Chapter 38

“So, what did you do before becoming a mercenary?”

Sharn asked me that while we were drinking vodka after lunch. We’d arrived at Pralet before noon, soaked by rain after cleaning up camp early in the morning. The caravan had reserved this inn ahead of time, but even now I hadn’t seen the two people who were still riding in the wagons. Back at departure, Sharn and I had been stationed on opposite sides for guard duty, so he hadn’t had a chance to speak with me until now.

It was only after we had unpacked at the inn, been assigned rooms, bathed, and finished our meal that he finally asked.

“Traveler.”

I answered simply, lifting the large mug of vodka and downing it. The thick brown drink foamed heavily and always left my stomach bloated after a gulp. Yet that same heaviness seemed to loosen with another swig, so I couldn’t stop bringing it back to my lips. There were three mugs on the table right now. Horse-face hadn’t spoken a word since yesterday’s fight—just sat there in silence, quietly drinking. More than half his mug was already gone, and judging from the hard set of his face, he was wrestling with something inside.

Sharn, on the other hand, hadn’t touched his drink. His glass looked exactly the same as when it was first served. He sat there watching me with his gaunt, deathlike face, fingers interlaced and resting on the table. He looked like a skeleton more than a man. Our eyes met.

In a fight, you couldn’t afford to miss the smallest movement from your opponent. Inexperienced fighters swung wildly. Veterans with refined skills paid attention to even the tiniest twitch, because one slip could decide victory or defeat. The higher the level, the sharper the awareness. And among all signs, the eyes gave away the most. I could see hunger and doubt flickering in Sharn’s gaze. When facing an enemy, you first read their trajectory of movement. Watch closely enough, and you’d notice how the eyes moved before the body did. Most people unconsciously attacked where they looked—nine times out of ten, their strike followed their gaze.

I took another gulp of vodka, letting the cool burn ease the bloat, and waited for his next words. The first taste was bitter, but the bitterness vanished quickly in the mouth, replaced by the refreshing relief that kept me drinking.

“Alright, I’ll believe you. But then, how did you stop the movement?”

Sharn finally spoke. His voice carried no mockery—just genuine curiosity. He was asking about the roar, the technique I’d used earlier.

“It’s just a technique.”

I answered, even as the heaviness swelled again in my gut. It didn’t bother me; part of me even looked forward to the relief that would follow. I glanced down at my mug, at the thick gray foam slowly fading away. It reminded me of life itself—something bound to vanish eventually, like bubbles or breath.

I didn’t know exactly how long my lifespan was. If I wasn’t killed, I felt I could live a long time. The mana from the Dragon Heart in my middle dantian, and the vast internal energy in my lower dantian, would surely extend it. Before death came for me, I had to become the absolute ruler of this continent. But at this level of skill, I was still far from it. I had to climb higher. From now on it was the realm of realization, yet it remained beyond my grasp. No—that wasn’t quite right. I had at least begun to sense the realm of the Heart Sword.

There were many ways to reach the realm of the Heart Sword. Everyone’s path to it differed. As for me, I had chosen to keep a sharp blade within my heart. After all, the name itself meant “sword of the heart.”

Beyond the Realm of Insight lay the Realm of Transformation, and then the Realm of the Infinite. After that came the Realm of Life and Death. From the knowledge I had inherited from Jang Dubaek—now fully my own—I understood that martial arts reached their limit at the Realm of Life and Death. Anything higher was unknown to me. There was nothing in my head beyond that point.

Still, perhaps it was only because I hadn’t approached that realm yet, but I couldn’t help feeling there had to be something beyond even life and death. Whether such a stage existed or not, I believed the path of martial cultivation had no end. That much was certain.

What struck me as strange was how these stages had only come to me after meeting the Sage. Before that, I hadn’t known anything beyond the Heart Sword. But once I had resolved my doubts, returned to the house in the mountains, and cultivating, the knowledge had suddenly surfaced.

I couldn’t explain why. I’d searched through all the knowledge in my head but found no clear reason. Stranger still, I didn’t even know what stages existed in this continent’s established system. Surely there was something above Sword Master, but I had no idea what it was called. It wasn’t something I needed to know, but once curiosity took root, I couldn’t help but wonder. I’d have to look into it someday.

“When you shout using mana, you can certainly make someone flinch. But stopping all movement completely, like you did? That’s impossible.”

Sharn’s voice was thick with doubt. I cooled the heaviness in my stomach with another gulp of vodka, letting the drink soothe me as it slid down my throat.

“It’s a matter of control.”

“Control of mana, you mean?”

I nodded lightly at his question, still playing with the mug. I wasn’t ready to let go of the refreshing burn just yet.

“One more vodka.”

Horse-face suddenly barked an order. He must have finished his last glass without me noticing.

“Here you go.”

A young girl set the mug on our table with a bright smile before leaving again. Horse-face snatched it up and drank it down in quick gulps. Many of the merchants at nearby tables were also drinking vodka, but none of them downed it like water the way he did. I toyed with my own glass a moment longer before sliding a finger through the handle and lifting it. The half-empty weight felt lighter than before.

“Damn it!”

Horse-face suddenly shouted, his voice raw with tangled emotions. He clenched his fist hard enough to crack his knuckles, clearly unable to shake his agitation. I wondered what had gotten into him, but as the vodka eased the heaviness in my stomach, the question slipped away as well.

Sharn didn’t seem to care either. He sat there with his head tilted, eyes boring into the table as though lost in thought. He was probably mulling over what I’d said about control. He didn’t know, but storing mana and storing internal energy were completely different. Internal energy circulated and absorbed through the body’s meridians, while the mana accumulation method created by Jang Dubaek and Rizard—and now spread across the continent—absorbed mana through the whole body into the dantian. The difference made their methods of control entirely separate.

Put simply, handling internal energy was more delicate and far more demanding than handling mana. In my opinion, anyone who had never trained exclusively in mana control would never be able to use the Lion’s Roar. Just filling a cry with mana or internal energy didn’t make it the Lion’s Roar. The shout had to carry the force to subjugate demons, and that depended entirely on control.

Without it, even a voice infused with great mana or inner strength was nothing more than a loud noise. At best, it might startle an opponent, just as Sharn had said. Pour in enough power and you could make them freeze for a moment, but only briefly. That was fundamentally different from the Lion’s Roar, both in nature and in destructive force.

“Kh…”

Just as I was about to take another sip, I set my vodka back on the table when a groan slipped from Horse-face. Less than half the drink remained, but I decided I’d had enough. From now on, it seemed likely that I’d leave behind things like strength, traces, and a name—just as surely as the lingering taste of vodka.

Leaving behind Horse-face—no, Sunwar—with his twisted expression, and Sharn with his head bowed deep in thought, I rose from my seat.

“How dare you try to deceive me.”

The sharp, restrained voice stopped me just as I stepped toward the stairs leading to the upper floor. Sharn.

Deceive him?

“What do you mean?”

I turned back and asked.

“You expect me to believe that trick of yours can be done with mere mana control? Don’t make me laugh, brat.”

He gave a dry chuckle as he said it, his tone dripping with arrogance. A trick, he called it.

“I only told you the truth.”

“The truth? Don’t be ridiculous. If it were real, there’s no way I wouldn’t have mastered it by now.”

So that was it—he was one of those types. Living in the delusion that he was already great, refusing to acknowledge anything he couldn’t understand or accomplish. People like that never progressed further. He’d made it this far on sheer talent and arrogance, but beyond this point? He’d never advance.

“I let it pass since you’re ranked A, but now I see—you must’ve faked your way into it. And you, a young brat, dare to talk down to me? Do it again, and I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

The corner of his mouth curled upward, twisting his face into a mocking smile. If he had seen me fight last night, he would have known I’d surpassed A-rank. Was this jealousy? Resentment over not being able to use the Lion’s Roar himself?

Empty threats.

“Go ahead and try.”

I met his glare for a moment before turning and heading for the stairs again. His first impression hadn’t been this bad. I had expected some arrogance, sure—but not overflowing to this degree.

“Mercenary, please. Restrain yourself.”

Medsav’s mild, coaxing voice drifted from behind me. I didn’t turn to look; the situation was obvious. He was trying to calm Sharn down. Strangely enough, the moment Medsav spoke, Sharn’s presence faded. The violent energy that had been surging from him vanished quickly, as if doused in water.

I wondered why for a moment, but then dismissed it. Sharn wasn’t worth my attention.

From my perspective, he was the kind of opponent I could crush with a single finger if I wanted. Someone that weak wasn’t worth listening to, especially when he threatened lives.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder—had he always been like this? Or was it something that had twisted him over time?

I pushed the idle thoughts aside and walked down the corridor.