I Pulled Out the Excalibur

Najin didn’t know much about this entity. After all, the drugger’s gender, age, personal details, appearance, nothing was known about them.

“Do you know who I am?”

The only things Najin knew about the drugger were that they were an alchemist and a formidable opponent, comparable to Ivan.

‘Limited information, but…’

These few pieces of information were sufficient. They were more than enough to associate the woman in front of him with the drugger.

“Drug maker.”

The oppressive feeling weighing on his shoulders and the sharpness of his senses gave Najin the answer.

“Drug maker Hakan.”

Declaring this, Najin braced himself.

At this, the woman smirked. Her lips curled up, and she narrowed her eyes. Looking at Najin with half-open eyes, she spoke.

“Good sense. Quick-witted. But the conclusion you’ve reached doesn’t sit well with me.”

She didn’t deny Najin’s guess.

Drugger Hakan pointed her finger straight at the blade Najin was pointing at her.

“Aren’t you going to run? If you’re sure, as you say, that I’m Drugger Hakan, shouldn’t you be running away?”

A powerful figure, on par with Ivan and Horace.

She questioned whether fleeing wasn’t the right choice when facing an overpowering adversary.

“Ivan’s rule is to strike first if a boss from another organization enters our territory.”

“And yet Ivan himself is away, isn’t he?”

Did she know he was absent?

Horace’s backer whom Horace believed in. Could that have been Drugger Hakan? Considering how Horace’s officer exploded to death just moments ago, their relationship seemed far from collaborative.

…Anyway.

Najin gripped the sword Ivan had entrusted to him tightly.

“Rules are rules.”

“Unnecessarily conscientious, aren’t you, kid?”

Hakan shrugged her shoulders and flicked her finger.

Zzzzz… The same buzzing noise echoed again. Those who appeared intoxicated and were standing behind Hakan reacted to the noise.

They saw their master, Hakan.

And then, they saw the end of her outstretched finger.

It was pointing at Najin. Soon they started rushing towards Najin. Dozens of addicts. Their eyes and ears oozing blood, Najin looked at them and let out a long breath.

He did not move.

It wasn’t just because of the rule set by Ivan. It was intuition. The farther he gets from Drugger Hakan, the more dangerous it gets.

There were many of them.

Najin’s eyes moved rapidly.

Counting those surrounding Drugger Hakan and pushing him back, there were over twenty addicts, just within sight…

‘There seem to be more behind them.’

This was just the first wave.

He felt more presences behind Hakan. And not just that. Considering the screams echoing throughout the city and the explosion he had heard earlier, their numbers could exceed a hundred.

Ivan and Offen were away.

No support from organization members could be expected.

And there was a lack of information about the opponent.

It was a worst-case scenario, a situation akin to the brink of death, and all he had in his hand was a single sword.

‘But it’s no ordinary sword.’

The sword Ivan had thrown to him.

It was a masterpiece, different from the usual swords Najin used, a symbol of the value he had proven to Ivan.

Najin’s roving eyes stopped. They rested on Hakan, standing beyond the addicts.

The addicts were moving at Hakan’s command, the mastermind behind this situation. Ivan always said, in battle, the first one to take down is the leader, the one responsible. Najin’s eyes, tinted with the hue of sunset, flickered briefly.

Bang!

Najin sprang into action.

A burst of speed. In an instant, Najin closed the distance and swung his sword at the neck of an addict blocking his path.

Sssssk.

Blood sprayed along the smooth trajectory of the blade.

Shudder.

The moment the neck was severed, the addict’s body convulsed violently. Swelling. Without hesitation, Najin kicked the decapitated corpse.

Boom!

Several addicts were caught in the explosion. Arms were torn off, legs flew in the air, yet they kept advancing towards Najin as if they felt no pain. Najin frowned slightly at the sight.

‘It’s like the undead from a fairy tale…’

Alive or dead?

The stench of rotting corpses and decaying humans. Some of them were definitely corpses, but whether all were dead was uncertain. The situation was too dire to contemplate such uncertainties.

Instead of thinking, Najin judged and acted.

‘The range of explosion is about three steps.’

Timing of explosion?
Within 2 seconds of convulsion.

Conditions for explosion?
Clearly, cutting the neck and ensuring death triggered it. But there’s no guarantee it won’t explode while they’re alive. So, maintaining a distance of at least three steps seemed necessary.

Assessment of the situation. Organization of information.
The only thing left was to act.

Najin trailed his sword low. The first thing he learned from Ivan was how to handle multiple opponents.

「No matter how talented and sensitive you are.」
「Before you seriously handle mana, ending up skewered and dead is the same. So, how do you handle it?」

Tactics ingrained in his body while working as an executioner.
Repeatedly used in numerous situations.

「One, block the approach.」

Sweeping low, his sword skated across the ankles of the addicts. Sssk, some ankles were severed, others deeply sliced, making it impossible for them to stand. Four addicts fell, blocking the path.

「Two, lead them into a narrow space.」

A narrow alleyway, open at the back.
Only the front is accessible by enemies, and the fallen four delayed the next row’s advance.

「You know what’s left.」
「You know it, right? You’ve learned it.」

Do what you do best.
Judge and play your best move in each situation.

Stepping over the bodies, Najin swept his sword across the necks of the addicts as the rear row tried to advance. Immediately after swinging, he leaped backward.

Boom!

Those caught close in the explosion lost legs or ankles. Their bodies piled up, again blocking the path. The roar of the explosion and splattering blood and flesh were gruesome.

Not a sight for the faint-hearted.
Even for Najin, who had seen deaths from a young age, it was a stomach-turning scene. Najin wiped the blood splattered on his face with the back of his hand and dashed.

In the narrow alley, Najin’s sword gleamed. He cut or kicked those within three steps, trying to close the gap with Hakan.

But the distance seemed to never shrink.

‘They keep coming. Endlessly.’

Pushing back, more keep coming, overwhelming in numbers. Najin, who had been advancing, started to step back.

One step, two steps, three steps…

This way, he’ll be pushed out of the alley.
A wide space. If pushed into an area where he could be surrounded, it would be the end. Najin clenched his teeth. If it were Ivan, it wouldn’t be like this. If Ivan were here, he would have been faster and more decisive…

So.

Thump.

Like this.

Sssk.

Najin, diving in swiftly, swung his sword like Ivan. Following the optimal path he had only imagined, his body moved, and his blade flashed. Najin’s eyes widened.

‘This again.’

An unusual sensation as if something was propelling his body.

It was not something Najin could control. It came instinctively, reflexively.

‘But…’

To overcome the situation, he needed that movement.

Najin focused on Hakan, who stood beyond the horde of addicts.

“…”

Silently, she just looked up at the sky. It meant she wasn’t considering him a worthy opponent.

Not exerting her full strength.

His eyes set on ‘what’s next’ rather than him.

This fact irked Najin a bit. Annoyance surged at the sight of a powerful opponent who didn’t even acknowledge him.

‘Let’s see how long you can remain carefree.’

Najin moved, keeping in mind the sensation he had just experienced. He stepped forward, picturing the optimal path in his mind. And the moment he felt the flow pushing his back.

Thud.

There was a feeling as if something had snagged.

“……!”

The propelling flow disappeared.

His accelerated movement returned to its normal pace. At that moment, a disconnect occurred between the movement Najin had envisioned and the actual movement of his body.

What Najin had pictured in his mind was ‘dive in, swing the sword, and then step back.’ But the decelerated Najin’s body froze the moment he swung the sword.

Shiver.

A trembling corpse, bleeding, signaling an explosion. Hurriedly, Najin threw himself backward, but it was too late.

Boom!

Thrown by the explosion, Najin rolled on the ground.

He was barely out of range, but still caught in the shockwave due to the close call. Rising from the ground, he gasped for air, feeling a throbbing pain all over his body.

‘What went wrong?’

That snagging sensation.

It wasn’t a physical hindrance, more like a psychological factor. Realizing this, a voice echoed in Najin’s ears.

Do not cross the line.

Live as you’re told.

Don’t reach for the unreachable.

Those were always Ivan’s words.

Words Najin repeated to himself whenever he resigned or gave up on something. Now, they had become shackles grasping his ankles.

…Shackles that Najin himself had fastened.

Mana and sword aura, things he shouldn’t handle.

Even if he saw ways to use them, he believed he shouldn’t reach out. That was what he had always thought. They existed beyond the line Ivan had drawn.

Although he had the ability to cross the line.

He hadn’t out of fear of Ivan.

Unconsciously, he had been restricting his own actions.

Just a step forward, a reach towards the front, could have grasped those things. But they remained unreachable without crossing the line. What Najin needed now were those very things.

The boy needed the courage to cross the line.

But shackles don’t break easily.

The shackles he had worn for a long time had become a part of Najin. He felt the scar on his shoulder throb. Najin exhaled heavily as he stepped back.

“……”

Looking at the sword in his hand left by Ivan.

“…Ha.”

Najin let out a laugh involuntarily.

What was he hesitating for?

Receiving this sword was, in itself, a permission.

‘Permission to cross the line.’

Najin lifted his foot. With the raised foot, he stamped on the line he had subconsciously drawn.

Shattering the shackles he had imposed on himself, Najin stepped forward. At that moment, his body accelerated.

Screech.

The flow propelled Najin’s body.

No longer snagged by anything, his movement became smooth and fast. The movement he envisioned in his mind perfectly aligned with his physical movement.

Sssk.

The sword that plunged in, carving a clean trajectory, opened a path. The corpses that fell, trembling, about to explode, but by the time they showed signs, Najin was no longer there.

However, he didn’t retreat.

Najin leaped.

Bang, he kicked off the narrow alley walls, leaping high. A movement impossible with human strength alone, made possible with the aid of mana.

Landing and swinging his sword, as the addicts trembled, Najin kicked off the wall again, not retreating as he advanced towards the drugger.

Crack.

Najin leaped high, kicking off the wall.

Najin, leaping high, raised his sword, emulating Ivan’s swordsmanship.

The boy reached out across the line.

There was light.

Things he thought he shouldn’t grasp unconsciously, even though they were visible, things he hadn’t seized.

Crack.

The moment he grasped it, strength poured into Najin’s hand, gripping the sword. The flow that propelled Najin’s body now surged through his fingers into the sword.

Flash.

Najin’s sword flashed brightly.

The light on the sword was pure white.

Though it hadn’t yet taken on its own color or fully enveloped the blade, the white brilliance embedded in the sword was undoubtedly a fragment of sword aura.

Najin consciously drew it out.

Not unconscious, not accidental, not instinctive, but a light kindled purely by his own will.

In the dark alleyway, untouched even by the light of the ore lamps, the white sword energy on the boy’s sword shone brilliantly.

***

Drugger Hakan scoffed.

The boy who had been charging at her was now obscured by a horde of addicts. His movements were decent, but not enough to break through her forces.

He’ll fall after a bit of resistance.

According to rumors, he was the beloved youngster of Ivan. Presenting his corpse would surely please them.

‘No hiccup in the plan.’

She had gathered corpses discarded in the landfill to create living bombs. Over time, she swallowed Horace’s territory and drugged Horace to control him.

And finally, used Horace as bait to lure Ivan and Offen.

A plan years in the making. But Hakan didn’t believe that such a trap would be enough to end Ivan. She knew Ivan, even if he didn’t know her.

‘Atanga’s Knight, Ivan.’

She knew how persistent and relentless knights of Atanga could be. He would surely break through the trap and return here.

‘So, conquer before that.’

She planned to occupy the central area where Ivan resided, forcing him into a war of attrition.

That way, the war would be hers. She would control all of Artman’s Underground City.

A long-prepared plan.

If only she could achieve it…

“……”

Hakan looked up quietly.

She looked at the ceiling of the underground city. Once a prodigy, considered the next head of the forge, but she fell into the underground city after being expelled at a young age.

Like others in this city, she couldn’t forget her glorious days.

Drugger Hakan, as an alchemist from the Forge, wished to shine once more. Conquering the city was just a step; her destination lay further. She smiled, looking beyond, not far off.

The day to leave this city, filled with rejects and trash, was not far. While she was gazing up high.

Thump.

Najin kicked off the alley walls, leaping up. Hakan’s view, once set on the path to the upper world, was now blocked by Najin.

Before she could feel annoyed at this interruption…

Flash.

Najin’s sword shone.

In this place filled with rejects, in the dark alley, amid the trash of the city, the boy’s sword cast a bright, pure white glow.

Like a star in the sky.

The moment she faced the light, Hakan’s eyes widened. The shining. Things that could affect her plan. She thought she had eliminated all such variables, yet one remained here.

“…Didn’t see this coming.”

Hiding such a thing, she chuckled at Ivan’s cunning.

The boy, once insignificant trash.

But now, the boy emitting light was a definite variable.

Drugger Hakan no longer gazed at the sky, at what was next in her plan. She stared directly at the boy, slicing her forearm with a dagger. Blood dripping to the ground hissed and vaporized.

A pungent aroma filled the alley.

It signified Hakan had brought out her hidden trump card and recognized the boy as a worthy opponent.