His nights transformed into a systematic weapon testing ground. No longer was his dream dojo solely for mastering punches, kicks, and evasive maneuvers. Now, it was an armory. He conjured an array of weapons, each meticulously rendered down to the smallest detail, feeling their phantom weight, their balance, their potential.
First, he started with the classics. A katana. In his dream, it felt sleek, beautiful, a deadly extension of his arm. He practiced drawing it, making swift, decisive cuts, parrying imagined blows with its razor edge. The fluidity was exhilarating. He could move with it, slice through phantom monsters with elegant grace. Its cutting power was undeniable, capable of severing limbs with single, precise strokes. But it also had drawbacks. In the close confines of a dungeon, a katana's length felt cumbersome. Against multiple opponents, its reach, while advantageous in some scenarios, could also become a hindrance, snagging on walls or providing a larger target for enemies to grab. It excelled in duels, in open spaces, but Min-jun's reality was often narrow, monster-filled corridors.
Next, a bo staff. The sheer reach was impressive. He could keep enemies at a distance, parry attacks with powerful sweeps, and even use it to vault over obstacles. He spent what felt like days twirling it, mastering its defensive arcs and surprisingly forceful thrusts. It offered incredible control over space, allowing him to dominate a wider area. But it felt a little too unwieldy for his rapid, agile movements. He envisioned himself tripping over it in a chaotic brawl, or having it get snagged in a tight ambush. Its power came from leverage and momentum, requiring a different kind of strength than his focus on explosive, pinpoint strikes. It didn't quite mesh with the 'ghost in the machine' style he was cultivating.
He even tried a warhammer. The sheer destructive potential was intoxicating. With each swing, phantom monsters would shatter into dust. It was raw, unadulterated power. But it was also slow, telegraphed, and utterly incompatible with his high agility. He'd wind up for a massive swing, and his dream-opponents would simply sidestep, leaving him vulnerable and off-balance. It was the antithesis of his precision-focused, elusive approach. He realized quickly that he couldn't force himself into a power role; it simply wasn't his nature, nor his skill set. His strength lay in subtlety, in speed, in finding the unseen weakness.
Then, he conjured a pair of simple, unadorned short blades. Each was about the length of his forearm, tapering to a sharp point, with sleek, dark steel and minimalist, non-slip grips. He held one in each hand, adopting a reverse grip – a choice that felt surprisingly intuitive.
In his dream, he moved with them. The sensation was immediate, profound. The blades felt like natural extensions of his own hands, not cumbersome additions. The reverse grip allowed for quick, deceptive slashes, backhand strikes, and precise thrusts into an opponent's vulnerable points. In the close quarters he simulated – narrow dungeon corridors, tight urban alleys – they were devastatingly effective. He could parry an incoming attack with one blade while simultaneously thrusting with the other. He could weave in and out of a monster's reach, delivering multiple, rapid cuts that would cause cumulative damage.
He spent hours perfecting his movements, imagining himself facing multiple opponents in the close confines of dungeon corridors. The short blades allowed for rapid transitions between offense and defense, seamlessly flowing from a parry to a strike, from an evade to a counter-attack. He practiced disarming techniques, using the blades' sharp tips to hook and leverage, targeting joints and pressure points with exquisite precision – all honed from his unarmed combat days. He envisioned using one blade defensively, parrying and deflecting, while the other struck with lethal precision, a lethal dance of steel and shadow.
The benefits became clear in his dream simulations, solidifying his decision:
* Close-Quarters Mastery: This was paramount. Dungeons, particularly the unmapped C-rank ones they now frequently tackled with Shadow Syndicate, were often cramped, confusing labyrinths. Longer weapons were a liability. Short blades allowed for effective combat in tight corridors where Min-jun's agility could be fully utilized.
* Speed and Precision Amplification: The short blades were an ideal match for his high Agility. They allowed for incredibly rapid flurries of attacks, each one aimed at vital points or weak seams in monster armor. He could unleash a dozen cuts in the time it took a brute to wind up a single, powerful swing.
* Dual-Wielding Versatility: Using two blades offered a significantly greater range of offensive and defensive options. He could defend from two directions simultaneously, or launch multi-directional attacks, keeping opponents constantly guessing. This allowed him to adapt to different enemy types, attack patterns, and even engage multiple enemies more effectively than a single weapon.
* Concealability and Unpredictability: In the real world, short blades were far easier to conceal beneath clothing than a full-sized sword or staff. This could be a significant tactical advantage in situations requiring discretion or surprise, fitting well with the more clandestine missions he now undertook with Shadow Syndicate.
* Synergy with Unarmed Combat: Critically, he discovered that the short blades didn't replace his unarmed martial arts; they enhanced them. He could seamlessly transition from a blade strike to a kick, or use the hilt of a blade for a precise pressure point jab. They were extensions of his body, adding a lethal edge to his already refined techniques.
He even practiced integrating the short blades with Ji-won's illusions. A flickering illusory blade in one hand while the real blade struck from an unexpected angle with the other. Or using the illusion to create a feint, drawing an enemy's guard to one side, while the actual blade came from the opposite. The possibilities were exhilarating.
Waking up, the decision felt almost preordained. The "test drive" in his dreams had been exhaustive, conclusive. The short blades were the natural evolution of his combat style. The next time Dream Weaver received their mission payout, Min-jun made his first personal investment in weaponry. He found a small, reputable artisan who specialized in Awakener-grade weapons, providing specific, detailed dimensions and requirements for his custom order. He didn't want flashy, ornate blades; he wanted functional, perfectly balanced tools of his trade.
The finished product was exactly what he'd envisioned – forged from high-quality, dark-hued Awakened steel, incredibly sharp, with perfectly weighted handles that felt like they were molded to his palms. Holding them in his hands for the first time felt strangely right, a tangible connection to the countless hours he'd spent wielding their dream counterparts. They felt dangerous, sharp, but also oddly familiar, like an extension of his own will.
His first real-world training session with the short blades in their new guild office's small sparring area was initially awkward, as expected. The phantom weight and perfect responsiveness of his dream-blades were absent. The real steel had actual heft, inertia, and a cold, unforgiving edge. He nearly nicked himself more than once, and his initial movements were clumsy, lacking the seamless fluidity he'd achieved nightly.
Chul-soo watched his attempts with a skeptical frown. "You sure about those, Min-jun? You're tripping over your own feet more than the Goblins in the sewers."
"Takes practice," Min-jun huffed, wiping sweat from his brow, nearly slicing his own sleeve with an overly ambitious twirl. But as the session continued, the innate muscle memory from his dream training began to kick in. His movements became smoother, more confident. The dream-honed instincts began to translate, his grip tightening, his strikes gaining focus. His agility made it easier to recover from missteps, turning a clumsy motion into a new opening.
So-yeon, ever supportive, offered gentle encouragement, occasionally mending a small cut he inflicted on himself. Ji-won watched with wide eyes, already visualizing the potential for illusion-enhanced blade work, her imagination sparked by the lethal grace Min-jun was slowly beginning to achieve.
It wasn't long before Min-jun started to incorporate the short blades into their dungeon runs. Their next mission was a C-rank infested building complex, swarming with moderately armored Ironhide Goblins (C-rank, tougher hide than standard Goblins).
Ironhide Goblin
* Rank: C
* Level: 15
* Strength: 20
* Agility: 15
* Stamina: 18
* Mana: 3
* Special Abilities: Iron Hide (minor physical damage reduction).
Against these tougher foes, the difference was immediate and palpable. His unarmed strikes, while precise, had struggled to penetrate their toughened hides. Now, his blades, guided by his pinpoint accuracy, found the chinks in their crude armor, sliding between plates, or targeting vulnerable joints. He could dispatch the creatures with swift, efficient slashes, his movements fluid and deadly. The dual blades allowed him to engage multiple targets simultaneously, turning tight corridors into his killing ground, a flurry of steel and motion that even the Ironhide Goblins struggled to track. He was no longer just evading and striking; he was carving a path.
The choice of short blades wasn't about sudden power; it was about amplifying his existing strengths, adding a lethal dimension to his precision and agility. They were the steel embodiment of his dream-forged skills, a tangible step on his path of ascendance. The "Blank Slate" was evolving, not into a powerhouse of raw strength, but into a precise, deadly artist of close-quarters combat, his dream weaving now extending to the very weapons he wielded. And with his chosen weapons in hand, Min-jun felt more ready than ever to face whatever challenges the Awakened world, and its hidden depths, would throw at him.