Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: Talent
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The spear instructor couldn't believe what had just unfolded before his eyes.
In just one week of teaching Do-yoon the javelin throw, a skill had been generated. Yet the other cadets, who had been training in spear arts for two full weeks, hadn't created a single skill among them.
Those who had honed spear arts before crossing dimensions had started generating skills one by one just two or three days ago. But Do-yoon claimed this was his first time ever learning the javelin throw.
Creating even a single skill was no small feat. That was precisely why skills held such immense power and value.
Do-yoon's growth speed utterly shattered the instructor's common sense.
And what astonished the instructor went beyond that.
'Just from gaining one level 1 skill... the power changed that much?'
He had watched Do-yoon's javelin throws back-to-back, before and after the skill's creation. The difference was staggeringly huge—almost impossible to comprehend.
When a skill forms, the system's corrections boost the technique's power in an instant. But the enhancement from a mere level 1 skill wasn't supposed to be that dramatic.
Skills didn't just appear and call it a day. Elevating them through endless training was a lifelong pursuit, even for apostles.
But what about Do-yoon just now?
'It was like a completely different person had taken over.'
The javelin throw he'd taught was the barest of basics. Yet after the skill emerged, Do-yoon's version carried... his own unmistakable originality.
Even the same person practicing the same technique will develop personal flair after ten or twenty years, leading to noticeable differences. Through countless repetitions and real combat, the move subtly evolves to suit one's body and strengths—a form of user optimization.
Do-yoon's throw moments ago wasn't highly proficient. Setting aside the raw devastation from his innate strength, it was squarely at level 1.
But the quality of that technique? It wasn't some generic F-rank trash. Traces of seasoned mastery already lingered in Do-yoon's javelin throw. It reeked of his unique style, elevating the skill's caliber far beyond its rank.
'In that brief instant, it was as if a spear arts grandmaster had descended.'
Really... it defied all reason.
'...Is this the domain of talent, too?'
The instructor had encountered so-called geniuses multiple times and even instructed a few.
And he, a run-of-the-mill sort, had never truly understood them. Their thought processes, growth trajectories, outcomes—everything lay beyond his grasp.
That was the essence of genius: beings forever incomprehensible to the rest.
Do-yoon, standing right there, embodied it perfectly. Talent on an unfathomable level.
'I want him.'
Do-yoon had already mastered fist arts. The javelin throw was merely a stopgap for ranged attacks; he showed zero interest in spear arts as a whole.
The instructor respected that strategy and had taught only the throw as requested. But...
'I really want him.'
Do-yoon was unmistakably a spear prodigy. The instructor coveted that gift fiercely.
He yearned to cultivate this genius. To witness him master the spear and unleash its true potential.
This pure instructor's desire transcended mere respect for Do-yoon.
Meanwhile, the surrounding cadets halted their spear drills, staring at Do-yoon in dismay and murmuring among themselves.
"He pierced the farthest target... and even smashed through the outer wall, right?"
"...Is he a monster?"
The targets spanned four escalating distances. Aside from Do-yoon, no one had hit stage three yet.
Of course, Do-yoon's latest strike had nailed stage four.
His growth was in a league of its own, worlds apart from the others. Yet envy toward Do-yoon was practically nonexistent.
Han Do-yoon had been at the eye of the storm lately. Sharing daily life in the Cradle, countless cadets had observed his routines up close.
And for Do-yoon, the image preceding "talent" was always "effort."
"Does eating and training non-stop really turn you into that?"
"Even so, I couldn't live like that."
The Do-yoon they saw was perpetually training. Only unavoidable moments—meals, transit, roll call—pulled him away. Otherwise, he was immersed.
Talent might breed jealousy, but effort earned universal respect.
He trained with near-obsessive zeal around the clock... Still, to them, his accomplishments felt entirely earned.
"...Spar after dinner?"
"You saw that and still want to spar? Skip javelin practice today, and my hands'll itch so bad I won't sleep."
"Same. Hitting stage two today, no matter what."
On the contrary, hordes were ignited by Do-yoon's effort-fueled feats.
Born into the flawed human race with its crippling mana handicap, Do-yoon still clawed near-top ranks through grueling labor.
His example inspired countless cadets—especially those shortchanged by race or birth—and delighted the dean and instructors alike.
Plus, Do-yoon's rep among cadets was stellar.
The Cradle: a melting pot of races and cultures from endless dimensions.
Each cadet's sharp individuality sparked nonstop clashes.
In that chaos, Do-yoon harmed no one, silently grinding his own path. It endeared him to all.
"I just want him to snag top spot. He's 'human' in the best way."
"...Same. He grinds like that—if he loses to bloodsuckers or those cow-spawn shits, I'd die of secondhand rage."
"Quiet, idiot... Vampires walking by. Rack up one more racial slur penalty, and it's hell."
Some kept whispering about Do-yoon; others, inspired, swung spears with renewed fury.
Vampire Debussy strolled through nonchalantly.
"Wipe down, you monster."
"...Thanks."
Do-yoon dubiously accepted the towel from Debussy.
He eyed the vampire's kindness warily. This guy had blindsided him out of nowhere—no prior connection—declaring he wanted to get close, leaving Do-yoon flustered.
Not because he admired Do-yoon's personality or anything. No eye contact, yet he'd proselytized his way in abruptly.
And the blind favor continued unabated.
By Do-yoon's experience, this boiled down to two: ulterior motives or instant infatuation.
Male, though. Latter out. But the former? Didn't track. He wasn't Hero Enoch now—just a nameless rookie apostle.
Or vampire-related? Do-yoon knew zilch about them. His original world had none.
Current vampires here were all dimension-crossers. He'd never encountered one before reincarnation.
"What're you staring at?"
Debussy clocked his gaze.
"...Want some blood?"
"......I'd take it gratefully, but what's with the sudden offer?"
"No reason, and you're too nice."
He replied matter-of-factly.
"Your aura."
"Aura?"
Do-yoon tilted his head at the abrupt curveball.
"No idea? Shouldn't be unfamiliar. Rare as aura-sensitive races like mine are, you've crossed paths before."
Do-yoon shook his head. Unheard of, even across centuries prior.
"My homeworld had humans as the only sapients."
"Ah. Animals, though. Plants. Nature extra cozy with you?"
"...Yeah."
⚙ INNATE TRAIT ⚙ [Divine Beast] (Countless races cycle through life and death in this world. Lowly goblins. Sapient humans. Spiritual unicorns. Divine dragons. And gods. They differ in stature. An entity's rank is determined by the karma expended at birth. You possess a noble—no, sacred origin. Immense karma shaped your form. Your potential diverges from the unrefined masses; all of nature will resonate with your spirit energy. This stems not from luck, but the karma amassed upon your soul across eons of reincarnation. You are a sublime soul worthy of veneration by all creation.) His eye snagged on one line.
'Your spirit energy will resonate with all of nature.'
Do-yoon nodded. So that's what it meant.
"First time seeing someone blast such pure aura. Mouth's watering even now, gums twitching. Part of me wants to sink fangs into your neck and drain you dry."
"That'd be a problem."
"Exactly. So if you're ever gushing blood, holler for me."
Do-yoon started to smirk at the joke, then froze. No mischief in those eyes. ...Not joking?
"...I'll consider it."
"Appreciate it."
Do-yoon nodded awkwardly.
Evidently, his divine beast physique leaked spirit energy. Only aura-attuned minorities like vampires could sense it.
"Thanks for the towel."
"Anytime."
Do-yoon handed back the sweat-soaked towel. Suspicion gone, he welcomed the gesture now that ulterior motives were off the table.
And this guy? Promising stock. Do-yoon had a soft spot for talent—leftover from corralling genius allies each lifetime.
'Vampire race... not bad at all.'
Past-life guild master that he was, his talent hunger ran deep. Deep enough for the system to certify it with buffs.
⚙ INNATE TRAIT ⚙ [First Guild Master] ('Virtue never walks alone; it draws neighbors.') Enoch Războinic, vanguard of humanity against the Demon King. Amid the chaotic Great War, countless were inspired by his light and fought beside him. Trustworthy, capable comrades always surrounded him. Mortals dubbed their righteous band a 'guild,' with Enoch Războinic as its 'guild master.' Their saga of salvation inspired ages. After Enoch's fall, groups of mutual trust and purpose were called 'guilds.' In time, myriad guilds rose to defy the second Demon King, echoing Enoch Războinic's era. You are the first guild master. Your comrades strive to stand beside you. Growth speed of those under you +10%. Your comrades draw untapped potential from your example. Potential of those under you +10%. In battle, your comrades fight bravely with your back ahead. Those under you perform at peak when fighting alongside you. You've witnessed countless talents' origins and ascents—repeated endlessly. None rival your eye for prodigy. You may view targets' status windows.) Assembling teams and reliable allies was non-negotiable for epic feats. Solo? Impossible.
Proof: posterity emulated past-life Enoch, founding guilds to unite.
Do-yoon needed comrades. He thirsted for talent.
Do-yoon activated his innate trait [First Guild Master] to access Debussy's status window.