A fierce storm had passed.
The following meal was a time when no one knew whether the food went down their nose or their mouth.
Jiuk’s mind was filled with the thought that he had to cut Taehoo off, while Namgoong tried to gauge whether Taehoo was really that talented.
Gyeonghwan, seemingly the only one uninterested, ate quietly, and Jiho kept blabbering that everything was settled and that no matter what, they would get through the Coming-of-Age Ceremony together.
‘How on earth could he make such a proposal to Grandfather?’
Jiuk had only been able to say a word after leaning on Namgoong’s support.
But that youngest kid, who was much younger than him, had thrown out such an absurd proposal to their grandfather—and even got his agreement.
Jiuk was beyond incredulous; it made his teeth grind.
‘Is he really that different from us? That little brat?’
No, no.
He must just be too young to have any sense in his head.
Jiuk rationalized as he suppressed his anger.
“Not yet, not yet. Three months. If I just endure for three months, I can wipe him out from my sight.”
The Sword God’s skills couldn’t be learned overnight.
As the eldest of the Nam family, Jiuk knew that better than anyone.
Among those Sword God skills, the only ones fully mastered were by their own grandfather, Namjin.
Could Taehoo possibly learn even one of those skills in three months?
Impossible. Jiuk was certain of that.
“You should’ve at least toned down your bluff. You should have started by saying you don’t want to go to the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.”
Jiuk suppressed the swelling frustration and anxiety.
That awkward breakfast came to an end.
Taehoo and Namjin faced each other alone. Namjin shook his head slowly.
“Man, I never thought you’d push it even further. You’re going to twist my tongue out of shape, you know that?”
Namjin patted Taehoo’s shoulder who stood before him.
It was only natural after Taehoo had shaken the board once more after Namjin stepped in.
Still, Namjin showed no sign of displeasure. Naturally, he was taking it all in good humor.
If you only eat food spoon-fed to you, it gets boring, doesn’t it? That was why he found the current situation amusing.
“Yeah, you’ve never once misspoken.”
He was expecting it.
That was why Namjin immediately brought Taehoo to the Martial Arts Hall—the very place where Taehoo had tested Sangjin.
“Three months, huh…”
Namjin gauged the time. Could Taehoo really learn it? Or not?
He soon gave up trying to predict.
Taehoo was always the unpredictable kind, and Namjin’s role was only to teach exactly one skill.
No matter if it was possible or not, he intended to focus solely on that.
“Even one won’t be easy.”
Namjin quickly distanced himself from Taehoo, already holding a steel marble the size of a bean in his hand.
Ssshhrrrk.
About a hundred marbles clattered, flying through the air and bouncing off Namjin’s hand, filling the Martial Arts Hall with the sound.
“The training method is simple. Just cut these steel marbles I throw exactly in half—only five times.”
A chill ran down Taehoo’s spine.
He hadn’t even been able to properly track the previous steel marble.
Though he knew Namjin was going easy on him, the difference in skill was striking.
At the same time—
Ding!
A message sounded.
[Quest has started!]
Taehoo saw it with his own eyes.
[Demigod’s Skill]
Description – You have earned the opportunity to inherit one of Namjin’s skills as a demigod! Namjin has thought and thought about how to properly pass down his skill! During the three months you have won, if you can cut the steel marble exactly in half only five times, this training will be a success!
Reward – Fourth Sword (사검)
He had never even heard the name of that skill. What kind of power would it be? It was a realm beyond Taehoo’s understanding.
All he could say was,
“Let’s get started.”
He drew the Fallen Flower Sword given to him and shouted he was ready.
Almost immediately after Taehoo finished speaking, the marbles were shot again.
They were more like projectiles manifested through supernatural power.
Even more potent than ordinary bullets.
Shiiik!
Before his eyes could follow, his body moved instinctively.
Even so, the incoming marble tore through the flesh of Taehoo’s right forearm.
The bloodied projectile hit the Martial Arts Hall wall before the pain could register.
Taehoo bit his lip, forgetting the pain altogether.
[It’s a three-month intensive course, but no mercy from the old man.]
Ba’al looked at Taehoo’s bloodied forearm and said.
‘With half-hearted training, you won’t even learn a consonant of the skill.’
The marbles kept flying. At first, there was some breathing room, but the speed gradually increased.
No matter how fast or slow the intervals, Taehoo kept taking similar shallow wounds.
Blood splattered onto the Martial Arts Hall’s white floor, and sweat poured down like rain.
The wounds stung like fire where the sweat soaked in.
Yet Taehoo never stopped moving.
He focused solely on the movement of the marbles.
He carefully observed every sequence—how the marble wound around Namjin’s hand, the thumb curling, the muscle tensing, and then the shot.
If he couldn’t catch it all at once, he tried to grasp it in the next move.
Soon, all the steel marbles in Namjin’s hand had embedded themselves into the Martial Arts Hall walls.
Though wounded, Taehoo had managed to dodge every single one of Namjin’s projectiles.
He kept receiving shallow cuts, but not one shot hit his body squarely.
And then,
“Enough.”
When all the marbles in a single volley were used up, the day’s training was over.
For Namjin, shooting a hundred marbles was as easy as pie.
Even by simple calculation, it took less than ten minutes—just ten minutes.
But in that short time, Taehoo was pushed to the brink of exhaustion and collapsed on the spot.
“Don’t sit down; keep moving and get treated. Let’s make this a routine at this time every day.”
Namjin left the Martial Arts Hall, saying he would see him tomorrow.
Though pretending nothing was wrong, Namjin was actually quite surprised.
‘No way he’d dodge them all.’
Namjin had planned from the start to embed one marble deep into the forearm and call it done.
He never thought Taehoo would adapt to the projectile speed right away.
No matter how much training was done in the Sanctuary and how many personal missions completed, this was a whole different level from direct instruction.
‘That level of reflexes… Focus, no. It’s that poison from back then.’
The look in Taehoo’s eyes as he tracked the projectiles.
Since he couldn’t see the bullets, Taehoo made up for his delayed reaction by focusing on Namjin’s movements.
Even while taking wounds, his concentration never wavered.
That was not the level a kid his age should have.
“Every day is something to look forward to.”
Taehoo’s potential improvement was already flickering before Namjin’s eyes.
On the other hand, Taehoo was frustrated that he hadn’t swung his sword even once.
‘Don’t rush it. Three months is not a short time.’
Taehoo caught his breath and tightened his body. Healing the wounds came first.
Days piled up, and after a long string of repetition, half a month passed.
The daily training continued to leave scars on Taehoo’s body, now looking almost like a half-mummy.
Still, since the wounds were all minor, he was not hindered in movement.
Taehoo clung tirelessly to Namjin’s training.
He dodged dozens of projectiles, then received treatment, reviewing his mistakes.
He devised his own zero-minute strategy and repeated his clashes.
And then,
[Skill ‘Eye of the Swordsman’ has been activated!]
He even brought out a skill he had thought useless at first.
That was when the breakthrough happened.
As soon as the skill activated, he could catch afterimages of the marbles that were previously impossible to see.
Being able to see even faint afterimages was a world apart from not seeing at all.
Seeing the afterimage meant reading the trajectory, which meant being able to perfectly dodge the projectiles.
Shiiik!
Taehoo dodged an incoming marble without injury for the first time.
It was an achievement after a whole month.
Just as the last batch of marbles was spent.
“Hah, really… you’re something else…”
Namjin looked at Taehoo as if stunned.
To be able to see marbles he couldn’t track with his eyes just a month ago.
Namjin knew that sight meant half the battle of the skill was won.
“Tomorrow, let’s see if it was a coincidence or not.”
Even though he knew it wasn’t a coincidence, Namjin said this as he left the Martial Arts Hall.
[Hey, can’t you just praise him? Acting all tsundere while hiding your admiration!]
Ba’al said behind Namjin’s back.
Taehoo chuckled at that.
Like the saying goes, the frog doesn’t remember when it was a tadpole. Namjin didn’t seem to recall how he used to grumble in front of him.
“Hmm?”
Namjin scratched the back of his head and looked back.
“You called?”
“Oh, no, nothing.”
[What? You can sense when I’m badmouthing you?]
Taehoo was once again amazed at Namjin’s intuition.
‘Since dodging is familiar, now I have to block.’
He steeled himself and got back up.
It was time to see the nurse’s face well enough to memorize every mark.
And also to get the bandages properly wrapped.
Two months passed.
During that not-so-short time, Taehoo had grasped much about the nature of the Eye of the Swordsman skill.
He also learned how much the word ‘Intuition’ encompassed.
Being able to see the previously invisible trajectory of the marbles was exactly that.
Beyond simply improved eyesight, it was a tangible sensation.
Thanks to that, his training became much easier.
Now, reading Namjin’s movements, predicting the trajectory, and dodging had become one seamless motion.
Namjin held only three marbles in his hand.
‘Today is the day I finally swing the sword.’
It didn’t have to be a perfect half-cut.
Taehoo wanted to break free from just dodging while holding the Fallen Flower Sword.
If he could track the projectile with his eyes, his body ought to follow naturally.
One step.
‘Right forearm—if I dodge, it’s too late. Straight on. Even if I get hit, it won’t lead to a serious injury.’
Taehoo swung the sword straight at the incoming marble.
But the marble brushed past his body before the sword swung through.
For the first time in a while, blood splattered from Taehoo’s body again.
Two shots.
‘Reacting at the moment it’s shot is too late. Then at the moment the muscle moves.’
The Fallen Flower Sword grazed the marble more narrowly.
It was almost enough to make him think he was hit.
Ba’al watched quietly, holding his breath.
Three shots.
‘This time for sure!’
Faster than the muscle’s movement, reading Namjin’s eyes and heart.
Taehoo pushed his concentration to the limit.
From the sword he swung—
Screeeech!
The sound of friction finally rang out.
But—
‘What? What kind of force was that…?’
Instead of cutting, Taehoo’s body was pushed backward.
The marble landed untouched on the floor, not a single scratch.
If he hadn’t pulled himself together at the last moment and braced his grip, his hand might have burst open.
‘So he even wrapped mana around the steel marbles…!’
After two whole months, Taehoo finally caught the movement of the marbles.
He realized.
‘From the start, what I could see wasn’t everything.’
He finally understood how brutally difficult the repeated training really was.
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