"Power without purpose is just noise." --- Prince Daeso
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The journey to Damul Mountain was a tense procession of grim faces and hostile silence. Daeso and Youngpo rode ahead, their shoulders squared with military stiffness. I rode behind them, appearing relaxed, yet acutely aware of every ripple of muscle in the horses and every nervous twitch in the guards.
There was a sudden pop within me and I could suddenly feel as though I was finally in complete sync with my body. The Essences just completed merging with me on a conceptual level then?
The Essence of the King has perfected my body, giving me the peak ability of my species. Pseudo-infinite endurance, perfect memory, and strategic mastery.
Now, I could feel the hostile intent radiating from Daeso's men like a heat haze. And the Essence of the Blank promises limitless potential. Hopefully I get to test that soon enough
[AN : Well.....]
"Royal Brother Jumong seems unusually quiet today," Daeso called back, his voice smooth and dangerous, carrying easily over the clatter of horseshoes on the dirt path. "Are you perhaps regretting your sudden zeal for ancestor worship?"
"Not at all, Brother," I replied with a calm, magnetic tone that made the nearest guards subtly shift their focus to me. The Charisma Essence was a soft power, but effective. A hack if I had anything to say.
"I am simply focused on the journey. A King must know his land, even the parts that wish to swallow him whole."
Youngpo snorted. "He talks of Kings. He'll be swallowed by a palace maiden silks before he even sees a battlefield."
"Perhaps," I conceded, allowing the old image to linger for a moment. "But the battlefield, like the market, is won by preparation. Not bravado."
Daeso stopped his horse. He knew I was referring to the trap. He smiled, a cold, predatory expression.
"You speak of preparedness, Jumong? As your elder brother, I'll give you a chance to demonstrate it. The quickest path to the summit lies through this thicket. A prince's true mettle is tested in the wilder lands." He gestured toward a narrow, muddy trail leading into a dense, humid grove.
The bog. The kill zone.
"I would be honored to scout ahead," I said, dismounting with a flawless, controlled movement. I secured my horse's reins and drew Restraint. The plain, dull steel sword felt like an extension of my arm.
"Don't worry, Brother," Daeso said, his voice dripping with false concern. "If you fall into trouble, we'll be right behind you."
I offered no reply. I simply walked onto the path. I had only taken ten paces when the ground turned into a clinging, sucking mire. I sank rapidly, the mud rising past my knees. I gave a convincing grunt of surprise, allowing the comedy of the moment to register with the observers.
Laughter erupted from behind me.
"See, Brother Daeso! He's stuck already!" Youngpo howled, enjoying my presumed humiliation.
I looked back. Daeso was now dismounted, his face a mask of victory. The dozen royal guards, his private assassins, had already nocked their arrows. The fletchings were dyed black meant to be discreet.
"Forgive the deception, Jumong," Daeso said, raising his sword. "But the people need a strong leader. Your fate is an unfortunate accident."
I saw the archers release the drawstrings. The arrows launched, leaving a faint ripple in the air.
My body was instantly flooded with a blinding synergy of power. I didn't think about moving, I just MOVED, my body instantly performed the necessary complex calculations for muscle contraction, leverage, and force generation required for what would be considered an impossible maneuver.
I didn't pull my legs out of the mud. I activated a flawless, instantaneous reverse-thrust. With a sound like a wet explosion, I exploded vertically from the mire. The movement was so fast, so precise, that the thick, clinging mud simply couldn't contain my form. I shot sideways, leaving a perfectly formed, knee-deep hole in the ground.
The volley of arrows impacted the mud where my head had been, burying themselves to the fletching.
The guards were paralyzed by the sheer impossibility of the sight. Youngpo's jaw hung open.
"He... he flew," Youngpo stuttered.
I landed silently on the solid earth, not a speck of mud adhering to my princely silks, my first step on the grand path of aura-farming. I was not even breathing heavily, thanks to the my freakish endurance.
Two guards, regaining their composure, charged, swinging their Buyeo-standard broadswords.
The first guard's heavy blade descended in a diagonal slash. I didn't dodge. I stepped into the strike, bringing Restraint up to meet it.
There was no ringing clash of steel. There was the sound of something extremely hard hitting something extremely brittle. The guard's sword simply vaporized at the point of impact, not shattering into pieces, but turning into a harmless cascade of sparkling iron dust. The Essence of the Crafter ensured that Restraint could cut through anything, and the force I channeled was devastating.
The guard screamed, clutching the stump of his hilt, the vibrations having instantly pulverized the bones in his hand.
Before the second guard could react, I executed a lightning-fast, flawless martial arts maneuver. My body moved like it remembered a perfect, forgotten technique, a simultaneous disarmament and disablement. I used the flat of Restraint to smack his wrist, making him drop his weapon, and followed up with a precise kick to his knee, dropping him instantly without breaking the skin.
It was clinical, brutal, and elegant. Five seconds. Two elite warriors neutralized.
I just moonwalked over the elite of the BuYeo military.
I stood over the fallen men, the dull grey blade of Restraint perfectly clean, not a single drop of mud or blood on its surface.
I looked directly into Daeso's terrified eyes. He had witnessed a miracle of war.
"You are a fool, Jumong!" Daeso roared, his voice laced with the first hint of panic I'd ever heard from him. He raised his own weapon toward the archers. "Shoot him! SHOOT HIM NOW!"
The archers raised their bows, trembling, aiming for a man who had just defied physics.
"If you shoot," I stated, my voice projected with the terrifying stillness of a true monarch, the full weight of the presence bearing down on them.
"You will not only strike down your Prince, but you will doom Buyeo to war with Han, for your true King will be dead, and your loyalty will be bought with cheap lies. Daeso is a Prince. I am the future. Choose your sovereign."
The archers hesitated. The King Essence's power to "bend the will of entire nations" was subtle, but effective. Their hands shook, unable to loose the arrows.
Daeso's face was purple with rage. He knew he had lost.
"Sheathe your weapons!" Daeso shrieked, his authority crumbling. "This was a test of loyalty! Prince Jumong has proven himself!"
He turned his back on me, shaking with fury. "We continue the ritual. Clean up this mess and follow!"
I watched them scramble to obey. They were soldiers, and soldiers follow the greater power.
I walked over to my horse, mounted effortlessly, and strapped Restraint to my back.
"You miscalculated, Brother," I murmured, staring at Daeso's retreating back.
"You didn't send a victim to the bog. You sent kick started my inevitable ascension to the throne."