Chapter 18
Chapter 18
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 18
Chapter Title: The Inevitable Encounter of a Mob (5)
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What on earth is talent?
As a child, Seti often pondered about talent. What the hell was talent that it tormented her and her sisters so?
Even when she was beaten hundreds of times while learning Flying Leg Art. Even when her hands tore open while mastering Heavenly Dull Swordsmanship...
She couldn't understand it.
What was this damn talent that her peers had to be treated as defective products just because they couldn't master a single kick?
What was talent that her sisters had to endure whippings every single day?
The ones who answered her questions weren't the smug officials or the cruel Shepherds.
It was the three people with shining talent, the true geniuses the officials compared to her sisters.
Bowl, Saintess, Jeon Yunseong...
Only after being utterly defeated by them did she realize what talent was.
Talent is the light that draws in people's souls.
It's the firewood of jealousy that sets hearts ablaze, the unreachable moonlight, the constellation that leads to the future.
The day she realized that... she cried all night.
She cried because she hated the officials who compared her to them, pitied her sisters who suffered the same defeat, and felt sorry for herself, born without talent.
And now, time has passed.
She wanted to cry for an entirely different reason.
***
When Seti suggested checking his talent, Dung Beetle agreed without much thought.
He wanted to confirm his own talent just as badly.
"Shall we start with Flying Leg Art? We need to see how much you've mastered first."
They arrived at a clearing below the back mountain of a motel no one frequented. As soon as they got there, Seti spoke up first.
She didn't seem to expect just a simple demonstration. She began explaining the basics of Flying Leg Art.
How the mana should flow through the muscles, how to position the body by moving the muscles correctly, where to wrap the mana...
What she taught wasn't much different from what Dung Beetle had figured out on his own.
If there was any difference, it was that not only the lower body but also the upper body's mana needed to move organically?
It was a subtle lesson, but it helped Dung Beetle immensely.
The more he understood how mana flowed through his body, the more ways he found to apply it.
"First, show me the forms."
"Forms?"
"The techniques. The techniques. Demonstrate all the Flying Leg Art techniques you know in sequence."
No sooner had she finished speaking than Dung Beetle's feet moved.
From the most basic kick, through Feather Step and Flying Kick, to the downward strike called True Strike.
A series of Flying Leg Art techniques unfolded from his toes. Seamlessly, without a single hitch, as if it were all one technique.
"Uh..."
When the Flying Leg Art demonstration ended, Seti stared at Dung Beetle with an expression like she'd seen something utterly ridiculous.
She looked at him silently for a long while before asking something out of left field.
"...Mr. Dung Beetle, have you ever thought about the essence of Flying Leg Art?"
"Essence?"
"The core, the meaning... Simply put, what were they thinking when they created this martial art?"
Why ask me? Dung Beetle furrowed his brow slightly, but Seti wouldn't ask without reason.
After pondering seriously, he gave his own answer.
"Connection... I think."
"...Connection?"
"Connect the ground to the feet, leap up to connect the sky to me. Once sky, me, and ground are connected simultaneously, the mana starting from the toes connects all the way to the head on the same principle."
"..."
"That's the entirety of the essence of Flying Leg Art as I felt it. I can't think of a better way to express it."
As he offered his answer, Dung Beetle suddenly noticed Seti's face filled with shock.
Curious why she was reacting that way, he asked.
"Is my interpretation that off?"
"..."
"I know my expression is lacking. So tell me straight."
Seti stared at Dung Beetle as if she'd forgotten how to speak. She bit her lower lip for a moment before abruptly asking something else.
"Tell me honestly. You've learned other martial arts before, right?"
"No. Maybe watched some documentaries about Superhumans."
"...This is cheating."
She muttered something about damn talent freaks before speaking again.
"Mr. Dung Beetle, interpreting the essence of Flying Leg Art as connection... that's exactly right. And your recitation of the incantation was as precise as if you'd read the manual."
"...Really?"
"Really...? That's all your reaction? You're talking like it's no big deal, and it makes my situation feel kinda pathetic."
Seti spat out words she didn't mean from the heart and walked to the center of the clearing where Dung Beetle had demonstrated Flying Leg Art.
"My original plan was to perfect Flying Leg Art for you first... but we should move on to the next one."
"Next?"
"I'll teach you a new martial art. One the Korean government doesn't know about, unlike Flying Leg Art."
As she said that, Seti took her stance. Wide stance, right hand ahead of left.
It looked less like a fighting stance and more like preparation for a dance.
"This martial art is called... Wave Yang Art. It's something China discovered during dimensional exploration."
Wave Yang Art. For some reason, the unfamiliar name faintly carried the scent of blood.
"The forms are simpler than the incantation, so I'll show you both at once."
The moment Seti moved, Dung Beetle focused his mind. This was the first real martial art he was learning since birth. He intended not to miss even a single gesture.
The martial art began with light hand movements. The blade of her stretched fingers sliced the air, moving fluidly like scooping water.
"The foundation of Wave Yang Art is treating the mana in your body like water. Make the mana flow through your body like water flowing along a river."
After saying that, Seti folded her hand into a fist.
"Once you've made the river, flood."
Her muscles contracted, and the mana in her body began moving furiously. An intense change, as if it would overflow any second.
"After the flood overflows, waves."
Paak! As Seti swung her fist, the overflowing mana gathered in her fist all at once. It was a force so massive that even Dung Beetle, watching, furrowed his brow.
"The size of the wave grows with the depth of the water, just like in Wave Yang Art—its limits depend only on the user's mana and proficiency. Like this!"
As she struck down with her fist, the mana pooled in it slammed into the air.
!!!
A silent shockwave spread from Seti's fist. The grass around the clearing fell flat all at once, leaves rustling down.
A fist with power similar to... no, exceeding True Strike from Flying Leg Art.
'This... is real martial arts.'
Covered in the dust brought by the shockwave, Dung Beetle narrowed his eyes and looked at Seti's fist.
"What do you think? It's mana manipulation centered, so a bit difficult, but endlessly applicable."
Dung Beetle didn't answer. To be precise, he couldn't.
His mind was filled with thoughts on the mana application he'd seen for the first time. Fierce ideas chained endlessly, leaving no room for other thoughts.
A trance state.
What Superhumans call enlightenment, mages call awakening.
Unfortunately, unaware of his state, Seti continued explaining.
"If you apply Wave Yang Art to Flying Leg Art, even government people won't easily recognize it."
"..."
"After practicing infusing mana into weapons, you can apply it there too. Once you can release it externally, you can embed explosions in every strike."
"..."
"I don't have great talent for mana, so I shelved it... but you're different from—Huh?"
Only then did Seti realize Dung Beetle wasn't reacting at all, unusually so.
"Um, hello?"
Seti cautiously checked Dung Beetle's face. Steady breathing, unfocused eyes, mana frozen like a dead man's.
He entered a trance just from seeing one demonstration?
She instantly realized his state. Soon, admiration, jealousy, and absurdity flashed through her mind in order.
"This is cheating..."
***
For the past few days, the Cleanup Guild had been in constant chaos.
The most reliable work crew leader's team was slaughtered wholesale, then the workshop director vanished the next day.
To top it off, the infamous 'that warehouse' everyone knew about burned down in a mysterious fire, and the usually reclusive branch chief was personally running between the fire station and police station.
The grunts could just keep working without caring, but the veterans felt a vague unease.
And that unease peaked while cleaning the sealed Pier 13.
Puddles of filth on the pier floor, piles of meat chunks, corpses of men in suits clearly from the government...
Anyone could see something serious had happened.
And with not a single news article on TV or the internet, it was obvious the higher-ups were suppressing rumors.
Pretend you didn't see it, pretend you didn't hear it.
The cleanup crew turned a blind eye as one.
After a clueless newbie asked what the hell those disgusting things were and vanished without a trace, no one even breathed a word.
Of course, not every cleanup crew member kept quiet. There are always those who don't know the value of their own lives.
Park Gusik was the epitome of such a person.
True to form as a drunk who spilled everything inside him once booze hit, he spewed what he shouldn't as soon as he got wasted this time too.
Crazy city, crazy city! Murderer's on the loose, and the cops haven't even started investigating?
Know how many that psycho killed? Dozens that I confirmed alone! Think it's just people? Killed two elves too!
Fuck, it's gotta be the same bastard who killed the crew leader who wrecked Pier 13. I guarantee it!
The bar owner, used to drunk ramblings, started with "Aigoo, you're really wasted—" and naturally ushered him out.
Ugh, filthy city. MacArthur here, MacArthur there. Fuck, is this a US colony or Korea?
Kicked out into Incheon's night streets blackout drunk, Park Gusik staggered home.
A rundown, musty semi-basement, his only sanctuary.
Kkiiik.
The moment he opened the creaky, rusty door, someone tapped his shoulder from behind.
"What the f... Hep!"
Irritated, he turned his head, and something cold stabbed into his cheek. Plunk.
A sword. What tapped his shoulder wasn't a hand, but a straight-extended blade.
Seeing the sword sobered Park Gusik instantly. He raised both hands above his shoulders and said obsequiously.
"M-money, I'll give you as much as you want. Wallet's in the right pocket, just spare my life..."
"We're not robbers."
The one aiming the sword at him was a woman. One with a spine-chillingly beautiful voice.
"Th-then what do you want..."
"Remember what you said in the bar earlier?"
"Th-the bar?"
Park Gusik racked his brain desperately. The moment he recalled what he'd said, terror like the sky collapsing hit him.
'Higher-ups? The higher-ups were monitoring me?'
Trembling, he tried to beg for his life. He had no intention of defying the government, it was just drunken nonsense.
But before he could open his mouth, the beautiful voice sealed his lips.
"The murdered elves."
Elves? Hearing the unexpected word, Park Gusik cautiously turned around. Two women's shadows stretched long behind him.
Their figures were so slender, you could believe they were models. Park Gusik looked up, ready to lunge if needed.
And the next instant, he bowed his head immediately. Both had long ears impossible to see on Earth.
"Tell us everything you know about those elves."
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