> "Cut once, and the wound heals. Cut a thousand times, and even monsters bleed."
— Ryu Seok-jin
---
The crimson beast roared.
Its hulking frame, scarred and steaming, thundered through the volcanic cavern. Three burning eyes locked onto Ryu Seok-jin like prey marked for execution.
Slash!
Ryu's blade flashed, severing the ogre's massive arm at the elbow. Blood splashed across the scorched stone—but even before the limb hit the ground, it twitched.
And then—reattached.
Flesh squirmed. Bone snapped back into place with a grotesque crack.
> "Unbelievable," Ryu muttered, sliding back. "Its regeneration is nearly instant."
But this wasn't just a brute beast.
It was a Sword Pulse Practitioner.
He felt it now—beneath the raw rage, its movements carried rhythm. Its strikes weren't wild; they pulsed with trained tempo and pressure. The ogre was a mutant—but it had once trained in the sword arts.
A martial ogre.
> "So this is what guards the Sword Saint's Heart," Ryu whispered grimly. "Fate has a twisted sense of humor."
The creature roared, swinging a tree-trunk club with bone-breaking force. Each swing split the air like a storm. Ryu weaved through the strikes with precise footwork, his breathing aligned with each dodge.
He slashed again.
And again.
Each strike carved through muscle, tendon, skin—yet the monster healed with unnatural speed. A battle of attrition.
An hour passed.
Then two.
Then a day.
Still, the ogre stood.
Ryu's body screamed from exertion. Yet he pressed on—stripping away the beast's strength cut by cut.
> "I can't overpower it… I have to unmake it."
On the fourth day, the cavern reeked of blood and ash.
The ogre's flesh barely clung together—stitched by Qi and will. And then Ryu saw it.
A faint flicker beneath its ribcage.
A core.
Tiny. Faint. Glowing a soft blue—barely larger than a marble.
> "There you are…"
In one final burst of speed, Ryu vanished from sight.
Flash.
Steel tore through the orb.
The ogre froze.
Then crumbled—its body collapsing into lifeless flesh, no longer regenerating. Its three eyes dimmed like dying embers.
> "No wonder I couldn't sense its core… it was buried deep, and so small. A final failsafe."
---
Ryu dropped to one knee, drenched in sweat and steam. His body trembled. His sword arm shook.
> "Twenty hours of continuous battle… my internal energy is drained.
This body can't sustain much more—not as a mere Sword Initiate."
He turned to the glowing root nestled on the stone altar.
The Sword Saint's Heart.
Still untouched. Still waiting.
But its power came with a price.
---
Conditions for Absorption:
Must be consumed during a solar eclipse atop a mountain peak
Requires a four-day meditative trance—failure leads to madness
Attracts vengeful sword spirits and ancient masters, drawn to its blooming energy
---
Ryu smirked, voice low.
> "Solar eclipse… mountain peak... and that just happens to be today?"
"Hah. Seems even the heavens want me reborn."
"Lucky for a villain like me."
---
By dusk, Ryu had reached the summit of Ashbrand Ridge, the highest point near the crater. The air burned thinner, and shadows lengthened as the moon devoured the sun above.
He set the ginseng before him and sat cross-legged.
Then—silence.
And stillness.
The eclipse began.
---
Hours passed.
Then days.
During the trance, sword spirits circled—flickers of ancient warriors, long-dead masters, and souls twisted by blood. Some whispered forgotten sword truths. Others screamed accusations. Others tried to drag him into despair.
Ryu endured.
Not as Nam Cheon.
But as Ryu Seok-jin, reborn.
---
On the fourth day, his eyes opened.
And the world had changed.
Every blade in a mile's radius shimmered faintly.
The wind itself whispered swordforms.
His heart beat like a drawn sword.
His core surged—reforged, reborn.
---
Realm Ascended: Sword Spirit Wielder
— Where the sword develops will, and the wielder becomes a conduit of intent.
---
Ryu slowly stood.
The very air shimmered around his fingertips.
> "So this is power beyond the threshold… I'm only one step from my former self."
"Or maybe… I'll surpass even that."
He turned toward the direction of the Murim clans.
His voice became cold steel.
> "Thank you for the upgrade… 'noble leaders' of the Five Great Clans."
"You were so quick to dance at my grave."
"But your joy…"
"…will become your ruin."