The Archmage’s Swordsmanship Is Too Strong - Chapter 53

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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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53
Chapter 53. The Price of Heroism
***
Wee-woo, wee-woo, wee-woo!
The ambulance’s blaring siren tore through the silent night streets, having completely left the outskirts of City G and now plunging into rough mountain roads.
In the pitch darkness, the siren’s red and blue flashing lights licked through the dense coniferous forest with an eerie glow as it passed.
Screeeech!
Each time the ambulance rounded a curve in the winding mountain pass with barely finished pavement, its massive chassis tilted precariously to one side.
The worn suspension screamed in protest, and whenever the brakes were slammed, the tires ground against the earth, releasing a caustic smell of burning rubber.
It wasn’t a paramedic gripping the steering wheel—it was me.
The moment I emerged from the concealed gate, I spotted a private ambulance parked near a shopping plaza. There was no hesitation.
I flashed my A-rank Hunter credentials at the panicked paramedics and commandeered the vehicle before they could even protest.
Trusting my life to their clumsy driving was a hundred times slower and less reliable than stomping the accelerator myself.
“Keep monitoring his heart rate. If it stops, report immediately.”
I barked instructions at the paramedics frozen in the back seat through the rearview mirror. They adjusted the oxygen mask around Lee Do-hyun’s face with terrified eyes as they checked his condition.
I fixed my gaze forward and drove the accelerator to the floor.
The engine roared as if about to explode, but the needle on the speedometer still wasn’t fast enough.
‘Wish I could teleport.’
I cursed under my breath as I wrenched the steering wheel sharply. Before my return, when I’d reached the apex of an Archmage, there was no reason to depend on this crude metal shell.
With a single incantation, I could twist the axes of space and travel from end to end faster than a blink of the eye.
But now, with a mere 2nd Circle core, even short-range Blink was a strain to use repeatedly.
The mana density was crude, and the circuit’s output was far too low.
But the complaint didn’t last long. Thanks to the ambulance’s reckless charge, my destination began to reveal its massive silhouette in the darkness.
Deep in a remote mountain region far from the city, a sprawling concrete dome structure—a former military stronghold that had once been a frontline alpine outpost, completely converted for new purposes.
Just a few months ago, this was where I’d taken the Hunter Test, carving through novice hunters and otherworldly monsters alike. The Hunter Test Facility.
But my destination tonight wasn’t inside that massive testing ground.
The ambulance bypassed the main gate of the old military base, which was cordoned off with stern barricades, and barreled straight toward a concealed access road at the rear, surrounded by forest.
The vibrations from the unpaved road transmitted through the chassis directly into my wrists. I knew the location precisely.
I’d already walked through it once before and mapped the flow of mana in advance.
Skreeeeech!
The ambulance stopped, leaving long skid marks across the unpaved surface. It was the association chairman’s exclusive annex—a structure that evoked a luxurious Western manor.
At its front entrance, about ten Hunter Association hunters and secretaries were already lined up.
At the sudden arrival of an uninvited guest, I saw the guards’ hands move toward the weapons at their belts.
And at their center stood an elderly woman, a refined silk shawl draped across her shoulders, leaning on a sturdy cane. The symbol of the Korean Hunter Association.
Association Chairman Jeong Eun-jin.
Bang!
I kicked open the driver’s door and stepped out. The night air was cold, but my body radiated heat and the metallic stench of blood.
Seeing me arrive covered in blood, she furrowed her brow and clicked her tongue briefly.
“There’s never a quiet resolution with you—always bringing a storm in your wake. How many days has it been since the Club Arabian incident was wrapped up?”
Under normal circumstances, I would have volleyed back with a quip wrapped in light mockery, but I had no such luxury now.
I skipped the unnecessary pleasantries and opened the ambulance’s rear door. I carefully lifted the gasping body of Lee Do-hyun into my arms.
The face of the man, his features obscured beneath blood and mana commingled into a grotesque mess, emerged beneath the streetlight.
The moment Jeong Eun-jin confirmed his identity, the composed smile that had never left her face evaporated in an instant.
Her tightly sealed lips trembled faintly. Within her wrinkled eyes, a maelstrom of shock, disbelief, and indescribable complex emotion churned.
“……So it really is him.”
Jeong Eun-jin’s voice, usually so steady, cracked thin and fragile.
Her gaze fixed on the deep wound carved into Lee Do-hyun’s chest and the traces of black mana enveloping its surroundings.
“Yes. It’s Hunter Lee Do-hyun. He must be saved.”
A deep shadow fell across Jeong Eun-jin’s face. It wasn’t merely the joy of a hero presumed dead returning.
She understood precisely what price would have to be paid to keep this man alive.
“Hah………”
Jeong Eun-jin gripped her cane with both hands in silence. The veins on the backs of her hands bulged under the force of her grip.
As the silence lengthened, Lee Do-hyun’s breathing grew shallower with each moment. I could feel his body temperature fading against my skin, yet I didn’t press her.
This request was inextricably tied to her own life itself.
***
Jeong Eun-jin’s official age was only forty-five.
But the figure standing before me looked pathetically aged—as if she were a woman in her late seventies.
It was because of the cruel Law of Equivalent Exchange inherent in her S-Rank healing attribute, Seraphim’s Wings.
The miraculous power to repair another’s shattered core, to forcibly reattach severed threads of life—its price was none other than the caster’s own ‘life energy.’
She carved away her own lifespan and poured it into the patient’s flesh.
With each hero she saved, her hair turned white and her skin lost its moisture, shriveling.
To fully restore Lee Do-hyun’s vessel as the Mana Backflow crashed down like waves, Jeong Eun-jin would have to sacrifice not an insignificant span of her remaining lifespan as payment once again.
Moreover, if the object of healing was no ordinary person but a peak A-rank Hunter with a massive reserve of Mana, the price would be unimaginably severe.
After a moment—or what felt like an eternity—of silence, she finally spoke.
Tap.
Jeong Eun-jin lightly struck the toe of my shoe with the end of her cane.
“What are you standing around for, Hunter Kim Do-jin.”
“Association President?”
I lifted my head. Her noble eyes shone with unwavering resolve toward me—no hesitation there, no pity directed at herself.
“We don’t have time. Bring the patient inside. While Hunter Lee Do-hyun’s heart still beats.”
She turned on her heel without so much as a word of qualified permission or protest, stepping into the annex. Her instructions fell with absolute certainty.
“I’ll save him no matter what. The Republic of Korea has already incurred a debt to Hunter Lee Do-hyun that it can never repay.”
From her figure, devoid of hesitation, I felt the weight of a great mountain.
Though I had selfishly handed over the patient, she chose in a single second to shorten her own lifeline.
It was the only true dignity that shone in this rotting world—the very thing my former self, stripped of everything and betrayed, had despised with unwavering hatred.
The Emergency Treatment Room in the basement of the annex. This converted old military medical unit was a space where cutting-edge medical equipment and magical auxiliary devices were intricately combined.
Lee Do-hyun’s pallid body lay upon the surgical table in the cool sterile chamber.
Jeong Eun-jin cast off her burdensome shawl onto the floor. With eyes closed, she extended both hands over Lee Do-hyun’s shattered chest.
I could see her slender fingertips trembling faintly.
“Everyone, step back. Mana interference may occur.”
With a brief warning, sacred incantations flowed between Jeong Eun-jin’s lips.
It was less a resonant sound and more a declaration forcibly rewriting the laws of the world itself.
Seraphim’s Wings.
Whoooosh—!
A strange sensation swept through my entire body as the air within the medical room seemed to rush inward into a vacuum.
Immediately behind Jeong Eun-jin, six enormous wings of brilliant, dazzling pure white Mana unfurled fully.
The vast wings spread throughout the cramped medical room, billowing.
Feathers of light scattered through space, beginning to wrap Lee Do-hyun’s broken body in warmth.
Instantly the surroundings flooded with sacred white light so bright it was difficult to open one’s eyes. I kept my eyes narrowly open, witnessing the scene.
Even as I watched, I could hardly believe it. From the perspective of a mage, I analyzed the essence of what was unfolding before me piece by piece. This lay outside the category of magic I knew.
Ordinary healing magic—Healing—is the result of calculation that draws Mana from the atmosphere and accelerates cell division.
The supremely physical act of converting Mana, an energy, into matter.
But this power before my eyes was different.
Pure life force, burning in the deepest reaches of Jeong Eun-jin’s heart, underwent no magical intermediary process whatsoever—it was instantly transmuted directly into the “power of healing.”
This was not calculation. It was miracle. A miracle born by consuming the caster’s own life to forcibly twist another’s fate, the harshest miracle the System permits.
“Nnngh······!”
As healing progressed, pained moans escaped from between Jeong Eun-jin’s lips as she extended the wings of light. It was more than mere physical pain.
It must have been the primal terror and agony of her own existence dissolving away.
Her silver hair grew duller, losing its sheen, and I watched in clear detail as the lines etched in her cheeks deepened in real time.
Witnessing that terrible sacrifice beside her, I posed a weighty question to the depths within myself.
‘Could I ever do such a thing.’
I, who had always tapped out the most efficient cost-benefit analysis while plumbing the logic of the world.
The act of consuming my own life force for another would be the worst inefficiency in an Archmage’s logical circuits—a choice only made by the unintelligent.
Yet before her sublime, unwavering blindness—burning her own lifeline to save her patient without hesitation—I could not bring myself to assert any logic or efficiency.
Her act existed beyond the realm of reason.
“Association President, you must stop!”
“Don’t come near me. It’s all right······ It’s not over yet.”
Seeing Jeong Eun-jin’s condition deteriorate rapidly, the Association staff who had been waiting outside grew pale and tried to approach.
But Jeong Eun-jin, eyes still closed, raised one hand decisively to hold them back. A silent command: do not break the flow.
Even I, watching, found my palms sweating at the taut, precarious tug-of-war that stretched on.
How much time had passed? The brilliant wings of light gradually dimmed, and the radiance flooding the emergency room faded.
The effect was dramatic. Lee Do-hyun’s Mana wavelength, which had been rampaging and twisted, settled into calm, stable stillness like a lake.
Smooth new skin bloomed across his body as if by miracle, where the desiccated, twisted skin had withered like ancient bark from the Mana Backflow.
The gaping wound in his chest was sealed without even leaving a scar.
His breathing found a steady rhythm. It was a perfect recovery.
“Huff······ That was exhausting, after all.”
As Jeong Eun-jin withdrew the wings from behind her, having completed the treatment, she lost her balance and stumbled backward, nearly falling.
Catch.
I crossed the distance in an instant, gripping her shoulders firmly to steady her. Her body beneath my hands had become light as a dried autumn leaf.
A hollow, empty weight—as though her very bones had been hollowed out.
“······I’ve incurred a tremendous debt.”
I lowered her gently into a nearby chair, offering a bow of genuine gratitude. It wasn’t merely compassion that drove me.
Lee Do-hyun was a critical chess piece—one I absolutely had to keep alive.
The truth of the M.I.G Incident that had swallowed him eight years ago, the source of the Brainwashing Chokers fitted on the Cobolts, and how he’d come to be enslaved in an Incubation-type Gate buried in the heart of the city.
He was the only witness who held every piece of this puzzle.
“Hey, Jeong Eun-jin!!”
The emergency room door burst open and someone rushed in frantically. It was Yu Hye-sung, a Hunter Association member and the examiner overseeing the 25th Hunter Exam.
His ashen face softened as he took Jeong Eun-jin from my arms, cradling her with utmost care.
“Are you insane?! You used it again?! Don’t you care about your own body at all?!”
Jeong Eun-jin laughed weakly, patting his arm gently.
“Don’t make a fuss, Hye-sung. I’m fine······ I just want to rest for a bit. I’m really exhausted.”
As Jeong Eun-jin closed her eyes, her energy completely spent, Yu Hye-sung gritted his teeth and urgently directed the paramedics to begin treatment.
Once the immediate chaos subsided, Yu Hye-sung’s gaze shifted to Lee Do-hyun lying on the operating table. His eyes widened in shock.
“This can’t be real. That’s actually Lee Do-hyun.”
Yu Hye-sung trembled, covering his mouth with a shaking hand. The legendary hunter’s return after eight years of vanishing.
He stood silent for a long moment before slowly turning to face me.
“Kim Do-jin, where on earth did you find him······ No, never mind. I’ll ask later. You’ve accomplished something truly beyond imagination.”
***
Director Jeong Eun-jin was transferred to the VIP Ward for rest. The cold hallway outside her private room held only me and Hunter Yu Hye-sung.
“What will become of Lee Do-hyun?”
At my question, Yu Hye-sung straightened his clothes and answered solemnly.
“We’ll keep him under the highest security protocols of the Hunter Association and continue his treatment until he’s fully regained consciousness. Not a whisper of information will leak to the outside—I guarantee it. I’ll guard him with my life.”
That was assurance enough. Besides, Jeong Eun-jin, who had expended her own lifespan to save him, would never let him be taken lightly.
Yu Hye-sung, though rough-spoken, was a Hunter whose sense of responsibility was beyond question.
“Then I’ll leave it in your hands.”
Only then did I exhale the heavy tension that had accumulated in my chest, drawing a breath of relief. I pulled out my smartphone and turned on the screen.
[24 Missed Calls – Kim Dae-han (Team Lead)]
Notifications poured in relentlessly. It suddenly struck me that I’d abandoned Kim Dae-han at the Waste Disposal Gate and departed alone.
“I completely left him behind.”
I pocketed the phone, offered Yu Hye-sung a light bow, and left the test facility.
Walking down the winding path along the mountainside, I called Kim Dae-han. The call connected before the second ring even finished.
[Do-jin!! Where the hell did you go?!]
[If you just leave, what am I supposed to do about the cleanup?!]
Kim Dae-han’s urgent and aggrieved voice burst through the receiver, accompanied by the chaotic noise of the scene behind him.
I let his complaints pass over me while breathing in the night air, giving him a concise briefing of the current situation.
“So, how is Lee Do-hyun’s condition?”
At my explanation, Kim Dae-han’s voice lost its grievance and grew heavier.
“We barely saved his life. The Director personally completed his recovery treatment just now, and he’s currently resting and recovering in the Hunter Association’s dedicated ward.
Security is solid, so don’t worry.”
[Thank goodness······ Thank goodness indeed.]
[My God, trapped in that hellhole for eight years—it’s hard to believe.]
A faint tremor seemed to pass through Kim Dae-han’s voice. But soon he recovered the seasoned composure of a veteran.
[Understood. I’ll keep Lee Do-hyun’s return strictly confidential until he’s fully conscious and all facts are clarified.]
[If I report this carelessly to the higher-ups, information could leak anywhere. I’ll omit this from the field report as well.]
“What’s the situation at the site? The Incubation-type Gate, I mean.”
I, too, set aside sentiment and moved to the matter at hand.
[Thanks to the Mirror Golem you left behind, we’ve cleared a major burden.]
[By the time I arrived, all the monsters inside had already been completely neutralized.]
[Especially that Elite Ogre. Its bones were completely shattered, turned to pulp—what exactly did you do to it?]
“Did you find anything? It couldn’t have been just a simple monster lair.”
At my question, Kim Dae-han’s voice grew even graver.
[Yes. We discovered something quite troublesome.]
[This Incubation-type Gate······ it wasn’t created recently.]
[Based on the Mana erosion on the walls and the wear on the structures, this is a very old and robust fortress—constructed years ago.]
[Which means someone has been deliberately maintaining this place.]
“That much we expected.”
[Moreover, those Mana Stones the Cobolts were mining and moving.]
[They were transporting them to an ‘altar’ deep within the Gate.]
[The base of that altar was inscribed with a large-scale spatial displacement ritual that warps objects outward at regular intervals.]
[And it was quite sophisticated—a combination of refined magical engineering.]
“What did you say?”
I stopped walking and looked up at the night sky. Moonlight filtering faintly between the clouds was cold.
“Have you secured the spatial coordinates? If we can pinpoint just where they warped to, we might be able to pick up their real trail.”
Kim Dae-han let out a long, heavy sigh in response to my question.
[That’s… remarkably strange.]
[It was as if an alarm had gone off. The moment I placed my hand on the altar to reverse-trace the coordinates, the spell ignited on its own and erased every trace.]
[By the time I touched it, the spell’s connection had already been forcibly severed.]
“… Thorough.”
[Perfect evidence destruction.]
[It felt as though someone had been watching us the whole time, and the moment we got close to critical information, they hit the self-destruct switch.]
Massive gears spun in my head at a terrifying speed. It meant someone had been monitoring the situation in real time.
And the instant they detected an intruder accessing crucial information, they destroyed the most vital link—the warp coordinates.
“Team Lead.”
I gazed down at the lights of City G shrouded in darkness with eyes grown cold. Beneath the glittering facade of the cityscape, I could see a vast abyss.
“Can I ask you something?”
[Yes, go ahead. Do-jin.]
“These Gates that open when dimensions randomly collide.”
I paused, pulling the ominous premonition that lingered on my tongue into the open air. It was a question that directly negated the common sense of this world.
“Can people actually create those?”
Kim Dae-han’s breathing stopped on the other end of the line.

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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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