After the First Broadcast (3)
That evening.
Yujin was out at the park in front of his house, working out as usual. Ever since returning to Earth, this had been one of his daily routines—he never skipped it unless something special came up.
“Haaaaah…”
He drew in a long breath and slowly let it out. Picking up a long stick that had been lying on the ground, he swung it this way and that as if wielding a sword.
The people who happened to be passing through the park or exercising there stared blankly at the sight of Yujin swinging the stick like a blade.
What is that guy doing over there?
Is he practicing some kind of martial art? His movements look no joke.
Anyone who had actually trained in swordsmanship in real life would know well. When people heard “swordsmanship,” they tended to picture the flashy moves from dramas and movies, but real-world kendo or practical sword arts were nothing more than a series of crude, unimpressive motions. That was why ordinary people were often deeply disappointed when they saw actual martial artists swinging swords. The swordsmanship people unconsciously imagined and the practical swordsmanship of reality were worlds apart.
But the swordsmanship Yujin was unfolding with the stick right now was different. His technique didn’t merely look like swinging a sword—it looked as if he were dancing. The motions of each cut and thrust were extremely natural, and if one looked at it a certain way, even beautiful.
That did not mean, however, that what Yujin was demonstrating was mere sword dance. The people around him, watching as if entranced, felt a chilling sensation as if their hearts were being squeezed every time the tip of his stick pointed their way.
If that guy had a real sword in his hand, I think I would’ve pissed myself.
I better remember his face and never pick a fight if I ever run into him. A guy like me wouldn’t even be worth one punch.
Meanwhile, Yujin paid no attention whatsoever to whether the people around him were watching. It had been a full twenty years since he had been active as a hero in the other world. Having people sneak peeks at him or whisper while staring was as ordinary as breathing, so being conscious of others’ gazes at this point was almost laughable.
“Hooo…”
After fully running through the swordsmanship he had mastered, Yujin lowered the stick and regulated his breathing.
As expected… I had a feeling, but it was as expected.
While swinging the stick, Yujin had been testing whether he could imbue Uinyeom into the techniques he performed. He had used Uinyeom in a state of extreme immersion when fighting Ariandel, so he had speculated that artificially recreating a similar situation might let him handle it again.
But as expected, the result was failure. He had held a little hope just in case, yet he had roughly known this outcome was coming, so the disappointment was not that great.
In the first place, being able to use Uinyeom unconsciously earlier was the strange part.
To be more precise, being able to use Uinyeom so naturally in a body that contained almost no mana was absurd. Uinyeom was a special power that manifested when a mere individual’s will transcended even the laws of the world. Used well, it allowed a human to wield mighty force that surpassed their own limits—just as Yujin had finally seized victory against Ariandel in a fight where he had not even a shred of chance of winning.
But as powerful as that force was, using Uinyeom first required polishing one’s body and mind to an extremely high level.
So roughly, to the point where you could face an enemy of the Four Heavenly Kings level alone with a human body?
Only then could a mere human’s will become firm enough to exert power capable of distorting even the laws of this world. That was why Yujin could not believe he had utilized Uinyeom even unconsciously earlier. If it had been the Yujin who had been active as a hero in the other world, maybe—but the current Yujin who had returned to Earth possessed only a tiny scrap of mana in his body.
Of course, with the experience I’ve accumulated, it would be easier to manifest Uinyeom than for someone who knows nothing…
Even if the conditions were more advantageous for him than for others, the impossible did not simply become possible. Then why on earth had Yujin been able to use Uinyeom earlier? Just simple coincidence? Or was there some other reason?
How would I know that.
Yujin scratched his head vigorously and let out a sigh. In the other world he had been a warrior before he was a hero—a simple fighter who threw a punch first rather than waste time theorizing. If he had been a mage, he might have formed at least a hypothesis, but unfortunately he was no spellcaster who stood in the rear clumsily casting magic.
Well, it’s not like there are no hints at all, though.
Just now, even though Yujin had diligently performed swordsmanship in reality just in case, he ultimately could not manifest Uinyeom. There was no possibility that his skill would suddenly diminish simply because he was swinging a stick in the real world. A master of Yujin’s caliber could always display his full ability regardless of environmental changes. Therefore the only possibility that could be derived from these facts was one.
Could it be that the reason I could use Uinyeom was because it was inside the virtual reality game world?
There was no logic or evidence, yet Yujin had a gut feeling that this speculation was the correct answer.
If I can freely use Uinyeom even just inside virtual reality games…
Perhaps that could become a trigger to use Uinyeom in reality as well. And if he could freely use Uinyeom in reality, it might become possible to quickly regain the power he had completely lost upon returning to Earth. Of course, what meaning would there be in regaining the power he had wielded as an otherworld hero in Earth’s modern society…
Still, having power is better than having no power at all.
Well, he had no intention of protecting Earth’s peace like Marvel superheroes, but if he had power there would be places to put it to use somewhere. Of course, all of this was nothing more than mere assumption. Even if using Uinyeom earlier had been pure coincidence, Yujin intended to continue playing virtual reality games.
Because it’s fun.
Upon returning to Earth he had resigned himself to never again engaging in life-or-death struggles with anyone, but even if it was fake, being able to experience such fights felt good. The Ariandel that Yujin had defeated was merely the tutorial boss of Nightfall, and even outside of Nightfall there were countless games he had never played—more than enough to soothe the boredom he would feel from now on.
Of course, it’s not just for that one reason.
Yujin grinned, pulled his smartphone from his pocket, and launched KakaoTalk.
467,300 won has been deposited into Han Yujin’s account.
The 100,000 won Yujin was to receive as compensation for helping with Gyeoul’s stream, plus the 367,000 won in donations that had poured in from viewers the moment he took down Ariandel. A smile naturally slipped from Yujin’s mouth at having earned a huge sum of roughly 460,000 won just for playing a game for about an hour.
At least this month I won’t have to take allowance from my parents.
He had nowhere special to go and no one particular to meet, so if he spent thriftily it would easily cover two months’ allowance. Of course, Yujin did not think of himself as a friendless loner. In this world only five years had passed since he went missing, so if he put his mind to it, meeting the friends he had been close with in high school would not be impossible. But for Yujin, high school days were like a distant old story from a full twenty years ago, so he felt no particular need to seek them out.
And if those guys found out that I—a jobless NEET without even a high school diploma—am still taking allowance from my parents, what kind of faces would they make?
Han Yujin, the legendary hero who had defeated the Demon King in the other world and saved the world at the end. For someone like him, receiving allowance from his parents at the age of twenty-three… actually thirty-eight… was an extremely serious problem.