Inherited Blood
A few years ago, Yujeong had brushed aside her parents' protests and set out on the road to learn the sword—only to find no one worth learning from.
They were all too weak.
Of course, for the moment Yujeong herself was weaker than any of them. But she could already see herself surpassing them after a month or two of training.
In those days the borders between the three nations that had carved up the realm were still unstable, and the world's attention was fixed on warriors, martial artists, and soldiers; their names were forever on people's lips.
It was thanks to that climate that a rumor reached even Yujeong's ears: a strange and formidable fighter who traveled with a little girl was about to start taking disciples.
I've got nowhere better to go anyway. Might as well try.
And if that one turned out to be nothing special either—then what?
Of the provisions she had packed from home, nothing remained but a little grain flour. If she turned back now, she could still make it home before even that ran out.
But I want to learn.
The fierce hunger inside Yujeong to master the sword was no false thing.
And then she met her master and her senior disciple.
For the first time, she could not picture herself surpassing someone.
Yujeong felt a rush of pure joy, slammed her forehead to the dirt, and begged to be taken as a disciple.
Learning the sword was a delight.
Every single day was so full of joy she could hardly stand it.
Above all, sparring with Hoeyeon—her only senior disciple—was the greatest pleasure in the world.
She could not begin to count how many hours the two of them had spent talking of the sword. Hoeyeon was the goal she chased so that one day she might overtake her, the object of her longing.
The first strange episode came a year after she had begun her training.
"Yujeong…?"
Those ashen eyes, cold and merciless as a wild wolf's when they first met, had been slowly thawing through the days spent at the dojo among the other disciples.
Looking into her senior's worried gaze, Yujeong apologized.
"I'm sorry, Senior. My body… isn't right."
The hand gripping her sword trembled violently. Her other hand covered her face the way a person burning with fever might.
What is this?
Why is this happening?
"Yujeong, are you all right?"
The other disciples were watching her with concern as well.
"I'm sorry… Master, may I just watch from the side today?"
Yu Eunha frowned and peered at Yujeong.
The other disciples mistook that frown for displeasure or irritation—but Hoeyeon alone read it correctly.
That was the face their master made when she encountered something she had never seen before.
"Fine. Do as you like."
"Thank you."
Yujeong was slowly sliding her sword back into its scabbard when her eyes suddenly met her master's.
I want to cut her down.
It was not a thought inside her head. It was a voice that seemed to resonate from the depths of her soul.
She's strong. What would it feel like to break her? It would be pure joy, surely.
Yujeong felt her breathing grow ragged.
I want to break her. I want to break the strong and stand above them.
The hand on her sword was shaking.
Her forehead ached—as if an awl were driving into the inside of her skull.
"!!"
Yujeong bit down on her lip. The taste of blood flooded her mouth. Swallowing her own blood, she drowned the voice ringing inside her with the taste and smell of it, and sheathed her sword.
She could feel the other disciples growing unsettled by the strange atmosphere.
Eunha watched it all in silence, then spoke.
"Hey. Yujeong."
"…Yes, Master."
"I don't know what it is," Eunha said, scratching her cheek, "but if you hate it—you've got to let it go."
"Pardon?"
Eunha said nothing more.
But in that instant Yujeong had the sense that her master had, for the briefest flash, shown her some other face.
Not the face that laughed uproariously and thumped her disciples on the back—but the one Yujeong had glimpsed only once before, late at night when everyone else was asleep, when her master stood alone gazing up at the moon. That other face.
In the end she never understood what her master had meant by if you hate it, let it go.
But after that day the voice in her head never truly quieted, and whenever she thought of crossing blades with someone it grew especially loud.
So she went home.
Living with her hands in the earth, as time passed the voice gradually weakened—until at last she could no longer hear it at all.
"GROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!"
A monster's roar thundered at her back. Yujeong sprinted down the mountain path.
What the hell is that thing!?
Yujeong raced between the trees; the monster smashed through them as it came after her. Even if she wanted to stand and fight, the terrain was against her—and she had no sword.
This was not an enemy she could face bare-handed. The fangs in those two wolf maws looked nothing like anything that belonged on a living creature; they were like rows of massive awls jammed in dense vertical and horizontal ranks—a hideous, nightmarish sight.
"Hah—huff!"
She was out of breath. Her stamina should have been more than enough, but shock and terror had thrown her breathing into chaos.
Even if she made it down the mountain, she could see no clear way out. Could a sword even cut a thing like this?
And more than anything, the monster's impossibly grotesque form scattered even the will to stand against it.
"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!"
"Hiiik…!!"
The scream that burst from the human torso's mouth felt as though it would contaminate the mind just by being heard.
If I fought it—could I win?
If I had a sword—could I cut it?
Of course I could. I can cut anything in this world.
A voice reached her from somewhere, but drowned beneath her own scream, she did not register it.
I love strong things. I love dangerous things too. I bring them down—and I become the strong and dangerous one.
A throb of pain lanced through her forehead. Even that was buried beneath her own terror; she did not feel it.
Crossing blades with Hoeyeon.
Watching Gayul and Arang fight.
Watching Gayul and Hoeyeon settle their match.
That the voice which had once whispered inside her—the one she had smothered and put to sleep beneath the smell of earth and grass—had lifted its head again, Yujeong did not yet know.
Not yet.
The instant the roar reached her, every thought of maps vanished from Hoeyeon's mind.
That foul sound—like metal being torn mixed with the howl of a great beast—belonged to a Masu.
Hoeyeon sprang up at once, kicked the door open, and sprinted toward the source of the roar.
"Damn it…!"
It was the direction of the mountain Yujeong had climbed. And something was coming this way. Trees were toppling one after another.
"Senior!!"
A few more strides, and Yujeong spotted Hoeyeon and cried out.
The monster chasing her was a sight to make the flesh crawl—but Hoeyeon neither hesitated nor faltered as she drew her sword.
The monster opened both of its maws. Hoeyeon kicked off the ground and leapt skyward.
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"
In midair, Hoeyeon's blade flared with light.
The downward strike split the monster's human torso clean in two and sheared off the lower jaw of the left wolf head. The fangs her sword had severed rained down like a shower of awls.
"GWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!"
Revulsion, horror—those were luxuries no one could afford before a Masu. Hoeyeon reversed her grip at once, and the creature's remaining maw lunged to swallow her whole.
I'll have to ask for treatment later.
Even if it meant taking wounds, a Masu had to be killed as fast as possible. The moment Hoeyeon charged in ready to be hurt, two objects flew from behind and buried themselves in the Masu's nose and eye. Yujeong had snatched up the creature's own fangs in rapid succession and hurled them like daggers.
Well done, Yujeong.
The maw that had been about to tear into Hoeyeon twisted off course.
Hoeyeon's sword cleaved through the remaining head, and her next strike split the core embedded in the center of its chest clean in two.
The Masu toppled slowly to the ground. She had shattered the core, and it was already beginning to dissolve into black mist—but Hoeyeon raised her sword once more.
Before a Masu, you never let your guard down.
Not until every last scrap of it had become black mist and vanished. Because these were true monsters, beings composed entirely of hatred.
"Senior!"
But Yujeong did not know that. And from her vantage, the monster had fallen, and she could not see Hoeyeon's face.
"Stay back!"
Hoeyeon shouted at Yujeong as she ran toward the senior who had just saved her from danger—still keeping her eyes on the Masu.
And because of that, her vigilance slipped for a single instant.
A Masu has no will for vengeance. Vengeance is hatred fixed upon a particular target. A Masu that wants only to kill as many people as possible has no concept of singling anyone out.
But it can tell who has the most openings.
One of the Masu's human hands snatched up one of its own fangs and flung it.
"Ah…"
Unable to guard against a danger she had never seen, her tension undone by relief, and lacking real combat experience—the fang drove into Yujeong's belly like an awl.
Sprawled on the ground, Yujeong thought for the first time in her life that she might actually die.
"Yujeong!"
"Show me the wound!"
She would probably live. Those three would never simply let her die.
But if she had been alone—she would have been dead.
The voice that had reawakened inside Yujeong spoke to her.
If you die, you'll never spar again. You'll never fight. You'll never break anyone.
…I suppose that's true.
Don't you want to try breaking the strong?
…Yeah.
In the haze of fading consciousness, Yujeong answered the voice in her heart.
That would be a shame.
She had answered it.