TGMBS 08

Chapter 08

**Blood and Flag (3)**

After the conversation with Chae Geon-uk.

Go Taemin fell into deep contemplation about the identity of the transparent lines filling his vision.

If the mana Chae Geon-uk spoke of was truly an existing energy, then these strange lines before his eyes were highly likely to be its true form.

Go Taemin immediately sprang into action.

He desperately reached out to grab the white threads swimming through the air, and when that wasn’t enough, he tried stuffing them into his mouth or even inhaling them roughly through his nose.

But there was no gain at all.

The white threads merely drifted through the air like ghosts, indifferently passing through all of Go Taemin’s attempts.

No physical interaction occurred whatsoever.

“No, it’s not like they’re playing hard to get.”

After days of persistent attempts, Go Taemin finally let go of his lingering attachment.

Hanging onto white lines he couldn’t catch and wasting time wasn’t a good trade.

Instead, he headed to a nearby kendo dojo to prepare for his upcoming Pro League debut match.

When he actually tried it, swinging a sword was more fun than he expected.

But that was as far as it went.

To swing faster and more accurately, proper fundamentals were necessary.

However, when Go Taemin opened the dojo door and entered, he had to doubt his own ears.

“It’s 1.5 million won a month?”

The manager sitting at the consultation desk nodded as if it were obvious.

“Yes. That is the basic tuition fee. Equipment rental fee separate, protective gear maintenance fee separate, and that’s excluding the additional cost for the Nova Arena specialized curriculum.”

The world had gone mad.

It was because the value of martial arts dealing with cold weapons had skyrocketed as Nova Arena caused a worldwide craze.

As the modern-day Colosseum became a symbol of wealth and honor, an unprecedented inflation hit the weapon education market.

1.5 million won.

For those trying to make Nova Arena their livelihood, it might be an amount worth investing.

Thinking of the Pro League fight money made it even more so.

But Go Taemin could not bring himself to touch the enrollment form.

In his mind was engraved the image of his mother, who had worked her entire life as a building cleaner, struggling all month to earn 1.5 million won.

Burning that blood-like money on just one month’s tuition was nothing short of a sin to him, who had lived like a weed.

“…I’ll come back next time.”

“Yes, then please contact us anytime once you’ve organized your thoughts. There are a lot of people on the waiting list these days, so spots fill up quickly.”

The manager nodded with the relaxed smile unique to a salesman selling expensive goods.

As Go Taemin turned and left the dojo, the sound of spirited shouts sharply struck his ears.

“Tch, you thieves.”

The moment he stepped outside the dojo building, Go Taemin folded the promotional pamphlet in his hand with a snap and shoved it into his back pocket.

His intention was to use it as a ramen lid support later, at least.

“What, does gold dust fall from the tip of the sword? 1.5 million won? With that money, how many hamburgers is that?”

In the end, the place Go Taemin headed to was a quiet low mountain behind the neighborhood.

Standing in a deserted open lot, a cool mountain breeze brushed his cheek.

He had never formally learned swordsmanship.

But Go Taemin understood the essence of the weapon called a sword more accurately than anyone.

A sword is just a lengthened lump of metal. The most primitive tool designed to kill an opponent at a distance beyond my hand’s reach.

Stab first and live, miss and die.

The definition of the sword learned on battlefields, not in sports, was that simple and vicious.

Go Taemin took out his smartphone and roughly skimmed through a basic kendo video.

[The beginning of swordsmanship is the grip and footwork. Now, when gripping the hilt, softly as if holding an egg…]

“Egg my ass. If you lose it, you die, so you grip it tight.”

He grumbled but carefully observed the hand shape of the YouTuber on the screen.

During his agent days, when holding a dagger or a jungle knife, it was all about not letting go and driving it in deep.

But a sword with long reach was different.

Depending on the angle of the wrist and minute differences in grip strength, the trajectory of the blade tip changed completely.

Go Taemin gripped the hilt as if copying the YouTuber’s movements exactly.

Left hand supporting the end, right hand lightly below the guard.

And he moved his feet in time with the YouTuber’s steps on screen.

Swoosh, tap.

“Ooh, this surprisingly pulls at the calves.”

It was a simple-looking forward-and-back footwork, but lowering his center and maintaining constant distance consumed more stamina than expected.

But he didn’t stop.

There was the satisfaction of saving the huge sum of 1.5 million won, but above all, just imagining what incredible sword strikes would come later once he properly honed these fundamentals made the corners of his mouth twitch.

[Next is the vertical cut. Raise the tip of the sword above your head, then bring it straight down along the shortest path.]

Whoosh-!

The sound of tearing air echoed through the silent low mountain.

Once, ten times, and a hundred times.

“Hah, hah…”

Droplets of sweat ran down his chin and fell to the dirt floor.

[Don’t stop breathing. Exhale briefly at the moment of the downward strike, release the tension in your shoulders, and let your body ride the weight of the sword.]

Go Taemin focused on the YouTuber’s explanation and swung the sword in a trance.

He shook off unnecessary tension in his shoulders and focused solely on drawing the shortest straight line.

After swinging for quite a while like that, at some point the blade tip that had been wavering randomly began to draw a consistent trajectory.

The sound of cutting through air became sharper.

But Go Taemin was not satisfied.

No matter how much the trajectory improved, this was ultimately just playing with air.

The key question was whether this accuracy would hold when actually colliding with an object.

“…I need to test it to know.”

For him, a practical man, verification was essential.

Go Taemin looked around and picked up a thick piece of wood lying nearby.

Then he stood the wood on a suitable rock and adjusted his grip on the hilt.

It was time to check whether the results of this self-study, achieved by protecting the huge sum of 1.5 million won, would work in actual combat.

“Sss.”

Go Taemin let out a short breath and drove the sword in a straight line toward the exact center of the wood.

Sak- kang!

Two impact sounds bursting almost simultaneously echoed through the quiet low mountain.

The sensation that something was wrong traveled up his wrist before his brain registered it.

A vibration that was not just stinging but numbing.

It was a strong recoil, enough to make his grip tremble.

“…Huh?”

Go Taemin let out a dumbfounded sound and looked down at his hand.

He was still gripping the hilt tightly, but the blade that should have been attached above it was broken in half.

Turning his gaze downward, the situation became clear at a glance.

The piece of wood he had stood on the rock was split cleanly in two as if drawn with a ruler, rolling on the ground.

The problem was that his skill had improved too much in too short a time. To the point where comparing him to that YouTuber was an insult.

As a result, the sword that had cut through the wood could not overcome its acceleration and slammed head-on into the hard rock beneath it.

Dark fragments that had flown into the air fell to the ground with a clang.

Go Taemin stood there with his mouth hanging open.

The broken blade glittered pitifully in the moonlight.

“…Fuck.”

—

Trudging down the mountain, I headed to my senior’s office.

Seeing the lights on even at this hour, it seemed my senior’s business was thriving today as well.

“Hyung, I ruined my sword. How do I fix this…”

The whining that was about to burst out the moment I opened the door was swallowed back down my throat.

There were several people in the office besides my senior.

Three men in black suits sitting on the sofa.

They were guys giving off a very bad smell. Judging by their build and eyes, they weren’t neighborhood thugs.

“…Ah, you had guests.”

As I awkwardly scratched the back of my head and stopped, the middle-aged man sitting in the seat of honor on the sofa slowly rose.

He looked me up and down, then nodded gently toward my senior.

“Just as the rumors say. The saying that you find answers even from the mouths of the dead was no exaggeration. I’ll see you again soon.”

“Not at all. It’s my job to provide information worth the money.”

“Then let’s meet again.”

The middle-aged man nodded gently, then led the other men and swept out of the office.

A strange silence lingered in the office until the sound of dress shoes echoing down the hallway completely disappeared.

I couldn’t let go of the tension until they were completely out of sight.

‘Getting tangled with guys like that won’t do any good.’

The distinctive fishy smell given off by those who treat getting blood on their hands as daily life.

The senses from my black agent days were sounding warning bells.

“Oh, Taemin. You came at a good time.”

“No, you look incredibly busy? And who were those people who just left?”

My senior took off his glasses, placed them on the desk, and rubbed his face.

He looked extremely busy, having several monitors open at once and typing away.

“I have good news. First, the Legion establishment is complete. The name is Veil. I searched, and there are quite a few Legions with the same name. It’s such a common name that it’ll be perfect for hiding your identity.”

“Oh, nice. Veil…”

For us, moving hidden in the shadows, there was no more fitting name.

My senior tapped the monitor and continued.

“And the league is registered as the US Pro League, as I mentioned before. The Japanese league is small in scale and has fewer spectators, so the fight money isn’t much.”

“Indeed, people should play in the big pond.”

The time difference being completely different, meaning I’d have to compete at dawn, was a bit of a concern, but whatever.

As long as it paid a lot, I was willing to get up even from sleep to swing a sword.

“But there’s bad news too.”

“What is it? They said you can’t wear a mask and fight there?”

“No, an offer came in from NAA.”

“Eminem?”

“NAA. Nova Arena America branch, you idiot.”

At my senior’s words, my face lit up.

“Really? An offer already came in? That’s awesome!”

But my senior’s expression wasn’t very good.

“But there’s a peculiarity. It’s not a formal offer, it’s an SNF (Short-Notice Fight), in other words, a replacement offer.”

“What’s that?”

“When a Warrior who was originally scheduled suddenly drops out due to injury or personal circumstances, they propose a fill-in to another Warrior. Compared to other participants, the preparation period is absurdly short, so the risk is enormous.”

Normally, he said, it was standard to have about a month of preparation time.

But the offer that came to me was only a week away.

In reality, it was far too little time to even focus on condition management, let alone proper training.

But I actually welcomed the news.

“So what if it’s a replacement offer. It’s better to fight quickly anyway.”

I had just broken my sword on the low mountain, adding another expense, so this was a proposal I had no reason to hesitate over.

But even at my refreshing answer, my senior’s expression still didn’t loosen.

“And… it’s match 4.”

“Match 4? Isn’t that a low numbering?”

“Right.”

At those words, I furrowed my brow.

What.

Surely the fight money wasn’t cut too?

“This is just my guess, but it seems NAA doesn’t view you very favorably.”

“Why would NAA?”

“You were an undefeated promotee from the Japanese league. And on top of that, you’re currently receiving worldwide attention, so it seems they intend to consume the demon as a box-office card as quickly as possible before its novelty wears off. And in a very provocative way at that.”

My senior’s voice was heavier than usual.

“The Americans have a pathological pride that their league is the best in the world. But some unknown Asian comes up undefeated from the Japanese league? From their perspective, it’s not that you’re skilled — it’s that the Japanese league’s level is low and you got lucky.”

I crossed my arms and stared at the screen.

I roughly grasped how the situation had unfolded.

“So, they want to use me, whose name is somewhat known, as a sacrifice to boost the value of their own league’s prospect?”

“Exactly. That’s why you were placed in match 4. Right before the main event, at the timing when the audience’s blood should be boiling hottest, they’ll show a thrilling massacre show. And you’re the scapegoat of that show.”

After finishing, my senior subtly checked my reaction.

I erased the smile lingering at the corner of my mouth.

Hmm.

Honestly, I didn’t feel good about it.

Even for someone like me who had been through everything, being openly treated as a sacrifice was a blow to my pride.

As I silently furrowed my brow, my senior, perhaps thinking I was truly angry, cleared his throat and carefully added a word.

“…Instead, they offered a slightly higher base pay. I told you before that the base pay for an undefeated promotee is 10,000 dollars, right?”

“…”

“You start at 20,000 dollars. On victory, an additional 100% of the base pay is given, and a 30% increase in the match fee for the next fight. The conditions aren’t bad, right?”

I immediately smoothed out my furrowed brow and grasped my senior’s hand tightly with both of mine.

The murderous silence from moments ago had vanished without a trace.

“I’ll burn this body to the ground!”

“…Huh?”

“American pride? I can fill it up nice and tight for them. A sacrifice? For that kind of money, I’ll do it artistically. I’m ready to go into the capsule right now and die for them, you know?”

As I smiled brightly, enough to make one wonder if I was the same person who had been scowling just moments ago, my senior shook his head in disbelief.

“You weren’t angry?”

“Come on, hyung. If you get angry in front of money, you’re not a pro. I’m a true pro.”

“…Still, your pride could be hurt.”

“That’s when my pride was worth 10,000 dollars. At 20,000 dollars with 100% victory pay, my pride has already boarded a plane and crossed the Pacific. It’s probably greeting people in English by now? Hello, money!”

I hummed a tune and rose from my seat.

20,000 dollars was a whopping 30 million won.

And if I won, I’d receive another 30 million won as victory pay. There was no way I could feel anything but good.

My senior looked at me with a horrified expression.

“…You’re not going to sell me out for money later, are you?”