Class (2)
Hyun Si-woon rose from his seat and felt his body completely remade.
No ache in his joints. No pain at all. His frame was light as a feather. One soft push off the floor and he felt as if he could take flight.
“Hoo…”
His dantian was full. The storm that had once raged inside him had stilled; in its place a river, wider and deeper than anything before, flowed in quiet strength.
And then—
Kang Si-a.
The presence outside the door registered with effortless clarity. He already knew. She had stood guard at that threshold day and night.
He opened the door and stepped out to thank her.
“It was only what I should do.”
“And thanking you is only what I should do.”
Not just this time. In the previous loop as well, the members had trusted him in silence and waited. His answer must have been good enough; a faint smile touched Kang Si-a’s lips.
“I wasn’t just sitting around either.”
“Yeah?”
“While you were circulating your energy, I kept sensing the flow that leaked through the cracks in the door.”
Chu Pung had helped her. Watching qi shatter, reassemble, and carve new paths, she had forged an achievement of her own.
“How long has it been?”
“Today makes exactly four days.”
“I see.”
Three days still remained of the week they had agreed on. He gave her shoulder a light pat.
“Go rest properly. You haven’t slept at all.”
“Yes, Oppa. You too.”
Kang Si-a bowed and returned to her room.
Alone, Hyun Si-woon did not delay. Chest swelling, he headed straight for the training ground where the chill of dawn still lingered.
Moon Gang.
He had to confirm, right now, whether he had truly stepped into the new realm.
Dawn still held the sun at bay. Cold air sank deep into his lungs.
“Hoo.”
In the center of the training ground, Hyun Si-woon closed his eyes and focused. This was the space where, in the last loop, he had swung a sword every single day for three years. He could almost recite the position of every pebble on the floor.
—Give it a try.
“Yeah.”
At his will, clear, cool energy rose from the deep river of his dantian. It flowed along his meridians, past his arms, into his palms, and out to the tip of the sword. Speed and purity of a different order entirely.
This much was the Form stage—the realm of shaping qi.
Now it begins.
He recalled the nightmare sensation that had tormented him for the past half-year: the pain of flesh tearing and cloth scorching every time he forced sword qi into his body. But this time was different.
Connect it.
He did not force the qi to settle. He simply became the medium through which it flowed.
Ssssshhhk.
A miracle occurred. The sword qi lingering at the blade tip climbed his arm like a living vine, soft and sure. No pain. Only a cool, pleasant sensation brushing his skin. In an instant the vine wrapped his shoulder, streamed down his back, and veiled his entire body in a thin, transparent film.
—Huh.
A quiet sound of awe escaped Ha-wol. She did not speak the thought aloud, yet it was clear:
Moon Gang again, only half a year after reaching the Form stage?
The brat truly was a genius.
“Did it work?”
Hyun Si-woon opened his eyes. A silver-white membrane sheathed him—sword veil and protective gangqi both. It could defend him, and it could sever anything that touched him.
He raised an arm slowly. The Moon Gang followed the motion in a fluid, wave-like undulation. When he clenched and opened his fist, the energy around each joint responded with exquisite sensitivity. Wonderful.
“Haha.”
Laughter broke free.
“Hahahaha!”
He could not have held it in if he tried. Near-manic joy shuddered through every limb. Three years of brutal training. Countless solitary dawns swinging a sword in the cold. The distant wall he had felt watching his disciples grow. The final three days and nights of agony. All of it flashed past like a revolving lantern. At the end of that path he had finally set foot on the threshold of the absolute peak.
—Hmph. You can say you’ve at least learned to walk.
Ha-wol’s voice was gruff, yet satisfaction she could not hide colored it.
—Still, not bad. Far faster than this lady expected. The reward for staking your life and succeeding, I suppose.
“Thanks.”
Hyun Si-woon’s eyes burned. Looking at the Formless Sword in his hand, memory returned—the secret technique he had unleashed on the tenth floor. True Flash.
Let’s try it again.
He reset his stance and summoned the spirits as well.
—Has this fool lost his mind?
Ha-wol cried out in alarm.
—This lady already told you, and yet again, again, again—!
“I think I can do it this time.”
His internal energy was far fuller than before, was it not?
He clenched his teeth and focused. But—
KRRRRNG!
Four energies slammed against one another, violently rejecting fusion. The blade screamed and shuddered; ominous signs of reversed qi and blood stirred in his dantian. The Chaos aggregate that had tried to form at the tip scattered into nothing before it could take shape.
“Damn.”
It would not obey his will.
—See? I told you, you rascal.
Ha-wol clicked her tongue.
—That was a miracle you pulled off once by pure luck while dancing on the edge of life and death in an extreme situation. At your current realm it is still far beyond you. Imitate it clumsily and your qi and blood will twist again and put you flat on your back. That technique cannot become your mainstay. A gamble, perhaps. Nothing more.
“…”
She was right. True Flash still lay far beyond him.
Even so.
His grip on the sword tightened.
The fact that I succeeded once is what matters.
Knowing the sensation! The difference between not knowing the path and knowing it was heaven and earth.
Someday I’ll perfect it.
Until the day he could turn every one of the Seven Severings of Moon Spirit Swordsmanship into True forms, Hyun Si-woon had no intention of giving up.
After failing True Flash, Hyun Si-woon returned to his room.
“Haaaah.”
He flopped onto the bed. He had not properly rested since clearing the tenth floor. Body and mind finally felt at ease.
I should have a glass of whiskey.
In this ruined world, if Hyun Si-woon had one hobby left, it was drink. In the previous loop he had taken a glass before bed once a week; the cabinet had emptied in under a year.
Hard as hell to get more of this stuff.
Of course it was. Breweries no longer ran properly, and even if someone made liquor, there was no way to distribute it. The world was cut off.
“Heh.”
Another upside of regression: the empty cabinet stood full again. Tracing past memories, he pulled out the bottle that had tasted best. He had no idea what it cost. No internet.
Glug-glug-glug.
The sound of golden liquid filling the glass never failed to please.
“Khh.”
The remaining three days would be pure recharge time for himself. Slowly emptying the whiskey glass, he began to think about classes.
Six weapons. And for each weapon, usually three or four classes.
In his EndSeeker days he had experienced every class that branched from every weapon.
Sword line: Swordsman, Magic Swordsman, Martial Artist, Knight.
Spear line: Spearman, Fighter, Cavalryman, Spear Artist.
Bow line: Archer, Hunter, Scout.
Blunt line: Warrior, Strongman, Brawler, Barbarian Warrior.
Shield line: Guardian, Assault Trooper, Tactician, Iron Man.
Staff line: Mage, Priest, Warlock.
Only bow and staff had three; the rest had four. For the staff, Warlock required special conditions.
Only possible if you learn both Fire Bolt and Healing Skill in the second-floor forest.
Meaning Baek Do-hee had no choice but to walk the Priest path. Inwardly he had already assigned each member the class that suited them.
The problem is me.
He had chosen all six weapons.
How will it turn out?
Would he receive one of each class? Or would an entirely new route open? No way to know. Ha-wol had called it an unprecedented record. Even among the Rankers she knew and the knowledge passed down from antiquity, no case like Hyun Si-woon existed.
He took another swallow of whiskey. Alcohol rode his bloodstream and spread a pleasant heat. Excitement rose.
I want to choose already.
Pleasantly tipsy, he did not expel the liquor’s energy. He simply lay down. For the sake of what came next, he would rest properly now.
Three days later.
“Everyone here?”
Six of them gathered in the usual meeting room. The promised hour at last.
“I’ve been waiting for this day, Hyeong-nim!”
“Right? Time crawled.”
“We can use the selection slips today, yeah?!”
The members were every bit as impatient as Hyun Si-woon. Classes. What exactly were they? What power would they grant? Jang Cha-yul claimed she had lost sleep from sheer curiosity.
“First I’ll tell you what classes there are.”
Hyun Si-woon listed them one by one, writing on paper as he spoke. Then he began assigning each of them their path.
“Cha-yul noona, you’re Spear Artist.”
“Ooh, Spear Artist?”
Jang Cha-yul’s eyes sparkled. A name less crude than Fighter or Spearman already seemed to please her.
“The martial arts you learned from Pyo Hyang-gok—Falling Flower Heart Art, Butterfly Dance Steps, Spirit Snake Throwing Spear—all of them revolve around light, flowing movement. Where the others focus on destruction, Spear Artist is closer to an artist.”
Its skills would refine an artistic combat style to a high degree.
“Ooh, I love it.”
“Next, Si-a. You’re Archer.”
“Archer?”
The faintest flicker of disappointment crossed Kang Si-a’s face.
“Why?”
“Ah.”
He had not missed it; she gave an awkward smile.
“It’s nothing big. My dad was a hunter, so Hunter just felt… appealing.”
“Ah.”
Hyun Si-woon smiled too.
“But Hunter specializes in taming beasts to fight alongside you more than in the bow itself. It doesn’t suit you. You’ve already got solid members out front. And even without them, your footwork is so good you can chew up most close-range fights. Pure investment in the bow—Archer is the answer. Scout swaps to crossbows, by the way.”
“Ah, yes! Understood!”
“Dae-un, no need to even say it. Barbarian Warrior.”
“Ah, why?!”
“What do you mean, why.”
“I… I like Warrior better. You know, Warrior…”
At that, Baek Yeon-ho and Jang Cha-yul burst out laughing.
“Puhahaha!”
“Bear-boy, do you have any shame?”
“Yeah, Dae-un. Anyone can see you’re Barbarian Warrior.”
Hwang Dae-un’s face crumpled. The “Gom-taeng-jwa” nickname already stressed him out; this felt like locking him into the bear image for life.
“Si-a, looks like you don’t need Hunter after all.”
Baek Yeon-ho drove the nail in.
“Just put that beast out front.”
“Uwaaaaah, nooo!”
While Hwang Dae-un clutched his head and roared, Hyun Si-woon continued.
“Yeon-ho hyung, you’re Iron Man.”
“Iron Man?”
“Yeah. The external arts you learned from Iron Fist Sect—Rock-Hard Body Art and Diamond Fist—feel more specialized for the body itself than for a shield. Matches Kenzo the Giant’s style too. You felt it this time, right? You don’t need a shield. You just need a tough body.”
“True.”
For Baek Do-hee he simply said Priest; no one objected. Every member’s class was set.
“Then what about you, Hyeong-nim? Are you going Swordsman?”
“Well… even I don’t really know.”
Hyun Si-woon grinned.
“I’ve assigned all of you, so tear your selection slips and go get your classes. We’ll decide secondary classes after that.”
The members moved as one. They pulled papers from their inventories, tore them, and vanished in pillars of light—transported to the special space for class advancement.
My turn.
What would happen? Anticipation and excitement surged.
Riiiip!
Without hesitation, Hyun Si-woon tore his own slip with all his strength.