Responsibility (2)
“Wha… what? Losing strength already? Huh?!”
Every time their swords clashed as if in mockery, a stinging shock ran through his hands. Eunho cried out in frustration.
“This is our limit now!”
His senior brother sneered back. “So what? Gonna die because you hit your limit?”
Slash— The Cheokgwang Sword grazed past his collar, slicing off a strip of cloth. The slight sting confirmed it: he'd cut deeper on purpose.
Damn bastard!
Even after popping two spirit pills during the break and reaching mastery in his energy circulation, everyone had limits. But Jin Sowoon seemed to know exactly where those limits lay, pushing them relentlessly through controlled pacing until they were on the verge of total collapse.
“Haa, haa— haa.”
“Damn it.”
Not just Senior Sister Saryeon, but Geum Pyo and Dongryong were pushed to their absolute extremes, their exhaustion plain for all to see.
“Trying to run again?”
The blade he'd casually raised shifted to a crimson hue. A shriek of ominous energy erupted from somewhere unknowable, the soul-crushing killing intent clamping down on their bodies like a vice. It was enough to kill on its own, yet Jin Sowoon swung without mercy.
Shiiiing— The killing intent-saturated blade unfolded into dozens of arcs, ensnaring all four of them. They knew their senior brother wouldn't actually kill them, but their bodies instinctively recoiled in terror of death.
“Uwaaaah!”
Eunho bellowed at the top of his lungs, scattering his sword strikes as he lunged forward. Countless spars had taught him this: running away wasn't always the answer. The real path was charging ahead at the most terrifying moment.
Just like his senior brother always did.
He scraped his dantian raw to force his circulation. With so little inner energy to begin with, he couldn't even attempt the Great Heaven Sword Method. He stuck to the simplest forms of the Socheon Sword Technique.
Can't block it all anyway...
So he dodged only the fatal wounds with minimal movement. Give the enemy flesh and bone, take their heart.
That was the only way to survive right now.
Slash— For a split second, he thought he'd evaded the Cheokgwang Sword and reached Jin Sowoon's body.
“What do you think you're gonna do coming at me alone?”
Jin Sowoon, as if waiting, lifted his foot and kicked Eunho away.
Thud! Wham— Eunho flew three zhang, crashing into the ground.
Please, at least you guys...
He silently begged the remaining three, but—
Thud! Thump thump! Wham— Wham— Wham—
I haven't even finished my last words yet...
The three followed right after, tumbling behind him.
“Tsk tsk, collapsing after just this? You think the battlefield gives you a breather? No inner energy? Fight with stamina. No stamina? Then fight with sheer spite.”
What the hell? Anyone hearing this would think he'd rolled through decades of war.
His mind seethed with complaints, but he kept his mouth shut. Two hours ago, he'd vented once, and that lunatic—no, his senior brother—had just said, “Still got some left in you,” and kept going. He'd learned: better to stay silent even if you had words.
“Tch, Ilgak, heal 'em up.”
Jin Sowoon had already slipped back into the main building.
The Tae-eul Gate disciples, Eunho included, didn't rise even after he left. They couldn't move a muscle.
“Haa...”
“J-just kill me.”
They were truly at their limit. No finishing circulation here anyway. Best they could do was circulate while resting as much as possible.
Haa... what the hell is even the point of this?
Lying there circulating, self-loathing hit Eunho hard. He rolled his eyes toward Saryeon.
“Senior Sister, any idea why Senior Brother's acting like this?”
He could tell from her hardened expression these past couple days. Something had gone down between them. He'd held back from asking amid her stony silence, but now? A few more days like this, and they'd be the first academy students to die mid-training.
“...”
No way they'd end up as vengeful spirits dying before even seeing the Murim Alliance. Eunho pressed her again.
“Senior Sister, we'll all die at this rate. Actually, I'm already dead. I'm just busting my ass to save at least Geum Pyo and Dongryong...”
“Senior Brother...”
Saryeon finally spoke at his whining.
“...must be worried about us.”
Worried? While pushing them to the brink of death?
“That he won't be able to protect us when he's not around.”
“...”
Eunho's furrowed brow smoothed out in an instant. Geum Pyo and Dongryong, dazed and blank, widened their eyes at Saryeon.
“That the people who hate him will take it out on us instead.”
Saryeon looked up at her young junior brothers. A hint of sorrow softened her rigid face.
“That's what he's worried about.”
He'd thought his strength was gone. Thought he couldn't even breathe.
Grind.
His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. The anger he'd aimed at his senior brother now turned inward as resentment.
Am I a burden again?
After the Iron Sword Sect trip, when he heard about the entrance exam—he'd felt sorry for the guy carrying so much alone, tried to lighten his load even a little. But no matter how he helped, the weight never lessened. Worse, he'd realized he himself was part of that burden, sinking into self-loathing.
He'd thought they'd grown on this journey. But no... he and his brothers hadn't grown at all.
“Must be because of the instructors.”
Saryeon's small nod answered Eunho's suddenly icy voice.
He growled. “It has nothing to do with us. Low scores, discrimination—whatever. We don't care.”
“...”
Saryeon gazed at him sadly.
“What if it doesn't end at the academy?”
“...”
“What if it follows us to the Murim Alliance? What if we're scattered? When we have to obey superiors? Still not care then?”
Her sorrowful words stabbed deep into the gold-silver-bronze brothers' hearts. Together in formation, they were fearless—but individually, they ranked mid-tier at best in the academy. The gap would widen in the Alliance. Without their sect's shield, how well could they protect themselves?
“Damn... damn, damn, damn!”
The one in real trouble now was Senior Brother, who'd clashed with the instructors. And what he worried about most?
[Don't worry]
Not himself—them.
That ignited Eunho's rage like a volcano.
Thud, thud, thud, thud. His bare fists slamming the marble floor soon ran bloody. Just like their fragile selves.
“...”
The deep wound hung heavy, but no one tried to stop him. They all felt the same.
Then.
Step, step, step.
A group entered the training ground. Saryeon rose.
“Hm?”
This was Jin Sowoon's private training ground. No one else should enter. Rising, she scanned the newcomers and let out a soft groan.
“...Ugh.”
The new instructors and their aides. Leading them was a pale-faced man with glaring axe-like eyes.
“Jin Sowoon's here, right?”
Before Saryeon could respond to the instructor's question, Eunho—blood still dripping from his hands—stood and stepped in front of her.
“This is the academy representative's private training ground. Please leave.”
“...Who the hell are you?”
The instructor scowled at Eunho's words, as if asking why a nobody was blocking him. The fact that he posed no threat to them burned even deeper.
“If you want to speak with the representative, make an appointment and meet in his office. This is his private dorm.”
“I asked who you are. And dorms are academy facilities too. What facility can't an instructor enter?”
The inability to enforce even the obvious, the reality of being no threat at all—it stung bitterly. So he glared harder.
“Even academy instructors have no right to barge into students' private spaces. Especially a sensitive facility like a training ground.”
Irritation rippled across the instructors' faces at Eunho's cold tone.
“Asked you three times who you are. Ignoring an instructor's question? You wanna get expelled too?”
Too? His heart sank.
Senior Brother had done nothing wrong. No expulsion coming. Yet that phrasing implied it was already decided. Dread shook him.
This is exactly what Senior Brother worries about...
Getting swayed by a word, rattled by a gesture—such fragility. Eunho forced a mocking smile, mimicking the one he'd seen so often.
He had to, or he'd run. Channeling that person's nonchalance, he drawled sarcastically.
“No answer means expulsion? Did some new academy rule pop up during break that I missed?”
“...”
A crack appeared on the man's face. Just an imitation, but it worked.
“Did the Education Hall approve? Can you just expel hard-earned exam passers like that? Or is this a rule you instructors just made up on the spot?”
The crack widened, long-suppressed emotions surging through.
“How dare this punk mouth off in front of us!”
“Did I say something wrong? Or...”
Oddly, as the man's rage flared, Eunho's mind sharpened to icy calm.
“Did I hit a nerve? Hm... still haven't learned after getting cocky with our senior brother and paying for it?”
“...!”
The man clamped his mouth shut, speechless. Eunho had groped blindly at first, but lucked into his sore spot. Reveling inwardly, he—
Fire lit the man's eyes. Crunch. By the time Eunho noticed and looked up, the instructor had drawn his sword.
“How dare third-rate sect trash like you... double-team and mock me?”
Not Jin Sowoon's level, but sharp killing intent. A viscous aura crushed down. His colleagues tried to hold him back as he lost reason.
“Hey...”
“Let go!! I won't rest till I take that punk's head.”
He advanced like a man with nothing left to lose.
Shit...
With any inner energy, he could've run. But now, just standing took all he had. Too late for Saryeon or the brothers behind him to help. Orthodox or not, warriors were warriors. Uncontrolled rage led to force.
Eunho raised his sword to counter somehow, knowing it'd mean serious injury. And then—
“Enough. No Jinha Instructor. Aren't you ashamed of Cheongsung Sect's name?”
A leisurely voice halted the berserk instructor mid-lunge.
“...Who the hell's crazy enough to mention Cheongsung—!”
No Jinha's bellow cut off. At the end of his gaze—
“Always so damn noisy and crude.”
A scholar-robed man approached with hands behind his back. Eunho tilted his head.
Who is that?
Disheveled hair, gaunt face. No inner energy detectable. He didn't fit the academy at all, yet he walked right up to No Jinha's blade tip.
“Gonna put that away?”
“...”
“You gonna stab me or what? Huh?”
“...N-no, sir.”
No Jinha, foaming like a mad dog moments ago, tucked tail and backed off.
Who the hell was this guy?
“Did the White Tiger Pavilion's Eighth Division Head come all the way here just to kill a student?”
“...Not your concern, sir.”
“Hey now, don't be like that... I signed off on your transfer dojo too...”
Eerie. No martial arts at all. Seemed frailer than an average man. Yet No Jinha paled at his words.
“Coming here for personal reasons...”
The man glanced around leisurely, then smiled brightly at No Jinha.
“Means no lingering attachment to Eighth Division, right?”
“Th-that's not—!!!”
“Thought you could kill a student and waltz back? Like I'd allow that?”
“...N-no, sir.”
No Jinha stiffened and replied.
“What do you mean no? Looks like you've got no regrets left for Alliance life. Wasn't that your act just now?”
“Absolutely not, sir.”
“Really not?”
“Yes, sir.”
The scholar nodded, then waved him off like a fly.
“Then get lost.”
“...But.”
Then he slung an arm around Eunho's shoulder amiably.
“Kid's right, isn't he? This is the rep's private training ground. Instructors can't—no, shouldn't—intrude.”
“...”
No Jinha's eyes shook violently. Stuck—couldn't leave empty-handed, couldn't push further.
Finally, he spat out, “...I need to speak with Jin Sowoon.”
The scholar cut him off without a second thought. “Make an appointment later. No prior arrangement today, right?”
“...”
No Jinha and his aides seemed lukewarm. Scared of the man, but he couldn't physically force them.
“Even as division head, you don't have authority over us to—”
“Oh yeah, White Tiger Pavilion Lord's been nagging for more budget... Been thinking of auditing your loose spending anyway...”
“We'll head out.”
“Huh?”
“...We'll schedule another time.”
This easily? After all that racket? Eunho blinked in bewilderment.
The scholar waved lazily again. “Good call. Scram!”
No Jinha bowed politely to the man, glared murderously at Eunho, then spun and left. As the instructors filed out, the “division head” dropped his arm from Eunho's shoulder.
“Sowoon's inside, right?”
Eunho stared blankly, then asked cautiously, “...Who are you?”
“Hm? Someone who can meet Sowoon without an appointment.”
“No, I mean... what do you do that lets you handle those guys like that?”
The man blinked wide, then burst laughing. “Oh? Haha, that? Thought it was something else.”
“If it's not rude... your title?”
Eunho swallowed dryly. No inner energy from the man at all. Maybe he just couldn't sense a supreme master? But—
“Never learned martial arts.”
The answer surprised him. “Pardon? Then why do they... Is your sect or clan that powerful?”
Cheongsung Sect plus White Tiger Pavilion head? Could drop birds from the sky. Yet he bowed to a non-martial artist's words, suppressing his rage?
Unbelievable. The man smiled faintly at Eunho's puzzled face.
“Of course. I'm Maeng Ju-won, chief of the Mantongbu.”
“Mantongbu... chief...”
Eunho rolled the title in his mouth, then looked straight at him.
“Does that position... give you that kind of power without martial arts?”
“Heh... Living in the world, background and force aren't the only power, right?”
The chief patted Eunho's shoulder and headed inside. Watching Maeng Ju-won's back disappear into the building, Eunho thought,
Fuck...
Maybe this guy had the answers he sought.
So cool.