IEUST 04

Chapter 4

Whirrrrr.

A rough, clunky mechanical noise tore through the empty air of the training room.

Lee Chae-ho lightly tapped the screen of the old control terminal installed on the wall. The high-speed automatic firing machine shoved into a corner shook off a layer of dust and began its heavy warm-up.

He raised the settings on the terminal one by one.

High-speed rubber bullet random-fire mode. Three irregularly moving targets activated simultaneously. Difficulty set to the maximum available in the basic training room. It was a brutal setup that even an ordinary D-rank Hunter would struggle to last a minute against, let alone willingly attempt.

‘Going straight into a dungeon right now would be insane.’

Chae-ho picked up the protective gear he had set on the floor.

EX-rank.

That flashy title, something for which there were not even any officially recorded cases of acquisition, was more than enough to blind a person. Just looking at the skill’s rank could make someone believe they could immediately cut down an S-rank monster and save the world.

But Chae-ho had learned the harsh reality firsthand after spending years working as his party’s dedicated porter.

He had seen with his own eyes how Hunters who overestimated their abilities and charged in recklessly in their excitement ended up sprawled across dungeon floors. No matter how incredible the skill they obtained was, if the body wielding it was still an ordinary D-rank Hunter’s body, the story was different.

Power you cannot control isn’t a weapon. It’s merely a time bomb.

Chae-ho tightened the straps of his leather guards and firmly secured his chin strap.

Click.

A dull alert sounded, indicating that the terminal’s settings had been completed.

Chae-ho walked to the center of the training room. Directly ahead stood the firing machine, its pitch-black barrel gleaming menacingly, while human-sized moving targets began moving irregularly along rails to his left, right, and behind him.

He took a deep breath and lowered his stance.

Beep!

With a sharp warning tone, the lights in the training room began flashing red.

Tat-tat! Tatatat!

The moment the warning ended, the firing machine’s barrel spun madly and spat out black rubber bullets. They were traveling at a speed so tremendous that even with his normal eyesight, it was difficult to properly track their trajectories.

At the very instant the bullets tore through the air toward him—

‘Now.’

Chae-ho focused his consciousness and activated his skill.

Thump.

It was as though every power plug in the world had been forcibly pulled out. The deafening roar pounding against his ears sank into a muffled, low rumble. The barrel of the machine, which had been spinning furiously, faltered as though it had caught on a stiff gear.

His vision became unnaturally clear.

Three rubber bullets that had been flying toward him at tremendous speed appeared to be floating in midair. They had not completely stopped. They were still creeping forward ever so slightly, as though passing through a thick, transparent wall of jelly.

He could see even the dust clinging to the surfaces of the bullets and the tiniest scratches on them.

‘Left shoulder, solar plexus, right thigh.’

Chae-ho traced the exact trajectories of the incoming bullets with his eyes.

At the same time, he could see the next movements of the targets springing up from all directions. Just by observing the angles at which the metal targets’ joints bent, the direction of their wheels, and where their centers of gravity shifted, he could tell exactly where they would come crashing down one second later.

All the information poured into his brain. He had already read every trajectory.

If he took half a step to the right and twisted his upper body, he could avoid them perfectly.

The moment he deactivated the skill, Chae-ho twisted his body while putting all his strength into his right thigh.

Pah!

The moment the skill ended, the world returned to its original speed and violently shook around him.

“Ugh!”

A short groan escaped Chae-ho’s mouth.

Thud! Smack!

He had been certain he had dodged them, but two rubber bullets slammed into his left shoulder and solar plexus in succession. The dull, heavy impact knocked the breath from his lungs, sending his body reeling backward.

He rolled roughly across the floor before barely managing to regain his balance and began breathing heavily.

“Haa… haa…”

Holding his throbbing shoulder, Chae-ho twisted his lips into a grimace.

‘I avoided the bullets with my head, but my body couldn’t keep up.’

It was a clear limitation.

His brain had precisely calculated the bullets’ trajectories and ordered his body to dodge. But his body, which was only D-rank, could not follow the speed of his brain’s commands. Even though he had seen everything and calculated the angles down to the smallest detail, his muscles simply reacted too slowly.

No matter how accurately he could read an attack as though he were peeking into the future, if his body was too slow, he would still end up getting hit.

Time deceleration wasn’t an all-purpose invincibility skill that allowed him to dodge every attack. Nor was it magic that directly increased his strength or explosive speed.

It merely gave him more time to make decisions.

But instead of disappointment, a cold fire glimmered in Chae-ho’s eyes as he rubbed his aching solar plexus.

If anything, he felt relieved.

‘The skill isn’t going to spoon-feed me everything. I’ll have to take what I need myself.’

If the skill made him completely invincible and allowed him to dodge every attack, there would be no need for training. But if the skill merely accelerated his perception, then he could completely overhaul the way he moved his body.

Chae-ho planted a hand on the floor and straightened himself back into position.

He decided to abandon the reckless approach of watching an attack come and then desperately twisting his body out of the way.

‘I won’t see it and dodge. I’ll move there beforehand and already be standing there.’

In the slowed-down world, he would read his opponent’s movements and trajectories. Then he would find the safest opening and seize the route in advance with the minimum movement necessary.

Tat-tat-tat!

Once again, the machine opened fire.

Chae-ho widened his eyes. The instant the rubber bullets left the barrel, he activated his skill.

A slowed-down world. Trajectories slicing through the air.

He did not recklessly throw his body around. He marked the blind spots the trajectories would not reach with his eyes, then immediately deactivated the skill.

Pah!

Within the world that had returned to its original speed as bullets rained down, Chae-ho took only half a step to the side. He lowered his shoulder slightly.

Whoosh! Fwoosh!

The rubber bullets narrowly passed by, grazing his earlobe and shoulder guard. The wind stirred up by the passing bullets struck his cheek, but there was no direct impact.

“Got it.”

Chae-ho let out a short breath and bit down hard on his lip.

The minimum movement necessary to evade. The most efficient route.

To engrave that sensation into his bones, he continued throwing himself toward the firing machine.

Tat-tat! Tatatat! Boom!

The training room rang noisily with the sounds of rubber bullets ricocheting and moving targets crashing into things.

Chae-ho repeatedly activated and deactivated his skill like a madman.

0.5 seconds. 0.3 seconds. 0.1 seconds.

He split the skill into extremely short bursts, reading the paths of incoming bullets and moving his body accordingly. He calculated the angles at which the targets would charge and either tilted his head or bent only his waist slightly to let fatal blows pass by.

The tenacious instinct he had developed during his years as a porter—watching monsters’ habits from behind others and memorizing their patterns—was now being pushed to its absolute limit.

‘Upper right. Next is low.’

Every time he activated the skill, the overload building in his head made his temples feel as though they were about to burst. Nausea rose to the back of his throat, and his vision spun. It felt as though his insides were twisting from the alien sensation of time.

Even as bullets grazed his shoulder, struck his thigh, and sometimes sent him tumbling across the floor after being hit by moving targets, he did not stop.

The number of hits he allowed was gradually decreasing. His body was becoming a complete mess, but Chae-ho’s evasive movements were becoming noticeably more precise.

Unnecessary movements disappeared, and he slipped between the trajectories with just barely enough room, almost as though he were dancing.

Beeeep!

With a long, sharp termination tone, the firing machine stopped operating. The moving targets that had been sweeping through the air also returned to their original positions and stopped.

At the same time, the red gauge in the corner of Chae-ho’s vision completely emptied.

He had squeezed out every last bit of today’s ten-second limit, including the time that had remained after his first test.

“Huff… huff…”

Chae-ho’s legs gave out, and he slumped onto the floor.

His entire body was drenched in sweat, enough to form a puddle beneath him. His shoulder and thigh, protected by guards, throbbed as though they were covered in bruises, while the dizziness brought on by forcibly squeezing his brain made him feel as though a nosebleed might start at any moment.

He leaned his body against the cold concrete wall behind him and caught his breath.

Even as he struggled to breathe, a faint smile lingered at the corner of his mouth.

‘Ten seconds.’

It had only been ten seconds.

But the value of those ten seconds, divided into dozens of fleeting moments, was beyond imagination. In an actual battle, it would have been enough time to avoid dozens of potentially fatal attacks and create openings to counterattack.

Chae-ho extended his trembling hand and took his smartphone out of his pocket. He roughly wiped the sweat from the screen with his sleeve before opening the memo app.

The sensations he had learned by physically putting himself through the ordeal today, the delay in his muscles’ response time, the margin of error in his minimum evasive movements.

Before he could forget, he carefully typed everything down.

Time deceleration wasn’t simply a shield. It wasn’t a comfortable refuge that allowed him to hide away and avoid enemy attacks.

It was a precise weapon that stripped bare the trajectories of an enemy’s bones and flesh as they moved, allowing him to plant his next step in the most lethal position possible.

After saving the memo, he shoved his smartphone back into his pocket.

As he rubbed his stiff neck and raised his head, he saw the blades of a large ventilation fan turning with a rattling sound.

“I guess there’s nothing for it but to grind myself into the ground.”

Chae-ho placed a hand on the floor and slowly rose to his feet. His shadow stretched long across the floor of the training room.