Skill Copy (1)

“You’re back.”

“Yes, Master. I’ve returned.”

“Unpack and come straight to the training ground. You’ve eaten, right?”

“Yes, I ate before coming.”

“Good. I’ll give you five minutes.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Kang-hoo, who met the Celestial Assassin at the villa, went straight to his room and changed into comfortable clothes.

He expected the Celestial Assassin to mention the Cheongmyeong Detention Center or another significant topic, but nothing was said.

There’s no way he doesn’t know.

Since K keeps track of domestic affairs, he must have heard about the Cheongmyeong Detention Center.

Come to think of it, even K hadn’t brought up the topic of the Cheongmyeong Detention Center in front of Kang-hoo.

Perhaps it was out of respect for his privacy.

Or maybe it was a conscious choice not to bring it up unless Kang-hoo mentioned it first. It had been a major incident, after all.

Sssk. Ssssk. Sssk.

While changing his clothes,

Kang-hoo recalled the last question K had asked him. To be clear, he hadn’t answered.

From the moment he became possessed by Shin Kang-hoo, his fate was to be an enemy of the Jeonghwa Guild, and by extension, Jang Si-hwan.

But thinking about that fate quietly on his own and broadcasting it everywhere were two very different things.

He didn’t want to do something as foolish as branding himself as an enemy in front of his enemy.

What Kang-hoo wanted was for everyone but himself to be unable to predict his true intentions.

Of course, that meant people might not be able to trust him 100%, but he didn’t particularly mind.

He thought the longer he waited to show hostility toward Jang Si-hwan, the better.

Rather than a hunter loudly approaching a tiger with a gun from a distance…

…wasn’t an assassin silently closing in from behind more likely to succeed?

Kang-hoo intended to be the latter.

Eventually, Kang-hoo stepped into the training ground and noticed the increased number of fallen leaves, sensing the seasonal change.

Back in the south, the weather still felt warm.

But now that he was in the central-northern region where Ground Zero was located, it felt like winter had already arrived.

Nevertheless, Celestial Assassin was wearing only a single layer of clothing, sweating through his own form of meditation.

And Ju Haemi, like in the first training session, observed him quietly from a moderate distance.

Her pink blindfold today felt oddly cute—a stark contrast to her usually cold demeanor.

“Let’s start with the apple drill.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Begin.”

Crunch!

Celestial Assassin took a bite of an apple, marking the beginning of their training.

Kang-hoo approached the session with a different mindset than before.

He hadn’t forgotten the direction of emotions and teachings given to him in their last session.

Two minutes and fifty seconds.

He lasted 20 seconds longer than the previous training, but ultimately, he failed.

Though Kang-hoo was frustrated that he still couldn’t last a full five minutes, Celestial Assassin had a different reaction.

“You’ve gotten much better at layering pure killing intent over every attack with your emotions. You passed.”

“Passed, meaning?”

“If it’s out of 100, you scored 80. Seems like you gave it a lot of thought in a short time.”

“I’ve never taken your words lightly or neglected them.”

“You could’ve just bragged that you worked hard, but no, here comes your scholar-like response again…”

“Oof.”

Celestial Assassin pressed his toes into Kang-hoo’s side while he was resting.

Caught off guard, Kang-hoo reflexively flinched and squirmed in response to the ticklish sensation.

Maybe that’s why—

He clearly saw Ju Haemi, watching from afar, smile—plainly and unmistakably.

She soon returned to her usual expression, but the smile lingering at the edge of her lips couldn’t be hidden.

Celestial Assassin crouched down to meet Kang-hoo at eye level and continued speaking.

“Still, your emotions are like a jagged blade. You’ve more fragments to refine.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Trim away the stray branches. You can do it. It’s a matter of effort, and I believe you will.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“I’m glad your effort shows. If it had been just for show, you’d have spent tonight sleeping outside.”

“Can I… rest a bit more?”

“Rest well. You’re moving twice as much as before. Even if it’s just 20 seconds longer.”

Kang-hoo hadn’t noticed it himself, but from Celestial Assassin’s perspective, the change was clear.

He worried his offensive movements were lacking—but that was unfounded. They were more than enough.

Plop!

Celestial Assassin, now sitting across from him, took a handkerchief from his chest and wiped Kang-hoo’s face.

Kang-hoo was stunned by the unexpected gesture. Not even his parents had ever wiped his sweat like this.

Incidentally, Kang-hoo did have something to talk about besides training.

He had considered waiting a bit longer, but realized now or later wouldn’t make much difference.

Because whenever it was, Celestial Assassin’s response would probably be the same.

So Kang-hoo asked directly.

“Master, if you could pass down one skill to me completely, is there a skill you’d want to give me?”

At that moment, Celestial Assassin’s eyes gleamed. A question like that—how could it not be obvious?

“You brat. So you’ve got some skill for stealing abilities now, huh? Otherwise, you wouldn’t be saying this to my face.”

It must’ve been really obvious.

Truthfully, it was something Kang-hoo had been dying to say.

And he didn’t want to secretly steal his master’s skill either. He’d be found out eventually anyway.

Just as Kang-hoo was about to stumble into a poorly timed response, Celestial Assassin cut in first.

“I’ve known from the beginning that the reason for your growth and all the skills you’ve obtained stems from a very special ability.”

“……”

“That’s not luck. It’s something you earned because you had the qualifications and the fate for it. You deserve it.”

“Deserve it…”

“Yes, deserve it. I know you’re special. That’s why I took you as my disciple. Just as a disciple wants a good master, a master also naturally wants a good disciple, right?”

“You’re absolutely right.”

“So I can show you everything I have. What’s there to hide? If I did, I wouldn’t be a true master. Sometimes, a master and disciple share more secrets than family.”

Those words made Kang-hoo feel a twinge of guilt toward Celestial Assassin.

It was true—they could share so many secrets, but there were still things he couldn’t share.

However, one thing he could say for sure:

His respect and affection for his master, Celestial Assassin, were genuine. It wasn’t calculation or pretense—it was real.

Celestial Assassin stood and spoke.

“I’ll show you. Watch carefully. Let’s see which skill might stir your true nature.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“No need for thanks. If I die and my skills remain with you, I’ll live on forever. Heh heh heh.”

At those words, Kang-hoo briefly reflected on what this world truly meant to him.

Can it really be called possession? Can it be brushed off as simply stepping into a novel’s world?

No.

This was life itself.

It just so happened to be draped in the world of the novel he wrote, but everything within it was real and alive.

There was one future he desperately wanted to know.

A part never covered in the original.

He wanted to know the life and end of Celestial Assassin. When and why had he died?

If it was a sad ending, he didn’t want to know. He wished for him to live a long life. Parting with his master would be too painful.

“Ptah! Ptah!”

The Celestial Assassin, now ready, spat into both hands and rolled his shoulders.

“No master is as kind as me, letting their disciple freely watch their skills like this.”

“I agree completely, Master.”

“Now, take in each one with your eyes.”

What the Celestial Assassin demonstrated first was a skill Kang-hoo had already seen before—Dark Storm Slash.

When fully manifested, it formed a sword aura resembling an hourglass.

This aura continued advancing forward and never stopped until it lost momentum.

“You can use both mana and dark energy together. The more dark energy you add, the more it boosts propulsion.”

“Ah…”

“It’s a great skill for crushing enemies with brute force. And because it destabilizes nearby mana flow, it’s a nightmare for illusion casters.”

For example, Kang-hoo’s illusion spells or Shadow Step. He had already experienced the power of Dark Storm Slash.

“You brat… your eyes are saying ‘Just show me the next skill already.’ This one is called Dark Storm Slash. The next is called Soul Pulse Echo.”

“Soul Pulse Echo.”

“Right. It means to destroy the soul and bounce the spirit. You’ll have to pay close attention to how it feels.”

The Celestial Assassin immediately activated Soul Pulse Echo.

Kang-hoo wondered how it would be implemented, and then a black shadow shot from the Celestial Assassin and pierced him.

It pierced him five times in total. It wasn’t something he could dodge or block.

At that moment—

“…?”

Kang-hoo saw it.

The rooftop railing where he used to sit at night to clear his mind when he lived as the original author.

Not just him—Celestial Assassin was sitting there too. And he even spoke beside him.

“You can see into someone’s inner world like this. But in reverse, you might also get swallowed by the other.”

The Infernus Talisman’s Eye of Hell didn’t activate.

At first, Kang-hoo didn’t understand why, but he soon realized the situation.

The Eye of Hell reacts to mental domination, designed to counter and retaliate.

But Soul Pulse Echo had pulled fragments of both his and Celestial Assassin’s souls out of their bodies.

In other words, instead of their souls clashing inside Kang-hoo’s body,

They were meeting and resonating in a third space, outside their physical vessels.

In a positive case, it was spiritual communion. In a negative one, it would become spiritual destruction and instability.

“You must’ve been lonely.”

Celestial Assassin, sitting beside him, gently patted Kang-hoo’s shoulder and said softly.

Then, the rooftop scene collapsed, and they returned to the training ground.

Celestial Assassin didn’t comment further on what he had seen and moved on immediately.

He might have thought it was not the life of the “author” he’d seen, but rather a different past of “Shin Kang-hoo,” so Kang-hoo didn’t ask for an explanation either and let it pass.

Celestial Assassin, now prepared for the next skill, crouched deeply.

Dark energy surged from his entire body, and like branching vines, a net of dark energy spread out in all directions.

It was like watching a plant’s roots grow in fast-forward—everything happened in an instant.

Before long, the dark net had expanded enough to engulf not only Kang-hoo but also the surrounding trees.

It was so full of pure darkness that just looking at it sent chills down one’s spine.

After completing the manifestation, Celestial Assassin calmly spoke the name of the third skill.

“This is Heavenly Net—Kill.”