Chapter 5

“What’s your potential rating?”

“Shows as High.”

“Thank god.”

“You’re High too.”

“Of course I am.”

Potential was divided into three tiers—High, Mid, and Low—and the difference between them was enormous. Still, even among those ranked “High,” growth rates could vary widely.

Generally, they were similar, but those categorized as Special High developed nearly twice as fast as others.

A Status Window displayed six primary stats: Strength, Stamina, Mana (Internal Energy / Naeryeok), Agility, Intelligence, and Luck. Bonus stats were added depending on the rewards earned from dungeon raids or monster hunts.

In essence, Awakened beings were first classified as Martial Artists or Mages, and then divided further into subtypes. Some argued for more detailed classifications—especially for professions like Spirit Masters or Tamers, who were sometimes grouped with Mages and other times with Martial Artists.

Because of such ambiguities, most didn’t bother distinguishing too strictly. In the end, what truly mattered wasn’t one’s special attribute, but their overall ability.

“Keep your stats hidden as much as possible.”

“I know.”

“Well, considering you even fooled your best friend, that figures.”

“You could’ve just asked earlier.”

Mujin completely shifted the blame onto Jisoo.

No matter how close two friends were, everyone had secrets. Especially when your friend was a descendant of a martial clan—if Jisoo found out, it would’ve caused a storm.

They’d probably try to recruit him into their clan, raise him as one of their own—a proposal that would go directly against his father Sanhwa’s wish for a peaceful, ordinary life.

“It wasn’t easy to tell the truth. If word got out, it would’ve been a mess. If you’d just stayed oblivious, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

Jisoo wasn’t unaware of Mujin’s reasoning.

Leaving that kind of power unchecked? It was unthinkable.

Once known, it would be coveted—by everyone.

“Annoying, but… you’re right.”

“So you’re just saying it out loud now?”

“I said it quietly.”

“Our Jisoo’s learning fast.”

“Who’s our Jisoo?!”

Mujin’s abilities were limitless. If he were to learn the genuine martial arts of the Great Clans and equip himself with high-grade gear, he could easily be called a Lord-rank Hunter.

He had the potential to one day become the strongest in the world.

But where there was light, there was also shadow.

Genius always drew enemies.

‘Especially them… they’d stop at nothing to kill Mujin.’

Negotiation wouldn’t work on those kinds of people.

It was better to keep Mujin hidden while at the Academy.

After all—

Mujin was her ultimate secret weapon.

“That expression just now was kinda scary.”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“It felt like I was your property. Like you were planning to claim me without even confessing.”

“What do you mean, claim you?! Don’t be ridiculous!!”

“Not that I’d accept even if you confessed. Not anymore.”

“……Why not?”

“Too late.”

“……Wasn’t planning to anyway.”

Jisoo tried to preserve her pride, but Mujin’s nonchalant tone made her blood boil. She regretted even bringing it up. Why did I ask?!

“I’ve got Sunyoung, so I’m fine.”

“You jerk!”

“What did I do?”

“I don’t know! You just are!”

There wasn’t a single flirt who didn’t get what they deserved in the end.

Jisoo cursed him silently, vowing that divine retribution would come.

No—she’d make sure of it herself.

“Hold on, how did you even learn martial arts?”

“Internet.”

“Liar!!”

“Doesn’t everyone self-study?”

“……You insufferable—!”

Jisoo had assumed Mujin had trained under some reclusive grandmaster. But online? He’d learned by himself?

Ridiculous. She couldn’t even compare, despite all her years of elite training, special elixirs, and body refinement since childhood.

“What’s so hard about it?”

“Don’t you dare say that in front of other clans or students unless you want to get blacklisted!”

“But it’s true.”

“Just—stop talking!”

Grinning, Mujin decided to drop it there.

It was clear—Jisoo had changed a lot from the dull girl she’d once been. Now, she could tell when she was being teased and hit right back. It was actually… kind of fun.

It felt like discovering a new side of someone he thought he already knew—a fresh connection forming.

‘There’s no friend quite like Jisoo.’

Aside from a few calculated acquaintances, Mujin didn’t have many people around him. Truth be told, he never felt the need.

His father often criticized his mechanical relationships, but that habit hadn’t changed.

Eventually, Mujin and Jisoo decided to train together at their hideout. Whatever gaps remained, they could fill once they entered the Academy.

“So, the Fist King of your generation must be strong, right?”

“I know you’re amazing, but don’t even think about challenging Grandpa. Even I can’t take him yet. Anyway, what’s your martial art called?”

“Mujin Style. I named it myself.”

“Hah! You seriously have no shame!”

“I made it, so of course it should bear my name.”

“Wow, look at the Great Master over here.”

Learning martial arts alone was already unbelievable—but creating an entire style?!

Jisoo found it hard to accept. But if it were true, then Mujin really was worthy of being called a Grandmaster.

The wider the gap she felt, the more her pride stung. She was supposed to lead—but instead, she felt like she was being dragged along.

“Enough talk—die!”

“In your dreams.”

Mujin blocked her sudden strike with ease. Jisoo spun, sweeping her leg across the floor in a sharp roundhouse kick.

“When you spin, there’s extra movement. You’ll need to adjust your speed between transitions. Each technique’s footwork has to match your body and ability—just mimicking what you learned won’t help you grow.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“How about this then?”

“……Damn it!”

Mujin increased his speed—then suddenly slowed his thrust by half a beat.

Jisoo’s offense and defense crumbled instantly, her form collapsing before she could even react.

It was the perfect blend of off-beat timing and formless technique.

Before Jisoo even realized what was happening, her movements turned sloppy and chaotic—completely broken.

“Not bad, though.”

“Stop acting smug!”

Mujin didn’t underestimate her technique. Jisoo was adapting fast—adjusting her rhythm, matching the tempo, and gradually pushing back. If she’d been stuck on form alone, she’d never have managed it.

That principle applied not only to martial arts or magic—but to people themselves. The habits ingrained in everyday actions had to be overcome too. Talent helped, but what truly mattered was countless real battles.

‘So she’s experienced something like Asura’s Battlefield, huh?’

Mujin’s knowledge far exceeded that of anyone his age. But experience? That was different.

His understanding came from theory, not from blood-soaked fights.

And even when he tried to see things objectively, it was colored by personal bias.

‘Let’s see a little more.’

Jisoo’s movements were too realistic to be from mere training.

Her strikes carried a beast-like savagery—each one aimed to kill, to crush the opponent’s breath.

She controlled it consciously, but when cornered, her instincts bared their fangs.

Mujin adjusted his pace, studying her patterns as he looked for an opening.

But Jisoo, far from backing down, tightened her guard and pressed harder.

Pah! Pah! Pah! Pah!

Every clash shook the air, the sound of steel tearing through the wind echoing through the hideout. If the area hadn’t been reinforced and sealed with a barrier, the whole place would’ve collapsed.

Whoooosh—!

Shinhwa Heaven Fist – Fiery Heaven Explosion.

Unleashing the full power of her 9-star internal energy, Jisoo’s punch ignited in a flash of blue flame—and detonated.

BOOOOM! Huuuuuuaaaaah!

Firestorms rippled in every direction. Jisoo’s pupils trembled violently.

She looked like she’d just seen something impossible—something that shouldn’t exist.

“……How?”

“So that’s how it works. Totally different from when we were kids.”

“……What do you mean?”

“You showed me, remember?”

Back then, Jisoo hadn’t been nearly so cunning.

She was transparent—praise her just a little, and she’d spill everything.

Of course, her techniques had been immature then, full of openings.

Mujin had taken the essence of that incomplete form, refined it, and filled it with his own flow—perfecting it into something entirely new.

It was the purest example of the student surpassing the master.

Now, Mujin’s Fiery Heaven Explosion mirrored Jisoo’s perfectly—like a reflection in glass.

“……You thief!”

“Ah, my dear Master seems quite upset.”

Mujin followed it up with Shinhwa Heaven Fist’s other forms—Collapse Mountain Smash, Heavenly Severing Strike, Tyrant’s Annihilation—executing them flawlessly.

Jisoo blocked them out of instinct, teeth gritted, fury boiling.

Each move was unmistakably her own technique—copied to perfection.

“You only saw it once when we were little! There’s no way you could replicate it this perfectly!”

“The roots are the same—but look closely at the flow. You can feel the difference now.”

Even if two trees shared the same root, their fruit could be completely different.

At a glance, they looked identical—but within, there was something distinctly his.

That was Mujin and Jisoo’s difference—their individuality made visible through form.

With any other martial art, it might’ve been impossible to tell—but since their origins were the same, she could feel exactly how their paths had diverged.

‘This damn world!’

Was there no limit to unfairness?!

Jisoo wanted to scream and swear all at once. Mujin’s martial art was practically flawless.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find an opening. Worse, the more they exchanged blows, the more her own Shinhwa Heaven Fist was adapting—synchronizing with his.

“Damn it all!!”

“You’re improving.”

Mujin’s bright smile made Jisoo grind her teeth.

Her life’s work—honed through countless life-or-death battles—was being absorbed by a sixteen-year-old.

It was infuriating. Maddening.

If her technique had stagnated, it might’ve been easier to accept—but no.

Even she could tell she was growing by leaps and bounds just by fighting him.

“That last strike wasn’t bad.”

“You’re gonna regret that!”

Jisoo hadn’t planned to go this far—but now she unleashed her special attribute.

The primal, overwhelming strength that once reached Lord rank.

Wuuuuum!

Zzzzzttt!

Her eyes gleamed, her aura twisted, and the air itself began to quake.

Sensing the change, Mujin felt a thrill run through his body.

This—this was what Jisoo’s true power looked like.

[Special Attribute: Berserk (Stage 2)]

Berserk—an attribute that amplified every stat at once, multiplying total power in an instant.

But the higher the amplification, the greater the madness.

If not perfectly controlled, the user would lose their sense of self and descend into chaos.

BOOOOM!

Her speed and destructive power skyrocketed—beyond all comparison to before.

Doubling one’s stats didn’t necessarily mean doubling one’s combat ability…

But Mujin could tell immediately—Jisoo’s raw might had reached a whole new plane.

Most people lost form and wasted strength under such boosts, but Jisoo maintained control—channeling her berserk state with surgical precision.

Crack-crack-crack—KWAANG!

Even at Stage 2, her strikes were several times stronger than expected.

Her practical combat mastery far surpassed Mujin’s expectations.

Curious about her limits, Mujin pushed harder.

“Impressive—just like a reclusive housewife gone wild.”

“……I’m going to kill you!”

Training or not, Jisoo’s eyes rolled back with fury.

White showing in her eyes—she’d gone completely berserk.

Mujin, now having learned plenty, simply grinned in satisfaction.

This fight was exhilarating.

‘Maybe Berserk isn’t such a bad attribute after all.’

The Reverse Scale truly was magnificent.