You Are Already Dead
"It's not much different from what you know. Will and mental image."
"Then what's the problem?"
I grumbled, and Namgung Sim let out a hollow laugh. I couldn't help but flinch at that smile, though.
This crazy bastard—how many times has he killed me while grinning like that?
"Will is the sword's intent, and mental image is the form cloaked over that intent."
"Speak plainly."
"This young master is no scholar."
"Waa, me baby Lena. Don't unnerstand your country's words."
"...Very well. I'll explain it simply."
After our spar ended, Namgung Sim, sitting cross-legged, tapped the scabbard resting on his lap.
"What thoughts do you have when you swing your sword?"
"Die! Me chop super hard! Somethin' like that?"
"...Hah."
Uh? He was looking at me with such pitiful eyes? How dare he?
Shaking his head, Namgung Sim spoke again.
"Your direction is wrong."
"Direction?"
"Thoughts like [chop hard] cannot be called will."
"Then?"
"Murim folk are all stubborn as mules."
Out of nowhere? But looking at you, yeah, it fits.
"The breed called Murim folk—regardless of righteous or demonic—are all stubborn clowns brimming with obsession."
Namgung Sim closed his eyes.
"And that obsession makes them strong."
"I said explain simply."
"Murim folk..."
He stroked his scabbard, as if recalling something.
"...draw natural energy into their bodies, store it to gain power. Then they expend that inner energy to wield it."
"In that process, they infuse their inner energy with their own will and mental image. Simply put, they color it. They circulate that colored inner energy outward, painting the world with their personal hue. That is martial arts."
"Naturally, the stronger the will, the deeper the color. The greater the obsession, the stronger the will."
I quietly watched Namgung Sim.
So what's your point?
Reading my expression, his brow twitched as he sensed my impatience.
"...Thus, this young master defines martial arts as thus."
"How?"
"Martial arts is stubborn clowns whining at the heavens."
"So what's that got to do with will?"
Namgung Sim smiled faintly.
"Did this young master not say your will's direction was wrong?"
"Yeah."
"Will isn't harbored like [chop hard]. When you swing your sword, envision the outcome and believe it firmly."
That is will.
Finishing, Namgung Sim wore a faint smile, satisfied with his own explanation.
"Mm. Perfectly understood."
"Good."
"So will means not 'Die!' but 'You're already dead,' right?"
"...Close enough."
Oh, really? With what money?
"Precisely, as you swing, envision the [already slain foe]. That deepens the color a bit more."
"Same difference."
"......"
"Anyway, got will. What's mental image?"
Namgung Sim looked reluctant to explain further. What? Why? Huh?
"...Mental image is the form cloaked over will. If will is envisioning the [already pierced foe], mental image concretizes what pierced it and how."
"For example?"
"Something like [a spear of light piercing the heart] would suffice."
Aha. Got it.
"How's that different from incantations?"
"Incantations aid in concretizing will and mental image, making them easier to recall."
Like quick slots in a game. Summarize the long will-and-mental-image stuff, register it as an incantation. Click, and out comes the martial art.
"Perfectly understood."
"...Did you really?"
"Ow, yes! Don't you trust me?"
"Not particularly, but..."
He slowly rose, drawing his sword.
"We'll spar once to confirm."
"You haven't taught me incantations or martial arts yet."
"Incantations would mean nothing to you now. Without harboring will and mental image, they're just dull, pedantic phrases."
Exactly three exchanges in, my body split in half and I died.
"You are already dead."
"You bastard!!!!!!!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Still, I can feel the growth.
The first time Namgung Sim hit 100% implementation, I couldn't even last one exchange before dying.
...Wait, does that mean the guys I used to summon and kill before could get as strong as him?
Back then, I could beat a bunch at once even if they ganged up.
But now that they're serious, I can't even handle one Namgung Sim.
Arrogance... what a grave sin...!
I'd grown arrogant. Thinking deep down, I'm pretty strong now, right?
Still, per Namgung Sim's word, I'm quite talented.
World's Fairest Beauty. Peerless Martial Genius. Heaven's Most Beautiful Mistake...
All names for me.
"How unfortunate."
Why burden me with such excessive titles, heavens?
The weight on my shoulders is too heavy!
But what can be done? It's the load I must carry as the Peerless Martial Genius Beauty.
I must endure.
"The suffering I must bear..."
"Enough nonsense. Raise your arms."
"Ung."
At Bella's words, I spread my arms wide.
She plunged right into my embrace. A sweet fragrance wafted over.
"...What're you doing?"
"Lena energy recharge."
"Measuring sizes, you said."
"Oh right."
Bella giggled, released the hug, and wrapped the tape around me.
We were taking measurements for clothes. Not because my chest exploded or anything.
It did grow a bit.
For the academy uniform. Fitting my grown body.
That's right! I'm finally academy age!
"Why's Bella measuring, though?"
Don't tailors usually come?
"I insisted. Raise your arms higher, miss."
"Ung."
After waist, she moved the tape up. Chest time.
The tape around my wingbones crossed at the front. Bella's hand holding it at my chest pressed firmly.
"What're you doing?"
"Measuring size."
Squeeze-squeeze-squeeze. Press-press-squeeeze.
"What. Are. You. Doing."
"So squishy."
"You're actually insane."
"Misunderstanding. It was an accident, miss."
"Wipe your drool first."
"Oops."
Next, hips. Again, her hand crept toward intimate spots, so I flicked her forehead.
Not there, you perv.
"Ow! Why hit me?"
"Why do you think?"
"You really won't get it..."
Then tail circumference.
"...Gotta measure this too?"
"To make the tail hole, miss."
I'm hiding the tail anyway. ...And tails are sensitive.
As I thought that, Bella suddenly grabbed my tail—grab!
A jolt shot up my spine, body twitching.
"Eek...! What was that!"
"Your tail kept swishing... hard to measure."
"Doesn't mean grab your master's tail like that!"
"Thought you were seducing me."
"Would I seduce you?"
"Huh? Don't you do it every day?"
Sigh. Better not talk.
I snatched the tape from her hand.
"Gimme. I'll do it."
"No! I have to!"
"Shut it. Go get water. Thirsty."
"My touch parches your throat. And stirs your loins..."
I glared; she averted eyes and left the room, feigning innocence.
"I'll fetch the world's tastiest water."
"......"
She won't bring weird stuff, right? Ah, stop thinking like that. Playing along with her jokes warps my brain too.
Anyway, chance now.
Before Bella returned, I measured the rest myself.
Puberty peak, gotta redo soon anyway.
But need the uniform.
I wanted oversized, but Mom and Bella opposed; ended up perfect fit.
["Buy new if you grow."]
["Perfect fit hugs your curves, showing every line. Wanna see."]
Mom's words made me realize my small-mindedness.
Bella's confirmed she's nuts.
Wonder what Mom saw to assign her as my personal maid? Housework's just average compared to others.
Nothing special except not being a succubus.
Not a succubus but so into it—unique.
And pretty too... Mm. Hate admitting, but she is.
Black bob to shoulders always glossy; her pretty jade eyes staring make me shy.
No special care, yet skin transparently pale—amazing.
If scoring, Bella's looks are 0.8 Lena. Insanely pretty.
"Personal maid 'cause she's pretty?"
Pretty's nice. Eyes feast.