The Archmage’s Swordsmanship Is Too Strong - Chapter 93

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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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93
Episode 93. Dependents
***
The colossal venom that had lurked beneath the surface finally rose into the world’s light and lifted its head.
The subjugation operation of the Incubation-type Gate in City D.
When Kim Dae-han had first discovered the Incubation-type Gate in City D, he had already sensed what was coming. The moment he and Bae Hyun-gyeom faced the Wyvern, that premonition became certainty.
‘The D City Sky Catastrophe.’
In my previous life, this tragedy did not reveal itself to the world until five years from now.
By then it was far too late. Beneath the wingbeats of dragons that blotted out the sky, the city turned to ash, and screams filled every corner of D City. Only after that hellish time had passed did Korea grasp the horrifying reality of the Incubation-type Gate.
The Blade Guild of the past had never managed to find its source.
But this time is different. Now we can find it.
Five years.
We had managed to advance by that vast span of time, which would have cost the blood of countless people.
‘We can do more than find it.’
The texture of the document beneath my fingertips was cold. Evidence of an artificially-created Gate—the third to be discovered in Korea alone.
Now this could no longer be dismissed as a mere variation or coincidence; it was an unmistakable pattern of catastrophe.
Above the tranquil nighttime cityscape visible through the window, a red warning light seemed to overlay itself.
This was the picture I wanted.
If the existence of Incubation-type Gates rose so loudly to the surface, those who had quietly orchestrated ruin from the darkness would have no choice but to lose their composure.
Secrecy had been their most formidable weapon. Tens of millions of lenses and watchful eyes bearing down from all sides would pressure them relentlessly.
Even if their tails weren’t caught now, persistent pursuit would eventually force them to slip—a fatal mistake.
“The US side is in an uproar demanding we hand over the Decima source code immediately. The Pentagon contacts are absolutely frantic.”
It was Kim Dae-han’s voice that broke the silence. He set down a heavy stack of approval documents on my desk and collapsed back into his chair.
The exhaustion settling across his shoulders was visible and palpable.
“The domestic optimization work isn’t finished yet. Tell them it’s impossible for the time being—use security concerns to buy us more time.”
The authority over Decima originally belongs to Se-hui, the youngest daughter of Taeseong Energy.
But since she’s operating as a member of our Ability Management Team, all external pressure necessarily concentrates on Kim Dae-han as the operational lead.
“Of course, that’s what should happen. But it seems the White House has sent a direct press inquiry through the presidential hotline to the Association Chairman himself.
He must be in quite a state. That’s how terrifying Incubation-type Gates must be.”
Difficult words were pouring from Kim Dae-han’s mouth, yet his expression remained strangely composed.
He leisurely removed his glasses and began polishing the lenses with a cleaning cloth.
“You seem to be enjoying this, sir.”
At my remark, Kim Dae-han waved his hand dismissively.
“Oh, hardly. Look how much I’m suffering. Only···.”
He leaned back into his chair with a creaking sound, settling his body deep against the backrest.
“Once Decima reaches full commercialization for ordinary people, there will be no place for Incubation-type Gates left on this land. The smartphone lenses of tens of millions of citizens will become one vast surveillance network, scanning the world in real time. When I imagine that sight, it sends a thrill down my spine.”
Kim Dae-han reads the flow of the game with almost grotesque speed.
When I cast out bait, he grasps perfectly—without needing tedious explanation—both the intention and ripple effects beyond. That was one reason working with him felt comfortable.
Screeeee—!
Bang!
At that moment, the old iron door of the Ability Management Team office screamed open. A shadow burst through the frame with such force the door seemed about to splinter.
“H-Hunter! Team Lead Kim!”
A man gripping the doorframe, gasping for breath. It was Chu Jae-hee, the Ability Management Team’s full-time appraiser.
His appearance was nothing short of wretched.
His unkempt hair stood on end like a magpie’s nest—as if he hadn’t slept in days—and his deeply sunken eyes were bloodshot, the whites streaked with burst capillaries.
The thick leather apron he wore was covered in places with unwashed traces of murky mana, clinging as dark, grotesque smudges.
It was as though he’d been drenched in the dregs of the abyss itself.
Yet in stark contrast to that wretched appearance, his eyes blazed with a feverish, wild elation.
“Hunter. Ha—! I finally, I finally did it. Whew—.”
“Jae-hee, don’t tell me it’s that?”
Kim Dae-han sprang from his seat like a coiled spring.
“Yes! Team Lead, I’ve finally restored it.”
Chu Jae-hee set down a rectangular metal box that he had been cradling carefully in both trembling hands onto the desk.
The moment the box touched the surface, a dull metallic sound settled heavily over the office air.
Click.
The lock disengaged and the box opened.
What revealed itself upon the velvet cushion was a cursed artifact excavated from a royal tomb.
The object that had originally borne the form of a black sphere, steeped in the primal force of sinister dark magic, had now undergone a complete metamorphosis into something entirely different.
Delicate golden gears meshed perfectly to encase the sphere, and at its very center sat a bizarre crimson gem shaped like an eye gazing into the abyss.
Deep within the gem, a pulsing red mist swirled like the living breath of some conscious being.
The sheer oppression of its physical form alone withered the surrounding Mana—a sinister, suffocating weight.
The black curse of Mana had been stripped away cleanly, yet the newly reborn artifact’s visual presence emanated an aura far more ominous and forbidding than before.
“Ugh, man. Just looking at this thing makes my skin crawl. I feel like touching it would curse me with something.”
Kim Dae-han drew his arm across his chest and edged back from the desk. It was pure instinct—a visceral refusal.
I met the red eyes in the metal box head-on, then extended my senses inward, reading the wavelengths contained within.
The purity of compressed Mana, and the intricate amplification mechanism that could seize control of its circuits at any moment in response to the user’s will—the results exceeded what I had asked for.
The emotional resonance required no examination; it was flawless.
Chu Jae-hee had gone beyond simple restoration—he had elevated this object’s fundamental grade by an entire tier.
“You’ve done excellent work, appraiser. This exceeds my expectations.”
I closed the box and turned to face him. The moment the heavy lid shut, the oppressive discomfort that had been weighing down the room slowly lifted.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Ha. I was just locked in that cramped workshop, carving away. That’s all.”
Chu Jae-hee scratched the back of his head bashfully. His words were modest, but the tips of his fingers were raw and peeling from the fine Mana friction—a mess.
Reverse-engineering a cursed SSR Grade artifact, extracting only its original function without risking a Mana circuit runaway.
It was mental torture that drained far more blood and nerves than swinging a blade and severing a monster’s neck.
Without that lunatic appraiser’s talents, there wasn’t a soul in this world who would have dared to attempt such a feat.
I pulled my wallet from my pocket and turned my gaze toward Kim Dae-han.
“Find a restaurant nearby and make a reservation. Dinner’s on me today.”
***
“Ahhh! This is driving me mad. The juices burst like a waterfall. Listen here! Six more orders of tenderloin for this table!”
The scent of premium Korean beef, golden and sizzling on the grill, filled the restaurant. The sizzle and crackle of protein browning was a pleasant rhythm.
Our gathering spot was the most expensive beef specialty restaurant in the vicinity of the Government Office.
The receipt already lying on the corner of our table showed a figure in the tens of millions of won, but compared to what Chu Jae-hee had achieved, it was merely a handful of sand.
I made a mental note to thank him with a separate personal gift later.
But there was one thing that grated on the eye—an unwelcome guest sitting across from me, disturbing the peace of the grill.
An old Englishman with deft hands, pouring soju sparingly, gulping down beef that hadn’t even cooked through as if hiding a fish’s eyes—Charles.
“Sir, please eat a bit slower. If you swallow without chewing like that, your stomach will go on strike.”
Kim Dae-han, holding tongs, shook his head at Charles in exasperation. He was so busy grilling the meat that he barely managed to eat any himself.
“I’m in a good mood, that’s why! These heartless bastards have been so busy I can barely see their faces anymore, but now we’re all gathered together like this, enjoying some rich meat and catching up—doesn’t it feel wonderful? Don’t you think so, Do-jin?”
It was a shameless answer.
The old geezer, who hadn’t shown his nose for days, had appeared at precisely the right moment—the smell of grilling beef—and was now monopolizing half the grill space.
I picked up a thick, well-cooked sirloin and quietly placed it on the plate in front of Chu Jae-hee, who sat across from me, dozing with drowsiness and alcohol weighing on him.
“Please, appraiser. Eat plenty today.”
“Oh! H-Hunter! Thank you! I’ll eat well!”
Chu Jae-hee jolted awake in alarm and quickly picked up his chopsticks, bowing his head. His face shone with gratitude.
“No need to be so formal. Outside these walls, there’s no reason to stand on titles. Since I’m a bit older, you’re welcome to call me brother.”
My casual suggestion sent Chu Jae-hee’s face burning redder than the charcoal. He seemed flustered, fiddling nervously with his soju glass.
“Oh no! How could I! I wouldn’t dare be so rude—I’m fine as things are.”
“Do-jin, wouldn’t you treat me the same way? Warn me with those warm eyes while putting meat on my plate? And wrap some lettuce for me too.”
Charles, poking at the grill, interrupted with a smack of his lips. I set my wallet on the table with a soft thud and shot a cold glance toward Charles’s chopsticks.
“What I’m already doing for you represents the absolute limit of my patience. Eat quietly. It seems you’re rather short on spending money these days—unless you’d like to be docked even further.”
Charles’s chopsticks faltered, and he pouted.
“Y-You… holding the purse strings over an elder and threatening me. You’re truly cold-hearted. If we were in England, you’d be facing trial by combat already.”
“Sounds entertaining, actually. I’d place my bet on Kim Do-jin the Hunter.”
Kim Dae-han, who had been cutting meat, finally couldn’t hold it in and burst into laughter. Even Chu Jae-hee, drowsy with fatigue, broke into a bashful smile, meat grease still smeared on his lips.
The cheerful clink of glasses, the savory scent of grilling meat, and pointless jokes.
It was a moment completely removed from the time we’d been drenched in the metallic stench of Gate blood, fighting against the Red Blood Alliance.
The noisy warmth gathered around this grill wasn’t unpleasant at all.
***
The greasy gathering that had stretched over three hours came to an end.
“S-Seriously, I can call you brother? Really? Do-jin hyung! Really? I… I really respect you! Let go! You old-fashioned guy.”
“Geez, he can’t even recognize his own team leader…”
Chu Jae-hee, whose Mana decomposition ability was clearly lacking, had his tongue completely tangled. He waved an empty soju glass around before finally smacking his forehead on the table and collapsing in a blaze of glory.
In the end, Kim Dae-han hoisted him like a sack of potatoes and stuffed him into the back seat of a taxi, and the gathering disbanded.
Well past midnight.
I walked with Charles through the quieted back alleys of the entertainment district, digesting our meal as we made our way toward the office.
Charles was heading to his shabby rooftop room on top of the Government Office; I was returning to the empty overtime space for the live field test of the artifact Chu Jae-hee had restored.
The cold winter night air seeped deep into my lungs, slowly cooling the heat of the alcohol.
Only the regular tap of my shoe soles against the paving stones broke the silence of the night.
“You’ve stepped into it, haven’t you?” Charles said.
Charles walked on, a toothpick between his lips, gazing up at the faint stars scattered across the night sky, when he suddenly posed the question.
His tone was playful, but the weight behind it was anything but light.
I kept my hand buried in my pocket, my gaze fixed on the darkness ahead.
“How did you know?”
Charles chuckled softly and matched his pace to mine.
“One look at you says it all. That expression—more irritable than usual, too composed. Your Aura control has deepened compared to before. No matter how hard you try to hide it, that chill can’t be concealed.”
“I need more practice. If you can read it, I still have far to go.”
Charles flicked a toothpick from his mouth and drove straight to the point.
“Three divisions in a single strike?”
One slash divided into three. The divine trajectory of splitting a cut into three separate incisions within a single frame. It was not merely a matter of speed.
It was a realm one could only reach by understanding space itself and momentarily erasing one’s own existence.
“It’s still incomplete.”
I felt again in my palm the sensation of that third, imperfect friction—when my blade had grazed the Berserker’s solid ribcage at the Altar of the Successor before bouncing away.
A faint tremor ran through my palm.
“But soon it will be possible. No—I’ll make it possible.”
It was not arrogance or mere swagger.
Though I had borrowed the advantage of the Mental Space within the Altar, my blade had certainly touched the edge of that third trajectory and created a sound of fracture.
If I could perfectly control my body’s inertia in actual combat and compress my Aura to its absolute limit, reaching that transcendent realm my senior had demonstrated was not far off.
“Good.”
Charles’s voice suddenly dropped low. The bearing of the elderly drunkard at my side vanished in an instant.
In its place came the cold killing intent of a veteran who had walked countless battlefields.
“Engrave it into your body so perfectly that you can unleash it without hesitation, driven by pure instinct. The moment you start calculating, you’re already too slow.”
“That’s my intention.”
As I finished speaking, Charles folded his arms again and began humming, bobbing his head to the rhythm.
“No affection for Kim Do-jin, no affection at all~”
The rich trot melody, tinged with a punchy rhythm, scattered into the cold night air. I slowed my pace, quietly observing the old man’s unhurried silhouette ahead of me.
The gears within me began to turn in quiet alignment.
The method Charles had used to train me—the relentless curriculum where he had fixated on Multiple Consecutive Strikes and forcibly extracted my limits. The reason behind it.
A monster that could only be shattered by breaking down a single strike again and again, crushing with absolute speed and mass.
My instinct sent a cold warning about who the enemy he had in mind might be.
“You were preparing for it.”
The chill in my voice made Charles’s trot melody stop dead. The old man’s footsteps froze in the middle of the night street.
His shadow, cast beneath the streetlight, stretched long and thin.
I spoke toward the back of the old man who would not turn around—the name he had tried so hard to bury.
“The Knight of the Abyss. Beowulf.”

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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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