White Whale's Footsteps
"Looks like everyone's gathered, so let's get this started."
The old village chief glanced around the room. For a meeting in their small village, quite a crowd had packed into his home. Even those who usually claimed to be too busy had shown up for this emergency gathering. They all knew the gravity of the situation.
Clearing his throat, the chief opened the meeting.
"For the past few days, there's been this massive rumbling echoing from the forest nearby. Jack? How long has it been since you first spotted this in the woods?"
"Ten days, it's been ten days."
A soft stir ran through the room at the hunter Jack's reply. They knew about the rumbling, but most were hearing for the first time that it had gone on for over ten days.
A mysterious roar shaking the woods near the village—even a single instance would be unnerving enough. But...
"What's the interval between rumbles?"
"About once every five seconds or so, repeating constantly. And... from what I could tell from a distance, it went on day and night without stopping."
"Hmm... This isn't right. Definitely not a natural phenomenon."
Even for the village chief, who'd lived his whole life in this tiny hamlet, it was something he'd never seen before. A roar echoing ceaselessly, day and night, for over ten days?
A few days ago, after Jack brought word of the rumbling near the village, panic had spread. Some curious folks had ventured into the woods and confirmed it with their own ears, catching the faint echoes shaking the trees.
By day three, fear had people neglecting their work. By day seven, some were packing to flee.
They couldn't put it off any longer. It was time to act.
"Thankfully, no one's been hurt yet... but we still need to deal with it. Any good ideas? This is a place to put our heads together."
Time marched on, but in a small village where few could even read properly—let alone had any formal education—nothing useful came up. They couldn't even pinpoint the cause, much less solve it.
"Wh-what if we ask the lord for soldiers...?"
"We already did. But they'll refuse... No victims means no reason to send private troops."
"Ah! Then what if one person scouts it out and reports back exactly what it is? Monster or mad wizard, whatever—a precise report should bring extermination forces!"
"So who's this 'one person' risking their neck to get close enough? You?"
"Th-that's..."
No one answered the chief's question. The roar they'd all heard from afar together was far from ordinary. Getting close enough to see the source? Survival odds weren't great.
As everyone pondered with troubled faces, a man who didn't look particularly bright spoke up to the chief.
"Wh-what if we randomly pick someone without family and send them...?"
The single men living alone flinched at his words, faces pale with terror. It wasn't hard to guess the suggester had a family. It sounded reasonable at first glance, but...
"No... We can't send someone unreliable either."
"Huh? Why not?"
"What if they get scared, don't check properly, and lie? When soldiers verify it, we'll be accused of false reporting. The whole village executed."
"G-gasp...!"
"Y-yeah, that won't work..."
Of course, executing a whole village for a false report was absurd. But as the responsible party, the chief's execution would be a given. That's why he'd exaggerated.
The old chief still had regrets in life, despite his age. In a way, this was a chance to end the roar at the cost of one life—his own. But no one saw through his aged wisdom. Uneducated as they were, they just marveled at what looked like foresight.
"Ideally, we'd have a volunteer... We'd pool money from the whole village for them, of course. Anyone?"
The chief scanned the room for volunteers, but no one met his eyes. In a village this peaceful, no one valued money over life.
Silence filled the chief's home. As the fruitless time dragged on, the creaky door burst open with someone panting inside.
— Clang!!
"Chief! Mercenaries have arrived in the village!"
Perfect timing—the 'people willing to investigate the roar for pay' had appeared right in front of them.
*
I'd convinced Chris to enter the White Whale's Footsteps world with me. The protagonist's mercenary group was due to hit this village any moment.
By my date calculations, they arrive today... Original story has them leaving tomorrow, so plenty of buffer.
Judging by the sun's position, I guessed it was around noon.
"Ch-Chanyoung did all this?"
Chris marveled, looking around. Over a hundred thick logs littered the clearing—traces of my two weeks training Thousand Fists, One Kick here.
"So that's why Chanyoung seemed to get strong so suddenly..."
She spotted the fist marks etched into a log. Each tree bore dozens—no, scores—of them.
Obviously. Smashing trees by brute-forcing mana in wouldn't help growth; that'd be idiotic. The goal was embedding proper Thousand Fists, One Kick form into my body.
Repetition mattered. Shop window proficiency gains proved it—same boost whether dumping full mana or minimal per strike.
If I could do it without mana, I wouldn't need those Earth pit stops to recharge...
Unfortunately, each strike needed a bare minimum. Probably because, unlike Earth martial arts, this fantasy style assumed mana use.
"B-but is this really another dimension?"
"Hard to believe?"
"It's too normal... Trees, sun... Feels like a remote forest near the Shelter."
"Difference from that world? People live here."
"P-people? Not just Earth transfers?"
"Yeah. Natives."
"No way... Other dimension natives..."
At "natives," Chris pictured green-skinned, three-eyed monsters. I didn't correct her. She'd see for herself soon enough.
"You probably guessed from the tree marks, but my main weapon's fists, not sword."
"...You used fists to kill Victor the Baekwonhu, right?"
"You remember?"
"I was a bit hazy then, and later in the Combatant certification, I thought it was a mistake since you used a sword... But it was real."
"I'll show you."
— Thud, thud.
I approached a standing tree. We'd be partnering a lot; better if she gauged my power level. She only knew my swordplay.
I clenched my right fist tight, assuming perfect stance. One Proper Fist scales with posture precision. Five seconds of calm setup like this yields big power on low mana.
— BOOM!!
The familiar impact—over a thousand reps in my ears—shook the forest. The struck tree swayed wildly, shedding leaves like rain.
Chris's eyes widened slightly, impressed by the punch. But One Proper Fist's real strength wasn't raw power.
"I can do this about 150 times nonstop."
"What? Wait... H-how many?"
"Roughly 150."
Chris could match that power by mana-boosting her limbs—not hard, since she'd pulverized rock with a punch at our first meeting. That's why she wasn't shocked by the force.
But body enhancement doesn't last. Even godly control to boost only on impact, she couldn't hit half my reps.
For someone limited to basic buffs, she couldn't touch my efficiency.
"Use more mana for extra power, and reps drop."
— KABOOM—!!
No careful five-second setup this time—just a full-power snap strike. Huge mana drain. The roar dwarfed the last, shaking the woods.
— Crack!!RUMBLE!...
Dust puffed up with the crash. The sturdy tree snapped and rolled.
"...You can adjust power by adding mana?"
"Can't take down a Baekwonhu with the basic punch, right? I boosted it more back then."
Simple buffs don't scale with extra mana—just fixed cost, fixed effect. More mana just means longer duration, no extras. That's why even mana-rich Kaya, with low base stats, wasn't elite.
"Where'd you even learn a technique like that?"
"Eh... Kinda like how abilities awaken naturally when the time's right."
"...Cheater. Teach me."
"Don't have expert knowledge to teach yet..."
Skill level 1 theory was sparse. What little unlocked was bafflingly complex—too much even for me to fully grasp, let alone teach.
Maybe with time or level-ups, but not now.
"Ugh... Jealous."
"Your ability's ridiculously useful too."
"Sure, but..."
"One or two won't give the feel. Watch more."
I headed to another intact tree nearby. I'd keep punching till she got a sense.
— Thud!BOOM!
We took breaks, chatted, spent about thirty minutes like that when presences approached.
"Chanyoung?"
"...Someone's coming? A bunch of them."
"You sense it too?"
— Nod.
Ki from afar. No clue who. Even knowing the original novel, extras off-page were unpredictable.
Chris and I stared toward the signatures. Soon, armed figures burst from the trees.
Armed?
"What the—people?"
A woman's voice. The one who'd drawn her sword led the pack. They all emerged into my clearing.
"This is..."
"Damn. Looks like a storm tore through."
"Magic...?"
"Nah, check it—fist marks."
"No way... All this?"
Dozens behind her gawked around in shock. The woman whistled sharply at the hundred-plus logs.
"This the source of that old man's 'roar'? You two did all this?"
"..."
"Well... Riskier job than thought. Or maybe a total steal."
"Job?"
"Long story short, village up ahead hired us to ID the roar's source. That's you guys, right? Prefer talking over fighting... So, wanna throw down?"
She toyed with her sword hilt. The mercenaries' gazes sharpened. Tension crackled faintly between us and the group.
'Roar's source'... That explained their arrival. I'd kept distance from the village but close enough for the protagonist's quick visit.
Situation clear. One last check.
I spoke to the woman, a bit apart.
"What's your mercenary group's name?"
"Us? White Whale Mercenaries."
The brown-haired woman replied confidently. These were the ones I sought.
