The Skill Gap (3)
A perfect ambush, executed at the exact right moment. The two black knights, throats pierced clean through, died on the spot and scattered into the air. The four who realized what was happening in the darkness a beat too late quickly fell back.
Slice! The follow-up strike that had stabbed the throat flowed like water and carved a deep gash across one of their arms as it passed. Four opponents remained, and with one already badly wounded, things didn’t look terrible if Han Gamin’s attack landed properly.
“It was shallow.”
“Couldn’t be helped.”
The plan had been simple: cut two down at the start, inflict critical wounds on two of the survivors, then use the injured pair as bait to finish the rest quickly. The accessories I’d earned in the individual rounds and the stat boosts from killing the undead should have been enough to close the numerical gap. That was why I’d forced the strategy.
But the enemy count was one higher than expected, and Han Gamin’s shorter reach had kept her from landing a truly deep wound. On top of that—
They don’t look like they’ll bother protecting their wounded.
The one whose arm hung limp after I’d sliced deep into the muscle clutched it tightly, face twisted in pain.
“Aaaagh! My—my arm!!!”
The pain must have been building, because he started thrashing wildly. Yet the other three didn’t seem to care whether their comrade’s arm fell off or not. The idea of using the injured man as bait, cowardly as it was, had become useless. Still, it was too early to give up. I took one step closer to Han Gamin to secure a better line of sight.
“Heh heh.”
“What’s so funny?”
When I raised my sword, one of them deliberately lowered his own and smirked.
“Ah, it’s just amusing watching a guy who’s obviously going to die struggle like that.”
“You’re insane.”
At his words, the others—except the one with the shredded arm—began to smile with ugly glee. Expressions that said victory was already theirs. There was even a strange spark of anticipation in their eyes; if they recovered the flag, they might be able to rejoin the team match.
“We’ll be merciful. Drop the flag and scram. We’ll send you to the lobby without any extra pain.”
It seemed even they wanted to avoid taking damage if possible. The ones still in good shape might think that way, but the guy who’d already been run through clearly didn’t agree.
“Fuck that! Shut up! I’m killing those bastards!”
The man with the dangling arm stepped forward, sword raised. Veins bulged in his eyes and his lips trembled—he was furious beyond reason. Han Gamin flinched at his murderous aura. His gaze was filled with nothing but the single-minded desire to kill me. For a twenty-year-old college girl, the intensity was overwhelming.
But—
“Gamin.”
“Y-yes?”
“You haven’t given up, right?”
“…Of course not.”
“Good.”
I took a short breath to clear my mind and tightened my grip on the sword. Four opponents total. One of them was already seriously hurt. It might still be possible.
“Oho? Look at this guy—he’s actually a man!”
“Heh heh! Getting all pumped up because a girl’s watching?”
Their mockery echoed lightly through the cave. But I saw what they couldn’t hide: the beads of sweat on their cheeks reflecting the small campfire’s light, the tension coiling in their shoulders right before the clash.
“Gamin, finish the injured one and get back here. I’ll hold the other three.”
“Can you really do that?”
“It’s not about whether I can. This is something I have to do.”
Hearing my words, Han Gamin steadied her breathing and fixed her eyes on the man radiating savage killing intent. The three I had to face all possessed the same stats as me. From this point on, the fight would be decided by swordsmanship alone.
Clang!
Strike first, win first. The moment I charged, the three who had been holding their swords awkwardly scrambled to reset their grips.
Clang! “Ugh!”
“Die!”
Our agility was nearly identical, so my sword was barely blocked. The brief pause in my movement gave another one the chance to thrust at me. But just because the blade had been stopped didn’t mean the flow was broken. The Cheonwol Divine Art I had trained so rigorously was not some half-baked technique that would lose momentum after a single exchange.
Tap-tap!
Moonlight Footwork.
Using the rebound between our swords, I vaulted straight over the man’s head. Two blades that had barely grazed my clothes tore uselessly through empty air.
“This bastard!”
One lost track of me, but the other followed my movement with his eyes. The instant he confirmed I was airborne, he twisted his sword and charged.
A dark blue energy began to coil along his blade. Seeing how I moved, he must have decided it was time to go all out.
“Die!”
His sword flew toward me in a straight, honest line. It was too straightforward for a battle of wits, but I understood why. After all, humans normally can’t change direction in mid-air.
But—
Boom! “What?!”
The moment my body spun through the air and shot forward, the man panicked and tried to pull his sword back. My thrust was faster. On top of that, I had been riding the forms of Moonlight Footwork since the very beginning. There was no reason I should be slower than them.
Slash! “H-how… glurk!”
Foam bubbled at his lips as he stared at me in disbelief. A movement that should have been impossible by common sense. This wasn’t a game—double jumps were laughable. And my level was far too low to perform the void-walking spoken of in the murim. But this was a cave, and the stalactites hanging from the low ceiling had served as perfect stepping stones.
The instant I landed, two swords came flying in. The cold blades aimed straight for my heart sent a chill down my spine, but I calmly deflected one and rolled across the floor.
Swish! Swish!
A blade nicked my thigh as it passed. I had seen the attack, but my body simply couldn’t keep up with my mind.
“This crazy son of a bitch!”
“Haaap!”
The pair charged again. Having realized they’d cut my thigh, they focused their attacks relentlessly on my now-slower left side.
“Hoo…! Hup!”
Clang! Clang!
I deflected the sword stabbing toward my throat, blocked the slash aimed at my thigh, and twisted away from the one trying to cut my waist. Two defenses for every single attack. Their coordination had been awkward at first, but with time their strikes were growing smoother and more natural.
No openings.
Too fast. I had gotten lucky and cut one down, but facing two opponents with identical stats at the same time was far more taxing than I had imagined. Their sword styles were different, so their rhythms clashed and their techniques came from unpredictable angles.
And my mana is running out…!
The longer this dragged on, the worse it became for me. They were gradually gaining breathing room in both stamina and combat adaptation, and the mental pressure was mounting.
“What’s the matter? Not as easy as you thought?”
“Arrogant prick! You strutted around in the individual rounds relying on your stats, but now that they’re gone you’re nothing special!”
I had lost the initiative. Han Gamin seemed to be gaining the upper hand against the injured man in the distance, but if my stamina gave out and one of these two turned on her, that momentum would collapse instantly.
Damn it…
I couldn’t recklessly unleash the Moonlight Sword Art. A clean hit might take one down, but failure would leave me without enough mana for footwork.
Slice! “Ugh!”
A long cut opened across my right arm. It wasn’t severed, but after the sharp pain came a rapid numbness. I used footwork to open distance. If I kept fighting without readjusting my grip, I would drop the sword any second.
“Hoo… Persistent bastard.”
“Hup. Finally landed one.”
They exhaled the breath they had been holding throughout the fight and slowly closed in. Their breathing was tired but still far steadier than mine. They grimaced at the countless small cuts they had taken, yet strange smiles played on their lips.
Should I use Flame Flower?
No. Flame Flower was an absolute last resort. My stats were already lowered; using it now would almost certainly cost me my sanity. If that happened, I might burn Han Gamin along with the three men in front of me. I had to be extremely careful.
“I’ll give you one more chance. Hand over the flag now and we won’t kill you.”
At their words, Han Gamin—who had been stealing glances at our fight—faltered. She was already struggling against a single injured opponent; seeing my situation, feeling anxious was only natural.
But—
“Han Gamin!!!”
She flinched. I didn’t say anything more. Just calling her name had been enough to snap her back to her senses. When she lifted her head and stared at the two men approaching me, I saw their bodies stiffen for the briefest moment.
Two of them. But I chose to see them as one. An opponent who could simply swing his sword twice as fast. An enemy with high endurance that couldn’t be taken down in a single cut. A dual-wielding martial artist who used irregular swordplay.
I can win.
Stats were not absolute. My master Hwayeong had fought evenly with me despite the overwhelming advantage I gained from spending a massive number of coins. Dang Hwi-so had reacted to most of my attacks even after I raised my agility to Lv. 60. And I had defeated the knight of cold in the individual rounds.
Try. Fail. If I’m not dead, try again. If I die, then it can’t be helped. I’ll think about that when the time comes.
Shing.
I carefully lifted the sword with my left arm, where sensation still remained. As faint mana gathered at the tip, the men’s expressions hardened slightly, mistaking it for a final desperate struggle.
Bang!
I layered the forms of Moonlight Footwork and Thunder-Chasing Footwork to produce the most irregular movements possible.
“You’re really trying to die!”
Matching my charge, they rushed at me as well. It looked like they intended to pour their final strength onto me, now that my stamina was spent. But the crucial point was that I had already seen through their numbers.
Swish. I thrust my sword. I didn’t meet their attacks head-on. I simply twisted my body just enough to slip past. One man’s balance broke on the sword path that had lost its target. The other, unable to judge the distance properly because of their awkward coordination, left his vital point wide open.
Thud!
The man with a sword buried in his heart staggered, coughing up blood. The remaining one swung at me while I was close, but what he cut was only a torn black robe and an arm that wasn’t mine.
Slash!
“Huh…?”
Shock flooded his face at the situation that had unfolded in an instant. His expression was full of resentment, but there was no point in savoring the emotions of a head that had already fallen to the ground.
“……”
I watched the severed head roll across the floor with indifferent eyes, then slowly lifted my gaze. The man who had been crossing swords with Han Gamin stumbled backward the moment our eyes met.
This was one realization. More important than possessing ability was how far one could utilize that ability.