I Pulled Out the Excalibur

The organization members, who were waiting for their leader to finish collecting the protection money and return, stood up when they saw someone walking out from inside the forge.

They assumed that blacksmith Hogel wouldn’t have easily given up the tribute money, so he must have been stripped of a bunch of swords. Two members quickly dashed forward when they heard the rattling of a box.

“Boss, let me carry that fo…?”

The member trailed off. The person who walked out of the forge was not their boss. Technically, their boss did come out, but not on his own feet.

“Ugh, uh….”

Their boss was groaning on the ground.

And there was a boy, dragging him by the hair. Just as a member was about to scream in surprise, the boy threw a box at the feet of the organization members. It was the box they brought to confiscate the swords from the forge, but instead of swords, it neatly contained the severed arm of their boss.

“Uh, uh!”

“Boss!”

The two members recoiled in shock.

The boy, Najin, nonchalantly tossed the armless man aside. As the two members hesitated, watching Najin and tending to their boss, Najin’s gaze wandered indifferently.

There were three waiting outside.

Two were unremarkable lackeys, but one was not. Najin shifted his gaze towards a man who had been standing still, watching everything unfold.

“…”

The man, sitting on a rock and staring intently, was unrecognizable due to his deeply hooded face.

“It seems…”

Najin exhaled shortly,

“that you’re the one in charge here. Let’s have a talk. There are some matters we need to discuss, aren’t there?”

The man chuckled at this.

“Look at this kid.”

Removing his hood, the man revealed his face, marked with a long scar running from his right ear down to his neck. Recognizing the scar, Najin frowned.

“Goodness.”

Najin sighed.

“Sending someone of your rank, things must be pretty messed up.”

“You know me?”

“The Land Spider Horace’s sixth leg. One-Ear Flix, right?”

“Not the sixth, but the eighth leg. And it’s not Flix, but Frix.”

“Being the eighth out of eight commanders means you’re the weakest, right?”

“Not at all.”

Frix corrected with a serious tone.

“The order of the legs doesn’t indicate strength. I’m stronger than the sixth.”

“Sure talk big. Whether it’s the sixth or eighth…”

Najin tapped the box at his feet with his toe. Inside, the arm stirred.

“Why would a commander like you enter Ivan’s territory? This is a clear breach of contract. A lackey’s arm won’t be enough to settle this.”

“Ha. So, you want my arm too?”

“Not the whole arm.”

Najin raised his index finger.

“Let’s just go with one finger.”

“You’re truly insane.”

Frix laughed out loud, unfazed by the boy’s audacity. He stood up and drew his sword with a swish. The well-maintained blade gleamed brilliantly. Najin glanced at the sword in his hand – a blackened, rusty weapon.

“Yuck,” Najin licked his lips and adjusted his grip on the sword.
***
Frix, one of the eight commanders under the Land Spider Horace.

The eighth leg, Frix.

In the upper world, he served a knight.

Not a proper knight, though. The knight Frix served was old and infirm, using him more like a slave than a squire.

But still,

Frix learned swordsmanship from the knight and even a bit about handling mana. He didn’t realize its value until he ended up in this city.

“In this city, I am a strong man.”

In the upper world, he was nothing more than a knight’s underling, but in this city, Frix was a clear powerhouse. Realizing this, he felt superior. Being ‘properly educated’ in this wretched city made him special.

A strong man who knew how to strengthen his body with mana.

Though not an expert capable of wielding sword energy, just knowing how to use mana made Frix one of the strongest in this city.

To Frix, those who wielded blades and boasted about their killings looked foolish, as did those who bragged about their exploits without understanding mana. Nothing was more ridiculous than seeing them strut about, flexing their muscles.

‘This kid seems similar.’

Frix observed the boy in front of him.

He had heard rumors about this boy – Ivan’s prized hunting dog. Surely he had talent if Ivan had taken an interest, but…

‘There’s no sign of mana.’

The boy didn’t exude the aura naturally given off by those who handled mana. It seemed he hadn’t learned mana techniques from Ivan.

If so, this boy was no different from those braggarts who strut around pretending to be something. Coming to this conclusion, Frix smiled.

“Hey, kid.”

Frix teased, flipping the tip of his sword.

“You can have the first move. As you said, this is Ivan’s territory, so you deserve that much.”

Imitating a knight’s sword salute, Frix graciously offered the first move. Najin, watching silently, adjusted his grip on his sword, accepting the offer.

Thud.

Najin stepped forward.

He planted his weight into that step, crouching with his sword held low. It was less a stance for swinging the sword and more for leaping.

‘What an unorthodox…’

To Frix, trained in proper swordsmanship by a knight, Najin’s stance seemed pathetic. It looked like he’d be overpowered by his own sword rather than wielding it effectively.

Is he even less impressive than I thought?

The moment Frix felt disappointed,

Boom!

Najin kicked the ground. The sound of his launch and the clashing of swords almost coincided.

Frix’s eyes widened.

The gap between them was about ten steps. Najin closed that distance in a single leap and swung his sword, surpassing Frix’s expectations.

Crack, crack!

Najin’s rusty sword vibrated from the impact. Frix panicked under the heavy force he felt in his grip. He quickly mustered his mana and pushed Najin’s sword away.

Swoosh, Najin slid back three steps.

It was a brief exchange, but Frix couldn’t hide his astonishment. His hand gripping the sword tingled.

‘…Does he really not use mana?’

Such force just from swinging a sword?

Frix glared at the boy. Three steps apart, Najin breathed lightly, showing no signs of strain.

Najin silently watched Frix, then his own hand holding the sword.

After flexing his sword hand a couple of times, Najin narrowed his eyes. Frix didn’t understand the meaning behind these actions, but he knew the boy was sizing him up.

“You cheeky brat…”

Frix frowned.

Now fully utilizing his mana, Frix adjusted his stance. He adopted the upper stance of the Imperial Swordsmanship, taught by a knight. Wisps of steam rose from his body.

This phenomenon, caused by unrefined mana leaking from the body, was a sign of an unskilled mana user.

Najin narrowed his eyes and stared at Frix.
***
Najin doesn’t know how to use mana.

Ivan and Offen didn’t teach him, so he thinks he can’t use mana.

‘Is that mana?’

Najin watched in front of him.

Frix, emanating a fierce aura with wisps rising from his body. Najin had sparred with Ivan and Offen before.

‘I don’t remember seeing such wisps from them.’

Offen and Ivan are experts, while Frix is a novice compared to them. These wisps were a difference between a skilled user who could fully harness mana and an unskilled one who couldn’t.

But Najin didn’t know that. He thought these wisps might be some kind of mana technique.

At that moment, Frix stomped the ground.

Adopting the basic stance of the Imperial Longsword Technique, Frix exhaled shortly and stepped forward boldly. He swung his sword, a diagonal slash straight from the Imperial Swordsmanship manual.

Swoosh!

However, when combined with a body strengthened by mana, even the simplest slash becomes a lethal strike. The sound of slicing air accompanied the sword as it fell towards Najin.

“…”

Facing the descending blade, Najin thought,

Mana really is fascinating.

Noticing Frix’s noticeably faster movements, Najin clicked his tongue.

So, this is possible with mana?

‘But…’

It doesn’t seem that fast.

It was still visible and manageable. Making his decision, Najin moved.

Thud.

Instead of dodging, Najin stepped forward.

He closed the distance, moving into the reach of Frix’s swing. At first glance, it seemed like a suicidal move. But Najin moved into Frix’s space and swung his sword.

Before Frix’s sword completed its trajectory, before his strike could gain full force.

Clang!

Najin’s sword struck Frix’s blade fiercely. With minimal effort, he broke through Frix’s technique, targeting his vulnerability with a swift thrust.

“……!”

A flash of surprise crossed Frix’s face.

However, it was brief. The mist around Frix thickened as he forcefully regained control of his thrown-off sword, accelerating his movements.

The sword’s trajectory twisted. The technique, disrupted and repelled, returned to its original course.

Such movements were impossible with an ordinary human body. It was a bizarre maneuver made possible only with the aid of mana. The resulting strike, in Najin’s current stance, was impossible to avoid or counter.

An unforeseen attack.

Just as Frix’s sword was about to tear through Najin’s shoulder, Frix saw it. Najin’s eyes, still tracking his movements, fixated on the tip of his sword.

Thud!

Najin slammed his foot down.

In an instant, his body accelerated. Twisting the sword he had thrust out, he raised it obliquely. Every movement was unnaturally fast, even faster than mana-enhanced Frix.

‘How is this possible?’

Frix had felt no mana from Najin before.

But in this moment, he sensed it. In the blink of an eye, mana sparked and dispersed. For that brief instance, Najin had undoubtedly used mana to accelerate his body.

So smoothly and naturally.

As if it was as effortless as breathing.

‘This kid…!’

Realizing he had been deceived, Frix was enraged.

But Najin had no intention of tricking him. He thought he couldn’t use mana and was unaware that his movements were assisted by it.

Very efficiently.

Using the least amount of effort for maximum effectiveness.

Najin was simply moving according to the basics of combat ingrained in his mind, relying on instinct for secondary actions.

Scratch, scratch, scratch!

Following the lifted angle of Najin’s sword, Frix’s blade slid off. As it scraped off the rusty surface of Najin’s sword, a vulnerability was exposed.

“…Ck!”

Conscious of Najin’s sword, Frix hastily retracted his own, but Najin’s sword did not move. It was Najin’s leg that moved, slamming down on Frix’s knee.

Crack.

Thanks to the mana reinforcement, Frix’s knee didn’t buckle inward, but his expression twisted in pain, disrupting his stance. A properly weighted attack was impossible from such an incomplete stance.

Najin easily deflected the light sword.

Deflecting it, Najin stepped in closer.

They were too close for a slashing strike. But Najin had no intention of cutting Frix.

‘That would kill him.’

He had no intention of killing.

Najin needed to extract information, so he grabbed Frix’s hair, wielding the sword hilt like a hammer.

Thump!

The pommel, weighted at the end, struck Frix’s temple. True to the heaviness of Ivan’s sword, the impact sound was solid.

“Cough…!”

Caught off guard by the unexpected blow, Frix’s head snapped back. His eyes still focused, indicating he was conscious. Seeing this, Najin clicked his tongue.

‘Mana’s good for something.’

Mana-enhanced bodies could withstand a blow to the temple without losing consciousness. To Najin, who still believed he couldn’t use mana, this was astonishing.

‘But still.’

Najin grabbed Frix’s hair.

‘A few more hits should knock him out.’

Holding Frix’s hair with one hand, Najin swung the sword hilt with the other. He struck Frix’s face several times with the pommel.

Thud, thump, and crack…

After half a dozen swings, Najin let go of Frix’s hair. Frix, with a broken nose, began to bleed profusely. His shattered teeth dropped to the ground.

Thump.

Frix, with his eyes rolled back, collapsed. Najin exhaled briefly and turned around. The organization members, who hesitated to intervene, glanced at Najin as he spoke shortly.

“Put those down.”

Najin flicked his finger.

“Just cut off one finger each. That’s the rule.”

It was a rule set by Horace and Ivan.

Though not often followed, they realized they couldn’t ignore it even in this moment.
***
“This is unbearably heavy.”

Holding a box containing an arm and fingers in one hand and dragging the unconscious Frix by the neck with the other, Najin moved on.

‘I’d like to just throw him anywhere…’

He couldn’t handle a commander so carelessly, especially not someone of Frix’s rank.

‘It’s been noisy lately.’

Those Land Spider rats kept crossing the line.

Najin had heard Ivan muttering about it. Not just heard; as the organization’s executioner, Najin had seen that many of those he had ‘dunked’ recently had connections with Land Spider.

And now, a blatant territorial invasion.

Whatever they were planning, it was clear.

And a commander like Frix was likely to know something. Najin intended to extract that information now.

…That aside.

Najin pondered the recent fight.

Reflecting on the techniques and movements he had used, Najin let out a faint smile. He had confirmed that his swordsmanship worked even against a mana-wielding opponent.

‘It was worth learning so diligently.’

The things he learned from Ivan and Offen.

If Offen taught him how to swing a sword, Ivan taught him combat itself. If there’s an opening, stab. If a big movement is shown, dive in. Don’t just swing a weapon; use whatever you can.

The most efficient way to move the body.
How to block attacks with minimal effort.
Close-quarter combat beyond the sword’s reach.
Utilizing terrain and knocking out opponents.

Among other techniques, Najin learned numerous tricks from Ivan. He had been beaten and taught by Ivan since he was ten. Recalling those times, Najin frowned slightly. The long scar on his shoulder ached.

‘Come to think of it, not something a knight would teach.’

Knights in fairy tales were noble and refined.

But Ivan, a knight from above, excelled in torture and covert operations, even more than Offen, a former mercenary.

“Watch carefully.”

“You’ll do it too someday.”

Ivan performing torture.

“That much torture doesn’t kill him?”

“That’s a naive claim. You don’t know how creative human nerves can be, how diverse the pain they can feel. Let’s bet on how long he lasts.”

Forcing open a clenched mouth, shattering someone’s psyche. Flickering lamps, blood splattered everywhere, long screams.

“See?”

“You want to try?”

As Najin pondered these memories, he glanced back. Frix’s groaning echoed from behind. Groaning and twitching, he seemed to regain consciousness.

Blinking slowly, Frix’s eyes met Najin’s. Realizing the situation, Frix gritted his teeth, but there was no grinding sound. Many teeth had fallen out during the pommel strikes.

“Here’s some advice.”

Najin nonchalantly spoke to Frix, who glared with murderous intent.

“Better to just open your mouth than to boast. You’ll have to open it eventually, better to end the torture while some part of your body is still intact.”

Najin pointed ahead.

Following his finger, Frix’s eyes moved too. Realizing what Najin pointed at, Frix’s eyes violently shook. It was a building known to everyone in this underground city.

The residence of Ivan, the ruler of the underground city.

Pointing at the building, Najin spoke.

“Ivan is scarier than you think.”