The Final Duel

Where am I? (16) EP.44 The final duel to crown the tournament champion. Following the referee’s guidance, Hwayeong and I stood at opposite ends of the stage, facing each other. A restless murmur rippled through the crowd—far larger than during the first round of the main tournament. Countless eyes watched us with feverish anticipation. I never imagined I would one day fight in front of this many people. Back in school I had been dragged into scuffles by the atmosphere, but I had always been the one getting hit, never the one throwing punches. ‘Of course, I didn’t have a sword back then either.’

The familiar weight of the blade at my hip felt heavier than usual.

I had never thought much about this sword before. Now that I was, in a sense, its owner, the name “Ownerless Nameless Sword” struck me as ironic. ‘Maybe I should give it a name while I’m at it?’ This blade had erased the nightmarish monsters of the tutorial and carved through countless zombies—my literal lifesaver. Yet it still had no name? That was unacceptable for a proud son of Korea who lived and died for romance. Unfortunately, the current situation left no room for leisurely naming.

My opponent in the finals stood before me. Hwayeong, her jet-black hair tied back in a high ponytail that reached her waist, slowly drew her sword. “Take your positions!” At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the referee’s call we each took a step forward. Ten strides would close the gap if we walked, but for seasoned first-rate martial artists it was a distance that could be crossed in one or two leaps—close enough to hear each other’s voices, if not for the roaring crowd.

“Siin Sohyeop!”

“Yes?!”

The stadium erupted in a deafening cheer. “■■…■! ■■■…! ■…!” “What did you say?!” Her lips moved, trying to convey something, but I possessed no lip-reading skill. Hwayeong frowned slightly, realizing my predicament. Then she raised her sword, and I finally understood what she had meant.

Her blade pointed at me. A chilling sharpness seemed to graze my neck, yet I did not retreat. I raised my own sword. This was the final lesson the swordswoman of Cheonwol-mun would impart. I had to absorb everything with all my mind and heart.

“Status window.”

All stats locked at the average of Level 30. I had tried to push them higher, but an unfamiliar notification had appeared while spending coins.

The highest stat level achievable on the 2nd Floor was 30. With physical stats capped, I turned my attention to Mana—an attribute that might prove more valuable right now.

“Huu…” I drew a deep breath and focused my mind on the dantian, as described in martial arts novels. The solid space of internal energy—no, mana—beneath my navel. As the flow of qi spread through my body, my mind cleared and the sensation of the sword in my hand grew sharper.

“Begin the duel…!”

The referee’s final cry rang out.

“Start!”

Hwayeong took the first step.

In the past, when Hwayeong was barely ten years old, she had gotten lost in the mountains while hunting with her master. Night fell with terrifying suddenness. Her master’s back vanished, leaving only the glowing eyes of unknown beasts in the pitch-black forest. The loneliness of being abandoned filled the void her master had left. The mountain’s cries—wind or beast, she could not tell—shook the heavens. Step by step the path grew deeper, the darkness thicker, threatening to swallow her whole. Yet she could not stop. Standing still and waiting for rescue would only let the forest’s silence crush her further.

Hwayeong fell. The wooden fruits she carried scattered in every direction. In that profound darkness she could see nothing, not even the scraped knees she did not yet feel. She simply kept walking through the pain. It was then she realized: a little darkness in a place of light is merely shadow, but a little light in a place of darkness is hope. The deeper the darkness, the greater the value of light. And the faint moonlight pouring between the leaves shone brighter than the midday sun.

“What the—!”

An unbelievable sight unfolded before my eyes. I clicked my tongue and raised my sword in haste. Every technique she had shown during our training had been child’s play. Each swing of her blade became a streak of light hurtling toward me.

A desperate measure to block the light. I swung my sword and bisected one incoming beam. But I had only cut a single trajectory. My understanding was insufficient to parry the dozens of sword lights dancing in my vision. Still, when there are no teeth, one must chew with the gums.

I poured every ounce of concentration into my eyes, trying to read every incoming sword qi. Real strikes and feints. Attacks aimed at the lower body and upper body. Heavy, powerful qi and light, swift qi. Sparks flew in a metallic symphony. Thanks to the fifty thousand coins I had poured into the skill, I managed to block most of them through sheer force of will.

Most of them.

A sharp sting grazed my cheek. “Kh!” One of her strikes had slipped through—a deliberately slowed blade I had failed to read in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time. Warm blood trickled down my face, but thanks to my near-Level-30 stamina the wound closed almost immediately, leaving only a faint itch. The real problem, however, was just beginning.

The latter forms of the Moonlight Sword Art that I had yet to master due to insufficient training. Hwayeong sheathed her sword, then leapt toward me in an instant and drew it again with blinding speed. The third form was a drawing technique combined with the movement art of the Cheonwol Divine Art. I could not yet wield it freely, but I understood the theory—and therefore how to counter it.

I raised my sword calmly and precisely. My Cheonwol Divine Art was a step below hers, so I knew exactly how threatening her technique was. Meeting strong yin arts with weak yin arts would be foolish. Fortunately, I possessed abilities she did not.

A movement technique passed down by my master from the Sichuan Tang Family, meant for escape when things went wrong. Instead of retreating, I gathered mana at my feet and charged straight at Hwayeong. The drawing technique’s greatest weakness was the long opening it created after the strike.

“Hah!” I seized the opening. A single leap closed the distance instantly. My body felt light, almost euphoric. An unfamiliar heat surged from my feet to my dantian—similar to the energy of the Cheonwol Divine Art, yet its opposite. Hwayeong’s eyes widened. She raised her sword, her movements faster than I had anticipated, and began a new technique.

A numbing pressure radiated from her body and blade, but it lasted only a moment. My sword was two moves faster than her technique could complete. Thunder-Chasing Footwork met Moonlight Sword Art in a resounding clash. Hwayeong’s sword flew from her hands, tracing a wide arc before striking the ground.

Yin arts manifested through yang qi. A perfect fusion of the Sichuan Tang Family and Cheonwol-mun techniques.

The main quest progress had finally risen. I steadied my breathing and read through the notifications one by one. Then the later messages appeared, leaving me stunned.

Their recognition had become the stepping stone toward my ultimate goal. I stood there, dazed by the sudden quest completion. ‘But…’

Something felt incomplete. The duel with Hwayeong had been intense, and I had gained new insights, but that was all. Even if I could ascend immediately, what I had been waiting for came after the tournament ended.

“The winner is Kim Siin!”

The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers. The referee smiled. Just before the finals, I had discussed an intriguing topic with the representatives of Mount Hua and the Namgung Clan—the true reward of the tournament. The chance to duel a true master. I had no intention of leaving before claiming it.