When you're on the verge of death and a curvy, extraordinarily beautiful woman saves your life—only to casually say she wants to take you as her disciple—would you agree or not?
"Thank you for saving me," Jinwoo said heavily, "but I'm sorry. If you're looking for a disciple, find someone else. There's no way I'm going to call someone I just met my master."
Sung Jinwoo flatly refused Scáthach's offer.
Just as he said, this was their first meeting. He knew nothing about her. No matter how reckless he might be, he wasn't about to acknowledge a stranger as his teacher so easily.
After being dragged onto the bank, Jinwoo steadied his racing mind and swept the surroundings warily.
All around him stretched an endless expanse of uneven gray rock. Jagged boulders jutted upward like swords stabbing at the dim, overcast sky. The place he'd fallen from… was a broad gray river hundreds of meters wide, sluggish water flowing soundlessly through a barren, deathly silence.
This wasn't Earth—at least, Jinwoo had never heard of anywhere on Earth with such a spine-chilling environment. The mana here was also far denser than anything on Earth. Which meant there was only one conclusion.
He was still inside a Dungeon.
"Don't tell me… this is another double Dungeon?" Jinwoo muttered, eyes narrowing.
The Cartenon Temple, where he'd first obtained the [System], had been a double Dungeon. He'd already died once there. Naturally, he was wary of everything here—
Including the woman who'd just saved him.
Jinwoo hadn't forgotten that he'd used [Shadow Extraction]—in other words, he'd drawn on the Shadow Monarch's power. That was what triggered the magic circle and sent him here.
But what about her? Why was she here? Why had he encountered her the very moment he arrived?
"Is that so? You're refusing to become my disciple…"
In an instant, the air froze solid.
With the [System], Jinwoo's senses were far sharper than those of an ordinary person. Yet for a brief moment, he almost wished they weren't.
Pressure.
A terrifying pressure. beyond description.
Colder than midwinter. Sharper than a blade.
Even with eyes widened to their limit, all Jinwoo saw was a crimson streak rushing toward him—an edge utterly unstoppable, slicing through wind and sound alike.
BANG!
Layer after layer of air detonated, erupting in a roar like a hundred beasts howling in unison.
Scáthach withdrew her vermilion spear, twirling it gracefully in one hand, and stared at Jinwoo as he staggered backward. The corner of her mouth curved ever so slightly upward.
"Your mind couldn't keep up, but your body reacted first. Barely passing, I suppose. You've hovered near death's edge more times than most. Warriors like you are rare in this era."
Jinwoo was nowhere near as composed. Both hands clutching his daggers shook uncontrollably. That single strike had nearly knocked the weapons clean from his grip.
"I'm usually quite considerate. I don't like forcing people." As she paced, Scáthach shifted from holding the spear in one hand to gripping it firmly with both. "Since you don't want to be my disciple, I won't insist. I'll simply pierce your heart with this spear."
You won't take "no" for an answer, so you're going to kill me? What kind of twisted logic is that?! Are you insane?!
Jinwoo wanted to scream those words at the top of his lungs, but the spear strike had been anything but simple. It wasn't just fast and heavy—when he'd blocked it with his daggers, a hidden force had punched straight into his organs. Forget speaking; even breathing sent waves of pain through him, forcing his face into a grimace.
"You've rested enough, haven't you? Don't say I didn't give you a chance."
Scáthach lowered her stance, spear leveled. Her right hand grasped near the spearhead, while her left held the butt end in reverse. Her taut body was like a bow drawn fully—like a jaguar locked onto its prey. The battle intent pouring off her was so dense it seemed almost tangible, coiling around her like living flames.
"Show me everything you've got. The moment you falter, your heart is mine."
Even without the [System] alerting him, Jinwoo could feel the monstrous pressure.
This was the first time he'd faced something so deadly head-on. For a brief instant, he vividly imagined the end—himself, already dead.
Damn it. This crazy woman isn't bluffing. She really intends to kill me!
There was no earth-shattering stomp—Scáthach simply stepped forward lightly, like a butterfly in flight, yet surged toward Jinwoo at ghostly speed. The crimson, curse-laden spear darted in like a swimming dragon.
Jinwoo barely managed to track its trajectory. Gritting his teeth, he slashed upward with a dagger, the arc of his blade flaring into a silver crescent.
CLANG!
Steel collided with spear, sending sparks flying.
Simultaneously, droplets of blood bloomed across Jinwoo's face—a thin cut had appeared on his cheek.
Even with [Mutilation], I still can't completely stop her attack?
His heart lurched—but there was no time to dwell on the wound. The next strike, intended to end his life, was already upon him.
Clang.
Clang.
CLANG—!
Spear and blades collided in a furious storm, movements too fast for human eyes—afterimages and auroras whipping up gale-force winds and thunderous impacts.
Dazzling arcs of knife-light wove a net around Jinwoo—airtight and suffocating. Every nerve in his skull stretched to its limit. Under death's crushing pressure, he didn't dare relax for even a heartbeat.
Yet even as he wrung out every ounce of strength, poured in every shred of focus, and fought with everything he had—
The wounds on his body continued multiplying with each passing second.
Again and again, crimson spear-light struck from impossibly vicious angles, slipping through his defenses, carving fresh wounds into him.
Jinwoo couldn't make sense of it. Was that really a spear? How could it move as fluidly as a snake? Each time he confidently raised his daggers to parry, her attacks warped before his eyes—bending in an utterly impossible arc—and stabbed into him anyway.
Like a mirage. You swear there's a city standing in the desert…but in truth, it's across the sea, and your eyes alone have been fooled.
"Your senses are sharp," Scáthach remarked calmly, "but your technique is crude. Weapon handling, mana control—both crude. It's as if your skills and mana were forcibly poured into you all at once. Any of my disciples could hang you up and beat you senseless."
Meanwhile, none of Jinwoo's strikes reached her. Her breathing remained steady, measured—almost leisurely. Clearly, Jinwoo was the one being suppressed, yet she still had breath to spare for critiques.
Okay. Jinwoo knew his technique was garbage. During his job-change quest, Igris had crushed him on pure skill. Jinwoo had won only because he'd managed to exploit a momentary lapse and land a surprise attack.
But back then, he'd been outclassed across the board—speed, strength, technique, armor. This was different. In close combat, Scáthach's speed and power matched his.
It was technique—the difference in their technique was like a chasm.
Jinwoo wielded two daggers; Scáthach had only one spear. Based on numbers alone, Jinwoo should've had the advantage—yet Scáthach maximized her spear's range flawlessly. Dozens of times Jinwoo tried to close the gap, and each time he was driven back.
People always said longer was stronger. But length could also be a weakness. In a narrow alley, a spear had no room. If an opponent got inside your range, generating force was difficult—you'd be hindered at every turn.
Yet Scáthach displayed none of these flaws. The crimson spear etched with mysterious runes moved as naturally as her own limb. Attacking or defending, she neutralized everything with effortless grace.
No… this isn't working. I can't keep trading blows. I have to create distance. I need a moment to breathe!
Gradually, Jinwoo's breathing fell out of rhythm—not only from mounting injuries but from the immense pressure bearing down on him, making even air hard to draw.
He'd fought invisible enemies. Enemies his blades couldn't cut. Enemies that wouldn't die.
None had been as troublesome as this.
Fighting Scáthach felt like punching one of those springy fitness balls—no matter how hard you struck, your fist would bounce away, sometimes even hurting yourself in return.
The vermilion spear became a meteor again, streaking in. Its lightning-fast tip grazed Jinwoo's throat—if he hadn't snapped his head aside at the last split second, it might have punched clean through his windpipe.
Scáthach withdrew the spear, transitioning instantly from thrust to strike. With a chop powerful enough to split mountains, she slammed the spear's shaft toward Jinwoo's head.
Jinwoo crossed his daggers above his crown, catching the blow—only for Scáthach to twist the spear smoothly and drive its butt-end into his abdomen.
Pain ripped through him like an electric shock, twisting his face—
Yet Jinwoo's heart surged with savage relief. This was the opening he'd been waiting for.
He didn't resist the blow. Instead, he embraced it—following the force—and allowed himself to be hurled backward like a cannonball, tearing through the air into the distance.
Got you. That was my escape route!
But Scáthach had no intention of letting him escape.
Her expression didn't flicker. Even as Jinwoo flew away, propelled by her strike, she showed not the slightest reaction.
She stepped forward—lightly, almost lazily—and yet her speed was terrifying. Each stride covered dozens of meters. The distance between her and Jinwoo, still airborne, shrank at an alarming pace.
Jinwoo saw it, too. His gaze filled with dread, but he wasn't surprised.
He'd guessed she wouldn't be shaken off that easily.
Ghostly blue fire ignited in his eyes. A natural, wordless authority radiated from him—if moments ago he'd been a fierce warrior, now he was a sovereign gazing down from above.
"Come out!"
Jinwoo's shadow on the ground swelled suddenly.
Then two massive figures emerged from it.
One was a giant bear enveloped in blue flame.
The other was a male shadow soldier, roaring as he raised a towering shield and a massive axe—Jinwoo had named him Iron.
This was the Shadow Monarch's power, [Shadow Extraction], raising the dead as shadow soldiers absolutely loyal to him. Normally, they hid within his shadow, ready to answer their king's summons at any moment.
A cold gleam flashed in Scáthach's eyes. Without slowing, she charged straight at the bear and Iron. Confronting a woman who dared show killing intent toward their king, the two shadows roared furiously and moved to intercept.
"You're the largest," Scáthach remarked lightly. "So I'll start with you."
With that, she shot toward the bear like an arrow loosed from its bowstring.
"ROAR—!!"
The bear bellowed, swinging a massive paw at her—
And then… there was no "then."
Scáthach struck just three times. Three thrusts too swift for the eye to follow.
The first severed the bear's attacking paw.
The second pierced straight through its forehead, splitting its skull.
The third cleanly decapitated it.
Iron tried to aid his teammate, but before he could activate a skill, the bear had dispersed into black smoke and dust.
Iron hadn't been the sharpest tool in life; as a shadow soldier, he was even worse. Seeing his teammate destroyed instantly, he froze on the spot, dumbfounded.
"To daydream on the battlefield… Immaturity is one thing, but this is excessive."
The reprimand reached Iron's ears—yet when he attempted to respond, he realized there was a hole in his chest. It had appeared without him even noticing.
Without glancing back at Iron as he faded, Scáthach flicked her spear with a deft snap. The blade held no blood, but she made the gesture out of habit.
She let out a long sigh—heavy with palpable disappointment.
"Not just the king—even your legion is immature. You can't compare to Ashborn's army… Not even fit as punching bags to kill time. What a bore."
Her voice was soft enough that only she could hear.
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T/N: BROOOO CHILLLLLLLLL HE'S LIKE HAD THE POWERS FOR A WEEK OR MONTHHHHH CHILLLLLLLLL