Fighting his Shishō again, Sung Jinwoo found himself no longer tense, no longer resistant. If anything, he felt ridiculously light.
His body didn't feel heavy at all—he was as weightless as if the wind itself were carrying him.
His mindset was completely different from before.
Of course, some things hadn't changed.
His Shishō was still—like always—monstrously strong.
Jinwoo had also noticed something else: no matter how fierce the battle became, no matter how sudden the danger, Scáthach's breathing never went ragged. Her body moved like a high-precision machine—no wasted motions, not a single opening to be found.
It was hard to even imagine what it took to reach that level.
He could still remember the day he first met her. Thinking back, the fact he'd been able to trade blows with her for that long meant she'd been holding back an ocean.
"Not going to summon your shadow soldiers for help?" Scáthach asked casually. "Now that you're the second Shadow Monarch, you should've inherited Ashborn's old troops, shouldn't you? Why not call them out and let me see? And the soldiers that have been following you all this time—they should've been strengthened too, right?"
Scáthach wouldn't bother remembering nameless small fry who couldn't even take one of her spears. But she did remember the two strongest under Ashborn, known as the " Two Wings of the Shadow Army." One was Igris, who'd been with Jinwoo from early on. The other was Bellion—who had followed Ashborn even back when Ashborn was still a bright fragment. By now, Beru should've become Jinwoo's soldier as well.
But Jinwoo had no intention of summoning anyone.
"What you want to see is my results alone, isn't it?" he said. "If I bring others in, wouldn't that spoil it?"
He could hear his heart hammering—strong, steady—in his chest.
Empty the mind. Don't worry about what happens if he loses. Follow the battle instinct carved into his body, and lay out everything he'd learned—everything—so his Shishō could see.
No holding back.
Everything on the line.
No regrets. All-out.
He wanted the teacher he respected to see his growth—to feel proud of him.
Like sprinting down a rubber track during a physical fitness test.
Like writing until his hand cramped in the classroom during finals.
All of it, so he wouldn't betray the version of himself that had fought this hard to get here. All of it, so he wouldn't betray the mentor who had placed such hope in him. So that when he looked back someday, he wouldn't regret years of drifting and accomplishing nothing.
Perhaps Jinwoo himself didn't even notice—
He was smiling.
Once the weight on his shoulders was gone, he finally learned—like Scáthach—to enjoy the fight.
Attack and defense. Advance and retreat. Feint and truth.
In a single instant, countless variations—countless answers.
The shriek of a blade cutting air, the humming tremor of a spear, the thunder of spear and dagger colliding…
Together, they wove an exhilarating, blood-stirring march.
In the end, the curtain fell on Scáthach's victory.
...
"What a shame. I won again."
Scáthach twirled her spear with effortless ease—like the back-row student who could spin a pen perfectly during class, totally at leisure.
Jinwoo, meanwhile, was already sprawled on the ground, panting, completely drained. Even after using every last trick he had, he still couldn't defeat her.
Which only proved it.
His Shishō really was his Shishō.
"Haa… I'm done. I feel like I'm going to die…"
"You're the Shadow Monarch who commands the power of death," Scáthach said dismissively, the very picture of someone who could afford to talk. "You won't die that easily."
Jinwoo groaned. "Are you throwing me a graduation ceremony, or planning my funeral? Every move was lethal—and you've got a lot of killing intent. Anyone watching would think I'm your sworn enemy."
Even after lying here this long, his heart still wouldn't calm down. Thump-thump—loud, relentless, obnoxious.
"Why are you still saying such weak things?" Scáthach smiled, gentle as if it were the most natural thing. "Isn't this the way I've always trained you? Calm seas don't make great sailors. Flowers raised in a greenhouse are doomed the moment wind and rain arrive."
"Don't worry. You'll get used to it. Who knows—you might even end up loving the thrill, like I do. I think you actually have a knack for it."
As Jinwoo struggled upright, Scáthach tossed something at him. He caught it reflexively without thinking.
"This is…?"
"A graduation gift. Every disciple who graduates under me receives a weapon I made with my own hands."
Resting in Jinwoo's palm was a short dagger, blood-red from hilt to edge, its blade etched with mysterious runes.
After fully inheriting Ashborn's power, the "player growth system" had been completely destroyed, so Jinwoo couldn't pull up any kind of interface to view the dagger's stats. Even so, he could tell by its aura alone: it was an exceptional weapon—far better than the short blade he'd been using.
"Every warrior before you received a spear from me as a graduation gift," Scáthach added, deliberately giving the crimson spear in her hand a little shake. "But you're not good with spears, so I changed it to a dagger that suits you better. Of course, I've already prepared Cha Hae-in and Esil's gifts too."
The weapon Esil used now was just a bone spear Scáthach had casually sharpened from some S-Rank monster's bones—no causality-reversing curse, no Rune inscriptions. Other than being hard, it had no particular merits.
"If it feels good in your hand, use it in battle," Scáthach said. "But sooner or later, you'll obtain something even better. When that happens, you can put this away somewhere as a keepsake. It's not some legendary divine weapon—no grand origin story like a sea god or a smithing god forging it by hand… but as a gift to congratulate you on graduating, it's more than worthy."
Jinwoo lifted his eyes from the dagger and looked at her, blankly.
"But… I lost."
"What, did you think you had to beat me to pass?" Scáthach laughed like he'd just said something funny. "I've had plenty of disciples graduate under me. If defeating me were a requirement, every last one of them would have to be sent back to start over."
"I'm not some game NPC. While you improve and grow stronger, I'm also honing my own skill. I want my disciples to surpass me—but if you stay here forever under my guidance, you'll never get ahead of me. You'll only become fuel for me to grow stronger."
"So once my disciple can stand on their own, I throw them out into the world and let them grow freely." Scáthach's smile softened. "The world is huge. Maybe they'll learn something new out there—something even I didn't expect… I truly look forward to that."
"You're the same. From here on out, you'll walk your road with your own two legs. Of course, you can come back and visit whenever you like. And if you feel you've improved again—if you think you can match me—then come find me and fight. I'll always welcome it."
Jinwoo's face twisted into a helpless, pained smile. He pressed his hands together as if begging. "Please, Shishō. Have mercy."
"Hahaha!" Scáthach burst into bright, carefree laughter, the sound echoing softly.
The old school building was still standing. The dancing petals were still there. None of it had been ruined by their fierce battle.
"I made this scenery with magecraft," Scáthach said. "Like flowers in mist, like the moon reflected in water. If we leave it alone, it'll dissipate on its own soon enough. If you like it, look while you can. Burn it into your memory."
In front of Jinwoo, Scáthach opened a Gate shimmering with violet light. She didn't need to explain—he could guess easily enough. On the other side was Earth.
His home.
"You should go back," Scáthach urged, waving him along. "Didn't you say you wanted to reunite with your family early? Go on, go on. Don't keep them waiting."
Of the nine Monarchs, only Jinwoo remained—the Shadow Monarch. The war between the Rulers and the Monarchs was truly over. Jinwoo's father was naturally freed from the mission the Rulers had placed on him, and had already returned home to reunite with his family.
Jinwoo's mother and sister didn't know what kind of enemies he'd been facing, but they'd sensed it in the small details of his daily life—how dangerous the things he was doing must have been. They had to be worrying about him right now.
After Jinwoo left, a few more guests arrived in the Land of Shadows.
The Rulers.
Because Scáthach had defeated the most troublesome, most powerful Monarch—Antares, the Monarch of Destruction—they appeared to thank her in person.
"I only wanted to satisfy my own hunger for battle," Scáthach said.
"But your actions truly brought this long war to an end," one of the Rulers replied. "You've brought blessing to all life in this universe."
Before Scáthach, the Rulers showed no lofty arrogance. Instead, they bowed at the waist.
"I know that no amount of words can express what we feel," said the brightest fragment of brilliant light. He had once observed Scáthach through Go Gunhee's eyes, and had some sense of her character. "Nor can they fully encompass what you've achieved. But please—allow us to say it anyway…"
"Thank you. From the bottom of our hearts."
Scáthach actually wanted to test the Rulers' skill as well. Their individual combat ability wasn't great, but they excelled at fighting as a group—and they possessed divine weapons infused with the Absolute One's power. Their battle strength was, at the very least, worth looking forward to.
But…
"After two fights that left me thoroughly satisfied," Scáthach murmured, "there's no need to be so impatient. The proper way is balance—work and rest."
She stood alone before the old school building in the deepening dusk, thinking about what to do next.
"That kid went home for a reunion dinner… as for me…"
"I'll go find Cha Hae-In. And I'll bring Esil along for fried chicken and fries like she's been craving. I wonder if she can still adjust to living like she did in the Demon Castle…"
With a sigh so soft it was almost soundless, she turned and stepped into a quietly unfurling violet Gate, her figure vanishing at once into rippling space.
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T/N: sniff sniff goodbye shishio..........