SSS-Class Sui**de Hunter - Chapter 73

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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 73. The Reaper (2)
2
Starvation.
What is starvation?
“…….”
A week into fasting.
“Mm.”
The first and second days were the worst. After the fourth day, the pain receded. The movement of my organs dulled. My thoughts grew sluggish. My very life itself had begun to fade, just a little.
If one compares human life to a river, the current had dwindled. Like a stream in a famine year, it was drying up, thread by thread.
Drought.
A quiet withering, an imperceptible fading. The current shrinking again and again, persisting until one day both the river of pain and the river of thought and the river of life itself run completely dry.
Was this what Starvation meant?
Was this the training the Heavenly Demon wanted from me?
“…No.”
I unfurled my crossed legs and stood.
“This isn’t it.”
I murmured quietly to myself.
“If I just sit still, it’ll all be for nothing.”
I drew my blade. In my mind’s eye, I traced the sword paths of the Demon Heaven Divine Art, and following that pattern, I swung the steel. Aimlessly at first.
-What are you doing?
“Exercise.”
Winter was bitter cold. I breathed in the frigid air. After seven days of drinking snow, perhaps that was why my breath seemed pale, like falling snow itself.
“I was wrong in my thinking. I’m a fool, really……. What the Heavenly Demon meant by Starvation isn’t simply ‘not eating.’ And it certainly isn’t sitting cross-legged in fasting meditation.”
After a week of stillness, the moment I moved my body, breath came short.
My muscles trembled. My throat tightened, constricted.
“Starvation means ‘wanting to eat, yet unable to.'”
It was clumsy swordplay.
But sweat poured forth—different from when I sat in silence. My body was coming alive. The amount of sweat flowing from my skin was perhaps identical to the volume of my life itself.
“For this past week, I’ve been thinking of a farmer. A starving farmer.”
What is starvation?
“Would any farmer refuse to work the fields because he’s hungry? Whether he’s hungry or not, whether he’s eaten or hasn’t, he must work. He works, but there is nothing to eat.”
Isn’t that starvation?
“He swings his hoe. He digs the earth. But it’s a famine year. Cursed times. No matter how hard he tries, the land yields no grain. Not a single seed.”
I swung my blade.
“Because there’s nothing left he can do…….”
And I closed my eyes.
The earth.
I pictured the land, parched and cracked.
“…That’s why he starves.”
A farmer brought his hoe down upon the desiccated soil. Thud! The earth crumbles into dust. Like an old biscuit breaking apart.
“It hasn’t rained in more than half a year.”
-…….
The reservoir ran dry. The village well had ceased to flow. Not a drop of water in the fields. At midday, an old man came to sit at the village entrance. Wordless. Not even moisture in the grandfather’s lined face.
“Because of the drought.”
The sun burns hot.
Some villagers had already abandoned their labor. They’d forsaken their fields. And once work was abandoned, once the workplace was left behind, there was little reason not to abandon the home itself. The villagers took their children and departed for the coast.
“But this farmer still hasn’t let go of the rope.”
-Why?
“Because the sea doesn’t seem like it would be different. Because he doesn’t know how to catch fish. A person must survive by means of theft that they’ve learned—and the farmer has only ever learned how to steal sustenance from the land. His father before him knew the same. And his father’s father. And on back again…….”
One day.
Two days.
Four days.
The farmer goes to his fields. Though it yields nothing, he arrives like going to work. When evening falls, he climbs the Back Mountain and strips the bark from such trees as can still be eaten.
“By now, even the tree bark is running out.”
The villagers had stripped it all.
Descending and turning to look back, the trees on the Back Mountain stood completely bare, white against the sky. From a distance, they resembled a birch forest.
Starvation was what made the world go white.
“But.”
The farmer swung his hoe against bare earth.
And I swung my blade into empty air.
“I can’t eat this bark either.”
He has a family.
“It’s been more than a week since I’ve had even bark to chew.”
He has children.
—And then?
Between one stroke of the pickaxe and the next, between one sword-cut and another, the Backhoe Spirit spoke.
—So what will you do?
“First, I’ll go to the well in the village.”
From the dry well, he draws up barely a handful of water in a bucket.
“I’ll boil the bark scraps in that water. Add some leaves and such… and cook it.”
The fresh, green smell of leaves.
The bitter smell of bark mingles with the steam and drifts up, sharp and sudden.
The farmer swallows hard.
‘Hunger.’
I swallow too.
‘I want to eat.’
I want to bite down on the bark and tear it free.
The bark turns sweet. The rind drinks in the scent of water and the fragrance of leaves. It must taste sweet. I want to bite it with my teeth and hold it in my mouth. A rich broth would seep out and run down. The smell of earth would come with it. Dark, caramel-colored food.
Bark was edible earth.
‘I want to eat.’
But I resist.
‘I have to give it to my children… Even this. I have to give it to them.’
The children whine. They cry.
The bark their father boiled. The bark he brought without eating himself, the children reject. They turn their heads away. They complain even as they eat it.
They knock the bowl over.
‘Ah.’
The farmer struck his child’s cheek without thinking.
As the farmer swung his arm, I swung my blade.
‘This isn’t me.’
The farmer turns his back on his children.
‘I’m not this kind of man.’
…I was never a man who hit his own children. I am not that kind of person. It’s only that this famine is so terrible, and it’s been so long since I’ve tasted proper food, that my nerves have grown sharp. I’ve become oversensitive. I’ve become too much…
‘My life was never like this.’
The farmer picks up the bark.
What is starvation?
Since the world opened, there have been countless famine years.
Each time, there were farmers, farmers, farmers without number.
There have been countless hungers.
“Fight while feeling hunger.”
Can starvation have a gesture?
“Every stroke of your blade must be a gesture born from starvation.”
Yes.
Starvation has a gesture.
“Recall the voice and groans of the starving, their gestures, their movements—all of it.”
That gesture was the farmer striking his own child’s cheek.
That gesture was the farmer rushing out of his house and casting the bark into the yard, discarding it.
That gesture was the farmer returning and pressing mud-stained bark into his children’s hands.
“Hold it in your mind. Plant it in your heart.”
Since the world opened, some farmers have struck their children; some have caressed their child’s cheek and whispered apologies. Some have beaten their children to death. There are farmers who lived until the next year, and farmers who died alongside their children.
Such was it, and such it will be.
“Make it a single resolve.”
No gesture existed that was not born from hunger.
“By this resolve.”
“Only by hunger shall you wield your blade.”
I swung my sword with the gesture of a hand that struck a child in anguish and bitterness.
I swung my sword with the gesture of casting bark to the ground, and thus casting away life itself.
I swung my sword with the gesture of returning to press the bark into my children’s hands once more.
“Then, and only then, does the Demon Heaven Divine Art reveal its true power.”
Demon Heaven Divine Art.
First form.
Starvation Flow Sword.
“…….”
I opened my eyes slowly.
The white daylight of the Snowy Plain had somehow transformed into pitch-black night.
My entire body was drenched in sweat. The moment the sweat soaked through me, hunger arrived—a ravenous, maddening hunger that gnawed at my insides like a creature with sharpened teeth, crunching and tearing at my organs with wet, viscous sounds.
‘This is hunger.’
It ached.
‘This is starvation.’
Demonic Art.
Nails that scratch at the world.
The cave walls were covered in gouges—as though a fierce windstorm had torn through. My blade strikes were etched clearly into the stone, and stalactites and stalagmites lay severed in places.
The stone walls and pillars had been cut clean by the blade.
Despite barely expending any Aura.
‘But… it’s still not enough.’
Just now, I had touched the edge of a divine technique.
I felt it unmistakably.
The sword path drawn in my mind, the Mental Image formed in my heart—the sensation of those two aligning, that feeling, had definitely brushed against my fingertips.
And because of that, I could tell.
“It’s still clumsy.”
The place my fingertips had barely touched.
It was merely the threshold, not the summit itself.
-Are you insane…….
The Backhoe Spirit looked at me with tired eyes.
“Why, what’s wrong? I’m training properly this time.”
-Properly? Those fools who train through depraved arts do it more properly than you.
The Backhoe Spirit sighed heavily.
-That’s why the ignorant are more frightening. You fool. You’re truly the only madman like this in the world. Your soul follows the righteous path, yet you’ve turned your Mental Method to demonic teachings. Good heavens.
“Ah, I don’t really know the martial terms yet. What’s wrong with that?”
-You ignorant bastard…….
The Backhoe Spirit muttered.
-This is so absurd, yet you don’t even realize it. I’m losing my mind.
“Explain it so I can understand, will you?”
-Simply put, an expert of the righteous path using Demonic Art. Or to be more precise—a righteous master who knows only Demonic Art. Zombie. Does this not strike you as bizarre?
“Mm.”
I raised my left hand and plugged my nose.
“Seems like it does block?”
-After starving for over a week, his mind is truly gone……. Or was it broken from the start……. What sin did I commit in my past life to be bound to such a lunatic…….
The Backhoe Spirit lamented.
-He makes me anxious for no reason. How in the world do I teach him my martial techniques? If I teach him the way I taught that old Marcus, it’ll all turn to ruin. What am I to do…….
Ah, I’m so hungry.
I want to eat Choco Pie.
That Choco Pie with the chocolate taste when you bite into it with your teeth, the one with the chewy white marshmallow inside. I want to slowly nibble on just one piece of Choco Pie while sipping warm milk with a soft slurp.
What is starvation?
As the master once said, starvation is Choco Pie.
Delicious and wholesome Choco Pie.
-…Hey, aren’t you thinking about something else right now?
“No? I’m pondering martial techniques.”
-Don’t lie. Your face says you’re thinking about something stupid.
Why does this fellow know me so well? Is he a stalker? When you think about it, a Backhoe Spirit is always a ghost trailing behind. In English, you’d call it a ghost stalker. Once I thought of it that way, my mood soured.
This irritating ghost stalker.
“Really. Truly. Did you die thinking everyone was deceiving you?”
-Then tell me. What were you pondering about martial techniques?
The stalker pressed me. The way he clung to details was pure stalker behavior. Despite his gorilla-sized frame. Go on and achieve enlightenment, you ghost gorilla stalker.
I composed my expression solemnly.
“I was thinking we should descend the mountain for a bit.”
-Descend? Why? Are you finally going to show the Heavenly Demon something?
“Nah.”
I waved my hand.
“I’ve only just reached the beginning of the Demon Heaven Divine Art. What’s the point of going back to the Heavenly Demon and dying now? All I’d get is a reaction like ‘Well, the kid does have some promise’ or something.”
-Hm? Then it doesn’t matter. Getting recognition is what counts.
“What do you mean, become? Nothing will become of it.”
I stepped out of the cave.
“When the Heavenly Demon looked down on me, saying I’d never truly known hunger, that I was someone who didn’t deserve to speak of starvation—do you know how much that stung? I’m the type to hold a grudge. Mere acknowledgment will never heal this wound.”
-This bastard’s in a foul mood…….
“The reaction I want is [astonishment].”
A startled face.
I want to see the Heavenly Demon’s expression of shock when he witnesses my blade.
“[Your talent overflows—no, it explodes beyond all measure! I failed to recognize you as my fated opportunity. It seems my eye slipped for a moment. Forgive me.]”
Mm.
Just imagining it makes me feel good.
At that moment, the Heavenly Demon’s face would be as sweet as chocolate.
“Don’t you think it’s a beautiful picture? You agree too, don’t you?”
-This irritating lunatic…….
I descended the Snowy Mountain and headed toward the Snowy Plain.
“When I deployed the Demon Heaven Divine Art just now, I realized something. I haven’t truly known hunger compared to the people of this age. I can imagine a farmer boiling tree bark, but I can’t quite picture exactly which bark, or how one would boil it properly. My imagination stops short of those details.”
Because I’ve never actually done it.
“The clearer my mental image, the more power my divine art yields. I learned the Demon Heaven Divine Art skill, yet my martial power remains weak—simply because my mental image is too rough. So…….”
I stopped in the snow field.
“From now on, I will fill in the gaps in my imagination.”
-What are you planning? Are you actually going to boil tree bark or something?
“No. There’s a much better way.”
I grinned.
“Hundred Ghosts Return to Life.”
Moonlight poured down. The snowy plain turned silver.
Suddenly a cloud eclipsed the moon. In the night sky it was merely a cloud, but across the snow field it became shadow. Creeping slowly. Like a serrated creature, the shadow bit the plain one piece at a time, devouring it.
The moon swallowed by shadow.
[Skill activation initiated.]
Moments later, the cloud retreated.
Yet the shadow that had fallen on the snowy plain did not disappear. Even under moonlight, the white expanse was silver no longer. As if a moon once devoured could never return, countless shadows lay draped across the snow field.
“My lord.”
One of the shadows opened its mouth.
“You summoned me?”
Agui dropped to one knee. Crunch. The snow compressed beneath her knee, emitting a soft sound. Behind her stood thousands of skeletons.
“Yes.”
I nodded.
“Agui, I have work for you.”
“Command me.”
“This is a world in ruin. All humans have become corpses and wandering spirits drifting through the nine heavens. I suppose it might resemble the Aikim Empire you once destroyed, more or less.”
…….
Agui bowed her head lower still.
“My order is simple. Disperse. Scatter and gather the starving dead.”
“The starving dead……you say?”
“Yes.”
I gazed out across the endless snowy night.
“Somewhere here there are villages, farmland. Find them. Search for corpses that died of hunger in those places and bring them here. The corpses will struggle and resist when moved, but you number over four thousand. Overwhelm them with sheer numbers.”
“How many.”
Agui spoke carefully.
“How many corpses shall I retrieve……?”
“One hundred and twelve.”
…….
Humans who carried the trauma of starvation.
I will learn their hunger.
When I have mastered all of their starvation.
Then at last I will draw near to the Heavenly Demon.
SSS-Rank Hunter Who Lives Only by Dying (Serialized)
Author │ Shin Noah
Publisher │ Kim Ju-hyung
Publishing House │ J Plus Media Co., Ltd.
Marketing │ Han Jae-hyuk
Address │ 204, 288 Digital-ro, Guro-gu, Seoul (Guro-dong, Daelung Post Tower 1st)
Email │ [email protected]
Website │ www.jayplemedia.com
© Shin Noah 2019
※This work is published by Jay Plus Media Co., Ltd. in accordance with a contract with the copyright holder. The contents may not be used in any form or by any means without permission from the company and author.
Violation of this restriction may result in criminal and civil legal liability.

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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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