Kang Jinhyuk's body ached from the previous day's training, every muscle screaming in protest. Yet he rose without hesitation, the fire in his chest hotter than the soreness in his limbs.
Pain is temporary. Weakness is death. I cannot afford either, he thought, adjusting the grip on his staff. The Black Fang's training was brutal, designed to strip away hesitation, fear, and the remnants of mercy.
Cheol-Ung's voice barked from across the clearing, commanding attention. Weapon mastery is not just about skill...it is about instinct, about anticipating the strike before it comes. You must move as one with your weapon, or it will betray you!
Jinhyuk nodded, eyes fixed on the rough wooden dummy before him. He swung his staff, pivoted, struck, parried, and twisted—repeating the motion until his arms burned, sweat pouring down his back. Each strike was precise, controlled, yet edged with the raw fury that never left him.
Every swing, every parry… it is for them. For Min-Seo… for my child…
A sudden shout drew his attention. Another recruit lunged, twin daggers glinting in the dawn. Jinhyuk's eyes narrowed, muscles coiling. With a fluid motion, he blocked the attack, twisted, and swept his opponent off balance, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
Baek Ryun, watching from the sidelines, smirked. You've got instincts… but raw instincts will get you killed in the field. Discipline, strategy, anticipation… learn them, or you'll become just another corpse.
I will master them all, Jinhyuk muttered under his breath, sweat stinging his eyes.
By midday, training shifted to guerrilla tactics. Cheol-Ung led the recruits through the dense forest, teaching ambushes, evasion, and resourcefulness. Every movement was calculated: where to step, how to hide, how to anticipate not just a single enemy, but a coordinated attack.
Jinhyuk moved silently, barely disturbing the fallen leaves beneath his feet. He observed the patterns of birds, the way the wind carried scents, the subtle signs of movement in the shadows. Every lesson reinforced a harsh truth: survival demanded cunning as much as strength.
You must learn the darkness, Cheol-Ung said, voice low, carrying through the trees. The world will not grant you mercy. It will offer only challenges and death. You must become darkness… or it will consume you.
Jinhyuk felt a chill as he considered the meaning. The boy who had once tilled fields and laughed in sunlight had been consumed by darkness already. And yet… could he wield it without losing himself entirely?
The afternoon brought weapon drills with blades, knives, and chains. Jinhyuk's hands bled, his vision blurred from exhaustion, yet he pressed on. Every swing, every thrust, every block was a test, not only of physical prowess, but of moral endurance. He remembered the faces of those he had lost: Min-Seo, their child, the village reduced to ashes.
Do I seek justice, or am I becoming what killed them? he asked himself in the quiet moments between strikes. Rage burned hot, almost blinding, but he forced himself to consider restraint, strategy, and timing. Vengeance demanded more than anger... it demanded precision, patience, and control.
As the sun began to set, Cheol-Ung assigned a practical exercise: a simulated raid on a rival bandit camp. Recruits were split into teams, tasked with infiltrating, ambushing, and retrieving supplies without being detected.
Jinhyuk's team moved through the dense forest, shadows among shadows. He directed them in hushed tones, pointing out vantage points, escape routes, and traps. When a guard appeared unexpectedly, Jinhyuk whispered a swift command, and Baek Ryun incapacitated the man silently with a precise strike.
Good, Cheol-Ung observed from a distance. You are beginning to think like a Black Fang… but remember, instinct alone will not save you. Strategy will.
Jinhyuk's mind raced. Every movement of the guards, every bend of the river, every rustle in the trees was cataloged, analyzed, and anticipated. For the first time, he felt the thrill of command, the intoxicating sense of control over life and death.
I can lead, he thought, voice barely a whisper. I can survive… and I can make them pay. All of them.
Night fell, and the recruits gathered around the campfire. Jinhyuk's body ached, his hands raw, but his mind was alive with possibility. Around him, the Black Fang shared stories of past raids, betrayals, and victories. Every tale was a lesson in survival, every scar a testament to the cost of failure.
Goh Hyun, sitting beside him, spoke quietly. Strength is nothing without loyalty. Trust your brothers... but trust carefully. One mistake, one misplaced word, and you will die alone.
Jinhyuk nodded, gazing into the fire. I will learn loyalty. I will learn strategy. I will learn… everything. But no one will stand in my way. No one will take from me again.
He thought of Min-Seo and their child, their faces burned into his memory like a brand. That grief, that rage, was now fuel sharp, relentless, and unyielding.
I will use the darkness, he whispered, eyes glowing with determination. I will master it. I will not become it… but I will wield it.
In the following days, Jinhyuk's tactical brilliance began to show. During another exercise, he noticed patterns in the elder recruits' patrols, anticipating movements before they occurred. When the exercise shifted into mock combat, he orchestrated ambushes, flanked opponents, and guided his team with precision.
Cheol-Ung watched silently, expression unreadable. After the exercise, he finally spoke: You are learning faster than most. Instinct… strategy… leadership. But remember this: the darkness you wield can consume you if you let it. Keep your grief close, but do not let it blind you.
Jinhyuk's hands tightened on his sword hilt. I will control it, he thought. The darkness is mine to command, not to command me. And I will become strong enough to avenge what was taken from me.
That night, Jinhyuk stood alone on a cliff, the wind whipping at his hair, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The moon shone silver over the valleys below, but it could not illuminate the path he had chosen.
Justice… revenge… survival… he murmured, voice low and resolute. I will learn all of it. I will master every skill, every tactic, every strategy. And when the time comes… the world will remember the name Kang Jinhyuk.
The shadows of Mount Liang stretched long beneath him, as if acknowledging the promise of a man who had been forged by grief, tempered by rage, and sharpened into deadly precision.
The darkness had been revealed. And Kang Jinhyuk had begun to master it.