Level -99 Archmage - Chapter 147

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 147. The Awakening
It was thrilling to anticipate.
Just how much ‘pleasure’ would the legendary nine-tailed fox truly bring?
And yet, facing Park Chan-woo, Aurum could only tilt his head in puzzlement.
‘His momentum is thinner than I expected.’
One might ordinarily say his momentum was weak, but Park Chan-woo’s was as faint and wavering as heat shimmer.
As if something hidden had been forced into the open.
But that wasn’t the only oddity.
‘The balance is off. Terribly off.’
His physical balance was profoundly wrong.
Aurum had spent centuries honing himself.
He had transcended countless walls, shattered barriers, and arrived at understanding.
‘Everything exists within balance.’
A body that loses balance, tipping toward one extreme, inevitably collapses.
In the end, it can only strike against its own ceiling.
But this creature—this nine-tailed fox—was different.
Aurum’s gaze swept across Park Chan-woo’s entire frame.
“Tell me—is your Pure Stat fixed at 1?”
Hearing this, Park Chan-woo was inwardly startled.
Until now, no one had discerned his condition at a glance.
‘…Not like Han Shin, who possesses an ability like the Mind’s Eye.’
He didn’t even seem to carry any special eyes or observation magic.
That distinctive sensation of being ‘seen through’ wasn’t there at all.
The flow of Mana was quiet.
Like a stream flowing peacefully beside him.
He had arrived at his conclusion purely through direct observation.
Aurum continued speaking.
“Normally, you wouldn’t be able to move your body properly. You’ve reinforced yourself crudely with Additional Stats. That’s why your balance is twisted. Hmm, indeed.”
In that moment, Park Chan-woo doubted his own ears.
He had never been read so precisely.
And by mere observation at that.
…Now he understood.
Why Han Shin and the other masters had been so terrified of a confrontation with Aurum.
Why they trembled in fear, saying they never wanted to fight again.
“Impure strength inevitably hits its limit. As your Level rises, the gap between Additional Stat and Pure Stat will only widen. You will never transcend that wall. I thought you were a nine-tailed fox, but you are no different from the spirits I command.”
Aurum was certain of it.
This creature was not a nine-tailed fox at all.
He was closer to a spirit.
The spirits he commanded had evolved in precisely this manner.
Because they were beings of the spirit realm, their Pure Stats were fixed, yet through endless battles with Aurum, they had accumulated Additional Stats and evolved.
But they hit a ceiling and could not grow further.
Because their strength was impure—lacking balance.
Park Chan-woo shrugged his shoulders.
“Are you finished saying what you wanted to say?”
“You forced yourself to match my level, but it’s still impure strength—not truly yours. My interest has died.”
Aurum clicked his tongue and exhaled a small sigh.
Only moments before, he had rejoiced that an opponent capable of unnerving him had appeared.
But the rival standing before him now was contemptible.
And so, his interest had withered.
He couldn’t even summon the will to reach out and end this.
If one were to sum up pure numbers alone, they would be roughly equal.
But that strength was not his own.
It was not something he had achieved and earned himself.
A counterfeit, crudely force-fitted together.
He had wondered how this creature could command Divine Beasts and wield Mana approaching Divine Power…….
Whoosh!
He swept his hand lightly through the air.
A dense mass of Mana took shape in Aurum’s palm and hurtled toward Park Chan-woo.
Sword Aura, Sword Force—the next stage beyond them.
The Sword Orb.
A compressed form of Mana in its purest state.
An embodiment of pure technique—something that impure strength could never block!
‘Die.’
Not worth soiling his hands on this one.
Since the boy couldn’t block it anyway, he might as well have his throat cut and perish.
That was the moment.
Just before the Sword Orb severed Park Chan-woo’s throat.
Clang!
A heavy, metallic report.
Rumble-rumble-rumble!
The Sword Orb was deflected away.
It careened across the ground, toppling roughly a dozen trees in its wake.
“…Ah, ho.”
For the first time, a glimmer of interest flickered across Aurum’s eyes.
He had blocked it with the Holy Sword.
Not a perfect block—a thin line of blood had opened across his neck—but his Super Regeneration had sealed it in an instant.
Still, regeneration was beneath Aurum’s notice.
“You possess understanding of the Sword.”
The fact that he could block a Sword Orb meant he truly knew the Sword.
A mere Mage, or those who wielded powers not their own, could never deflect a Sword Orb.
A Sword Orb is pure Mana condensed to impossibly high density, then fixed in form and released.
It rotates with manic force, spawning ever greater destructive power.
Park Chan-woo had just severed that rotation with his blade.
He had driven his sword through the gaps in the Mana’s structure and bounced it away.
This was no mere matter of quick reflexes.
‘He knows the Sword.’
That dormant interest stirred back to life within him.
Aurum could tell from a single stance, from the way the boy wielded the Holy Sword, what manner of swordsman he faced.
This one understood the Sword in its purest form.
He was someone who had trained at the extremes, walking the line between life and death.
Not a callus marred his hands, yet that made it all the more remarkable.
Whoosh!
Aurum shifted into stance.
Raising the Spirit Sword.
Rumble!
He drove his foot into the earth.
Dust erupted. In that instant, Aurum vanished from sight.
A heartbeat later—and he was already inches from Park Chan-woo’s face.
Screeeee!
…It held.
This time he had aimed squarely for the throat.
‘How far can he block?’
Curiosity kindled in him.
Which would come first—him landing ten blows, or the boy’s throat being slit?
The latter, naturally.
‘…This is amusing.’
This one was more entertaining than he’d bargained for.
* * *
Blade against blade, they danced.
By the thinnest margin—barely a paper’s width—Park Chan-woo turned aside Aurum’s strike.
He stood now at the precipice between life and death.
The razor-sharp edges closing in, the technical precision of each movement—it was a tier entirely removed from anyone he had faced before.
Valhalla’s warriors?
The Conqueror Kankun?
‘Aurum is leagues beyond them.’
Their Levels might be higher, but their Understanding of the Sword and technical mastery could never match Aurum’s.
The way he walked, the way he ran, every aspect of how he held and wielded the blade flowed like water.
Though his swordplay appeared wild and unstructured at first glance, when viewed as a whole, every movement linked together in a single, unbroken line.
‘A wall.’
…He felt it—a wall pressing down upon him.
The wall that Park Chan-woo of the past could never breach.
The Sword King Yi Hyeok-soo, the Hegemon Im Chang-yeol, and the brilliant talent that Han Shin had displayed!
Aurum possessed it as well.
No… Aurum’s sword did not stem from talent.
He had transcended it through sheer will.
“Your sword lacks something, I must say.”
After roughly a hundred exchanges.
Aurum stepped back and furrowed his brow.
It was interesting, yet something felt incomplete.
“Did you perhaps give up?”
“…Give up what?”
“Give up when you were at the brink of crossing the wall.”
……
Park Chan-woo did not answer.
Because Aurum was right.
His talent was insufficient. He lacked the capacity to catch up with the “true” ones.
His talent lay in “magic.”
Only he could read the ripples of Mana, after all.
By any measure, his greatest talent was not the sword but magic.
Yet.
“Was it time that you lacked? Or did you think yourself without talent?”
……
“Both? Fool.”
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Aurum clicked his tongue openly.
Because he understood fully the reason for that incompleteness.
“The time to cross the wall can be shortened. Moreover, you possess the most perfect talent for the sword. It seems you did not know.”
“…I have talent for the sword?”
“What do you think talent for the sword means? Precise strikes? Sense of balance? The ability to channel Mana into your blade? All wrong.”
……
“Concentration, composure, perseverance. You possess all three.”
Upon hearing those words, Park Chan-woo inwardly tilted his head.
Isn’t that just the basics?
But Aurum was sincere.
With each exchange of blades, Aurum found himself marveling at Park Chan-woo’s transcendent focus.
His ability to respond with composure, even the patience to allow his opponent into his domain—all of it was far from ordinary.
He had far surpassed the level possessed by ordinary swordsmen.
In those fleeting moments where sword met sword, how many could think and move in sync with Park Chan-woo?
Most would simply block and strike by instinct alone.
Thus, it was a shame.
He could have crossed the wall, yet he gave up before doing so.
Aurum spoke.
“The problem is that you possess those three qualities so perfectly that you could not cross the wall. You think far too much when you wield your sword.”
Think too much?
That was why he could not cross the wall?
It made no sense to him whatsoever.
Seeing Park Chan-woo’s confusion, Aurum smiled.
“Go faster. Fast enough that you cannot think at all.”
* * *
Fast.
Gradually, Aurum’s sword accelerated.
‘Intricate.’
Had it been merely fast, responding would not have been difficult.
The problem was that it was both intricate and swift.
The path of Aurum’s blade resembled a spider’s web.
It was entirely different from his previous swordplay, where one line would connect to form the complete picture.
It was truly chaotic.
He tried to find and understand some rule, some conclusion, but it was impossible.
He was simply swinging in Thoughtlessness, without mind or form.
…What kind of sword technique is this.
Can this even be called swordsmanship?
Yi Hyeok-soo, Im Chang-yeol, Han Shin—all of them had wielded their blades with a single purpose: to reach the conclusion of the opponent’s death.
There was form. There were rules.
But with Aurum, there was none of that.
Aurum’s sword held none of those things.
‘Just swinging it.’
He’d never encountered a sword like this before.
Even a complete novice fresh to the blade wouldn’t swing it this way.
Even the Drunken Sword used by someone staggering under wine’s weight carried intent.
The Sword Path scattered wildly, without reason or pattern.
Rational thought and defense couldn’t stop it.
He had no choice but to parry thoughtlessly, surrendering entirely to instinct.
Could he do it?
‘I’ve never tried.’
To leave nothing behind, to let everything flow as it came.
Yet he had never once deliberately emptied his mind this way.
Especially not while wielding a blade.
Instead, he had always won through conscious focus and calculated strategy.
At first, that’s what he’d attributed his talent for swordsmanship to.
Now, for the first time, he understood: too much thinking might keep him trapped behind a wall he couldn’t breach.
It was also the first time anyone had offered him advice in this way.
‘If I don’t change, I’ll die.’
Of course, Aurum wasn’t merely offering counsel.
A single moment of lost focus meant death.
Aurum’s Murderous Intent was genuine.
There was no mercy in those hands.
This was why Han Shin and the other masters had grown sick of him.
Aurum pointed out the opponent’s weaknesses, gave them no time to understand or adapt, then crushed them utterly.
What a cruel thing this was.
To die aware of your own insufficiency.
Park Chan-woo could only endure, his endless wounds mended again and again by Super Regeneration.
Without it, he would have died long before a hundred exchanges.
Was it even possible to achieve Thoughtlessness in this state?
‘I’ll empty myself.’
He decided. He would try.
Just once, to empty himself completely.
Even if it meant death, he would try it once.
Yet countless thoughts still tangled and interfered, pulling at him.
Park Chan-woo closed his eyes entirely.
Then thoughts crashed over him like a tidal wave, even more than before.
He erased them. Then erased again.
As though he’d decided to become a complete fool.
Relying only on the sword, he tried to become the sword itself.
Park Chan-woo no longer existed here.
‘I am the sword.’
Nothing but the sword.
Park Chan-woo erased himself.
He eliminated thought itself.
At last, he became the sword.
Unseeing, unhearing, unthinking.
Time’s passage slipped from his awareness.
Park Chan-woo sank deeper into that state.
How long did it last?
Ding!
《You have gained Awakening.》
《You have completed ‘Understanding of the Sword’.》
《Your Awakening as a swordsman becomes pronounced.》
《Your attack power’s ratio according to physical stats increases by 10%.》
《You have mastered ‘Arahan’s’ teachings.》
《’Arahan’s Basic Sword Technique’ has been created!》

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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