Chapter 77
Of course, Park Chan-woo truly meant it as a compliment.
Being suspicious, choosing to be an outsider, having stubbornness, and not listening to others also means he intensely dislikes causing harm to others.
Someone might say this:
Isn’t it only natural not to harm others?
‘Those who stuck to their convictions have all disappeared.’
But as time passes, such moral perception rapidly fades.
The implicit social norms everyone agreed upon blur, and people who think it’s okay for others to be harmed if it benefits themselves become the mainstream.
People with conviction.
Those who guarded the old ways and valued old virtues—viewed as relics of a bygone era—have all faded into history.
Only Lee Hyuk-soo held to his convictions until the very end.
‘Lee Hyuk-soo is a good person.’
This was why Park Chan-woo considered Lee Hyuk-soo a ‘good person.’
Because he had the right convictions.
Because he never lost himself, even to the end.
That alone made him more than worthy of being called a ‘good person’ in a barren future.
That wasn’t all.
There was a decisive moment—one he could not speak of—why Park Chan-woo thought Lee Hyuk-soo was a ‘good person.’
‘…The only expedition member who climbed to the Dragon God’s Hall with no expectation of gain or loss.’
The last expedition of humanity.
The journey to face the Dragon God Sephiro at the Dragon God’s Hall.
Humanity, scattered, gathered its final strength for the arduous journey.
One hundred thousand expedition members.
But could people, already changed and selfish, truly come together for the lofty cause of humanity’s salvation?
Could individuals and groups speak with one voice?
Naturally, there were vested interests that transcended all that.
‘We didn’t climb to slay Sephiro.’
The premise was wrong from the start.
The reason the hundred thousand expedition members ascended the Dragon God’s Hall—
It wasn’t to slay.
Recalling the true goal of the expedition made him grind his teeth inside.
‘…We went to beg. To ask for mercy.’
From the start, everyone agreed that slaying Sephiro was impossible.
But Sephiro had once ‘saved’ tiny races.
If you caught Sephiro’s attention, or offered a worthy sacrifice, you might be protected as a slave or pet.
From then on, it became about who could bring the ‘sacrifice that would interest Sephiro’ most.
Those who could prepare the best offering thought they would lead humanity—a naive and foolish idea.
‘It was damn pathetic.’
Was it not wretched?
Was it not bitter?
To kneel in defeat without even truly fighting.
To climb the Dragon God’s Hall with great effort, only to kneel.
So, Park Chan-woo hid his true goal.
He sought to go to the past, even if he had to offer up the entire expedition as a sacrifice.
Ultimately, Park Chan-woo’s goal was not to hunt Sephiro either.
Who truly sought to ‘slay’ Sephiro?
Amazingly, only Lee Hyuk-soo.
That’s why.
Why he considered Lee Hyuk-soo a ‘good person.’
“By the way, did you get a class related to the Immortal King because you equipped the Immortal King’s set?”
After setting aside his thoughts, Park Chan-woo asked.
Lee Hyuk-soo, coming back to himself, nodded.
“…Classed up. To ‘Immortal King’s Beloved Disciple.'”
“Beloved Disciple? Don’t tell me, a hidden class?”
“That’s what they say.”
“…”
This time, Park Chan-woo was the one left speechless.
He’d only asked on a whim, but to hear a yes.
He himself had evolved his class to ‘Magic Swordsman’ with the Heart of Kankun and gained two ‘hidden traits,’ but strictly speaking, Magic Swordsman was not a hidden class.
In this world, ‘hidden’ refers to something related to ancient, unique beings.
Like the Immortal King.
Those overwhelmingly powerful but unseen by the world, who only observe from behind the veil.
They were seeking someone to inherit their name and worth.
In the past, Park Chan-woo had failed to become the Immortal King’s disciple.
That’s why he knew about the Immortal King.
‘As expected of Lee Hyuk-soo.’
Sword King Lee Hyuk-soo.
Even the Immortal King recognized this guy’s greatness.
But one question remained.
“Inheriting the name of the Immortal King should only be possible for the dead. Aren’t you alive?”
That Lee Hyuk-soo was a living human.
When the Immortal King rejected Park Chan-woo, he’d said something similar.
—The living cannot inherit the name of the dead. If you want to inherit my name, come after you die.
He was rejected outright.
Even after going through so much to find him.
Suddenly, Lee Hyuk-soo tilted his head.
“He just told me to do it.”
“…”
Wait. What?
…Did he reject me with a lie because my talent wasn’t good enough?
Just in case, Park Chan-woo asked again.
“Did you face the Immortal King when you classed up?”
“For a brief moment…”
“And he just told you to be his beloved disciple?”
He used the character for love (愛). Beloved disciple.
A disciple the master specially loves.
A relationship far surpassing that of an ordinary disciple.
And the proud Immortal King just said, ‘Go ahead’?
Lee Hyuk-soo blinked as if wondering what was wrong.
“That’s what he said. Told me not to even think of refusing—just to do it.”
“No test or anything?”
“Didn’t seem like there was any test.”
“Your talent must have really… really pleased him.”
He hated to admit it, but had to.
Lee Hyuk-soo’s talent.
The Immortal King excelled at using Sword Qi.
In terms of sword talent alone, Lee Hyuk-soo probably surpassed him.
When Park Chan-woo was a knight, he’d gone to be tested by the Immortal King.
Barely passed after much hardship, but didn’t win the Immortal King’s favor.
In the end, he was gently rejected.
‘And I believed that completely. Now I’m embarrassed.’
But Park Chan-woo had believed it completely.
That he couldn’t inherit the name because he was alive, not dead.
Looking back now, it was just a lack of talent.
If only he’d told him outright back then, he might have become a mage much sooner.
Fighting through the dizziness, Park Chan-woo said,
“Still, wielding the magic of the Immortal King should have been something else entirely.”
“He engraved my name on the gear. Thanks to that, I can use the King’s skills.”
He engraved your name on the equipment?
That meant being appointed as a successor in name and deed.
It was a way of making sure no other ancient being could claim him.
But there was a point to correct.
“They’re not skills, but magic. And at a very high level—unique magic.”
“…Skills and magic are different?”
“It’s a matter of perception. If you think of the magic you use as game skills, you’ll hit a wall quickly. But if you think of it as magic and follow the truth, there’ll be no limits.”
Words have power.
The smallest difference in thought or perception changes everything.
So it is with skills and magic.
When the Abyss struck, people awakened and gained certain skills.
If you think of the magic-like abilities as just game skills, magic never develops.
But if you treat it as the supernatural, as magic, and pursue the truth, magic naturally evolves.
Lee Hyuk-soo showed a half-believing expression.
“All that from just a difference in words…”
“One word changes everything.”
“Ah…”
At last, Lee Hyuk-soo nodded.
True.
Just a single word can change everything.
A single word can cause misunderstandings, or resolve debts.
Lee Hyuk-soo had often been misunderstood by words throughout life.
Because his intent was often delivered differently, he tried to speak as little as possible.
Such was the great and mysterious power of ‘words.’
Skill and magic.
Just calling them by different names creates a shift in perception.
The attitude itself changes.
Instead of a game-like skill you just use and forget, the difference from pursuing the truth while regarding it as magic—one that changes phenomena—is enormous.
That difference only grows over time, so a late realization can only be too late.
‘He really is the Prophet.’
Lee Hyuk-soo was finally certain.
The man before him was truly the Prophet.
A doppelganger could never give such subtle advice.
They simply couldn’t, even if they wanted to.
That was the depth of the Prophet’s wisdom and insight.
‘Magic. Everything I use is not just data-driven skills, but magic that follows the truth.’
And so, he found realization.
A difference of just one word.
But his entire way of thinking changed.
This realization was, in itself, magic.
Though everything proceeded and functioned as a game system, he should not let even his perception become the game.
If trapped in the game’s frame, he could never escape it.
Just as you can’t surpass the limits set by the creator if you only walk the path set by them.
— Lee Hyuk-soo. Do you really think I’ll clear the ‘second night’ by ordinary means?
He suddenly recalled the Prophet’s words.
Ordinary means—the path made by the creator. He would never follow that.
That’s why he could stand above the creator.
Without frames, without limits, he could create his own path.
Just as the magic the Prophet used was fundamentally different from other mages’.
‘Ah!’
Lee Hyuk-soo trembled.
He immediately closed his eyes.
It felt like breaking out of a shell that had trapped him.
Had he not witnessed Park Chan-woo’s eccentricities, he might never have felt this strongly.
He would not have listened to his advice.
But to Lee Hyuk-soo, the Prophet was special.
If the Prophet had not helped and stepped in, Lee Hyuk-soo’s life would have been filled with regret.
He could truly realize it because he accepted the advice sincerely.
And that small realization started as a ripple and soon came like a great wave.
As a result—
[You have attained the Seeker’s Realization.]
[Your disposition changes to ‘Pursuer of Truth.’]
[The ‘Skill List’ in your status window changes to ‘Available Magic.’]
[Your understanding and proficiency in all magic increases.]
[All magic effects increase by 10%.]
[All base stats increase by 3.]
[Your physical and magical abilities have harmonized.]
[The ‘Mana’ stat limit has been lifted.]
He broke through his limits.
Even if it wasn’t a big leap, he had certainly broken the frame.
The meaning of that one step was not small.
‘…He gets enlightenment from just a few words?’
Watching him, Park Chan-woo clicked his tongue.
Lee Hyuk-soo, with eyes closed, was absorbing his new understanding.
He wasn’t just skilled with the sword.
He possessed considerable magical talent, too.
A guy who’d lived his whole life wielding a sword could change his mindset from just a few words.
A change in perception is a change in worldview.
Breaking old ideas and expanding his world—such things bring great change.
The proof was in the density of the mana he felt now.
‘He’s broken the swordsman’s inherent limits.’
A swordsman’s mana is weak.
Because they prioritize physical strength, there’s usually a restriction.
They instinctively set that limit, greatly boosting their physical abilities.
But now, Lee Hyuk-soo had broken that restriction himself.
Just from a few words of advice, he shattered his own shell.
His physical and magical abilities began to harmonize.
Park Chan-woo shook his head.
He’d clearly underestimated him.
Sword King Lee Hyuk-soo.
He thought he only had talent with the sword.
But Lee Hyuk-soo’s talent—his true nature—was beyond imagination.
In a word—
‘This guy… he’s a monster.’
…A monster who might even have greater talent than Han Shin.
That was the true nature of the man called Lee Hyuk-soo.
(T/N: Yeah, I get what you mean. I’m not sure why the author’s writing like this, it feels too roundabout. Hopefully the writing quality improves.)