Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 021
Chapter Title: Shattering Instinct
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The samurai blocked my spear thrust as if it had foreseen it, then countered with fluid grace like flowing water.
With a sharp clang, its attack was stopped cold by me.
The headless samurai, pressing its assault, suddenly flinched and leaped back. But I hadn't done a thing.
—?!
It must have been convinced my attack was coming. After retreating, the headless samurai belatedly sensed something wrong and twitched again.
I chuckled to myself and continued. All the while, I stood perfectly still.
Then the headless samurai started acting like a lunatic on its own—raising its sword into a defensive stance or lunging for a counter.
Once more, as it charged me swinging its blade, the headless samurai yanked its sword back in a hurry and retreated far.
"What are you doing all by yourself?"
Of course, the headless samurai didn't answer.
—This is...
"None of your business, corpse."
Battle intuition is like an acquired reflex forged from years of combat and experience.
To put it more bluntly, people who get beaten all the time flinch the instant someone raises a hand, right?
It's the same principle—the results just differ.
So for this fool trapped in its so-called battle intuition, if I throw a subtle attack feint?
—Grr...!
It reacts purely on autopilot.
Of course, dismantling it this way isn't easy. Even if that "intuition" is just an illusion built from countless battles, a sloppy feint gets sniffed out.
You need actions that feel utterly real despite being fake. And to pull those off, you first have to fall into that illusion once yourself... and claw your way out.
That's what I did. I succeeded in escaping that battle intuition trap. I relentlessly dragged my unconscious reactions into the realm of conscious control until I nailed it.
"Those so-called realms? They're nothing special."
The battle intuition, sword heart, no-mind state, unity of man and sword, convergence of all flows... I've tumbled into every one of those illusions they call "enlightenment," and I've broken free from all of them.
"That's why..."
Battle intuition, gut feelings—they're all delusions. Humans only have five senses. Even mana is perceived through those same five.
I can state that with absolute certainty. And I have every right to.
The cocky corpse, so smug with its "ultimate technique" of battle intuition delusion, was getting pummeled relentlessly—like rice cakes pounded nonstop at a New Year's mill.
"Come here!"
I pinned its thrusting sword under my foot, then smashed down on the arm gripping it with my fist. The armor encasing the arm crumpled like a cardboard box.
"That’s gotta hurt."
I’ll make it hurtless.
Aiming for the spot where its head should be, I rammed my spear in with all my strength. The blade pierced clean through its body, the tip bursting out its rear. And in that state, the Paradox Flame kept right on burning.
—A... Aaaaaah!
I kicked its chest and used the recoil to spring back, watching as it screamed. While it thrashed, the once-pristine armor groaned and buckled. Black energy spewed from where its head should’ve been.
From the gaps in the crumpled armor, rotten blood and pus oozed out in streams. Then, with a wet thud, it collapsed.
I approached the corpse, yanked out my spear, and scratched my head as I eyed the gunk clinging to the shaft.
"Perfect for mixing into some rice."
"That's unsanitary. You'd get a stomachache."
I wasn't serious about eating it. Wonder if everyone's been moved to the hotel—Han Sang-ah had approached without me noticing.
She checked the smartphone issued by the Association and spoke up.
"Coast Guard says they're arriving soon."
"Good. Now we've got a solid excuse to head back whenever."
"Not planning to take out the Erosion Core?"
"Nah, I will. But I'm not rushing in until the people we rescued recover enough to share some intel."
Han Sang-ah's face lit up noticeably at my words. She was usually so stone-faced she looked like a carved ivory statue—what had gotten into her?
"Then... could you help me out?"
"What kind?"
She glanced at me hesitantly.
"Swordsmanship."
"Just talk?"
Nothing in this world is free. At least pony up some lesson fees.
"Money's no object. I'll pay generously."
Money, huh.
"Commissions cover me fine."
Her fists clenched tight.
"Then name your price."
"Reason first."
"I'm going to end Club Sandai with my own hands."
"Club Sandai?"
"One of the Great Eight—you don't know it?"
I did. One of the world's eight most dangerous Erosion Cores. Club Sandai sat entrenched in Tel Aviv, Israel.
And it was one of Korea's biggest cash cows. Israel couldn't handle its monsters alone, so they poured in massive funds to hire hunter companies.
Naturally, Korea's top outfits—the best of the best—commanded literally whatever price they named, raking in fortunes while shielding Israel.
"Big ambition."
She was basically my classmate in becoming a hunter. And like me, this was probably her second commission. Yet here she was, already gunning for one of the Great Eight.
"I've got my reasons."
"Family?"
"Yeah."
She nodded. Probably her parents got killed or something. I'd heard endless sob stories from others—no thrill left in them anymore.
Because I'd learned to my bones that the horrors one human can inflict on another have no limits.
"Feels like you've said it all."
"I don't need advice. I need a teacher."
She finished and rummaged in her pocket, handing me a business card.
"Geumyang Group?"
"Market cap: 257 trillion. My family owns it."
I let out a low whistle. Han Sang-ah was chaebol royalty?
"Daughter of an impressive clan."
I didn't bother asking how someone like her ended up in this dangerous hunter life. She had her goal.
"Doesn't matter—Grandpa's the current head, and I quit the succession race. Zero say in company ops."
In other words, she had no real power. Worse, flashing the Geumyang owner family name would just light a fire under her succession-rival relatives, who'd boot her out in a heartbeat—that was her explanation.
Instead, her grandfather was thrilled she'd chosen to be a hunter and spared no support.
"Makes sense. Can't run a hunter gig and a conglomerate at the same time."
"On top of that, word of my talent's already reached him. If one family member joins a hunter company—or starts one...
...it'd be a huge asset. Like back in the day when a chaebol kid became a judge or prosecutor. More than worth backing her aggressively.
"That's why I have so much mana—thanks to all the support."
I snorted at that.
"Mana matters, sure. But there's plenty more important."
Her smarts were top-notch, like I'd said before.
Anyway, point was, Han Sang-ah was loaded. And befriending money never hurt.
"Fine. I'll help till the rescued folks snap out of it."
"Thanks. Compensation?"
I answered simply.
"Elixirs. Nothing too rare. New one every day. First up: this."
I pulled out my smartphone and showed her the item: a white serpent's gallbladder.
"This work?"
"More than enough."
Top-tier elixirs weren't my thing anyway. To temper my bloodline, I just needed to cycle slightly more mana than my body could handle at once.
"Let's start. Draw your sword. Take your stance."
She obediently drew her blade and assumed position.
"Rules are simple. Watch with your eyes, listen with your ears, feel with your skin, smell the air."
Taste is useless in a fight. Combat runs on those four senses.
"But I've heard eyes and ears have limits for spotting attacks."
"Who told you that?"
What nonsense.
"Human vision has a frame rate limit, and..."
"Sure. Makes sense for a human to outrun a truck?"
Human muscles have limits—no training lets you beat a truck cruising at 170 kph.
But back at the ship, rescuing folks and fleeing, I'd outpaced the truck Han Sang-ah was driving.
"Humans shatter physical limits with mana. Senses aren't exempt."
Bullets too fast to see and cut? Pump in mana, and you see 'em clear, slice 'em down.
"Don't fight on feel. It's like blind long-range artillery—no targeting. If you lucked into an unconscious win, don't lean on that instinct. Drag it into conscious control."
I finished, kicked up my spear, and whipped it fast toward her left shoulder. Han Sang-ah, sword half-drawn, instinctively raised it to block.
"That? Pure instinct."
Before she could consciously clock my leg position, muscle twitch, or gaze, her body moved first. Start depending on those animal reflexes, and you tumble right into the battle intuition delusion.
"Think with your brain. Analyze. Understand. Why'd you figure my strike was going for the shoulder?"
Data only becomes info once you analyze, sort it, and pull out meaningful patterns. Otherwise, it's just garbage piled high.
And so, for about three hours, I hammered at Han Sang-ah with my spear. She desperately parried and tried counters.
"Again...!"
But her counters never landed—my spear was already in their path every time. As we sparred on, the Coast Guard arrived with medics to check the rescued fishermen.
"Recovery will take about a week."
A week. I nodded. Plenty of time for fun. While the medics tended the hotel-bound fishermen, Han Sang-ah and I kept sparring.
The sun set. The moon rose, set. The sun rose again. And sank once more.
"Hah... Heuk..."
Our duel never paused the whole time. Han Sang-ah's pupils were dilated, her legs and arms trembling nonstop.
"Focus slipping again."
As her grip on sanity loosened, she raised her sword to block my spear swing. In that instant, I released my hold on the shaft, charged, and backhanded her across the face.
Slap! Her head whipped around.