The Archmage’s Swordsmanship Is Too Strong - Chapter 78

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

78
Chapter 78. Heukchel and Script
***
“It’s not changing.”
I clicked my tongue sharply, staring at the translucent system window hovering before me. The heavy, crude lump of metal in my grip displayed its information across the holographic panel in stark, unyielding text.
[Item Name: Heukchel]
I’d searched for a “Rename” function and poured my mana into it, but the system flashed a red warning and stubbornly rejected my attempt.
Items forged by a Blacksmith can’t be modified through hacking. Go Kwang-sik’s claim about being from the Ironwood Smithy had been true, then.
Go Kwang-sik, the original craftsman, had polished the metal and inscribed the core with such a vulgar name that it had become permanently bound to the system’s database.
There was no choice but to use this crude name as it was.
Whoosh.
I closed the window and gently rotated my wrist to gauge the blade’s center of gravity.
The Dragon-Head Sword I’d used before occupied the boundary between short and long sword, an optimal length for carrying at the hip and drawing quickly at close range.
But this Heukchel, which had passed through Go Kwang-sik’s hands, was an entirely different beast.
The blade’s thickness and curvature took the form of an Eastern sabre, yet its overall length was as long and massive as a Western longsword.
‘A cumbersome club, this.’
The extended reach of a weapon granted the lethal advantage of striking from outside an opponent’s range, seizing the initiative.
But as with all things in this world, every advantage carried a brutal price on its other side. The longer the blade, the more sluggish the recovery after each strike—the speed of drawing it back was inevitably compromised.
The delay between movements. Those microsecond gaps would widen, creating a fatal blind spot in ultra-close combat where a single moment could cost your life. I would have to completely rebuild Kang Tae-yoon’s physical muscle memory, trained on the Dragon-Head Sword’s short, efficient reach, from the ground up to match this massive, heavy hunk of iron.
The fatal drawback wasn’t limited to that alone. Mana conductivity.
The Dragon-Head Sword was a magnificent blade. When I infused Aura into the hilt, the entire blade would absorb mana like a sponge, dramatically amplifying its cutting edge with explosive force.
But this Heukchel’s Mana sensitivity was, quite literally, near zero.
The Aura erupting from the core would never seep into the blade’s interior—it would simply skim across the cold steel surface and bounce away.
‘I’ll have to give up on enchanting the blade itself.’
I reached the conclusion swiftly.
Rather than amplifying the blade’s power directly, I’d have to force my dantian’s Circle output unnaturally high, coating the blade’s surface roughly or borrowing only the shell of an elemental property to swing it by sheer force.
Most irritating of all was this oppressive weight itself. The sheer dumb mass of it made the tendons in my sword hand cry out in protest.
For the foreseeable future, I’d have to sacrifice sleep and develop an entirely new training regimen just to handle this grotesque hunk of metal.
Slip.
Even as I chewed on all those disadvantages and risks, I found myself smiling faintly as I slid the Heukchel into its scabbard.
Because this blade possessed one absolute advantage that would crush every single unfavorable condition at once.
‘Durability.’
The tensile strength of steel refined to the extreme limit of density surpassed even the quality of shield-grade armor I’d seen on the battlefield before my regression.
At this level of density, even if I twisted space itself with Quintuple Haste and forced the physical collision of Point Explosion and Double Strike together, I was certain the blade would never shatter or chip.
Click.
The length was too great to wear at the waist, so I slung the strap across my back and secured it diagonally at a firm angle.
The heavy sensation of the metal against my back actually brought a sense of psychological reassurance.
To obtain this crude Normal-rank blade, I’d handed Go Kwang-sik one hundred and fifty million won in cash, all at once.
That enormous sum wasn’t the blade’s price—it was a kind of down payment to make him reignite his forge and refine the legendary masterwork known as Ilhui.
“This should be enough to cover heating the forge and searching out your old colleagues,” I said.
My words were enough to ignite the craftsman’s pride.
“If circumstances demand it, if needed, I can provide unlimited funds—a billion, ten billion, whatever’s necessary. So then.”
I drove the wedge home toward the unyielding Go Kwang-sik.
“You must succeed. Ilhui. You must.”
***
When I returned to City Hall Main Building after leaving Donggureung.
A familiar, battered sedan sat askew in the parking area at the entrance to the Ability Management Team Office.
I pulled my smartphone from my pocket and checked the screen.
[2 Missed Calls – Team Lead Kim Dae-han]
The moment I saw the red notification badge on the display, my leisurely pace quickened noticeably without my realizing it. His return from a provincial business trip was a clear signal: our next hunting destination had been finalized.
I opened the office door and headed straight for the Conference Room inside.
Bang.
“Oh, Hunter. I was just about to call you again, actually.”
Kim Dae-han, who had been marking something in red pen on a map spread across the conference table, looked up at the sound of the door opening and greeted me warmly.
“When did you get back?”
“Just now, really. Parked the car just minutes ago. No time to even clean up—came straight upstairs.”
His appearance alone was proof of that without needing to hear his words.
The trouser cuffs of Kim Dae-han, who normally maintained his composure, were filthy with mud and unidentifiable plant matter, and the sleeves of his shirt were caked with dark grime.
He seemed to have stopped by a sauna somewhere and rinsed his hair hastily, but the stubble darkening his jaw and the deep dark circles beneath his eyes testified plainly that he’d spent days and nights cooped in his car, frantically searching the country.
What caught my eye most of all, though, was the subtle tremor in his lips.
Meticulous and slippery as an eel, yet when he’d secured the perfect hand he desired, that distinctive gleam of excitement would leak through entirely unbidden.
“You found it, then.”
I pulled out the chair across from him and cut straight to the heart of the matter.
“Yes. I found it.”
Kim Dae-han set down the red pen he’d been holding with a sharp tap against the table, his voice barely containing its excitement.
“Do-jin spent all night reverse-engineering that clumsy Radar Terminal and got the calibration perfectly dialed in. It was worth all the effort, truly.”
He pressed his finger hard against a specific region on the map of South Korea spread across the table.
“The location is Gyeongsangbuk-do D City. It’s buried deep in a mountainous wilderness where no one ever ventures—completely cut off from civilization.”
“Does anyone know about it?”
“No one.”
Kim Dae-han’s eyes gleamed cold and sharp.
“It’s not on the Hunter Association’s list of unexplored Gates, and more importantly, it’s not registered in the Gate Management Bureau’s secret ledger either. It’s a perfect blind spot. They’ve definitely erected an artificial Barrier to avoid detection by the radar network.”
“Excellent.”
The final piece of the puzzle had slid into place perfectly.
Now we held the most lethal blade—the power to strike a devastating blow straight at our enemies’ heart.
“Thank you for your hard work, Team Lead.”
I bowed sincerely, and Kim Dae-han laughed with embarrassment, peeling off his dust-covered suit jacket and draping it over the back of his chair.
“No, no. You’re the one who’s been working hard. Driving here, I thought my heart would stop from all the news coverage. Quite a lot happened, didn’t it.”
He scrubbed his weary face roughly with both hands and leaned back deeply into his chair.
“In any case, you asked me to find it, and I’ve done my part perfectly.”
Kim Dae-han exhaled heavily and looked directly at me.
“So what do we do now.”
His gaze was ruthlessly rational—now that he’d been handed the sword, he wanted to see how I would wield it.
Unfortunately, that moment didn’t last.
***
“···Y-yes??”
Kim Dae-han’s cry of astonishment ripped through the silent Conference Room.
He shot up from his chair like a spring, braced both hands on the desk, and stared at me with eyes wide as saucers.
“Does that make sense right now? You’re not joking, are you? You’re serious about this?”
“Yes. Completely serious.”
I interlaced my fingers on the table and answered with eyes as cold and unmoved as ice.
“Well, I···”
Kim Dae-han stared into the empty air, utterly dumbfounded, and exhaled a deep breath. He seemed at a loss for words, and unconsciously reached toward his pocket in search of a cigarette before catching himself—remembering he was inside City Hall—and irritably lowered his hand.
“From the very beginning, when you told me to demolish Club Arabian and find another Hatchling-Type Gate···”
His voice trembled as he asked.
“You were planning this from the start?”
“Yes.”
My immediate answer left no room for doubt, and Kim Dae-han rubbed his face roughly with both hands.
In his mind, the enormous shockwave and political ramifications of the operation I’d described were colliding in a frenzy.
“Will it even work.”
“It has to work.”
Against the Hong Blood Alliance—that massive villain cartel hollowing out South Korea, no, all of Asia—and the zealot faction manipulating Gates from the shadows, there was only one insane option that could root them all out completely.
If we merely mobilized riot police to raid a single Gate, they would simply cut off their tail and vanish deeper into darkness whenever they pleased.
We had to expose every card in our hand and strangle their breath from every direction, ensuring they could never rise again.
“You’re really, truly going through with this.”
Kim Dae-han demanded confirmation once more, his eyes bloodshot with exhaustion.
“Yes.”
At my unwavering affirmation, Kim Dae-han sank deep into the sofa once more.
His gaze fixed blankly on a single point in empty space, and then his lips began moving rapidly as he started murmuring to himself.
“···First I need to convince Mayor Park to break through media control, and before that I should meet with Advisor Choi to set up City Hall’s administrative backup perfectly. And for the broadcasters···the social affairs desk, Reporter Baek, no, to be sure it breaks open···”
A bureaucrat’s stubborn determination, running through countless political variables and administrative procedures in his mind, forcing the impossible operation’s puzzle pieces to fit together one by one.
I stood quietly from my seat so he could draft the perfect script, and walked toward the Break Room.
This was a time that called for caffeine’s brutal clarity.
I ground the beans harshly and began brewing two cups of the darkest, bitterest espresso.
***
Exactly three hours later.
I stood leaning against the railing on the rooftop of City Hall, facing the dry wind that swept across it.
Creak—
The iron door to the rooftop opened, and Kim Dae-han emerged with a folder in hand, his face exhausted but somehow relieved.
He habitually knocked on the door to the temporary structure in the corner of the rooftop—the Rooftop Room where Charles was staying. But there was no sound from within.
“Where on earth has Charles gone off to……?”
Kim Dae-han tilted his head and muttered to himself.
“Probably charming some grandmother or tilting back soju glasses in the middle of the afternoon, I’d wager.”
Kim Dae-han let out a short, suppressed laugh.
“The script is complete.”
He approached my side and handed over a folder, delivering his report.
“Already?”
“Yes. When it comes to paperwork and press control, my hands move with rather remarkable speed, if I do say so.”
His confident answer had merit.
As I leafed through the documents he’d given me, I found a scenario so flawless and meticulous it seemed impossible he’d produced it alone in three hours — drafts of press releases for distribution to media outlets, a joint statement from City Hall and the Hunter Association, and even a detailed timeline down to the minute for the press conference.
“Will this work as is?”
When I closed the folder and asked, Kim Dae-han gazed down at the cityscape of G City beyond the railing and smiled faintly.
“You said it yourself just now, didn’t you? That we have to make it possible.”
At his unguarded response, a faint smile tugged at my lips as well.
Kim Dae-han — this man is precisely why I trust him. He never shuffles backward with awkward excuses.
Once a goal is set before him, he grinds his own lifeblood into the work to transform that mad vision into flawless reality — a capable and relentless civil servant.
“……I’ve set the press conference for exactly three days from now, accounting for adequate preparation time. The moment those press releases go public, all of South Korea will be thrown into chaos.”
Kim Dae-han adjusted his glasses and fixed me with a cold, businesslike gaze, the playfulness gone.
“Ah, and there’s the matter you’ll need to handle directly at the site. You understand?”
“It’s manageable.”
I answered flatly, aware of the solid weight of Heukchel slung across my back.
“If I head down this afternoon, there’ll be plenty of time.”
“Good grief.”
At my words, Kim Dae-han let out a hollow laugh as if at his wit’s end.
“You speak of charging into Deadly Ground as if it were just popping over to the convenience store next door. I really can’t get used to it.”
“My supervisor has laid his neck on the line and stepped up to set the stage — surely a subordinate ought to earn his keep accordingly.”
At my dry joke, Kim Dae-han couldn’t help himself and burst into hearty, genuine laughter.
After laughing for a while, he cleared his throat with a serious expression and replied.
“Subordinate? I have never once thought of you as my subordinate.”
“Is that so? Since my first day here, I’ve been thinking of myself as exactly that — faithfully following orders.”
“You’re shameless.”
At my brazen retort, Kim Dae-han shook his head with another faint smile.
And so light banter passed between us.
Then a heavy silence settled over the rooftop, broken only by the sound of mountain wind, lasting roughly five minutes.
We both understood.
Three days from now, we would cross a great river from which there was no turning back.
“……Sigh.”
Breaking the silence, Kim Dae-han scrubbed his face roughly with both hands several times — the gesture of someone barely pushing up his throat some heavy, inexpressible weight that couldn’t be voiced.
“……Hunter.”
He gripped the railing tight and asked in a voice heavily burdened.
“If you meet Hong Tae-hwa at the site, what will you do?”
Kim Dae-han seemed to already know about Hong Tae-hwa’s home visit.
A question that skipped several steps ahead.
He wanted an honest answer.
I would give him one. That is how I show respect.
“I’ll kill him.”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————