Chapter 11
Shadow (1)
“Phew……”
After Sung-chul left, even the heat and light of the furnace had faded, leaving the place dim.
The soul stone in Se-hyun’s hand glimmered faintly, casting a red glow across his face.
I was wondering how I’d manage to take it… luckily it worked out.
Choi Sung-ah’s soul stone—Sung-chul’s younger sister.
He knew exactly what it meant to Sung-chul.
…But I don’t have the luxury of indulging someone’s grief.
Only a few years remained until the apocalypse, when individual deaths would become nothing more than passing anecdotes.
Until then, he had to find a way to survive.
Fortunately, his experimental prototype had succeeded—his first step forward was promising.
Through Sung-chul’s gauntlet, he had confirmed that he could draw upon the experiences inside a soul stone without destroying it.
Srrrng—
Se-hyun drew the sword buried in the sand—the one he had been forging just before Sung-chul arrived.
The groundwork was already complete.
Considering the soul stone’s origin, I probably won’t get far from “explosions.”
Since the soul stone’s consciousness had to be preserved, the artifact’s mythos had to be constructed around that.
He couldn’t ignore the experiences and memories of the soul stone’s owner, Choi Sung-ah.
Honestly, this is In-ha’s specialty.
Weapon forging was Se-hyun’s area of expertise.
But the act of weaving stories into them—creating “myths”—was something he could never rival In-ha in.
In fact, to say otherwise would be laughable.
Every myth infused into Se-hyun’s artifacts had originated with In-ha.
My role is just to “forge”—to refine the artifact so its abilities manifest properly.
But when it came to actually creating the foundational myth, his limits were clear.
And now, he had to do it while keeping the soul stone’s consciousness intact.
All he knew of Sung-chul’s sister was that her ability lay in “explosions.”
To properly synchronize the artifact with the soul stone, he needed more than that…
Still, that won’t be too big of an obstacle.
With adjustments, it was manageable.
He would simply downplay the destructive power, minimizing the detail of the explosions, and restrict them to a supporting role for the weapon.
By ensuring the myth’s manifestation relied as little as possible on her ability, the risk could be contained.
That part I can handle. But the real problem is ahead.
The greater obstacle still lay in wait, one he had to face head-on.
I just hope this thing doesn’t clash with me.
Normally, the process required grinding down the soul stone, erasing its consciousness, and then using only the stellar energy within.
Because otherwise, the risk is enormous.
If the consciousness remained, two different stellar forces would collide when the artifact was used.
Like stars crashing into one another.
The result: a supernova.
Which meant the user would self-destruct while wielding the artifact.
But Se-hyun’s knowledge of artifacts and soul stones was extensive. For him, this was a risk worth taking.
He had even prepared a safeguard by deliberately limiting the power output.
Yes—this was a gamble he could afford.
No, one he had to take.
If I can’t put this soul stone to proper use, I can’t move forward at all.
Equipping himself with weapons for the battles to come was the top priority.
Another clash like with Yoo Tae-hoon or Choi Sung-chul could happen at any moment.
“…I’m overthinking this.”
His hand trembled as he gripped the soul stone.
What’s this? Am I afraid now?
He knew well the fate of players who had swallowed soul stones for their power.
That made it all the more terrifying.
But Se-hyun had already died once.
He had been swallowed whole by the event horizon of the dark sky itself.
…Right. I’ve already died once. What’s one more?
If he couldn’t take even this step to change the future, death would find him anyway.
That thought steadied his hand.
“…Here we go.”
Ssshhh—
The soul stone seared his fingertips as if to burn them.
When he set it onto the blade, raw stellar energy burst forth.
Kwoooooooom!!!
“Ghhhkkk!!!”
The fierce stellar energy sparked violently, eating away at his arm. The strain was immense.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a clash of stellar forces.
It was only an overwhelming flood of power testing his limits.
“I… prepared for this!!!”
The bracelet on his wrist, Valley of Ashes, reacted.
It glowed blue, suppressing the surge.
Soon, the current softened, flowing steadily into Se-hyun.
Carefully, he widened his capacity bit by bit.
At last, the energy stabilized, circulating through the engravings on the blade.
“Haaah… haaah… No wonder she’s Sung-chul’s sister.”
Damn it. What?
That quiet girl had an explosive ability? It didn’t suit her at all.
Still, family pride had its limits.
“Heh. Never seen a soul this wild before. But… still…”
The engravings on the blade glowed blue.
In its center, the embedded soul stone gleamed crimson—
a traditional hwandao (Korean saber).
Se-hyun smirked.
At least the artifact itself was a success.
Se-hyun swung the blade smoothly.
Fwoooosh—
Once he grasped its balance and weight distribution, handling it wasn’t too difficult.
Its form was a traditional hwandao.
But unlike usual, its weight leaned toward the back edge of the blade.
If the spine isn’t weighted, the trajectory of explosive acceleration will destabilize.
Bang! Ssshhhhh—!
The blade’s spine flared red, exploding, and the air rang with a sharp slicing sound.
The explosions didn’t just create bursts of acceleration—they scattered stellar energy as well.
Not enough to cause real damage, but enough to disrupt a player’s abilities.
In short, this was more defensive than offensive.
Because he had crafted it with intention, Se-hyun understood its mechanisms and purpose completely.
But the problem was…
Clang!
“…Haa. That’s assuming I can use it properly.”
Dozens of times now, he had lost grip mid-swing when using explosive acceleration.
“Hmmm… I thought I had the timing down…”
He replayed the memory of that graceful sword dance—the one that had sliced through enemies’ vital points—and tried to replicate it.
But every attempt fell short, his timing slipping.
Just as he stooped to pick the dropped sword back up—
“Se-hyun…?”
“…In-ha.”
In-ha was suddenly there.
Why was she here?
He had clearly told her not to come today.
“You…”
In-ha’s gaze was fixed on the sword lying at his feet.
Damn it. She didn’t see… did she?
Se-hyun tensed.
If she realized what the artifact really was…
“…You wanted to cosplay too?”
“…Huh?”
“That’s why you’re out here alone, right? Don’t be embarrassed, Se-hyun.”
“No, that’s not—”
“You should’ve told me. I could’ve helped.”
In-ha giggled at her own absurd misunderstanding.
No, it’s not that!!
She picked up the fallen sword.
“Hm?”
“What’s wrong?”
Oddly, she frowned slightly.
That was strange. As an ordinary person, she shouldn’t sense anything from the artifact.
“Nothing. Just thought it was a peculiar sword. Even for a hwandao, the back feels unusually heavy. Definitely more suited for slashing than thrusting.”
Ohhh~~.
As expected, In-ha quickly read its intended use.
“Mind if I try it?”
“Sure. Careful—it’s sharp.”
In-ha swung the sword side to side, testing its balance.
Then she closed her eyes, shifted her stance—
and in an instant, flowed into a graceful sword dance.
…Not bad at all.
He had always thought she was talented, but to recreate a matching sword form after only a few swings?
Flinch—
Then, her eyes wavered.
Vmmmm—
“…Huh?”
The sword pulsed with blue light.
And then—
BOOOM!!!
“…What?”
Startled, In-ha froze mid-swing.
“…What was that just now?”
“Rachel, what the hell are you playing at?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I told you to stick to your assignments! What kind of schemes are you running behind my back?!”
The department head slammed a folder onto his desk, raising his voice.
The few strands of hair he had left shook with the motion.
“Why’s my seal on this? Don’t you respect the approval chain? Who gave you the right to steer this department however you please?”
The folder was labeled ‘Request for Strengthening and Expanding Preemptive Management of Out-Players.’
Rachel clicked her tongue inwardly.
Of all days to actually do your job properly, it had to be today.
This wasn’t the first time she’d bypassed protocol.
The man spent nine days out of ten shirking work, so it was hardly unusual.
Rachel answered calmly.
“It doesn’t affect the whole department. Just within our team, sir—”
“Bullshit. You’ve been quiet until now. What, trying to throw your weight around just because you’re some parachute hire?”
Twitch—
Rachel’s brow twitched.
“You say I’ve been quiet until now? Then why is it only since I came here that you can’t keep quiet, you pompous old brat?”
God, this fossil.
She sighed inwardly.
It was true the management department had been vital in the foundation’s early days, handling the messy aftermath of player activity.
But like any organization, once its usefulness faded, its prestige withered.
Now, all that remained was outdated honor.
Which is exactly why I joined here in the first place.
It still had some name value and enough justification to exercise authority.
And as long as she did her work properly at the team level, the higher-ups rarely interfered.
This matter could’ve been brushed aside too, but no—he just had to pick a fight.
His jabs about “parachute hires” and “privilege” only exposed his insecurity.
He was afraid that even a mere team leader like her might hold more real power than him.
“You haven’t even found Yoo Tae-hoon yet, but you’ve got time to stir up trouble elsewhere?”
I was wondering when that would come up.
Unable to stomach Rachel’s string of smooth operations, the director finally brought it up.
But in doing so, he opened the door for her rebuttal.
“This matter is directly tied to Yoo Tae-hoon. The one I’m tracking is connected to him.”
“…What?”
Thud—!
Rachel set another folder on the desk.
“…And this is?”
“If you’re dissatisfied with the request, then approve this instead.”
On the cover: ‘Application for Authorization of No. 94.’
The director flipped through a few pages, frowning.
“…You want to use an Out-Player?”
“I’ve dealt with him multiple times before.”
“You have grounds to trust him?”
“Yes.”
The director pulled a cigar from his drawer and lit it.
Fwooo—
Ugh, why drag this out like this?
Blowing smoke, he tapped the folder with his finger as though in thought.
“No. Even if that’s true, suspicion alone isn’t enough. Don’t stir up trouble. Drop it.”
As expected, he shook his head.
“Sir!”
“This is the management department. Our job is to clean things up quietly, not kick up dust. Got it?”
Damn fossil.
Technically, whether Yoo Tae-hoon was missing or dead, they could’ve closed the case at any time.
As he said, their role was only to handle the aftermath, keeping gossip from spreading.
But this time was different.
That figure—slipping through her net again and again, just out of reach.
This wasn’t pride or stubbornness.
If we ignore this nuisance now, it’ll come back as something far worse later.
The director stared at her, then exhaled a long stream of smoke.
“…Fine. Just don’t make me hear complaints. Understood?”
“Does that mean you’re approving it?”
He reached into his drawer.
“I’m only approving it to prevent bigger problems. Handle it quietly, within your team…”
Ssshhk—
Rachel pulled the approval seal from her pocket.
“Hey! Why do you have that?!”
“You’re never here, sir. Can’t let paperwork get delayed.”
Thud—!
She stamped the document and gathered her papers.
“Well then.”
“You—look at this brat’s attitude! Hey!”
Rachel smirked, ignoring his shouting, and left the office.
