Chapter 33 of Moonlight Sculptor: My Dad Is a Legend (달빛조각사: 아빠는 전설이다):

Moonlight Sculptor: My Dad Is a Legend (33)

Weed had the typical stubborn personality of someone who didn’t think of themselves as old-fashioned—while clearly being exactly that.

“Want to succeed? Then work for it. Can’t do it? Woooork for it. Still hard? Keeeeep working and you’ll get there!”

If you lacked talent, you could make up for it with effort.

If you had talent and put in the effort? You’d become even better.

“Hard work is always the answer.”

From actual construction sites to the magical continent, Weed was no stranger to leveling up through sheer labor.

In Royal Road, he’d felt the thrill of gaining stats by chopping at scarecrows, treating each point as precious.

Hard labor wasn’t optional—it was a fundamental part of life.

Looking back, all those mindless grinds in Royal Road had become experience and strength.

Effort, over time, had transformed into skill and talent.

“Chwik!”

“Chwiiiik!”

Weed heard the snorting breaths of orcs, filled with alertness and anger.

“I can’t see, and I don’t have a right arm. But at least I’ve got legs and good hearing—that’s a relief.”

He’d endured countless outrageous quests.

Even without part of his body, he judged that he could still take on these orcs.

“It’s not as bad as I feared.”

Even if he took a few hits, his level was more than double theirs, and his physical prowess meant he could overpower them.

Plus, he had the most advanced AI by his side.

Calculating the route of a space probe in the solar system took only 0.001 seconds—tracking orc movements was child’s play in comparison.

(Now using acoustic tracking system.)

(Three orcs are positioned at front, left, and right. One is circling around from the right.)

“Just keep me posted on major movements. I’ll handle the rest.”

Weed waited in intense focus.

If he moved first and made them scatter, things would get complicated. So, he waited for their attack.

“Chwik!”

“Kill him! Chwik!”

Of the four remaining orcs, the leader gave the attack command.

The orcs flanked left, right, and behind, while the leader charged from the front.

(Attack initiated. Distance closing. Orcs will reach you in 0.4 seconds.)

At AI Versailles’ warning, Weed swung his sword.

A sword he had wielded tens of thousands of times.

He visualized the orcs’ positions and let instinct guide him.

His movements with his left hand were clean and sharp.

He boldly stepped into invisible glaive range and swung.

Slash!

The orc in front was sliced down.

But the orc’s glaive cut deep into his thigh.

You lose 92 HP.

“I thought I could dodge that. Guess their weapon is longer than expected.”

(The glaive is approximately 15 cm longer than the ones used by orcs in Royal Road.)

He wasn’t wearing armor.

Though injured, thanks to the “Dragon-Blessed” trait that gave him 100% bonus health, it wasn’t a critical hit.

“It won’t kill me, but still—better not to get hit.”

He immediately swung his sword wide, knocking away the incoming glaives.

The glaive aimed at his head from behind, the one targeting his torso from the right—

The one from the left grazed his shoulder.

You lose 221 HP.

A deep enough wound that flesh was likely torn, but no time to feel pain during battle.

“I know their positions now. I’ll end this in one go.”

Weed gripped the sword tighter.

He harnessed the rotational force from his legs to his waist, up through his shoulders.

Using 100% of his strength, he unleashed his strongest sword strike in a sweeping arc.

SWOOOSH!

Three orcs were cut down at once.

“……”

Weed stood still, drenched in orc blood.

From the feel of the strike, he knew there were no more enemies left.

“Rosar won!”

“UWAAAH!”

“I thought he was just a blind walking corpse!”

“Amazing!”

The arena crowd burst into wild cheers.

Quest Complete: Defeat the Orcs!

You have defeated all 5 orcs.

A swift, brutal, blood-soaked battle.

You achieved a heroic feat in the arena.

Spectators witnessed your fierce fight and were captivated.

This will be remembered and retold as a legendary tale.

Audience Affinity +20
Strength +4
Agility +3
Hero Points +2
You have acquired the word “Sword,” which can be used in an epic.

The crowd’s roar echoed through the arena.

“Amazing! That’s the kind of fiery battle I came for!”

“Wow. Thought he’d die without even swinging.”

“That was one satisfying fight!”

“Fifty to one odds! I just won fifty times my bet! AHAHAHA!”

The sound of coins clinking filled the arena as excited spectators tossed them into the air.

* * *

“Please follow me this way.”

A trembling young girl’s voice guided him.

After the battle, Weed followed her to the waiting room.

“I should return the sword I borrowed.”

As he walked, the gear manager from earlier called out.

“Thanks for using it well.”

He had indeed used the sword well.

Without it, he would’ve had to punch the orcs to death.

Maybe that would’ve been safer given his blindness, but it wouldn’t have thrilled the crowd nearly as much.

“A real fighter finally showed up at the arena. Next time, I’ll prep a much better weapon for you.”

Weed had always worked to build rapport with NPCs in Royal Road.

Befriending the gear manager could only help.

“Thank you. I’ll be in your care.”

After a polite bow, he sat in the seat the girl led him to.

He opened his ears and began observing his surroundings.

“I made 82 Krocs in the last match.”

“Just 520 more and you’ll be free.”

“Freedom? I’m staying. Good money, all the pleasures of the world are right here.”

“You’re not wrong!”

The gladiators were drinking and chatting loudly nearby.

A little later, the same girl returned and handed Weed some coins.

“Here’s your share, sir.”

You received 10 Krocs.

Krocs can be freely used inside the arena.
You may also pay your bounty to leave.
Bounty: 2,000 Krocs.

Weed didn’t know the exact exchange rate, but that bounty seemed ridiculously high.

She was the same trembling girl who had guided his blind self to the arena earlier. But now…

“She’s not skimming my money, is she?”

He instinctively doubted her.

Then, she sat beside him.

Growwwl.

Her stomach rumbled with hunger.

With his sharpened hearing, Weed couldn’t help but notice.

“Have you eaten?”

“Slaves like me aren’t given food.”

“Then how do you survive?”

“Well…”

She struggled to answer.

(There are gladiators employed in the arena.)

(Some are free citizens, others are slaves bought from elsewhere.)

(With many wars these days, lots of foreign slaves are captured.)

(Slave girls in the arena survive by serving the gladiators and living off their tips.)

“Tips?”

Weed hated tipping culture.

That empty gesture of tossing coins after service.

(Serving includes… all aspects of a gladiator’s life, including sleeping arrangements.)

“She’s just a child…”

(This is Roanoke. These practices weren’t originally allowed.)

(But after the Roanoke Incident, all restrictions on crime were lifted.)

Murder was allowed. Nothing was off-limits.

Growwwl.

Weed spoke to the starving girl.

“How much does a meal cost?”

He was ready to ignore her if she asked for too much.

“Half a Kroc. But you don’t need to tip me, sir. I can hold out for two more days.”

“Two days? Did you eat yesterday?”

“I didn’t, but I can endure. You risked your life to earn this money.”

Weed didn’t want to give her anything.

But listening to her voice reminded him of his childhood.

Back when hunger and poverty made him cry.

How badly he’d wanted to eat every time he passed a soup shop on his delivery routes.

That memory, and his work after inheriting Dr. Yoo Byung-jun’s fortune to end world hunger, struck him again.

“I’ll give you one Kroc. Get some food.”

“But…”

“It might sound strange, but you remind me of my daughter. Eat first.”

* * *

Endless cornfields and barley plains.

Retired mercenary Pankri had entered through a summoning contract.

Only after completing five summons could he return to Roanoke.

“Hmph. That guy was a pretty good swordsman.”

Pankri rubbed his chin.

He had meant to teach the challenger some swordsmanship, but…

“This is swordsmanship?”

He was stunned by the challenger’s skill.

“Grrgh…”

With broken ribs and a fractured ankle, he sat down slowly, wrapping himself in bandages.

Soon after—

“He’s good with a sword, I’ll give him that. Not that I used my full strength.”

Sir Benhur of the Kingdom of Rivante arrived.

Despite losing, he tried to act composed.

He stood tall, pretending not to hurt, though his legs trembled uncontrollably.

“He got it worse than me.”

“So much pain. Unbelievable.”

He hadn’t been sliced by the sword—but beaten like a drum.

While Pankri and Benhur sat awkwardly—

“There’s beauty in pure swordsmanship.”

The renowned knight Bahart of Rivante arrived.

With shattered ribs, shoulders, and arms, he forced a pained smile.

Three warriors with brilliant careers: a mercenary and two knights.

In Roanoke, they were fierce fighters who could destroy dozens of meters with a single skill.

Though they tried to act like they hadn’t been crushed—

“Uuugh…”

Came a groan.

Axium, the famed hero of Albrecht Kingdom, who once fought in the Demon Lands, arrived.

His armor was dented and smashed.

He collapsed to the ground, arms flailing, unable to stand.

“Wait, isn’t that Axium’s armor?”

“Him too?”

Not only had they all lost, but it had taken mere moments.

The instructors exchanged awkward glances.

“How powerful is that challenger’s swordsmanship?”

“To take us out that fast?”

Now that they had faced him directly, his skill was even harder to grasp.

It was as if he’d reached a level beyond mere technique—something unexplainable.

Of course, they had fought without their full strength, skills sealed, and levels suppressed…

“We’ll repay this next time. If he summons us again.”

As they quietly hoped to settle the score someday—

—Koorooruk.

A crab foamed at the mouth and appeared, flipped on its back.

The guardian beast of the Temple of the Sword.