. Add Japan and China on top of that, and the heroes mass-produced in every country were beyond counting.
And that wasn’t all. From antiquity to the present, ever since civilization had emerged, heroes had been portrayed in novels, plays, films, comics, and countless other media. The heroic narratives born over that time were endless.
Super Kid alone had first appeared back in 1938.
Even for a die-hard hero fanatic, it was difficult to keep track of everyone.
Why?
A hero’s lifespan was proportional to popularity. If the public paid attention, they survived and got sequels. If they didn’t, they vanished without a trace.
In the end, I’d only ever been buying heroes with some degree of recognition.
The scrolling window finally stopped.
At last, the final hero appeared.
999. Zin Shak (ZIN SHAK)
The one I had longed for so desperately.
The hero I had dreamed of for so long.
Should I buy him now?
As a huge Zin Shak fan, I knew every scrap of information about him.
Buy Zin Shak.
Get the skill to stand against the Dirty Kraken.
Was that the best choice?
No.
I shook my head.
Too early.
Unlike the other heroes, Zin Shak had a very unusual trait.
He wasn’t one of those absurdly overpowered heroes born strong from the start, like Super Kid.
He was the classic late bloomer.
The early Zin Shak was pitifully weak. Poor, without any special ability, without talent. All he had was a stubborn conviction so fierce that not even death could break it.
Then, by chance, he obtained psychic powers.
And as he went through countless hardships and trials, he grew stronger and stronger.
Zin Shak’s true value only rose with time.
If I took him now, I’d feel good about it, sure, but the effect would definitely be lacking.
On the other hand, if the day ever came when I did buy Zin Shak...
Then I would be able to reach my goal.
The strongest hero.
A mighty champion who would never bow to any villain.
I would reach that point, no matter what.
Simon waved a hand in front of my face.
“What are you doing?”
I’d been so absorbed in the blue window that I’d forgotten Simon was even standing beside me.
“You look spaced out. Is it that hard?”
She tossed the iron ball she’d been gripping onto the floor. She’d squeezed it so tightly that it had bent into the shape of her fingers.
Simon picked it up, turned it over in her hands, and let out a stunned breath.
“Damn. That’s insane. You’re a power-type, huh?”
I had to admit, even I was surprised. Crushing an iron ball bare-handed would have been unthinkable before. Now I could put out that kind of force even without Judgment of the Superhuman.
I hadn’t relied only on hero abilities all this time. I had trained myself, searched out teachers with my own two feet, and never once neglected the work.
“Simon.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you know a hero called Zin Shak?”
“What, Shaku?”
“Not Shaku... Forget it.”
Unlike Super Kid, Zin Shak wasn’t a famous hero.
Unless you were a nerd like Karki, there was no reason to know him.
“You’re stalling on purpose, aren’t you? You just want to drag this out so you can rest.”
“That’s not it.”
I bent my knees in front of her.
“Get on already. Let’s train so hard it feels like we’re going to die.”
Until the day I became Zin Shak...
No.
Until the day I surpassed him.
Simon climbed onto my shoulders.
“You should’ve said that sooner.”
With the pitch machine roaring to life, iron balls came hurtling toward us one after another.
“Good work. I’m off.”
Simon left the kendo hall at an easy pace.
I sprawled out on the floor, gasping for breath. “Shit. I really feel like I’m gonna die.”
I was drenched in sweat. The dobok I’d been wearing clung to my body as though it had been soaked through. I felt heavy, like a quilt stuffed with rain, and I couldn’t move a single finger.
Sleep crashed over me. My vision spun, and before I knew it, I had drifted off.
...
When I opened my eyes again, night had already fallen, and moonlight was seeping in through the window.
Still foggy-headed, I lay there blankly for a while before something suddenly came back to me.
It was the letter Lee Chun-bae had sent me.
The reason I hadn’t gone straight down to Busan was because of training. If I wanted to get stronger, I had to learn swordsmanship from Na Sang-min and Simon. If I went down without any preparation, I could end up getting counterattacked instead.
I planned to master both Ilcheon-illyu, the offense-focused style, and Ganro-ryu, the absolute defensive technique, before heading to the battlefield.
So then, was I just going to ignore this letter?
No way.
The Dirty Kraken wouldn’t become a real threat for another two months, but human beings still needed psychological peace.
What should I do?
After thinking for a moment, I took out my phone.
Let’s handle it this way.
I made a call somewhere. The moment the signal ended, I spoke.
“This is an order.”
Lee Chun-bae woke up before dawn.
He couldn’t remain sunk in grief forever. The dead had no voice. Whether Roby Rompis was wandering the old villages in resentment or had found rest in heaven, the living could never know. As always, death was the burden of the living.
So, as he had every other day, Lee Chun-bae had to go out to sea in order to survive.
“Grandpa, you’re going out?”
His grandson, Lee Geon-woo, rubbed sleep from his eyes and got to his feet.
“Go back to sleep a little longer.”
“I’m okay.”
It was still far too early for school, but Geon-woo always woke up at that hour to see Lee Chun-bae off.
Lee Chun-bae pointed toward the table.
“I made breakfast. Eat before I go.”
“Yes, sir.”
A bowl of rice, kimchi, and spicy fish stew. It was a humble meal, but one full of care.
“Grandpa, put this on before you go.”
Geon-woo came over and wrapped a scarf around Lee Chun-bae’s neck.
“The sea wind’s cold.”
...
Lee Chun-bae looked at his own face reflected in his grandson’s pupils. It was the face of an old man, wrinkled and steadily losing what little vitality remained.
At his grandson’s suggestion, he had sent letters to every guild. But not a single one had answered. Even the letters he sent to Jincheon and Superior had come back to him, the envelopes unopened, the tape still intact.
The only place that had actually received his letter was the Dio Guild.
And yet even there, there had been no reply.
“I’m sorry, son.”
Lee Chun-bae apologized to his grandson.
“For what?”
“It’s all because I’m lacking.”
What if Lee Chun-bae had been absurdly wealthy, or held a high position, or was a celebrity?
What if...
“This old fool just isn’t enough...”
“Grandpa.”
Geon-woo hugged the slumping old man tight.
“To me, you’re the best man in this world. The best man there is.”
Warmth surged through Lee Chun-bae’s chest where his grandson’s heart pressed against him. He gave a bitter smile.
How many days do I even have left?
He didn’t have much regret about simply living out the rest of his life as he was. But while he was still alive, he wanted to do everything he possibly could for Geon-woo.
“I’m off.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Geon-woo followed him all the way to the front gate to see him off. When Lee Chun-bae opened the rusted iron door, a cold wind rushed in.
They lived in a slum in Suyeong District. Every year, people kept moving out toward the capital region, and with them, jobs disappeared too. Most of the people here survived the same way Lee Chun-bae did—by fishing, barely getting by day to day.
“Go back inside. It’s cold.”
Lee Chun-bae waved his hand toward his grandson.
As Geon-woo waved back, his gaze drifted past Lee Chun-bae’s shoulder.
“Huh...?”
“Who are you?”
At Geon-woo’s question, Lee Chun-bae turned around.
Not far away stood a limousine that had no business being in a shabby neighborhood like this. A man in a black suit, who looked like a chauffeur, opened the door without a word.
“Brr. It’s cold.”
The man who stepped out of the limousine shivered. He was short, with a strangely old-man-like air about him. He bowed his head politely.
“Hello. I’m Jo Jeong-hwan—ah, no. I’m Jeong Myeong-su, leader of Cheonyang-ji.”
Disguised as the cult leader, Jo Jeong-hwan took Lee Chun-bae’s hand, leaving him momentarily speechless.
“I’ve heard quite a lot about you. You must be Lee Chun-bae, yes?”
“I am. But who did you say you were?”
“Ah, maybe this will make more sense if I put it this way.”
Jo Jeong-hwan went on, “I came in your place after receiving contact from the Dio Guild.”
Lee Chun-bae remembered the letter he had sent.
No way.
Jo Jeong-hwan muttered under his breath, “I mean, come on. Over the phone...? Isn’t that a little too much? Tsk.”
Then he curled his lips. “Still, thanks to that, I’m living like a king, so I can’t really complain.”
As though snapping back to himself, he continued, “Ahem. From now on, we’ll make sure your grandson’s commute to school is safe in this car.”
He pointed at the limousine.
“The world’s a rough place these days, after all. Driver Kim, you understand, right?”
“Yes, Lord.”
Jo Jeong-hwan went on, “And this fish market has a partnership with our Cheonyang-ji Busan branch. From now on, we’ll buy whatever you catch at the highest possible price. I promise.”
Lee Chun-bae had no way of knowing who had appeared before him, or what exactly he was talking about.
And yet he could feel it all too clearly in his skin.
Money and power.
Someone who possessed both was trying to help them.
“Why... why would you do this for an old man like me?”
Jo Jeong-hwan smiled sweetly.
“Regarding the monster extermination request you submitted, Mr. Lee Chun-bae—the Dio Guild has officially decided to handle it.”
Lee Chun-bae looked at his grandson.
Geon-woo broke into a radiant smile, his white teeth showing.
“A hunter will be coming from Dio Guild headquarters soon. If it’s that person...”
Jo Jeong-hwan smiled back.
“He’ll definitely solve it.”