The Archmage’s Swordsmanship Is Too Strong - Chapter 107

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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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107
Chapter 107. An Accounting of Debt
***
The highway stretching toward G City, left behind by the Spiral Tower of Red Lotus, lay silent as the veins of a corpse.
The midnight air was sharp rather than merely cold, and the monotonous friction of tires grinding against asphalt was the only sound that filled the silence within the car.
On the dashboard, the screen of a smartphone connected via Bluetooth flickered. Soon, the thick, damp voice of Ryu Gang-jin flowed through the vehicle’s speakers.
[I’ve got good news and bad news.]
“Just tell me.”
A brief silence hung on the other end of the line. It was an intentional one—a habit of the old operative, gauging the other’s reaction and seizing the conversational upper hand.
Soon, that distinctive rasping laugh cut through the speaker’s static, filling the car. Typical Ryu Gang-jin style.
Not a single bureaucrat who had absorbed the physiology of politics down to his bones would naively follow the prescribed order of such empty preambles.
[Hong Tae-hwa. There were murder charges against him.]
“……”
[According to the investigation, we found three instances of Explosion Spells applied to Awakened Ones.]
[One of them was a lower-ranking member of the same Red Blood Alliance.]
[He suffered severe injuries and was left abandoned, ultimately dying from blood loss.]
The knuckles of my hand gripping the steering wheel turned white. It was a result within the expected range.
A nineteen-year-old Explosion Fiend—possessed by a Berserker’s Evil Spirit, thrashing about like a mad dog in the arena.
To hope that not a single drop of blood would stain the hands of that creature, who rolled about consumed by crimson Mana and stripped of reason, was close to luxury.
“Is that the good news.”
A hollow laugh slipped through.
[I understand exactly how you normally regard me.]
Ryu Gang-jin paused there to steady his breathing. Beyond the crackling noise came the faint friction sound of thick stacks of papers being turned.
[The autopsy results of the deceased member, the on-site verification, and Tae-hwa’s statement all cross-referenced.]
[In conclusion, it’s been perfectly proven that Hong Tae-hwa was in a state of profound diminishment of capacity due to an extreme Brainwashing Spell.]
“……”
[Same with the female Awakened One who died.]
[Tae-hwa’s spell delivered the explosive strike, but it wasn’t him who cut off her breath.]
[Knife wounds were the cause of death. There was secondary injury involved.]
Streetlights flickering past the window cast regular shadows onto the glass.
In the boundary between light and darkness that blinked at steady intervals, I fixed my gaze for a moment on the taillights of the car ahead, their pattern intricate.
“How can you be certain? The evidence seemed insufficient.”
[Isn’t there a talented person on hand?]
‘Lee Min-young.’
Her name surfaced in my mind. A unique trait that recreates truth: Projection.
Lucifugus yields only the memories of the dead at the cost of considerable risk, but Lee Min-young’s Projection does not.
That overwhelming ability to forcibly extract fragments of the past and manifest them before one’s eyes.
Without her power’s intervention, the causal chains of this complex murder case could not have been pinned down in such a short span of time.
The fact that Ryu Gang-jin had not directly mentioned her name but circled around it instead.
It meant that Lee Min-young had used her trait covertly, stepping outside the Central Audit Team’s official investigation channels.
Ryu Gang-jin, having received my request, moved decisively and dangerously.
[A state of profound diminishment of capacity brought on by Brainwashing and Sorcery is applied far more flexibly than the standard of ordinary criminal law.]
[According to the Awakened Ones Special Law, the punishment that will be handed down to Hong Tae-hwa is effectively nothing.]
[Self-defense and victim status hold simultaneously.]
Then it was time for the bad news to take the stage. I heard Ryu Gang-jin clearing his voice.
[But here’s the thing.]
His tone noticeably dropped. Playfulness had drained away, leaving only something damp and heavy.
[He insists he did all of it himself.]
“……”
[No matter how much we persuade him by laying out the Projection data, it does no good.]
[He says he’s the one who tore them to death with explosions, that he’s a monster who has no right to live in this world, and he just wails on about it.]
[The kid’s broken down to his very bottom.]
[It seems the braking mechanism of his mind shattered along with the Brainwashing coming undone.]
The moment the voice beyond the speaker struck my ears, my vision blurred, focus drifting beyond the empty highway asphalt.
A sharp pain flickered between my brows.
[He even begged me to lock him up here for life. Or to kill him instead.]
“I see.”
My own voice sounded parched even to my ears. A mechanical response drained of all emotion.
But Ryu Gang-jin did not continue.
***
Memory strikes without warning.
Gwanghwamun Plaza. The sky from that day when the evil dragon Zephyros’s avatar had stained Seoul’s heavens with blood wavered before my eyes.
The catastrophe brought spiritual corruption before any physical destruction.
When crimson fog swept across the plaza, the defensive line of the Guardians Guild—humanity’s last bastion—crumbled not from without, but from within, utterly and catastrophically.
A hell-scape where vision twisted and the distinction between ally and enemy was erased.
A priest who had cried out the name of God wept tears of blood as he raised a heavy mace, and crushed his comrade’s skull like a watermelon split open by a hammer—the same comrade he had stood back-to-back with just yesterday.
That crazed impact still rang in my ears. The dull crack of bone shattering. The sound of flesh splattering across the floor.
A pyromancer stripped of reason had driven a torrent of flames into the barracks of the allied healing unit behind him.
Comrades charring to blackened husks without even the breath to scream.
Those same holy hands that had mended torn flesh now throttled the throat of a fallen knight, laughing like a madman.
When, in that chaotic carnage, the few who had barely survived finally clawed their way back to sanity—
‘I did it. I tore them apart and killed them. Please, I beg you, strike off my head.’
I had to hear that terrible chorus of despair ring down through my very bones.
How far the human mind collapses when freed from brainwashing and corruption, forced to face in full clarity the atrocities their own hands have committed.
I had already witnessed it in the battlefields of my past life, seen it to the point of nausea.
For them, the cruelest punishment was not death, but to live on forever, remembering their guilt with a clean and lucid mind.
Hong Tae-hwa, released from the Mana Choker. That refusal to forgive himself.
Ryu Gang-jin’s reason for calling at this ungodly hour came into perfect focus alongside that blood-soaked memory.
He had been searching for a specialist to dispose of the bomb that was Hong Tae-hwa.
“So.”
I spoke curtly, my eyes fixed on the dashed line dividing the lanes. My throat felt raw each time I swallowed.
“What is it you need me to do?”
A short, brisk laugh burst from the receiver—that particular kind of breath-laden sound that comes with the release of tension.
[Talking with you sends shivers down my spine, I tell you.]
[Whether it’s quick instinct or you’re looking ahead, I can’t say.]
“Debts paid quickly are debts forgotten cleanly. No point dragging them out—you’ll only accrue interest.”
[A bit disappointing, I’ll grant you. But since you’re coming at it this way, I’ll lay my cards on the table without hesitation.]
Even that rueful sigh was a meticulously calculated performance.
With those few words, he had drawn the word “debt” from my own lips first, subtly neutralizing his own sense of obligation while simultaneously nailing me into the position of a debtor who could not refuse.
The crafty work of an old fox.
[I’d like you to meet Tae-hwa once.]
When I had butchered the Red Blood Alliance in the wreckage of the Incubation-type Gate and severed Hong Tae-hwa’s leash.
I had called Ryu Gang-jin and handed over the man’s custody to be “safely sealed away”—a one-sided subcontracting with no conditions attached, no compensation offered.
At the time, Ryu Gang-jin had simply accepted the bomb without comment or hesitation.
He had mobilized the resources of the Central Audit Team to bury the incident and shouldered the political risk of securing Hong Tae-hwa’s safety.
I never imagined it would come back as a bill like this.
Debts always tighten their noose at the most awkward moment, in the most impossible form to refuse.
Since I myself had declared I would repay it, there was now no exit left to slink through.
“Understood.”
A wave of exhaustion threatened to seal my eyes shut, but I clenched my jaw and forced it down.
“I’ll head over within a few days.”
[Much obliged. Get some rest, then. Oh, and the consultation fee for this meeting—we’ll settle that separately later.]
After a brief goodbye, the call ended.
Silence descended in the car. I pressed the accelerator, building speed. The landscape outside the window blurred into long lines trailing behind.
***
Having scraped the Mana Core of my body down to its dregs at the Spiral Tower of Red Lotus, the core inside me had stiffened like a wrung-out rag.
Residual mana flowing through my veins pricked my muscles like needles.
I needed to get home and rest.
Now that I thought about it, this was my first time back in ages.
Fluorescent light from the underground parking lot poured down onto my car’s gleaming body. As the engine died, its heavy rumble faded, leaving only a strange ringing in my ears.
‘Same as always.’
I stepped into the private elevator and saw my reflection in the mirror. A face drained of color, eyes streaked with blood. It was exactly how I had looked before the Regression, wandering from battlefield to battlefield.
The penthouse atop the highest floor of the city’s premier mixed-use complex in G City—a fortune spent to keep my mother and sister Kim Min-seo safely protected.
To me, it was less a home than a fortress meticulously engineered for security.
The electronic lock opened with a soft mechanical hum, and as I stepped into the entrance, the subtle woody scent of premium diffuser wrapped around my nostrils.
The putrid stench of undead decay and the bitter copper reek of blood that had seeped deep into my body and outer clothes from days of combat created a jarring, almost nauseating contrast with the artificial comfort of this space.
I stood motionless in the entrance like a marble sculpture.
I stepped into the living room.
A vast expanse that the real estate agent had praised dozens of times over as “ultra-luxurious” during the contract signing.
When I’d first moved in, that sprawling marble floor had felt so vast I didn’t know what to fill it with, and I had felt only emptiness.
But now was different.
An enormous Italian leather sofa—sourced from who knew where—dominated the center of the room, while an expensive electronic keyboard that had never once produced a proper melody sat by the window.
A handful of abstract paintings by unknown artists, as if transplanted wholesale from a gallery, densely filled the wall space.
It was cozy. And utterly, perfectly safe.
Within this fortress, layered with physical Barriers and magical Concealment Spells three times over, no threat from the outside world could reach us.
And yet, for some reason, my feet pressing against the smooth marble floor throbbed unbearably.
My skin was itchy and uncomfortable, as if I were wearing clothes that didn’t fit.
“What the hell is all this.”
A short mutter escaped me as I stared at the scattered delivery boxes of unknown origin and torn packaging scattered across the living room.
“Oh, Kim Do-jin. When did you get here?”
The dragging sound of slippers on the floor came from the hallway.
A woman emerged, wearing a white short-sleeved t-shirt with a sagging neckline and short dolphin shorts, her disheveled hair bundled in her fist as she shuffled along. My sister, Kim Min-seo.
It was just before dawn, that moment when the urban skyline grows faintly blue.
An ordinary office worker would be frantically scrambling to get ready for commute, yet her face bore only the traces of sleep—she hadn’t even washed yet, fresh from tumbling around in bed.
“You didn’t go in to work?”
I asked, peeling off my coat and draping it over the sofa’s armrest. It landed with a dull thud.
“Ah, well… Today’s a personal day off. I’m feeling kind of tingly, you know? It’s just the right time to rest.”
“A day off? You’re not going in to the company at all, are you? You haven’t resigned, have you?”
“I just stepped out! That rigid, obstinate editorial director—I can’t even talk to him anymore. I refuse to breathe the same air as people who don’t understand a writer’s soul.”
Kim Min-seo muttered irritably as she yanked open the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water.
“You’re insane. Kicking away such a good job with your own two feet?”
“Hey, don’t worry. This is the age of one-person enterprises and content creators, isn’t it? I’ve thought it through. I’m already preparing some visionary business ideas, so just get ready to invest.”
Watching her stand with her chest puffed out as she downed the entire bottle, I let out a deep sigh and clicked my tongue.
“That’s incredible. I should’ve seen it coming when you cashed out all those stocks I gave you for investment and bought a bag instead. Now you’re throwing away your job and bumming around unemployed. What will Mother say?”
“I appreciate it, but lay off the brutal honesty a little. I’m still the eldest daughter of this household, you know. I have my pride. And Mom already knows.”
“If you want to keep that pride, get out there and move out quickly.”
“Heh-heh, no way. Why would I leave a place this nice, comfortable, and safe? Is it a crime to get some mileage out of my brother?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh, Kim Do-jin, you’re the worst.”
Kim Min-seo huffed indignantly and flung herself onto the living room sofa.
The springs let out a cry of protest, but she paid no mind, hunting for the remote and flipping through channels.
Beyond the massive floor-to-ceiling window, the city’s dawn was gradually growing brighter. The ceiling was absurdly high.
When I lifted my gaze upward, the aftereffects of Mana depletion from the Spiral Tower crashed over me like a wave. The blood vessels near my temples throbbed with needle-like jabs.
My entire body was screaming at me to shut down and collapse, to sleep immediately. My muscles felt heavy as lead, my mind fogged as if trapped in mist.
But the neural network in my head pulled taut in the opposite direction, endlessly calculating the next step.
Noticing something off in my complexion, Kim Min-seo perched herself on the edge of the sofa and covertly studied my expression.
“Hey, have you heard the rumor about that new AI chipset development that runs on a Mana Core base? They’re saying the computation speed is 50 times faster than existing silicon. The tech people are absolutely losing their minds.”
I slowly closed my tired eyes. Behind my eyelids, afterimages blazed like flames.
“Already happened? Faster than I expected.”
“Huh? You already knew about it? This is just underground gossip circulating quietly. For a civil servant, your information network is pretty good?”
“There are ways to know.”
“Looks like you’ve got your sources. Is it the Guild people gossiping, or something?”
There was no need to explain the future Time Series to my sister. The memories from before Regression—they were both my blessing and my cruelest curse.
I leaned deeply into the soft backrest, eyes still closed.
I slowly extended my right arm toward empty air, felt the atmosphere slipping between my fingers, then let it drop.
‘Mana Stone Computation Chipset.’
The figure of 50 times that had reached even Min-seo’s ears was still only half the story leaking out from beyond the market.
A conservative promotional number that tech brokers had trimmed down to suit investors’ appetites. The true efficiency sleeping beneath that figure was far more dangerous and far more coveted.
In the past, before Regression, it was a revolution that changed the world.
Before that technology with its enormous potential saw the light of day, I had known with perfect precision the exact timing of commercialization and when the stock would skyrocket.
But my hands back then were utterly powerless.
I’d stepped into a cursed variant Gate by accident, my organs ruptured and bones crushed, forcing me to lie on a sickbed for months as if dead.
I could only helplessly watch as hundreds of billions in capital evaporated into thin air, as those who seized the opportunity sounded their victory bells. A bitter, acrid memory of loss.
That memory of failure and regret burrowed into my mind, then was washed away by the cold rationality of the present. I slowly opened my eyes again.
In my refocused gaze lay a cool, steely certainty.
I am no longer the defeated man from the past, lying in a sickbed awaiting death.
That version of me was too late.
I knew but could not reach. I saw but could not stop. I had no strength to claim the opportunity, no capital to seize the future.
But now, it is different.
To prevent collapse requires more than merely a blade to swing.
There exists a blunt instrument more cruel than a blade that cleaves monsters, more massive than a siege hammer that shatters city walls.
Technology. And capital.
Only with those two can I wedge my will into the great gears that turn the world.
To move people, to build organizations, to hasten or delay the hour of catastrophe that looms ahead.
The only power to catch what will crumble before it falls, to save those whose fate is death.
This time, I won’t let it slip away.

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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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