Chapter 22
Chapter 22. How on Earth Did You Do That?
The following morning began with an incoming video call from Sia.
[Did you sleep peacefully, Oppa?]
Her drowsy eyes and the gentle way she rubbed them showed she had barely gotten out of bed, yet her striking beauty remained undiminished.
“I had a restful night. It helped a lot that our Sia took the time to listen to me yesterday.”
[I’m so glad to hear that.]
Her affectionate tone instantly eased my lingering tension.
At the start, I had thought keeping the matter about the villains to myself might be for the best. Upon further reflection, however, bringing it out into the open without delay had clearly been the wiser path.
Keeping silent would have only left me tossing and turning in bed, agonizing over how and when to reveal the truth.
“Sia, are you feeling… all right?”
Recalling how downcast she appeared before we hung up yesterday, I ventured the question with genuine care, unable to stifle my worry.
[Who, me? I’m completely fine, of course!]
Her voice, however, sounded almost excessively cheerful—as if yesterday’s grim conversation had never even taken place.
That uncharacteristic lightness only deepened my unease.
“Are you certain you’re truly okay?”
[Naturally. I already paid every last one of them back.]
“Paid them back? But they’re dead.”
How was it possible to exact vengeance on people who had already perished?
Furthermore, I had withheld the identities of those villains from her. While someone with Sia’s immense abilities could likely uncover such details, carrying out retribution against deceased individuals seemed nearly impossible, even for a dragon.
Seeing my bewildered expression, Sia parted her lips in surprise, as though an unintended slip had just tumbled past her teeth.
A heartbeat later, she smoothly composed herself.
[In my dream, silly. I took care of them in a dream.]
She insisted she had thrashed them so thoroughly in her sleep that they wept, punctuating her claim with a playful swipe at the air and a spirited shout: “Hyah!”
‘A dream… really?’
A nagging suspicion told me that wasn’t what she had originally intended to say.
Nevertheless, prying further seemed pointless, so I steered our discussion toward a different topic.
“I have plans to meet Lord Rokan in a little while.”
[Grandpa?]
“Right. I want to show him the recording from the Gate clear. I need his perspective on how the raid went, and there’s a personal question I want to run by him as well.”
Reviewing the footage from the wearable cam would let him evaluate my combat, and I also needed insight into that shimmering, aurora-tinted sword energy I had momentarily unleashed.
Dropping off the camera at Rokan’s dwelling was already on my itinerary for the day.
[Can’t I sit in on that with you?]
“You certainly can. But first, there’s a private matter I have to go over with your grandfather, so could you give us a few moments alone?”
[…Are you keeping something from me?]
Assuming I was concealing information, Sia’s expression shifted immediately.
Her instinct wasn’t entirely wrong. A specific portion of the wearable cam’s recording contained things I desperately wished to shield from Sia’s eyes, and I intended to request that Rokan scrub that footage clean.
Had it been an ordinary recording device, I would have trimmed the file myself. However, because Sia had uniquely modified this wearable cam, any amateur attempt to alter the file would surely trigger her suspicion.
“Why would I ever hide things from our Sia? It’s nothing of that sort, so ease your mind.”
After soothing her worries, I kept our chat going for quite some time, sticking to light, pleasant topics rather than heavy matters like Gates and Aura.
“I’ll catch up with you later, Sia. I’ll ring you back shortly.”
[All right!]
Disconnecting the call, I took hold of the recording device and made my way toward Rokan’s lair.
“Welcome, enter.”
Rokan greeted me cordially the moment I arrived at his door.
“Shasha gave me a broad overview. It seems yesterday was quite perilous.”
“Indeed. I’ll walk you through the specifics once we step inside.”
Following brief pleasantries, I delivered a clear, orderly summary of everything that transpired within the Gate the previous day.
With the recap concluded, I presented the primary motive behind my early arrival.
“There is a favor I must ask of you.”
“A favor?”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult for you. I was hoping you could erase a segment of this footage entirely, leaving behind no digital footprints. I figured relying on you would be far safer than trying to manipulate the files myself.”
I explained my exact rationale for requesting the deletion.
Moments before their demise, those criminals had uttered vile insults directed at Sia. I told him those words would only hurt her feelings and asked whether he could expunge the scene.
Rokan listened without interruption, sinking into deep contemplation before finally delivering his verdict.
“You would be wiser to leave it untouched.”
“…What do you mean?”
His refusal caught me completely off guard.
The recording clearly documented mere mortal scoundrels disparaging his beloved granddaughter, so I had taken it for granted that Rokan would want those remarks obliterated just as badly as I did.
Why would he suggest keeping it intact?
Noticing my bewildered stare, Rokan elaborated calmly, anticipating my reaction.
“Even should you snip that particular section away, Shasha will inevitably uncover what happened before long. Furthermore…”
A subtle, knowing smile touched Rokan’s lips.
“I have a feeling Shasha will take genuine pleasure in witnessing that.”
‘Take pleasure in that?’
Regardless of how I analyzed the situation, I couldn’t imagine anything in that scene bringing Sia happiness.
Even so, if an ancient dragon insisted on this stance, he surely possessed insights far beyond my grasp. For the time being, I chose to trust Rokan’s judgment.
“Shasha must be eagerly waiting. Let us proceed.”
Ultimately, without scrubbing the contentious scene as originally intended, I found myself facing the vast display.
As soon as Rokan initiated the communication line, Sia’s image filled the monitor.
[Oppa! Grandpa!]
Barely ten minutes had elapsed since we ended our previous call, yet Sia beamed with sheer delight as if we had been separated for an eternity.
“Indeed. Have you had your breakfast yet?”
[I’ll eat a bit later! How about you two?]
“I haven’t eaten either. And you, Minjun?”
“I’ll grab something later as well. If you have time, perhaps we could share a meal once we finish?”
Following the brief pleasantries, it was time to address our core objective.
Rokan projected the video file I had brought onto the main screen, simultaneously sharing the feed with Sia.
“Please feel free to share your thoughts as the video plays. Don’t hesitate to point out any flaws.”
Fast-forwarding through the uneventful stretches, I immediately queued up my initial engagement against the Antmen.
Neither Sia nor Rokan uttered a sound. Their eyes remained glued to the display, meticulously analyzing the combat choreography and the flow of mana visible in the recording.
Amid the tense silence, Sia broke the stillness first.
[Grandpa. I realize he’s my Oppa, but isn’t he undeniably brilliant?]
“Indeed. The pace of his advancement is entirely abnormal.”
I hadn’t felt anything extraordinary while fighting, but dragons evidently viewed my performance through a different lens.
“It is almost a tragedy that such innate talent belongs to a mortal vessel. Had you, Minjun, been born among dragonkind from the start…”
Mid-sentence, Rokan abruptly paused, waving his hand dismissively to retract his statement.
“Pay no mind to that. I let my tongue slip into territory it shouldn’t have. Forget what I just said.”
His comment didn’t sound particularly alarming to me, yet Rokan offered an apology as if he had breached a strict taboo, promptly redirecting his focus to the footage.
After observing the playback for an extended period, Rokan finally voiced his observation.
“Observing your blade work on this occasion gave me the impression of a dragon hatchling draped in mortal flesh.”
“Excuse me?”
Perhaps it was mere paranoia, but he seemed to be dropping an unusual number of baffling, cryptic remarks today.
Sensing my utter confusion, Rokan clarified, “You are undoubtedly human, yet the manner in which you wield your blade aligns far closer to dragonkind than to humanity.”
“Could you elaborate on what that actually means?”
[Oppa, allow me to clarify that for you.]
Eager to contribute, Sia took over the explanation.
According to her, the way a mortal swung a sword was fundamentally distinct from how a dragon wielded one.
The circumstances driving humans to draw blades generally fell into two categories: to defend what was dear to them, or to seize something precious from others.
Consequently, a human blade was thoroughly saturated with raw human passions—encompassing grief, desperation, longing, pride, and avarice.
Dragons, on the other hand, stood apart. Born at the apex of all living beings upon this world, they had never required swords to shield themselves or rob their peers. Whenever overwhelming force was required, they needed only to invoke the Dragon Tongue rather than bother with mundane steel.
Hence, a dragon took up a blade solely for fleeting amusement. Their strikes were entirely devoid of the desperate struggles that defined mortal combat.
Instead, a draconic sword carried a completely different essence: the effortless serenity of knowing one could achieve any desire without clinging to weapons, alongside the lofty, unshakeable nobility bred from that supreme confidence.
[To put Grandpa’s thought simply, he recognized that unmistakable dragon-like composure and majesty radiating from your sword, Oppa.]
“Precisely. And yet, your strikes simultaneously pulse with fierce, purely mortal passion. It is that sheer paradox which defies my comprehension.”
Rokan reiterated that while both essences might seem capable of mingling, true reality dictated they could never share the same vessel.
The further their explanation went, the more lost I became.
[Hehe. Oppa, you’re sporting that utterly clueless expression again, aren’t you?]
Sia saw right through me.
“It feels a bit humiliating to admit, but yes. To be blunt, I have no clue what either of you is describing.”
Massaging my temples, I sighed toward Sia, feeling an impending headache. Every new piece of lore only made things ten times more bewildering.
As if anticipating my frustration, Rokan placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder.
“Merely tuck these observations into the back of your mind. In due time, clarity will dawn upon you naturally, so do not distress yourself.”
“Understood. I’ll remember it.”
“We have dwelled on that matter long enough. Let us move forward.”
A far weightier matter remained on the agenda.
I fast-forwarded the video to the second clash with the Antmen swarm, leading directly into the ambush by the villains.
The screen depicted my brief surge of panic when confronted by the suffocating horde of Antmen, my desperate struggle to burn through my remaining energy to break free, and the subsequent strike launched by the ambushers just as my stamina hit rock bottom.
Then the footage captured that critical threshold: cornered in a lethal predicament, my body had instinctively summoned forth that shimmering, aurora-colored sword energy.
The instant the recording displayed that iridescent radiance flaring from the hilt held tightly in my bleeding palms, Rokan hit pause.
He then addressed me with an unsettlingly composed voice.
“Minjun.”
Rather than offering reassurance, his bone-chilling tranquility caused an icy shiver to crawl down my spine.
“How on earth did you do that?”
I remained uncertain about the true nature of that radiant sword energy, but it certainly felt like a monumental breakthrough. I had assumed Rokan would shower me with praise and celebrate the achievement.
Instead, his countenance bore not the slightest trace of satisfaction.
“I honestly can’t say for sure. If I had to guess… the moment that luminescence erupted, the only thought driving me was an absolute, desperate resolve to survive and make it back home.”
Though initially startled by his sternness, I presented my reasoning as steadily as I could.
Considering the extreme pressure of the battle, the prevailing hypothesis was that an overwhelming survival instinct had drawn out that power, but the exact mechanism remained unknown to me. That mystery was the very reason I had sought his counsel.
Yet instead of clarifying the enigma, Rokan produced a subdued groan, his face clouding with unfathomable complexity.
After a tense silence, he spoke once more.
“…Let us pause our review for a moment.”
Perhaps grappling with a severe headache of his own, Rokan stepped away, retreating quietly into his private study.
Just what had gone wrong here?
The moment the heavy door of his study shut behind him, Rokan shut his eyes and exhaled a profound breath.
Having previously glimpsed the essence of Minjun’s soul, Rokan had recognized long ago that the mortal youth was no ordinary creation.
Even with that prior understanding, however, the spectacle he had just witnessed was enough to shatter his composure.
‘Aurora-colored sword energy…’
When Minjun had initially spoken of it, Rokan had treated the claim with heavy skepticism.
Analyzing things with detached logic, the Minjun of today lacked the foundation required to wield power of such staggering magnitude. Rokan had reasoned that Minjun had simply hallucinated amid a volatile mana rebound.
Yet Minjun’s testimony had been completely genuine.
The boy had truly unleashed that mythical, aurora-like brilliance through his blade.
The remaining dragons who had integrated into mortal society on Earth almost certainly knew nothing regarding the true nature of that radiance. One look at Shasha’s bewildered expression confirmed she had never laid eyes on it before.
Rokan, however, knew the terrifying truth of that force and the identity of the sovereign who once wielded it.
Within an ancient, sealed chronicle accessible exclusively to those who inherited the title of Dragon Lord, a recorded passage stated:
<…He captivated the gaze of all through a breathtaking sword aura evoking the splendor of an aurora. Blessed with peerless mastery over the blade and supreme skill across endless disciplines, he commanded an overwhelming might capable of crushing both his mortal brethren and the exalted members of our dragon race. (…) Though his disposition toward our people remained amiable, destiny marked him as a presence we could never permit ourselves to drop our guard against. That vigilance endured because he stood as the * *** **** * ***.>
It chronicled a sovereign who had once thrown the entire realm into upheaval tens of thousands of years ago, only to fade into a mundane mythical figure in current mortal folklore.
To dragonkind, however, those events were preserved not as folklore, but as indelible historical truth.
Recalling that ancient verse, Rokan released another heavy sigh. Truth be told, sighing was the only recourse available to him.
‘How could a human youth replicate even that heritage?’
Granted, compared to the cataclysmic majesty commanded by the legend of old, Minjun’s current sword energy did not even register as a fraction of a step.
Nevertheless, one reality remained absolute.
Should the day arrive when Minjun mastered that iridescent sword energy as fluidly as that taboo existence from ancient memory, he would possess might capable not merely of channeling draconic strength, but of utterly subjugating even an elder dragon of Rokan’s stature.
Until Minjun developed absolute mastery over draconic power, however, that dormant potential had to remain tightly bound.
If allowed to run unchecked, that primordial energy would inevitably consume Minjun whole. And should that disaster occur, Minjun would degenerate into an ungodly abomination that could no longer claim humanity.
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