The Archmage’s Swordsmanship Is Too Strong - Chapter 116

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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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116
Episode 116. Son Ho-sung and Park Seo-hui
***
In the world of the past, Son Ho-sung was dead.
It was not a mere disappearance with no confirmation of his survival, nor an uncertain obituary that circulated only as rumor when contact was lost.
It happened when he was a second-year student in the Department of Supernatural Engineering at Korea University—during a summer field training session in the Third Safe Zone near Yeongwol, Gangwon Province.
Moreover, it had been a tranquil training ground with a ‘Green Grade’ approval from both the Management Bureau and the Department of Education.
But an unannounced mutated Gate Break had transformed the peaceful forest into hell, and I—present at the site as his senior in the department—witnessed it all.
I watched how the pack of Grey Wolves that poured through the poorly maintained perimeter burst through the panicked students’ bodies.
Son Ho-sung was in the thick of that bedlam.
I still remember vividly that fleeting instant—his thigh muscles shredded by the beast’s teeth, rolling across the ground unable even to scream.
The monster’s claws tore through his ribcage without mercy. The dull, sickening crunch of shattering bone accompanied a spray of blood that darkened the dry earth.
After the chaos was contained, what I found was not an intact body.
Where the beasts had licked their way past lay only unrecognizable scraps of red flesh and shattered bone fragments scattered across the ground.
Even before his portrait at the funeral hall, I could not confirm what remained of his final face.
Inside the sealed coffin lay only a handful of hastily collected blood-clotted remnants that could barely be called traces of my junior.
Yet now, with even the stench of death erased, he stood alive and breathing directly before my eyes, waving his hand in greeting.
The deep indigo-tinged black robe that symbolized the Academy. The silver badge engraved on his chest proved he was no mere apprentice.
A researcher with actual authority, directing the novice researchers with sharp commands. His vibrant voice rippled through the air and struck my eardrums.
‘What changed?’
I drew a long breath. The living Son Ho-sung moving before my eyes kept overlapping with the corpse in my memory.
I had to piece together the scattered clues to understand what had rewritten his fate. Somewhere in this worldline where he survived must lie a Fracture in Causality that I had overlooked.
‘Is it even possible?’
The point at which I shattered the Regression Mana Stone and reversed time was the tail end of my twenties—already graduated from university, already grinding through the muck as a low-grade Hunter.
In other words, at that past point of ‘his second-year training’—long before my regression—there existed no physical variable through which I could have intervened.
There was no possibility that I had saved him, nor that I had prevented the Gate Break itself.
Could the erasure of Kang Tae-yoon’s existence have triggered a butterfly effect?
The answer was no. Kang Tae-yoon had no connection whatsoever to Korea University’s Department of Supernatural Engineering.
Even if he had been wiped from the world, there was no magical causality linking that erasure to a change in the probability of a specific Gate Break in Gangwon or to Son Ho-sung’s reversal of fortune.
Moreover, even during my Academy years long before my regression—where I had buried myself as a scholar—the name Son Ho-sung appeared nowhere in that vast ivory tower’s records.
He had been a dead man, and the dead are not recorded.
Then the conclusion converged in only one direction.
Before my regression, the gears of this worldline were already turning on an orbit entirely different from the worn past I had known.
A vast and fatal misalignment—one I had never perceived—must lie beneath the foundation of this world.
“Do you know him?”
Jung Se-hui, now holding the registration key, approached and asked. Her gaze remained fixed on Son Ho-sung’s receding figure.
“An alumnus. A junior by two years.”
I answered while staring into the deep darkness of the western corridor where Son Ho-sung had vanished.
I did not look away until his shadow disappeared completely around the corner at the end of the hall.
“You seemed quite close, though? Just now, when he saw you—he seemed overjoyed.”
“……That was true.”
“But not now? You seemed to keep your distance somehow.”
Her light question stirred up the gritty sediment that had been sinking to the very depths of my reason.
Heat kindled in a corner of my chest. My mouth had gone dry; I ran my tongue across my lips once.
Regression.
Behind that grand and violent blessing of living a second life, of reforging the trajectory of ruin, lurked such savage side effects—ones that seized you by the collar without warning.
It was a cruel imbalance born of time lag.
I wore the young body of my late twenties, but the rings of my soul had long since crossed into my late thirties.
An Archmage’s soul, layered with the blood and screams of countless comrades and the record of desperate defeat.
My mother, my sister Kim Min-seo, the war dog Bae Hyun-gyeom, and just now, Son Ho-sung waving his hand with a smile.
To the people of this worldline, I am at best a son they met yesterday, a senior alumnus whose face they saw a few months ago, or perhaps a capable chief attendant.
But to me, they are different.
Ten years—a bloody severing.
Indeed, most of them had died before my eyes in the final stretch of those ten years, torn by beast’s claws or caught in Mana explosions, meeting gruesome ends.
Yet the ghastly afterimage of their deaths still burned vividly in my mind, while they stood breathing normally before me, offering ordinary smiles.
The terrible cognitive dissonance that occurs when the warmth of the dead is converted into the voice of the living.
It felt like a scalpel scraping against the dura mater of my brain.
For all my boasted mastery of reason and castration of emotion, maintaining perfect composure before the unexpected vitality of ‘those who should have died’ was still beyond me.
I was still unaccustomed to this life, still unfamiliar with it. This brutal miracle of reversing ruin was my first time, after all.
“Close.”
I relaxed my grip on the fist that had been clenched in my pocket. As the rigid tension dissolved, crescent indentations from my nails bloomed sharp and clear across my palm.
“A junior I was very close to.”
***
“Wow…… this place is really something. One building like this is insane. The smell of money just radiates off it, doesn’t it?”
Inside the private elevator leading to the accommodation wing, Jung Se-hui gazed down at the Academy’s sprawling campus beyond the transparent glass wall, awe tumbling from her lips.
As the elevator rose, the Academy’s enormous campus unfolded before us in its entirety.
Her reaction was no exaggeration. The Academy’s main building had been sculpted with utterly impeccable, colorless precision.
Immaculate white marble that tolerated not a speck of dust, harmonized with premium grey alloy whose tone shifted mysteriously according to light refraction.
It conveyed not the warmth of a comfortable lodging, but rather the cold, refined oppressiveness of standing inside a futuristic monumental spacecraft.
Yet what caught my eye in that overwhelming symphony of white was merely the product of pathological perfectionism and arrogance run amok.
Mages are fundamentally pathologically sensitive to the grain of Mana.
In particular, those creatures who dwelled in the ivory tower that was the Academy were savagely obsessed with air circulation and atmospheric Mana concentration.
They had concealed hundreds of high-purity Pure Mana Stone Circulators throughout the marble floors beneath the main building and in the ceiling recesses.
Those mysterious silver particles now glimmering so beautifully before Se-hui’s eyes—they were no simple architectural decorative lighting.
It was merely the phenomenon of Mana Dust, the unfiltered residue expelled from the relentlessly spinning circulators, scattering under the artificial light source.
And they had even calculated the refractive index of marble and the wavelength of illumination to make that revolting magical waste gleam with elegance.
Back when I’d been rotting away as an Academy researcher, the reason I’d suffered hallucinations and migraines every night was precisely this artificial, violent air circulation system—the reason I’d contracted Mana Sensitivity Syndrome.
That synthetic Mana lodged deep in the lungs was like microscopic needles piercing the respiratory tract.
“It’s really impressive. The air itself feels so refreshing, somehow. It’s a completely different world from Seoul.”
“It feels that way at first.”
I kept my gaze fixed on the floor indicator as I continued. With each ascending number, a pressure of Mana far sharper than mere barometric change wrapped around my entire body.
“Spend just one year confined in this place, and it’ll start looking like a suffocating locked ward. When you realize those beautiful silver particles are gnawing through your lungs.”
Se-hui, missing the cynicism in my words, jutted out her lip and turned her gaze away. With practiced ease, she shrugged and fixed her eyes once more beyond the glass.
Ding.
The elevator glided to a smooth stop and the doors slid open.
The top floor of the main building—the VIP-exclusive accommodation wing.
If I recalled the lobby orientation correctly, only these two levels had been designated for VIP use, with merely four enormous suites per floor.
But the moment I stepped into the corridor, the senses that had climbed to the 9th Circle before my Regression read the structural contradictions in the space.
The circuit of Mana flowing along the walls, the ceiling height, and the vibrational frequencies of the space—this floor was never designed for lodging.
If my past memories were accurate, this sector had been the Academy’s exclusive seminar room of highest security classification, accessible only to the senior elders—those who had reached at least the 6th Circle rank.
A sanctuary where Mana concentration was most stable and isolation from the outside world was absolute.
‘Those fussy old academics opened up their own sanctuary as temporary lodging.’
The corner of my mouth twisted upward. A laugh nearly escaped.
The Academy’s cheap capitalist true face had been laid bare entirely—converting even their sanctuary, their pride and joy, into a hostel to curry favor with the massive external capital and power brokers flowing in during the symposium.
We reached the largest suite at the end of the corridor, the entrance to our lodging.
And before that suite’s door.
Two muscular men in black suits, with faces that promised violence, stood blocking the entrance with arms crossed like sentries.
‘Invictus.’
A vile entanglement of fate. My brow narrowed imperceptibly at the sight of garbage that kept disgustingly intertwining itself with my life.
One armed Invictus Hunter stepped forward with a jut of his chin.
Towering height, a roughly shaved scalp, and those characteristic arrogant, delinquent eyes. He raked us over with a chewed lip.
“Wait. Let me verify. Where are you coming from? This is an unauthorized—— uh?”
The man’s pupils fixed on my face, and in that instant his expression went stupidly blank.
I was a face he recognized.
On the train ride back from Paju. That same Skinhead Hunter who’d occupied my seat without permission in the first-class cabin, spouted off aggressive challenges, and then fled like a dog chased away by Vice-Captain Lee Ji-su.
He’d clearly placed me just as precisely. The menacing muscles of his face began trembling like aspen leaves.
“Yes, I’m Jung Se-hui, CEO of Taesong Energy. Here’s my access pass.”
Se-hui, oblivious to the thug’s frozen expression, thrust out her VIP access badge and ID with assured confidence. Her voice was crisp and unbothered.
“Ah…… yes, yes. Taesong, Taesong Energy…….”
The Skinhead’s voice cracked like a goat’s bleat.
Without so much as glancing at Se-hui’s face, he took the ID with both hands deferentially and started stammering.
Even Invictus wouldn’t dare treat the youngest daughter of Taesong Energy—capital incarnate—carelessly.
“Your Vice-Captain isn’t around. Lee Ji-su—you know, that guy.”
I stared past the thug’s shoulder and tossed out the words with studied indifference.
“……What?”
The Skinhead’s shoulders jerked reflexively at my voice. Then, in the next instant, he shot me a glare, venting suppressed grievance as he lifted his head.
For a moment, that competitive fire native to Hunters flared up—but it didn’t last.
His gaze snagged, just before it could reach my face, on the gold foil name tag of Taesong Energy pinned to my left chest.
“…… The, the Vice-Captain……”
The venom drained from his eyes with pathetic ease. In its place: servility.
“I’ve been assigned to the main escort duty at the Grand Lecture Hall where the general assembly is being held. I’ll be handling the perimeter security for the VIP accommodation sector here……”
Clearly, within that shallow mind of his, the three letters ‘VIP’ embossed on my name tag and the shadow of Taesong Energy had become shackles of considerable weight.
The killing intent from the train was completely forgotten now, replaced by trembling that was almost pitiful to watch. It was the typical physiology of a mercenary—fearing the power of capital far more than the strength of human will.
“Hey, what are you doing! Don’t you see the director’s luggage? Move it now!”
Another Invictus hunter standing beside him flicked the back of the skinhead’s skull, spurring him on with sharp words.
“Ah……! Yes, my apologies! I’ll take it! Excuse me!”
The skinhead hastily bent his waist ninety degrees and snatched up both Jung Se-hui’s massive carry-on and my carbon fiber luggage in one motion.
“Oh, thank you. Invictus really is considerate.”
Jung Se-hui offered her thanks with casual grace and walked ahead, accepting his escort.
The skinhead followed behind, his head hung low, cold sweat dripping down his face as he bore our luggage.
I had no intention of abusing the miracle of Regression for petty power plays or revenge, but occasionally this sort of capitalistic and mercenary poetic justice wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
***
“Listen! If you present that garbage on the podium at the conference, you’re finished! Don’t you really understand how reckless this is?!”
It was the moment we were about to open the door to our assigned room at the end of the accommodation corridor. A sharp male voice shattered the silence.
“If you’re so worried, then back off. I’m going to do it, so why do you keep trying to stop me? I don’t care—I’m doing this alone, so get out of my way.”
“You know how I feel about you normally—so why are you acting like this?!”
“How do you feel about me? I don’t care how you feel about me, and I’m fine with it, so move. Besides, this paper—I pulled all the data myself and wrote it myself without your help. You have no right to weigh in on it.”
“Park Seo-hui!!”
Beyond the corner of the corridor, a man and woman clashed with raw emotion, their voices ringing out sharply.
The words flowing along the walls were laced with frost-like coldness and suppressed fury.
“Oh, what’s this? I thought it would be quiet with all these refined folks gathered, but are you two having a lover’s quarrel? The Academy certainly burns hot when it comes to love.”
Jung Se-hui’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as she began to crane her neck toward the corner where the voices came from.
Her instinctive voyeur nature had awakened.
“Get inside. Now.”
I pushed her back somewhat roughly and shoved her into the room.
“Why! Watching couples fight is the most entertaining thing in the world! Can’t I watch for just a moment?”
“No. Eavesdropping on someone’s private life is terribly rude. And they might not even be a couple.”
“Really, how would you know if they’re a couple or not? You’re such a boring person, honestly. Fine, fine, I’m going inside.”
Jung Se-hui pouted and disappeared into the room. I gestured to the skinhead carrying the luggage, having him toss the carry-ons deep into the room.
Then I hurried to pull the door closed.
The reason I was so desperately trying to block the view.
It wasn’t simply out of respect for someone else’s privacy.
It was because the voices of that man and woman arguing beyond the corridor were far too familiar and too revolting to my ears—a frequency I wished to forget.
It was like fragments of a past I wanted to erase flying back as sharp shards.
The worst reunion I’d most wanted to avoid, yet ultimately could not escape.
“……Do-jin……?”
Click.
In the moment I was closing the door completely, the woman rounding the corner stopped in her tracks, her gaze landing precisely on my face.

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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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