Urban Vagabond: Reload

Two young men stood facing each other in the center of the training hall, one with a sword, the other with a blade.

The first to move was the slightly bigger of the two.

Hooo—

Shin Kangheon slowly let out a long breath and brought his blade up to mid-guard. As he began to turn to his left, Kim Muhyuk also stepped in the same direction.

“......”

“......”

The two of them drew a circle in the same direction, sword and blade shifting little by little. Every time their tips changed angle, a fierce battle of calculations unfolded in their heads.

They sketched countless imaginary trajectories, reading the other’s intent while hiding their own. Every step, even the slightest breath, was meant to deceive the other.

For late-bloom prospects barely past twenty, the level of feinting and counter-feinting was absurdly difficult and intricate. But the two of them were doing it instinctively.

Then Shin Kangheon was the first to stop walking. He clicked his tongue low and muttered,

“...Since when did I ever start worrying about odds and possibilities.”

His eyes, having gone from boy to young man, had changed beyond recognition in just a few months.

Where they’d once only been rough and wild, now they held a chilling light—like a predator slowly closing in on its prey with its claws hidden.

Grip—

Shin Kangheon tightened his hand around the blade’s hilt.

The moment the forearm muscles that had grown thicker and more distinct than a few months ago bulged as if they might burst—

Bang!

Slamming his weight hard into his back foot, Shin Kangheon’s body shot toward Kim Muhyuk explosively. The force of it called to mind a tiger charging down its prey.

But his opponent wasn’t some clueless prey. He was a seasoned hunter.

“What’s with the cheap tricks? I can see you trying to use your head from a mile away.”

Kim Muhyuk smirked, twisting his body as if he’d been waiting for this, and knocked the blade aside at a slant.

Out of all the countless trajectories he’d traced in his head, their sword and blade met on the path that had seemed the most dangerous.

Claaang—!

It didn’t end with a single clash. Shin Kangheon swung his blade like a man possessed, and Kim Muhyuk met him with a calm, steady sword.

Clang! Clang-clang! Kraaang—!

Over the past few months, Kim Muhyuk and Shin Kangheon had crashed into each other so many times they were sick of it, yet they never had time to actually get used to one another.

They kept provoking each other’s talent and pushing each other to keep growing.

One of them would make a big leap forward, the other would chase him down like a madman, and once the gap closed, the first would work himself to death to pull ahead again.

Back and forth like that, they progressed far faster than they ever could have training alone.

‘Lunatic.’

‘Psycho.’

They’d started calling each other that as a joke at first, but now those words carried mutual recognition and respect.

“Uraaaat!”

For the first time, a shout tore from Shin Kangheon’s throat. He blasted out his breath, jumped high into the air, and spun his body in midair.

Whirr!

It was an elastic, lively movement that made full use of his natural physical gifts. The blade he swung as he rotated overhead briefly raked through the air like a tiger’s claws.

Shwick—

The hair tie holding back the hair Kim Muhyuk had been growing out for months was sliced cleanly apart.

Through the strands of hair scattering and getting in the way of his vision, he saw Shin Kangheon’s grinning face.

“I was going for that from the start!”

“...Cheap bastard.”

“It’s called strategy! Uraaaah!”

Landing, Shin Kangheon drove off the floor with explosive power in his thighs and closed the distance.

The blade surged up from below, aiming for Kim Muhyuk’s chin. The tip grazed him, and droplets of blood scattered in the air. The blade wasn’t sharpened, but that didn’t matter much.

Flames were burning in Shin Kangheon’s eyes as he glared at Kim Muhyuk.

‘I will win this time. No matter what.’

He’d worked himself half to death to narrow the gap, but even now, if he fought Kim Muhyuk ten times, he lost seven.

And those three wins only came on days when he was in top condition and luck was on his side—and even then, they were narrow decision wins in Sword Demon’s eyes.

It stung his pride... but Kim Muhyuk was still far stronger than he was.

‘What if I stake half my life on it?’

Just for today, he wanted to win no matter what.

Not a wishy-washy decision win. He wanted to be able to say he’d clearly broken Kim Muhyuk’s sword.

Then walk into the martial-artist license exam tomorrow with his head held high.

“Today, Shin Kangheon’s in peak condition!”

Kwoom-kwoom-kwoom-kwoom—!

Blade wind howled viciously. Scratch marks carved themselves one after another into the specially treated wooden floorboards.

This was purely the result of his natural strength and technique. He hadn’t even learned a serious inner art yet.

It was enough to make Sword Demon, watching from the rear, let out a helpless laugh.

“Well now, he really means it.”

The way Shin Kangheon was driving Kim Muhyuk back looked like a martial artist stepping into a life-and-death match.

Who in their right mind would see this and believe it was a “friendly spar” the day before the martial-artist license exam?

‘For the sake of tomorrow’s exam, I should probably stop them right about now...’

Choi Geon wavered for a moment but decided against it.

His own disciple had a strong competitive streak too.

“Do you really think I’m going to lose?”

Inside the blade storm Shin Kangheon had whipped up, Kim Muhyuk narrowed his eyes sharply and began to pick his way through.

His loosened hair was completely wild, but he didn’t care. As he pushed his focus to the limit, the blade’s trajectory came into sharp relief.

Kang! Kang! Kang!

Each time sparks flew, Shin Kangheon’s blade was knocked away.

His hands and feet, now impatient, began to grow slightly disordered. In the end, he hit his limit, his blade wind dying down to a mere breeze.

“Uraaaah!”

Gathering up every last bit of energy he had left, Shin Kangheon prepared his final strike. His body and Kim Muhyuk’s, eyes gone calm and flat, crossed paths.

Shraaaak!

And then one of them staggered as he turned.

It was Shin Kangheon, his shirt shredded into tatters.

“F... fuck... Lost, but I fought well...”

Thud.

Having burned through every last drop of stamina, Shin Kangheon passed out and collapsed on the floor.

Kim Muhyuk wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and grinned.

“When it comes to fights with lives on the line, I’m way out of your league.”

Muttering that, Kim Muhyuk gave Shin Kangheon a light kick and shoved him toward the corner of the training hall.

It wasn’t a problem with his character. Training just wasn’t over yet.

Ssssss—

A thick fog began to fill the training hall, cutting off his vision. Kim Muhyuk glanced around and grumbled under his breath,

“Not even a break before round two?”

Then, from every direction at once, in a voice that made it impossible to tell where she was, Kim Bokja spoke.

“Biter! Lion Dog! King Snake! Bite!”

At the same time, three anomalies erupted from the fog and pounced.

A black cotton-candy puff of a wandering spirit that had grown to twice its former size, a huge white dog big enough for a person to ride, and a yellow python flicking its tongue all attacked Kim Muhyuk from every direction.

If Kim Muhyuk and Shin Kangheon were geniuses of martial arts, Kim Bokja was a genius of spell-casting.

After spending the past few months mastering the spell manual Choi Geon had given her, she’d increased the number of anomalies she could handle to three.

“Handling multiple anomalies at once is something only famous spell-casters are supposed to be able to do...”

Even if the spell manual from Choi Geon was specialized for handling anomalies, it was still an absurd level of talent.

Kyaaaargh!

Woof-woof!

Hissss—

Kim Muhyuk ran around the fog, ducking and blocking for all he was worth as the anomalies’ attacks poured down on him.

‘Cutting them down won’t end it.’

If he could properly wield sword qi, that’d be one thing. For now, all he could do was make the anomalies Bokja controlled flinch.

‘Find the spell-caster.’

In the middle of the crisis, Kim Muhyuk simply shut his eyes.

It was fog created by spell-casting anyway.

Sight, touch, hearing... None of it could be trusted. So instead of relying on his five senses, he expanded his sense of qi.

He hadn’t learned a full-fledged inner art yet, but under his teacher’s guidance he had learned how to handle qi with delicacy.

Whoosh! Whoosh, whoosh!

Eyes closed, Kim Muhyuk dodged the lunging attacks of the anomalies as if he were performing a stunt.

The moment the thoroughly provoked anomalies all let out shrieks together and closed in—

“...There.”

Half-opening his eyes, Kim Muhyuk stepped through the gaps between the charging anomalies, using his footwork to slip out like a shadow.

The anomalies crashed into each other with a clatter and bounced away.

“You idiots!”

There was a spot where the flow of qi, ever so slightly, felt different.

Reaching that place in one breath, Kim Muhyuk swung his sword.

Shraaaaaak!

The pivot of the spell formation shattered, and the fog scattered into pieces.

And less than a foot from where the sword had drawn its line, Kim Bokja sat hard on her butt, eyes round.

“Holy shit... I almost pissed myself.”

In her blinking ear, a pair of earrings he’d never seen before glowed faintly. It was a spell-tool that held the bound souls of the anomalies—spirit beasts.

“Hoo. That’s the last of the training...”

Kim Muhyuk let out a tired sigh and was just about to sheathe his sword.

As the spell unraveled and his senses returned to normal, something like a needle of killing intent caught on them.

‘Ambush!’

He flinched and spun around, swinging his sword.

If it hadn’t been for the hypersensitive training of the past few months, all those drills for surprise assassin attacks, he never would have picked up on such a faint thread of killing intent.

As he turned, he saw a sword—no, something he took for a sword—driving toward his heart.

Chaaang!

He barely managed to block the surprise attack, and cold sweat ran down Kim Muhyuk’s forehead.

Choi Geon had extended his back scratcher, its tip meeting Kim Muhyuk’s sword.

The killing intent had been so vivid that he mistook it for an actual blade.

“Not bad at all.”

“......Teacher. You really scared me. That killing intent felt so real I thought I was dead for sure!”

“I always tell you: until I say training is over, you don’t let your guard down.”

“So that means we’re done now, right?”

Sword Demon Choi Geon smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. We’ll stop here for today.”

At those words, Kim Muhyuk dropped flat onto the floor like a felled tree. As always, after back-to-back training that bordered on real combat, he was completely spent.

After lying there for a while, he finally managed to lift his head a bit and ask his teacher,

“Teacher. At this level... I should be able to get a first-rate license, right?”

Choi Geon found his disciple’s question almost funny.

‘You brat. That last strike would’ve been hard for even a peak expert to deal with. You just fought back-to-back against late-bloom prospects who’ll be counted on one hand among your peers, and then you blocked that... and you’re still asking if “this is enough”?’

A laugh almost escaped him before he caught it. He forced a stern expression onto his face instead.

“You little brat! Does the martial-artist license exam seem that easy to you that you’re asking me if I can guarantee the result?”

He put plenty of pressure into his gaze in case his disciple got cocky, but there was nothing he could do about the way his lips kept wanting to curl up.

That was how their last training session before the license exam came to an end.

*****

That night.

After Shin Kangheon and Kim Bokja headed home first, Kim Muhyuk sat across from his teacher at the table.

“Want something to drink?”

“If I went with my heart, I’d be chugging beer right now... but I’ll settle for barley tea tonight.”

“Then I guess I’ll be drinking alone.”

“......”

“Ha ha ha!”

Having teased his disciple, Choi Geon cracked open a can of beer and took a light sip.

A few months ago, the only thing to drink in his place had been barley tea. Now, there were all kinds of drinks and snacks.

There was furniture he’d never had before too—sofas, a dining table, chairs.

Above all, he could feel the traces of human warmth everywhere, left behind by Kim Muhyuk, his parents, Shin Kangheon, and Kim Bokja as they came and went.

“Tomorrow’s the exam. Aren’t you nervous?”

“It might sound a little arrogant, but...”

Kim Muhyuk met his teacher’s eyes and gave a crooked grin.

“I feel like I’ve fully reached the standard for first-rate.”

Choi Geon only smiled silently.

The disciple he’d found at the end of his life was a smart kid.

There was no way he didn’t know roughly where he stood.

“I don’t think you’re the type, but just in case, don’t get cocky and mess up the exam.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

As far as the license exam itself went, there wasn’t much left to say.

It would probably be better to send him home early and let him rest.

Even so, there was a reason Choi Geon had held his disciple back, asking to talk for a bit.

“...I’ve never really asked about your future in detail. Once you become a martial artist, what kind of life do you want to live?”

It was a fairly difficult question, but Kim Muhyuk didn’t hesitate.

“The strongest martial artist in the world. I want to surpass Richard Han and win the World Martial Arts Tournament.”

“I figured you’d say that.”

Choi Geon laughed heartily.

It was as if he were making up for the twenty years he’d gone without laughing; in the last few months, he’d been laughing a lot more.

“But is that all? Besides the goal of becoming the strongest martial artist in the world, don’t you have any plans for what you want to do with your abilities?”

“......”

Kim Muhyuk suddenly thought of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

The organization that had thrown the world into chaos and tried to rule it with force.

From the moment he’d gone back in time, he had vowed to stop the Heavenly Demon Cult from doing the same thing again.

He couldn’t say it like that, so he put it a little more indirectly.

“...If possible, I’d like to make the world a better place to live. A safe world where my family, my friends, my teacher, and decent, ordinary people don’t end up getting hurt...”

It was a roundabout way of saying “a world where the Heavenly Demon Cult doesn’t rule,” and it sounded a bit cringey to his own ears, so he scratched his cheek for no reason.

Choi Geon listened seriously and nodded.

“That’s a pretty idealistic thing to say. A single martial artist can’t change the world. You’d have to become some great politician or businessman to do something like that.”

“I figured as much.”

“But...”

Sword Demon Choi Geon.

In the past, he’d been a hot-blooded hero, called Sword Demon by black-path and demonic martial artists.

“I like that kind of ideal. In martial artists’ terms, you could call it chivalry. There are too many evil people in the world, and too few martial artists who carry out chivalry.”

“......”

And there was one identity Choi Geon had that most people didn’t know about.

“Muhyuk. There’s something I should tell you.”

“Please, go ahead, Teacher.”

Choi Geon watched his disciple straighten his posture in a listening stance, then finally opened his mouth.

“Have you ever heard of a martial art called Five Elements Divine Art?”

It was a martial art he’d never heard of before, but in that instant, Kim Muhyuk felt his heart start to pound for some reason.