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The Demon King of the Master Swordsmanship Chapter 23

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Chapter 23


Teenage years.

A period when instinct prevails over reason, action precedes thought.

A tumultuous time, teetering on the edge of maturity and immaturity.

Looking back, I was the same. Who hasn’t felt as though the world revolved around them?

That was my teenage self, utterly convinced I was the protagonist of some grand novel.

Despite countless trials, the protagonist inevitably triumphs and lives “happily ever after.”

As a teenager, I always dreamed of a rosy future.

The basis? There wasn’t any.

Why? I didn’t know.

I simply dreamed, recklessly.

Looking back now, I was truly reckless. What was I thinking to be so rash?

But that’s what being a teenager is, isn’t it?

A baseless confidence, believing oneself to be the center of the universe.

So reckless, I couldn’t repeat it even if I tried.

Blissfully ignorant until you’ve tasted the bitterness yourself.

A master of self-justification.

So I’m here to teach you.

As an adult, as someone who’s been through it all, just how vast the world truly is.

And how merciless life can be.

I feel the trembling from our clasped hands.

“I don’t usually hold hands with other guys, you know.”

“Grrr…”

“Come on, you said you’re strong, didn’t you?”

“Graah!!”

The guy arm-wrestling with me now is the vice-captain of Group 8.

What was his name again? Kim something. I’m hopeless—I couldn’t even remember it for a moment. Anyway, he’s known among the freshmen as someone fairly strong.

Even though he’s struggling like this, they say he’s a promising talent.

I heard he’s evenly matched with the son of Paeung, and now that I’ve faced him, it seems that’s not just empty talk.

He’s got potential, good credentials, and likely received a lot of recognition, which must have inflated his ego to the point where nothing else mattered.

That’s why I’m here to straighten him out.

An eye for an eye, strength for strength.

“So, out of boredom, when do you think this’ll be over?”

“Grrr!!”

“Are you crapping yourself? What’s with all the grunting? You must be drenched in sweat by now.”

“Graah!!”

“Kid, if you keep using brute force blindly, you’ll only hurt yourself. Focus on a target, concentrate your strength. Use your body weight. Watch this.”

My unmoving hand begins to move.

Slowly, naturally, as I pull towards me, his hand, like a magnet, is drawn to mine.

The color drains from his face as he gives it all he has.

From the perspective of someone who prided himself on his strength, this sight must be not just humiliating, but utterly disgraceful.

But listen here.

“Snap out of it. If you turn away just because you’re humiliated or ashamed, that’s as far as you’ll ever go.”

“……!!”

“I’ll show you one more time. Watch closely.”

It begins with reflection.

I focus within myself, fine-tuning my muscles, bringing my body under complete control.

Then.

“Target locked.”

The connection between the muscles of my left arm, shoulder, and chest.

And then.

“Concentrate your strength.”

Creak.

The sound of muscle fibers being squeezed tight as the muscles in my left arm swell explosively.

Finally.

“Apply your weight.”

The hand that had been holding firm slowly moves inward. Despite his full-body tremors, his hand inexorably follows its course, calmly, unerringly.

And finally.

Thud!

It hits the table.

“How’s that? Easy, right?”

I extend my hand. Pay up.

Five coins received.

The next contest is a magic duel.

No joke. There’s actually an idiot who thinks he can take me on with magic.

“Teenagers, I swear.”

They see only what they want to see and believe only what they want to believe.

I’ve said I can use magic, that I’m more confident in magic than in the sword, and yet, laughably, many still challenge me with magic. Ridiculously many.

Every other day. So many, it doesn’t even anger me anymore.

Do you know what the most ridiculous thing is?

Sometimes, people whose skills are so laughably subpar that they should be ashamed to even call themselves magicians show up.

Take that sloppy, downright atrocious Wind Cutter flying at me now as a prime example.

The incoming Wind Cutter smashes into my shield and vanishes without a trace.

“No way!!”

What do you mean, “no way”?

The boy who had cried out in frustration launched another spell, Air Bomb.

A simple spell that compresses air and causes it to explode. Magicians favor it for its straightforward technique and nearly instantaneous casting speed.

Alongside Wind Fist, Wind Wall, and various other spells, they battered my shield.

The common denominator? They’re all wind-attribute spells.

“The wind attribute, huh.”

What’s the greatest strength of wind magic?

Think of the essence of wind.

Wind is swift. It’s also invisible.

Speed and stealth.

From casting to activation, wind attributes dominate in terms of speed. Moreover, the inherent transparency of wind gives it a crucial advantage—stealth.

It’s the attribute best suited for one-on-one combat.

That’s why many magicians choose wind as their trump card to sever their opponent’s lifeline.

But this kid.

“With what confidence do you just stand there and cast magic?”

Running isn’t enough—you should be flying around. Did you glue yourself to the spot? Who’d think this was anything but your living room?

If you were at least physically trained, I could understand.

But your body is nothing but a mass of flabby fat. I’m confident I could break your spine with a single serious hit.

“You’re not even funny.”

You lack the basics.

Forget talent or skill. I’ll even overlook the lack of effort. I’m willing to forgive all that.

But shouldn’t you at least understand the attribute you’re using?

The strength of wind magic lies in its speed, but what’s the use of speed when it’s clearly visible?

Look at those hands frantically moving. Who can’t figure out your spell when you’re so blatantly constructing it? You were so obvious, I thought you were trying to trick me at first.

You know, some cunning types silently chant their spells while faking the gestures with their hands.

But of course, that wasn’t it.

Expecting something from this half-wit was my mistake.

When you’re openly constructing a spell like that, any stealth is out the window. Once the timing of the spell’s completion is known, stealth is dead in the water.

So, my conclusion is.

“You need a good thrashing.”

A severe beating is the only thing that’ll wake you up. Train, lose some weight, maybe then you’ll have a shot at love.

Am I too kind?

As a person, you should be thankful to me. I’m about to give you a lesson you couldn’t buy with money.

With a snap of my fingers.

A shadow casts over the ground.

“What, what is that?”

“What do you think? It’s real magic.”

A cluster of Dark Arrows fills the sky.

Dark Arrows, a basic spell of the dark attribute, blotted out the sun, and a deluge of arrows of retribution rained down.

Fifteen coins received.

The minimum betting unit in duels is five coins.

The challenger must have at least five coins to place a challenge, and if accepted, the defender must match the challenger’s bet for the duel to proceed.

But if the opponent is weak, and you’re certain of victory, wouldn’t you want to bet more? Not just five, but ten, twenty… wouldn’t you want to earn a larger sum in one go?

This is also possible. Five is just the base value. You’re free to bet ten or even risk everything you’ve got.

But what if you’re not confident in defeating your opponent? What if you’ve fought them before and know you can’t win? You can either negotiate or avoid the duel by forfeiting five coins.

Here’s the question.

Is it possible for multiple challengers to band together and pool their coins to challenge a single defender?

Of course, it’s possible.

Just like what’s happening before me now.

“Cover your eyes. Form up!”

Magic, arrows, spears—they all come flying. An Ice Spear that looked like a frozen stalactite frosted my shield, arrows exploded with acrid smoke, and all manner of spells rained down to obscure my view while tanks and melee fighters formed a surrounding net.

But what can they do, when I can see everything?

A strange dot in the clear blue sky. A spell for observation known as the Third Eye.

Magic Eye.

“Not bad.”

Like viewing from a lookout tower, I see the battlefield before me in a single glance.

The dealers pouring all their strength into launching attacks, the tanks sweating buckets as they charge forward in full plate armor.

And just as many spectators as there are combatants.

Given the recent rumors of my notorious duels, it’s no wonder my matches have become something of a spectacle.

Hmm, I do enjoy the attention.

Smiling in satisfaction, I look down at the group.

Hmm? Who’s watching me?

“Oh? You noticed?”

A girl staring right at my Magic Eye.

Jin Yoori, leader of Group 1.

An heiress of the Jinryong family, one of the top bloodlines in Korea, if not the world, often ranked alongside my own family.

Jin Yoori winks at my Magic Eye. Of course, the “eye” here is metaphorical.

That girl.

“How cute.”

I smile fondly and turn my gaze forward again.

And then, as if it were nothing, I reach back.

“Urk-!”

“You’re pretty bold.”

Who’s trying to hide from me? I grab the guy by the head and glare straight at him, just as, instinctively, I jerk my head back.

Whoosh!

A single arrow grazes the tip of my nose.

“Oh? It pierced my shield?”

Just as I’m admiring it, as if they anticipated this moment, the ground collapses beneath me, and chains slither like serpents aiming for their prey.

And then, the all-out assault begins.

“Well, well…”

I see now.

This one’s bait.

They intend to use him as a sacrificial lamb to shake me.

“What an audacious bunch.”

As a proper adult, I should indulge their little antics. I toss the guy I’ve been holding far away and even release my shield.

“Come at me.”

Let’s have some fun.

Boom!!

I shoulder-charge the shield that comes crashing down from the front. The cold metal presses against my skin for a moment, and then, on my right, a tank bulldozes in. From the left, another watches cautiously for any unexpected moves.

Their formation is more organized than I expected.

They’re qualitatively different from the fools who’ve recklessly charged at me before.

My body shivers.

A thrill surges up from my toes.

Excitement.

Yes, I’m excited right now.

The exchange of blows fills me with joy. The fervor of youth, determined to take me down, sends chills down my spine.

“This is great!”

A brawl breaks out.

I punch the shield that blocks my way. I grab the descending hammer and twist it, and as I deflect the sword aimed at my back, I immediately follow up with a spinning kick that shatters the armor of the guy behind me.

A spear thrusts at me from behind the fallen guy. Even this relentless assault is meticulous.

I dodge it as best I can, but I can’t avoid injury. Blood drips steadily from my arm.

“Magnificent!!”

With a broad smile, I plunge back into the chaos.

Magic, arrows, and all manner of colorful attacks rain down from afar, but I’m already lost in the frenzy.

I endured the magic with my bare body.

My clothes were shredded in an instant.

The flurry of attacks and dull impacts.

The screech of metal and the sound of muffled groans.

The acrid scent of sweat, the rapid breathing, the dizzying scent of blood.

This close-quarters fight, with heartbeats pounding, this is what it means to be a man!

It’s thrilling. It’s delightful. Oh, it’s pure bliss!

“A good brawl is the best fight! Hahaha! Come at me! More! More!!”

But did I go too wild? It seems my behavior is a bit too much for them.

I hear exhausted breaths all around.

Words like “monster,” “is he even human,” and “this isn’t a duel, it’s a raid” float around.

Amidst the chaotic evaluations, the group leader also groans and eventually orders a retreat.

“Go with Plan B. Don’t get emotional! Stick to the strategy. Avoid close combat. Tanks, hold your positions. Just follow the plan! Stay strong!”

Who was that again? The leader of Group 14?

I’m not sure, but their judgment isn’t bad. They’ve got some spirit.

The melee group that had been sticking close to me withdraws. They keep their eyes forward as they slowly back away. They’re well-trained.

And then, as if preparing for a raid on a giant monster, they form a wall with their tower shields.

“Impressive.”

A round of applause for their quick maneuvering.

Another for the perfection of their formation.

Indeed, they didn’t just stumble into the Academy.

Now I’m curious. How strong is their defense?

Let’s put it to the test.

With a spring in my step, as my thigh muscles bulge and explode with power.

“Bite down hard.”

“……!!”

Park Ki-hyuk Style!

Genuine Kick!

Boom!!

A deafening explosion accompanies the scream of the guy behind the shield.

“Hm, passable.”

Though pushed back, they didn’t collapse. That alone is worthy of praise.

Their formation is solid. Three tanks block the way, and the melee dealers close the gaps, cutting off all the attacker’s vision. They’re aiming to isolate me.

Now that I think about it, I see earpieces too. No wonder I didn’t hear anyone shouting orders.

It’s now clear. These kids have abandoned any pretense of a regular duel. They’ve assumed I’m a boss monster and prepared for a raid.

With a long signal, their formation advances.

Their target is me, and the goal is to hunt me down.

“How cute.”

In that case, I must respond in kind.

Something that matches your effort.

If you want a raid, then a raid you’ll get.

“Kids.”

Crack—crack-crack!!

The space fractures. The ordinary world shatters, revealing darkness.

At the end of that darkness, a vortex opens to the abyss, and from it emerges my legion.

Skeletons.

The Demon King’s army is awakening.

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