Chapter 4: Revival 4

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“Oof.”

A fierce impact rushes over.

Even though the strike missed its mark, it was almost a fatal blow to the young Cain.

His body is pushed back helplessly by the heavy impact. Just as he is about to fall, Cain barely regains his balance and leaps over the attack.

The distance naturally widens. The intense fight temporarily enters a lull.

Where did such a kid come from? Batem smirked at Cain, who handled the butter knife with ease.

No matter how he thought about it, this was no ordinary child. If he was created with a plan, that might be another story. Thinking up to this point, a sigh of admiration escaped him.

“Tsk, this is why loose organizations are...”

Batem frowned, as if he knew something.

“It seems there was a misunderstanding. I am Batem Romulin, one of the martial arts instructors of the organization. If you have received training from the organization, you should know the basics, right? Reveal your affiliation.”

“Organization? It seems kidnappers now operate in groups.”

“Yes, I understand. The organization would have trained you to respond this way. But there’s no need to be on guard. I’m just like you. Come on, tell me. If you reveal your affiliation, I’ll take care of it. You wouldn’t want to get entangled with a higher-up, would you?”

“There’s nothing to reveal, so shut up and attack.”

At these words, Batem’s face turned red and blue.

With just one sentence, the atmosphere in the room changed instantly. The intent to kill was clear. He looked ready to pounce like a wild dog at any moment.

“Yes, that’s it.”

This was the attitude Cain hoped for.

A prolonged battle was disadvantageous. He was already at his limit. Even if he feigned composure, the cumulative impact could not be hidden. His body had been screaming in pain since the beginning.

Even if he showed promising results now, it would soon crumble like a house of cards.

His untrained body was a blank slate. Without any accumulated mana (魔素) in his body, hoping for a stroke of luck was futile. The only thing he could rely on was his weak body.

He needed to finish this before he collapsed from exhaustion.

“What a sight. Did you think you could see anything after learning just one technique?”

“At your age, you shouldn’t be listening to a third-rate demon. You’re at a level where you can’t even die.”

“... I thought about taking you quietly, but now I see you won’t be of any use to the organization. You’re going to be scrapped without retraining.”

As Batem prepared himself, mana began to flow through his meridians. Mana is the energy that encompasses everything and the foundation of power. The meridians are the veins through which this mana flows.

The accumulated power exploded in an instant.

With a loud bang, Batem’s body was propelled forward. At the same time, he extended his arm, and the sword, gaining momentum, instantly cut through the air.

It was a full-force strike. Although it came from an angle, Cain did not lose sight of the sword’s trajectory.

Even as it approached his nose, he did not blink.

Being small was both a disadvantage and an advantage.

Being in a lower position, the sword had to come down. As expected, Batem’s stance was awkward.

He took a step back, moving away from the diagonal line.

‘Now.’

Swoosh. The sword, emitting a sinister sound, passed by his ear. Ignoring it, Cain crouched and charged, narrowly avoiding the ground.

This was the perfect opportunity.

As soon as the sword moved away, he leaped off the ground.

The moment the roles of attacker and defender switched, Batem’s reaction was inevitably a beat slower.

This was the opening.

In a normal situation, a child could never defeat an adult. Even if the opponent was an old man, it would be the same.

Let alone if the opponent was a ghost—agent—trained by the organization.

The physical disparity was overwhelming. His agility was decent, but that was all. Cain was well aware of his limits.

But he did not give up.

He did not have innate talent, but he had acquired information.

He and Batem had once been master and disciple.

They had trained together for a long time and were of the same school. Moreover, they had met for nine years. He knew all of Batem’s habits and quirks.

He did not believe in talent.

He only believed in the power of information.

Knowing something provided a significant support.

So...

‘I can do this.’

Cain, calmly assessing the situation, swung the butter knife. When Batem was surprised by the sudden counterattack, the corners of Cain’s mouth curled up.

Pulling his left foot back late and turning his head to the right when an unexpected strike came were all the same.

With the answer key right next to him, he could solve it until he was tired. Now, Batem was nothing more than a toy. Cain, dodging the sword by moving his body left and right, leaped up like a rubber ball.

Using his small size to the maximum, he occupied Batem’s back and coiled like a snake.

When Batem grabbed his collar to throw him off, it was in vain. Whether he grabbed his hand or his hair, Cain slipped away like an eel.

Batem, enraged by the agile movements, raised his sword in reverse. Cain, holding the butter knife straight, observed the flow of the meridians in his blurred vision.

Though he could not see it with his eyes, he knew how it flowed. He had once been a second-rate demon.

Even though the accumulated mana had disappeared over time, his experience and knowledge remained.

The undulating flesh. The techniques learned by third-rate demons were all the same, making it easy to discover.

Squish. As he stabbed the butter knife into the gap between the collarbone and shoulder, a sinister tearing sound erupted.

In an instant, as the foreign object entered the tiny gap, Batem convulsed intermittently.

Reflexively, he swung his sword, but it was too late.

Confirming the kill, Cain kicked the butter knife away and took a step back. Batem let out a scream.

“Grr, what did you... do?”

The butter knife, which had entered perfectly, had cleanly severed the meridians and arteries. If it were pulled out now, death was inevitable. Batem, trying to control his distorted face, stared straight ahead.

Cain’s hand was empty.

“Haha, yeah. You had no choice, did you? But what about this? Your chance to use it is gone. Without it, you can’t stab me even if you want to.”

He pointed to the butter knife with his finger, as if to show it.

“You can find it again.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Cain charged like a madman. Seeing the determination to find it, Batem was elated. Knowing the purpose, it was easy to prepare.

Though he was surprised by the skill that did not match his age, Batem was one of the martial arts instructors who trained the organization’s ghosts. Though it might be a low-ranking position within the organization, he was not someone to be disrespected by a child.

Feeling like a bullfighter guiding a wild bull, he moved his arms to limit Cain’s movements.

One, two, three.

Suddenly, Batem, catching the hand reaching for the butter knife, sneered.

“You were decent, but not enough to entertain an old man.”

He tightly gripped the small hand. Confirming that there was no way to escape, Batem was confident of his victory.

But...

Cain’s submission was merely a preliminary to skip the trivial process.

“What?”

When the other hand produced a butter knife, Batem let out a gasp. The sudden event was so quick that he could not fully understand what had happened.

“A pair of daggers. It’s basic, right?”

The butter knife was always two. He had only pretended to have one to lull the opponent.

Cain, mocking Batem who had fallen for it, extended his arm like lightning. The butter knife, shot like an arrow, accurately pierced the carotid artery.

One approached to stab, and the other, unaware, relaxed. The result was clear without seeing it.

Ignoring the fountain of blood, Batem frantically swung his sword.

“This brat!”

“It’s useless.”

Taking advantage of the weakening grip, Cain, jumping over his shoulder, kicked Batem’s face.

Thud. The old man, unable to withstand the impact, fell backward. Cain, landing like a flying squirrel, slowly walked toward him.

The battle was over.

All that remained was the victor’s declaration.

“Huh, huh. This...”

Batem, unable to believe what had happened to him, let out a hollow laugh. The shadow of death had already spread to his feet.

Dying at the hands of a child. He had never even considered it. Lifting his head for a final struggle, Batem could not continue speaking.

His breath seemed to stop.

What he saw was a piercing gaze.

Was it like the ashes left after a fire? The eyes, glowing with a sinister light, held a depth that could not be described. It was not just anger.

“Who are you?”

“A ghost that didn’t die.”

“What...”

Pulling out the butter knife from his shoulder, he stabbed it into his throat.

Again and again. As if to shake off the remnants of the past.

It was a meaningless rant. There was no need to listen.

Cain, spitting out a sigh while being splattered with hot blood, knelt and bit his teeth. After just a few minutes of movement, his body felt heavy like a water-soaked sponge.

Though he had only followed the form, the Retreating Step was a technique that required long-term training. Attempting to use it suddenly came with a price.

Still, his mind was clear. It felt like a knot had been untied. It was as if a painful tooth had been pulled.

The first button was neatly fastened. He had blocked the path to the organization himself.

“I can move forward.”

There was no doubt. He was different from the past.

This was the beginning.

To reveal why the saint had to become a heretic and to root out the organization that had made him this way.

He only needed to think about that. Setting his goal in his mind, Cain, with trembling legs, stood up.

“Killing isn’t enough.”

He muttered, as if it were annoying.

For a kidnapper who abducted innocent children like a cradle snatcher, such a punishment was necessary.

Approaching Batem, he rummaged through his clothes.

Jingle. Hearing the familiar sound, he whistled.

What Cain found was a money pouch. It was full of gold coins. The heavy weight made him smile.

“Even a scoundrel like you doesn’t deserve pocket money.”

There was an unchanging value there. Delicious food, beautiful women, a peaceful life—all derived from money. Without money, none of these could be enjoyed, a universal truth.

Gold was the best of all. It always held the top position, regardless of time and place.

He hurriedly gathered it, making sure no one saw. The amount was enough to last at least half a year. The organization, operating in the shadows, had a large budget. For a mere martial arts instructor to have this much.

But his smirk did not last long.

Rumble. A sudden animal’s snort brushed past his ear, and Cain turned his head.

Wolves, drawn by the smell of blood, were growling. The situation had changed in an instant. They surrounded him, baring their fangs.

“Good luck.”

Of course. Killing Batem did not mean the end of his life. Beyond the small hill was another hill.

He clutched his trembling arm. Though the convulsions did not stop, there was no time to whine.

The wolves were already close.

Unfortunately, there was no tree to climb or rock to step on and run.

Rolling on the ground, Cain picked up Batem’s sword and readied himself.

‘I want to avoid consecutive battles, but...’

It was impossible.

Fortunately, he had hunted wild animals to his heart’s content.

It wouldn’t be much different from hunting Batem.

Reading Cain’s intent, one of the wolves, larger than the others, leaped from the ground. As the leader began the hunt, the other wolves followed.

He raised the sword to meet the wolf.

The moment their strikes collided, a flash of light burst from the bushes. In an instant, the wolf’s head was cleanly split in two.

The cut was as smooth as a mirror. Realizing the flash came from a casually bent blade of grass, a chill ran down Cain’s arm.

It was not the work of a mere thug. Perhaps it was a well-known figure.

After a while, a man emerged from the bushes.