Unlike common misunderstandings, superhuman martial arts aren’t merely about enhancing physical prowess.

The superhuman strength and speed are simply the visible results. At its core, true martial arts lie in the philosophies and doctrines that allow one to manipulate mana. This essence, often referred to as "Jin," is what martial artists strive to attain.

It could be a single line from a book, an insight hidden deep within one’s heart, or even someone’s earnest dream… these are the foundations of true martial arts. Thus, martial arts became both a discipline for cultivating the mind and a rigorous test of physical limits.

Of course, there were exceptions. Some martial arts had the sole purpose of achieving greater power and speed.

During the Cold War, military superhuman martial arts mostly embodied this approach. Although many of these arts faded in modern times, a few still endured.

And Wesley’s martial art was precisely that type. Its official name was classified, but in the media, it was known as "Air Dominance," a martial art focused on extreme speed.

The instant “I’m coming” left Wesley’s lips, he was already in front of Yeomyeong.

Wham!

His fist sliced through the air in a sweeping arc, a gust preceding it that brushed Yeomyeong’s cheek.

Yeomyeong neither blocked nor dodged. Instead, he extended his right fist in a straightforward counterpunch.

A perfectly readable cross-counter. Wesley pulled his fist back, deflecting Yeomyeong’s punch with his elbow.

He intended to knock it aside and follow up with another strike.

Crack!

But contrary to Wesley’s expectations, an unsettling sound came from his elbow as it met Yeomyeong’s fist.

Pain shot through his arm, but Wesley didn’t halt his attack.

He lifted his knee to strike Yeomyeong’s lower body—blocked. Left fist—blocked again. Shoulder strike while closing the distance—deflected. Headbutt—avoided.

In the flurry of exchanges, Wesley’s attacks consistently failed.

Could there be this much of a difference? Gritting his teeth, Wesley prepared to continue the assault.

Thunk!

Yeomyeong’s foot suddenly struck Wesley’s abdomen, sending him flying into the floor with a resounding crash. The impact was so strong that the floorboards splintered.

The reaction to this scene was polarized: students gasped in admiration, while the dorm supervisors rubbed their foreheads in exasperation.

Unfazed by the reactions, Wesley picked himself up with a grimace.

“Damn it… Were you going easy on me?”

Seeing Wesley spit blood-tinged saliva, Yeomyeong shook his head.

“No, I thought that would be enough to end it. You’re tougher than I expected.”

“Hah!”

Wesley grinned, baring his teeth. Though his leg trembled, and blood dripped down his forehead, his eyes still shone with defiance.

“Looks like kicks are your forte. Go ahead, don’t hold back.”

“…Hm.”

That might kill him, Yeomyeong thought, holding his tongue. Though he worried it might sound like provocation, he was more concerned about actually harming Wesley.

It wasn’t easy to control his strength. After all, when had he ever needed to? Whether it was against necromancers, dragons, or Pasun, he’d always had to push himself to the limit to survive.

“You’re zoning out in a fight!?” Wesley yelled, charging at him again.

Fast as lightning, but a purely straightforward attack. Wesley’s martial art aimed at Yeomyeong’s vital points, pursuing pure strength.

The assault started with a punch targeting his throat, launching a barrage of blows—jabs, hard hits, counterstrikes, and parries.

But the exchange didn’t last long.

Just as Wesley’s mana visibly waned, Yeomyeong suddenly reached out and gripped his neck.

“Gah!”

A choked cry escaped Wesley as his neck was seized. If controlling his strength was difficult, then knocking him out was the solution.

“Le-Let go…!” Wesley struggled, swinging a desperate punch, but Yeomyeong’s grip only tightened.

As Wesley’s strength began to drain, the dorm supervisors moved to intervene.

Suddenly, a foot descended from the central staircase railing.

Boom!

A powerful strike aimed directly at Yeomyeong’s arm, forcing him to release Wesley. Had he not thrown Wesley aside in reflex, his arm might have broken from the impact.

The force of the blow cracked the lobby floor, sending up a cloud of dust.

Yeomyeong squinted at the dust cloud, not because of surprise but because he recognized the technique aimed at him.

Jingak.

Recalling Seti’s words, this was one of the ultimate techniques of flying footwork.

As the dust settled, a familiar figure emerged from the haze.

“…Jeon Yeonseong?”

The notorious Korean-born foreigner, simultaneously despised and acclaimed for his looks, glared at Yeomyeong with an intense expression, though they’d never even exchanged words.

“That flying technique… could it be, are you…?”

Before Yeonseong could finish, Wesley, who’d regained his composure, shouted at him.

“Hey, Yeonseong! Why’d you interfere?!”

“No, I just… I was trying to help you…”

“Help? Why? Did you think someone would get killed in a room duel?”

As Wesley’s words resonated, the other students turned their eyes toward Yeonseong. But none of their gazes held even a hint of goodwill.

‘…It doesn’t seem like they’re just angry about the interruption. Could he be… an outcast?’

Even Yeomyeong, who was usually oblivious, noticed the hostile looks directed at Yeonseong, as if he were a public enemy.

Evidently, Yeonseong felt the same; he lowered his head, muttering, “…Sorry, I misunderstood.”

“Is that supposed to be an apology?”

“…I’m truly sorry. I didn’t mean to disrupt the duel.”

Apologizing to Wesley, Yeonseong faced the frosty glares of the students and the confusion of the dorm supervisors.

Observing the scene for a moment, Yeomyeong brushed the dust from his clothes. He didn’t know what issues Yeonseong might have, but he figured that was enough entertainment for one day.

“Supervisor, what happens to the room duel in this case?”

“…Usually, it’s declared a draw.”

“Is that so? Then… I’ll head to my assigned room. Room 314, right?”

Hearing this, Wesley interjected with a start.

“A draw? It’s not over yet!”

“…That’s your opinion.”

“No! I can still fight…”

Yeomyeong simply stared at Wesley without a word. Wesley clenched his fists, eventually turning his head away, muttering in frustration.

‘…What a kid.’

Honesty was good, but to a point. Despite his youthful looks, Wesley was a fellow student, which suddenly made the academy feel very real.

But for his first day at school to go like this… Yeomyeong sighed as he gathered his belongings. He looked at Wesley, who was still fuming, and said,

“Whether it’s a duel or a spar, I’m open to another match anytime.”

“…What? You mean a rematch?”

“Yeah, though not tomorrow—I have things to do. Let’s try again sometime this week.”

As the dorm supervisor subtly added a hopeful request for them to fight in a proper arena next time, Wesley burst out laughing.

“Hah, I lost both in skill and character.”

“….”

“Coming from a mercenary, you’re a surprisingly decent guy.”

Watching Wesley step forward and extend a hand, Yeomyeong tried to keep his face from contorting.

‘…Is he like the Saintess?’

He could only hope that characters like this weren’t common at the academy. Ignoring the foreboding feeling, he took Wesley’s hand.

The handshake was met with mixed reactions. The students, seemingly content with the spectacle, began to disperse, while the dorm supervisors grimaced at the damaged lobby floor.

Though some students remained, puzzled by what had happened, most went on their way, apparently satisfied with the day’s events.

As the day’s chaos ended and Yeomyeong followed the dorm supervisor to his room, he briefly made eye contact with Yeonseong, who was standing in the lobby.

The gaze was filled with envy, regret, and a deep wariness.

Even as Yeonseong looked away, Yeomyeong made a mental note of his expression.

Especially recalling Seti’s suggestion about possibly using him for revenge.

 

The writer held his breath, straining to hear the sounds beyond his door. He could make out chatter about Yeonseong, the transfer student, and Wesley’s fight, until suddenly, the dorm fell silent.

Were Wesley and the transfer student really fighting? He thought back to what he’d witnessed at the airport earlier.

Hong Seti—the madwoman—and the transfer student in battle.

Yeonseong and Soemiri, who’d watched with him, had been impressed, but… he’d felt something else.

Frankly, he’d been terrified.

Maybe it was because it was his first time witnessing a fight where murderous intent and mana erupted. But more than anything, it was the sheer skill of the transfer student that frightened him.

Not only did he wield mana with his sword, but he also shot sword energy from it.

‘To unleash sword energy… that’s a level that requires mastery over mana flow. Damn, are we really pulling this kind of stunt in the first chapter?’

The gap between him and a true superhuman felt like the distance between heaven and earth.

If the transfer student was really from the real world… there was no way he’d ever be able to catch up.

The writer buried his head between his knees, trembling.

‘What if he finds out who I am?’

Should he try to ally with him? Perhaps offer him the chance of a fateful encounter he alone knew of and beg to be taken as a subordinate…

‘Would I really do that?’

If he were in the transfer student’s position, he’d consider this world his alone.

Another person from reality? He wouldn’t hesitate to slit their throat on sight.

No, he’d have to escape the academy and find another way…

-Knock, knock.

Lost in thought, he was startled by a knock at his door.

“Who… Who is it?”

“It’s the dorm supervisor. May I come in?”

Why would the dorm supervisor come at this hour? Feeling a bad premonition, he replied, “Ah, yes, come in.”

The moment he granted permission, the door opened.

The writer clamped his mouth shut to stifle a scream.

Behind the dorm supervisor was none other than the transfer student—Cheonyeom.

No, it couldn’t be…

“Cheonyeom, this will be your room from now on. The dorm rules are on the desk, and your bedding is…”

It was exactly as he feared. The writer remembered the assassination dagger and poison darts he’d hidden under his pillow, only to shake his head.

Those might work on first-year rookies, but they’d be useless against a superhuman like this.

His only option…

‘Hide my identity, whatever it takes.’

Swallowing, he forced his face into a calm expression. While he suppressed the tremor in his lips, the dorm supervisor finished explaining and exited the room.

Once they were alone, the writer covered his legs with his blanket, hoping to hide his shaking.

Meanwhile, Cheonyeom’s golden eyes calmly scanned the room.

What didn’t he like? Cheonyeom’s brows knitted slightly as he examined the surroundings.

‘Damn.’

The writer took a deep breath and, watching Yeomyeong place his bag down, finally spoke.

“H-Hey… hello? Should we introduce ourselves?”

“Cheonyeom.”

“…I-I’m Baonic Re… Relak. N-Nice to meet you.”

Damn, my tongue won’t cooperate. As he cursed internally, he noticed Yeomyeong looking at him with a curious expression.

“…Relak? Are you from the Relak family?”

“Oh… yeah. You’ve heard of my family?”

Of course he had. The Relak family was infamous even beyond the dimensional gates. Though not exactly in a good way.

“I’m well aware. I’ve seen them in documentaries a few times.”

“Doc… documentaries?”

“The series on families beyond the dimensional gates. Yours was the second family they featured… though it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t know.”

With that, Yeomyeong pulled something from his bag.

The sight of a sword hilt peeking out made Baonic flinch, but instead of a weapon, Yeomyeong drew out something unexpected.

A portable broom and dustpan. The last thing Baonic would have expected.

“….”

While he was at a loss for words, Yeomyeong asked, “The room’s a bit dirty. Mind if I clean up?”

Baonic was taken aback not once, but twice—first by how unexpectedly kind Cheonyeom seemed to be, and then by his unexpectedly thorough cleaning skills.