Level -99 Archmage - Chapter 43

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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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Chapter 43. The Strongest in the Human Realm
If one had to define the relationship between the Tyrant Im Changyeol and Park Chanwoo, it was “perfect strangers.”
They had never directly confronted each other, never clashed with each other’s forces—truly, not a single point of contact.
Im Changyeol operated exclusively in the shadows.
He reigned as sovereign of the Underground, controlling everything from behind the scenes.
He had focused on building his power rather than cultivating his own martial prowess.
He was in every respect the opposite of Park Chanwoo.
Yet this did not mean Im Changyeol’s personal martial strength was lacking.
‘The Invincible Tyrant, Master of Ten Thousand Weapons, the Battlefield Slaughterer.’
There was no weapon he could not wield, no opponent he could not kill.
They called him the Slaughterer because once he took up arms, he reduced the battlefield to ash.
With his mastery of countless weapons, it was said that even at his peak condition, he could stand as an equal to those who had achieved Level 99.
Taken together, all these stories pointed to a single conclusion.
‘The Strongest in the Human Realm.’
In truth, Im Changyeol was one of the people mentioned as the strongest in the Human Realm.
And Park Chanwoo was another.
The Human Realm.
That is, excluding the Celestial Realm where monsters like Han Shin and the Sword King Lee Hyeoksu made their home, there was no match among humans—pure unrivaled strength.
They did not rank among the Celestial Realm, yet Park Chanwoo acknowledged it.
‘They exist on a different plane of understanding when it comes to wielding weapons.’
Han Shin, the Sword King Lee Hyeoksu—both had reached the Ultimate Mastery of the blade, the apex itself.
The depth of understanding they possessed in their primary weapons was not something one could catch up to.
It was simply different.
Speaking strictly of the sword: Park Chanwoo was born human, while they were born lions or tigers, perhaps elephants or dragons.
How long he had wandered because he could not accept this difference.
Yet it was not that he could not wield a sword.
He wielded it well enough, certainly, but he had never transcended the wall.
His true talent lay in magic.
He had taken up magic late in life and earned the title “The First Blade Mage”—a title that felt like a curse to him.
But what of Im Changyeol?
‘… The rumors were not exaggerated.’
He was genuinely curious.
About the true strength of Im Changyeol, called like himself the strongest in the Human Realm.
To master every weapon meant, in other words, that one’s understanding was not deep.
But that seemed to be wrong.
‘Im Changyeol is a genius. A genius of killing unbounded by any weapon.’
To Im Changyeol, weapons were merely tools.
Tools for the hunt.
Whether it was a sword, an axe, a spear, or a bow—it made no difference.
With a monstrous instinct, he knew exactly how to handle his opponent. He had already grasped which weapon to use and precisely how to exploit every weakness.
‘I never expected him to have identified the weak points in Durability.’
The knowledge of Durability’s vulnerabilities came only later.
All equipment from the Abyss had Durability, and it maintained its current form as long as that Durability did not reach zero.
So people naturally assumed that until Durability reached zero, it would not break, and its destructive and defensive power would remain unchanged.
And those with exceptionally keen senses could detect the ‘cracks’ in equipment whose Durability had diminished.
‘I cannot do it.’
Unfortunately, Park Chanwoo did not possess that level of talent.
In fact, everyone capable of such perception belonged to the Celestial Realm.
In other words, Im Changyeol’s talent was of a level that could rival the monsters of the Celestial Realm.
Perhaps that was why.
Watching Kim Byunghan and Im Changyeol fight.
‘His blood was burning.’
… His heart raced and his blood burned hot.
The Sword King Lee Hyeoksu he had seen once before was still in the stage of growth.
But Im Changyeol’s talent had already bloomed.
The way to wield weapons, the way to kill, the way to hunt—he had achieved Perfect Mastery in all of it.
The extreme limit of pure skill.
Which was perhaps why he had grown stronger faster than anyone since the Abyss appeared.
“What are you thinking about?”
Im Changyeol’s eyes gleamed as he looked at Park Chanwoo.
From the moment Kim Byunghan fell until now, Park Chanwoo’s gaze remained utterly unmoved.
Not a flicker of surprise or fear.
He watched their clash with perfect detachment.
At the same time, Im Changyeol read the hunger burning in Park Chanwoo’s eyes.
‘This is absurd.’
That hunger was something called fighting spirit.
What made it absurd wasn’t mere desire to fight—it ran deeper than that.
‘He’s taking my measure.’
It was the look of someone trying to verify if Im Changyeol was real.
It bordered on scholarly curiosity masquerading as combative zeal.
The man called legend, the pinnacle of swordsmen since ancient days—he’d never formally studied martial arts, yet was regarded as a master of weapons.
Naturally, those who knew Im Changyeol wouldn’t look at him with such eyes.
He was unquestionably skilled beyond doubt.
Yet even watching him toy with Kim Byunghan, Park Chanwoo showed no satisfaction.
He wanted Im Changyeol to display something more formidable.
‘One of two things. Either he’s insane, or he’s genuine.’
True recognizes true.
Was Park Chanwoo a madman, or was he genuine?
Everything suggested the former, yet Im Changyeol found himself hoping for the latter.
“Can I pick any weapon from the box?”
Park Chanwoo gestured slowly toward the wooden crate.
Im Changyeol held his breath as he answered.
“…You can use weapons from the Abyss if you wish.”
“No. I’ll choose from the box.”
Besides, Park Chanwoo’s only weapon was the World Tree Staff.
There was no way to draw that here.
“Park Chanwoo. Don’t do anything foolish!”
Kim Byunghan cried out, clutching at his wounds.
His vision spun, but he couldn’t afford to show weakness.
Besides, no matter how formidable Park Chanwoo was, he was no match for Im Changyeol.
‘I deliberately exposed an opening. Im Changyeol is a true master.’
He’d fallen for an obvious feint.
He never even realized the opponent had engineered his carelessness.
Thoroughly played.
Yet even without falling for it, the outcome wouldn’t have changed.
He’d believed Level determined everything, equipment determined everything.
Until now, he’d never faced an opponent who transcended such conventional wisdom.
Im Changyeol was the first.
‘How could a man with such a low Level defeat someone like that?’
Kim Byunghan was certain Park Chanwoo hadn’t even broken through the First Threshold Level.
With low Level, no decent equipment, facing someone like Im Changyeol who seemed to have lived on the sword—what possible advantage could he have?
The Park Chanwoo he knew was merely an ordinary office worker.
There was no conceivable way Park Chanwoo could defeat Im Changyeol.
“I’ll use these.”
At last, Park Chanwoo withdrew his chosen weapons from the crate.
Im Changyeol’s eyebrows twitched at the sight.
“……Twin Hand Axes?”
He held two hand axes at once.
It was the sort of thing that might appear in films or television dramas.
Impressive in appearance, perhaps, but its practical utility was questionable.
Im Changyeol exhaled inwardly.
‘So he really is just mad.’
Beyond disappointment—it was pathetic.
In all his years, he’d never seen anyone dual-wield hand axes in actual combat.
He’d have to sever at least one of the man’s fingers.
That way, he’d never cause trouble again.
“Then…… let’s begin.”
Im Changyeol settled into his stance.
He closed the distance with deliberate steps.
He meant to end it swiftly, cleanly, and overwhelmingly.
First things first.
‘Left.’
From observing Park Chanwoo’s movements so far, he fought like a right-hander.
Im Changyeol moved quickly, his footwork precise, driving in toward the left flank.
He meant to thread the dagger cleanly under the armpit.
A sharp whisper cut through the air.
But Im Changyeol never found his mark.
Park Chanwoo wedged the dagger under the blade of his hand axe, then drove downward.
The moment Im Changyeol’s posture crumpled forward, Park Chanwoo hooked his leg.
‘This bastard……!’
Perfect timing, executed with a precision that nothing but sheer calculation could achieve.
Who in the world would imagine threading a dagger into that narrow V-shaped gap between the axe-head and the haft?
He avoided the trip and fall, rolling half his body away instead—but as if Park Chanwoo had foreseen even this, he twisted his torso and answered with an immediate cut from the hand axe in his right hand.
“Hgh—!”
The axe-head passed so close it grazed skin.
Any less flexibility and a chunk of flesh would have been cleaved away.
Im Changyeol tucked into a falling roll, then rose swiftly back to his feet.
“…….”
Just one exchange.
In that single moment of trading blows, he’d understood.
‘…This son of a bitch. He’s the real deal.’
Park Chanwoo was genuine.
Unlike Kim Byunghan, unlike anyone Im Changyeol could think to compare him with—a true master.
He’d never heard of anyone wielding a hand axe with that kind of mastery.
No, wait.
That wasn’t quite right either.
Im Changyeol corrected his thought.
‘He’s just a man who’s fought so many times, it’s in his bones.’
He moved thinking at least five steps ahead.
Moreover, five optimal steps.
In that brief window, he’d narrowed down every possible variation, streamlined them to their essence, and pursued the most efficient vector—all in an effort to ‘kill’ Im Changyeol.
A chill crept through his chest.
One more moment of carelessness and he’d be standing before his ancestors right now.
‘Hell. A subordinate? This man?’
Kim Byunghan had been mistaken.
This man could never serve beneath anyone.
Im Changyeol understood now, with perfect clarity, why he’d been looked at with that gaze—those eyes burning with ‘curiosity.’
‘All right then. Let me show you.’
Im Changyeol smiled.
His own competitive fire was roaring now.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this.
You see one move and you understand ten; you collide once and you know their true strength.
Then Im Changyeol’s smile faded.
His eyes turned cold as an abyss, and he settled into his stance once more.
“……Let’s do this properly.”
* * *
It races.
The heart races.
The world races.
And I am racing too.
Park Chanwoo laughed.
This sensation—the blood constricting in his veins.
Electric current sparking from his fingertips.
Every time cold metal struck cold metal, a shiver ran through him.
‘I’d forgotten.’
The despair of never reaching the pinnacle.
Park Chanwoo had once despaired of his own talent.
After that, when he’d turned to the path of the mage, he’d forgotten his own true nature.
‘At the beginning, I was a Berserker Warrior.’
My first class.
Park Chanwoo’s true nature was that of a Berserker Warrior.
Later he became a Berserker Hero, and after that advanced his class to Knight.
A dauntless warrior who crossed withered plains and feared no death!
He pulverized everything that stood in his way, reeking of sweat, fighting like a madman possessed.
He had lived a life utterly divorced from magic.
He never fretted over talent.
Without even the promise that he would see the next dawn, he pushed forward as if carving a path through an opaque future.
Back then, Park Chanwoo was a warrior and a pioneer.
‘This is a warrior’s fight.’
A tension he hadn’t felt in years.
The moment when tactics ceased to have meaning.
No flashy techniques, no deliberate movements.
It was a raw, primal brawl.
Park Chanwoo simply savored the fight itself.
Blood sprayed, flesh tore and was severed—he didn’t care.
This was how a Berserker Warrior fought.
《Your body is growing heavy.》
The system issued a warning.
But Park Chanwoo paid it no mind.
《Your stamina has reached its limit.》
His breath came ragged and his vision blurred.
Every cell in his body screamed.
Muscles pushed past their limit trembled violently out of control.
A frail, sickly frame.
Tiring more easily, reaching his limit faster—the curse was something he’d come to resent bitterly.
《Rest at once.》
《Pushing your body further risks entering a critical state.》
But it’s fine.
Such a curse could not stop him.
When had a Berserker Warrior ever taken care of himself?
Besides, his opponent was a worthy rival he hadn’t faced in years—one who set his heart racing.
One who ignited the warrior’s blood within him.
Park Chanwoo had slipped back into being the Berserker Warrior of those distant days.
“…You’re not in your right mind.”
Heh!
Im Changyeol laughed at the sight of Park Chanwoo.
Thirty-some years of living by the blade.
In all that time, he’d never seen anyone quite so unhinged.
Park Chanwoo was a Berserker.
A madman, and genuinely so.
He’d thought only he embodied both qualities.
‘This one’s something else.’
A kindred spirit he’d encountered for the first time in his life.

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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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