The Archmage’s Swordsmanship Is Too Strong - Chapter 39

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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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39
Episode 39. Disguise Tactics
***
“In-Tangle.”
The incantation, spoken sharply as though etched into thin air, sent vibrations through the atmosphere.
The cracks in the pavement split open unnaturally, and from within, vine-like tendrils saturated with crimson mana surged upward in serpentine forms.
It took less than a second to bind the limbs of the unconscious thugs sprawled across the ground.
The tough fibrous strands of the plants constricted their wrists and ankles, and the thorned stems burrowed into their skin, injecting trace amounts of paralytic toxin.
Before they could even feel the pain, they were bound to the utility pole as tightly as mummies.
As the surge of mana subsided, the vines hardened like stone, becoming shackles that no external force could ever break.
I pulled out my smartphone from my cargo pants pocket. My eyes, reflected across the screen’s surface, looked a shade darker than usual.
I pressed the speed dial, and after a brief tone, the call connected.
“Ability Management Team. Location: Jung-ang-ro 4-gil, back alley near an abandoned building. Three suspects apprehended—current offenders violating drug control laws and assault with special circumstances. Two civilian victims of unknown identity also present. Requesting immediate handoff.”
[Understood. We’ll dispatch the narcotics division from the relevant precinct and a Class 1 emergency vehicle from the Association immediately.]
[Please preserve the scene!]
Tension colored the dispatcher’s voice. I ended the call without responding.
There was nothing more to extract from these pieces of garbage anyway.
The information they’d blurted out in terror—tears and snot streaming down their faces—had already been refined into data in my mind.
It was cleanest to hand off the cleanup to official channels. Private retaliation had served its purpose once the information was secured.
I pocketed the smartphone and turned, at which point Jung Se-hee, who had been hiding behind the utility pole and observing the situation, nervously approached me.
Her eyes trembled finely, as though she couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed.
“What… what on earth did you do to take them all down in one go?”
Her voice quavered slightly. Her gaze swept across my entire frame, a mixture of shock, disgust, and instinctive dread.
“Are you some kind of torture mage who cuts people up for a living? I saw you dripping down your pants earlier—it wasn’t pretty. Can people really make their eyes that terrifying?”
“I did something similar, that’s all.”
I answered flatly and unlocked the smartphone I’d taken from one of them. Fingerprint recognition was simple enough—just a matter of pressing the stiffened finger against the sensor.
Jung Se-hee made a sharp intake of breath at the sight of me handling the corpse’s finger roughly, taking a step or two backward.
‘A torture mage,’ she’d said.
Those hellish hours when I’d torn the soul of an undead sorcerer—a being that transcended bodily pain—to shreds, forcibly synchronizing it with the wavelength of the eternal purgatorial flames. Even a high-ranking demon with nothing but bone and skin left hadn’t lasted three days before spilling the troop deployment map.
That grueling pressure replayed itself here, refined to the barest thread. It was not something a street thug could have endured.
I typed the destination the thug had screamed into the search bar.
[Club Arabian]
A blood-red pin dropped at the center of the screen.
Deep in the Old Downtown, barely three blocks from the heart of the Entertainment District. The rumor that ninety percent of the Boosters bleeding through City G flowed from this place seemed to be fact.
For the first time, I felt as though I’d grasped the tail of the labyrinth. At the far end of a long alley, neon signs flickered, calling to me.
“Let’s go.”
I hurled the thug’s smartphone to the pavement, crushed it beneath my heel, and kicked it into a storm drain.
But before I could take a step, Jung Se-hee gasped and blocked my path, examining me from head to toe. Her eyes carried a blatant look of bewilderment.
“Wait, wait. You’re not seriously going like that, are you? In that state?”
“Is there a problem?”
At my question, Jung Se-hee pressed her palms to her temples and exhaled deeply. She looked at me as though I were the most incomprehensible creature on earth.
“Ugh… you’ve never been clubbing, have you? No, scratch that—I’m absolutely certain you haven’t. I mean, judging by your face alone, you look like someone who’s spent their entire life waving around paperwork and swords.
But that’s not the issue.”
“Since when does clubbing require previous experience?”
Club life had never been a benchmark for mine. But Jung Se-hee let out a hollow laugh, pointing a finger at my chest.
“Look, look at yourself. The way you talk? You sound like a completely stubborn old fuddy-duddy. Look at what you’re wearing right now. Is this a funeral procession? If you show up dressed like that, you won’t even make it past the entrance—you’ll get an Entry Rejection.”
“What’s an Entry Rejection?”
“Door Cut! When the guards bounce you at the entrance! Your style is exactly the type they hate most.”
The exasperated explanation flew at me. Me, turned away at the door? It was infuriating, but a warning about tactical failure couldn’t be ignored.
I paused and examined my appearance and condition objectively.
A dark-toned coat falling without a single wrinkle.
Stiff, rigid clothing that would suit a government bureaucrat or a strategy division executive at a private firm.
It was certainly far removed from the garish colors flooding this street.
Ever since before my regression, my life had been like a barren desert. An all-boys middle school, an all-boys high school, engineering in college—a monotonous trajectory. I’d had a girlfriend I dated for a long time in university, but it hadn’t been about nightlife.
“Look at your eyes. You just came from smashing someone’s jaw, and you still have killing intent dripping from them. What insane club bouncer would let you in? And even if you somehow got past, don’t you think every drug dealer inside would catch a whiff of that murderous aura and scatter out the back?”
Jung Se-hee’s point was sharp. I had no rebuttal. It was intrusive, but her logic held weight.
To unearth the roots of the Booster trade, I needed to seep naturally into the depths of the VIP rooms. Marching through the front door was the worst of strategies.
Insects scatter to the darkest crevices the moment light floods in. What I needed now was thorough camouflage.
“Then let’s step inside.”

Once Kim Do-jin accepted the situation, Jung Se-hee’s lips curved upward. The image of him gripping her collar moments before had vanished entirely.
Her demeanor had shifted to that of a predator regarding prey that had wandered into her domain—confident and assured.
“Follow me. Tonight I’m going to launder that dreary soul of yours.”
***
Jung Se-hee led him to the opposite side of the club district—to what was called Rodeo Street, a bustling entertainment quarter.
Neon signs flashed in dizzying succession, and the latest pop music pounded the eardrums, causing the entire street to vibrate.
Threading through the crowds, Jung Se-hee pushed open a door with practiced ease. It was not a glamorous luxury boutique, but a shabby basement vintage clothing shop with narrow aisles and steep stairs.
A tinkling bell chimed, and he was hit at once by a stale smell of dust mingled with pungent artificial perfume.
‘Unexpected,’ he thought.
He watched her back as she moved deeper inside.
For the youngest daughter of a major conglomerate family—the owner of Taesung Energy—the expected routine would be to sweep up high-end brand new arrivals in a VVIP-exclusive lounge.
Instead, she was rummaging through cheap, gaudy clothes hanging in dense rows as if she were in her own living room.
The way she felt the fabrics, held colors up to the bare-bulb lighting, and read trends in her eye was far from amateur. This was not a first or second visit.
Her movements were less those of a conglomerate heiress than of a street-smart adventurer.
“Hmm…”
Jung Se-hee approached with several garments and held them up to his frame, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Your shoulders are brutishly broad, but your face is pale and fine-boned… Ugh, matching proportions is a nightmare. What kind of exercise do you do anyway? Your torso isn’t a log, yet nothing looks right on you.”
“I move only to survive.”
“Right. I’m sure. How boring.”
Jung Se-hee brushed past his remark and called toward the counter.
“Auntie! I want to try these on. Pull out the largest size in black for me!”
The Female Shop Owner, heavily made up and working through a magazine at the counter, approached with a warm smile.
“My goodness, Se-hee! It’s been forever. And who’s this beside you—your boyfriend? Oh my, what a striking face. I thought you were an actor!”
“Are you insane? A boyfriend? Never mind—Auntie, just get me those clothes!”
Jung Se-hee flushed crimson and thrust the bundle of clothes into his chest.
“Go change. If you want this operation to succeed, don’t waste time.”
His brow tightened involuntarily at her impatience.
He understood intellectually that Disguise Tactics were necessary for the mission, yet the crowded, chaotic space itself inflicted severe mental fatigue on him.
“Wasting time won’t help us,” he said lightly, moving toward the fitting room.
Jung Se-hee caught his sleeve and lowered her voice.
“Anyway, Club Arabian doesn’t open main entry until ten, so if we go now we’ll just stand in line. We have time, so don’t think you can half-ass this. If we fail, it’s on you.”
Her brown eyes shed their playfulness and gleamed with seriousness. Within them lay the pride of someone who understood the mechanics of this world inside and out.
“Fine.”
He clicked his tongue softly and pulled open the fitting room curtain.
Standing before the narrow dressing mirror, his own breathing sounded unnaturally loud in the confined space.
The clothes Jung Se-hee had thrown his way consisted of an oversized black Leather Jacket, wide Cargo Pants with multiple pockets along the thighs, and a deeply cut Plain Inner T-shirt that subtly exposed the neckline.
He shed the sharply tailored coat and changed into the new outfit. The fabric felt foreign against his skin.
The silhouette of a typical clubber in his twenties—disheveled and free-spirited—took shape in the mirror.
The man staring back was not the Kim Do-jin he knew. His habitually alert eyes vanished behind the Tinted Sunglasses that Jung Se-hee had added as a final touch.
‘A perfect disguise,’ he thought.
Yet he had to admit: the reflection no longer looked like a Hunter.
He appeared merely as a young man craving the rush of the night—someone who looked just dangerous enough.
As he emerged from the curtain, Jung Se-hee’s eyes widened.
“…Oh.”
She circled him once, letting out an exaggerated exclamation.
“That’ll get you past any door. You know, if you just kept your mouth shut and stood still, you’d actually have a passable face. Honestly, you’re… not bad at all.”
“Skip the commentary. Prepare yourself. It’s time.”
“You’re such a nag.”
Jung Se-hee shrugged and grabbed the outfit she’d selected, disappearing into the fitting room.
When she emerged moments later, her transformation was equally complete.
Having shed her drab jacket, she now wore a black Sleeveless Crop Top that clung to her figure and a Leather Miniskirt.
Her pale face was painted with bold Red Lipstick, and a thick Choker Necklace circled her throat.
She no longer resembled a victim in need of protection or a supporting Hunter. She had become a creature of the night—alluring and dangerous, a moth drawn to flame.
“Let’s go. Now it’s truly a battlefield.”
At ten o’clock, as the second hand struck the appointed hour, their footsteps turned toward the heart of the Entertainment District.
***
Club Arabian.
Though it had opened in the heart of Old Downtown merely two months ago, its influence already blanketed the entirety of City G.
The entrance was gridlocked each night by hundreds of patrons, and the bouncers’ pride reached the heavens.
‘In the end, it all points to a Booster,’ he thought.
I examined the aura drifting around the entrance. It wasn’t music or atmosphere that drew customers in. It was that devil’s drug—the kind that, once you tasted it, burned away your brain stem.
Because this was the most discreet and secure distribution hub, dealers swarmed here like pilgrims to a shrine.
As we turned into the club district, the very air shifted. Low bass from enormous speakers crashed through the ground and up through my feet, shaking my chest.
The heat radiating from the crowd, acrid cigarette smoke, and someone’s sweat mingled together, hitting my nose hard.
With every step, sticky gazes fixed on me from all sides. I was grateful for the sunglasses. Without them, I wouldn’t have hidden the disgust in my eyes.
In front of Club Arabian’s entrance—which took up the entire building—a queue of dozens stretched back, already dozens of meters long.
“How long are we supposed to wait for all this? I think we’d be faster just pushing straight through.”
“Come here and press close to me. It’ll look more natural if we seem like a couple.”
Jung Se-hee pulled my arm and leaned against me. Her perfume wafted over sharply. I frowned, but she paid no mind and whispered near my ear.
“That way they’ll get a good look at us. Clubs always let the attractive ones in first.”
Her gaze was fixed on the burly guards at the front of the line, holding radios and looking down at the crowd with arrogant contempt.
Their eyes swept across the waiting people like auctioneers assigning grades.
Not long after, one of the guards’ eyes locked onto us as they passed. He looked back and forth between Jung Se-hee and me, then muttered something into his radio.
Soon enough, he gestured to move the barrier aside and jerked his chin toward us.
“You two in the back there. Yes, the one in sunglasses and the lady next to you. Come this way.”
The waiting crowd unleashed a chorus of resentful jeers, but the guards paid them no attention and opened a path.
Jung Se-hee tapped my shoulder and laughed triumphantly.
“See? I have to tell Team Leader Kim about this when we get back, okay?”
Watching her walk confidently down the path the guards had opened, I let out a small, quiet laugh.
It was a tedious disguise, but as a key to unlock closed doors, it worked remarkably well.
As I pushed through the heavy soundproof door, red light and a bass so fierce it shattered eardrums swallowed us whole.

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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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