Survival Story of a Sword King in a Fantasy World

Prologue

The sun was at its highest when Ryu Han-Bin made his way lazily for the computer by the window, stifling a yawn as he lounged on the chair. Buzzing sounds from outside indicated that the day was already in the afternoon hours. He glanced at the clock on the wall opposite to where he sat; noon—another morning lost like many others before today—sleeping the day away.

It seemed to him distant now, the way he did things as a military man: a completely different lifestyle to his current habits. Ironic how he had got little done these last three months since he had been discharged…

Back then, he fantasized about the days he would be out in the real world and all the amazing things he could do with his life, like going back to school and getting a degree. God! He hadn’t even attempted to brush up his English.

He pressed the power button on his PC and moved the mouse impatiently as he browsed the Internet. Nothing. Dull. Blah. Not even games seemed interesting enough to waste his time on…

It all happened fast. Black gushes of smoke, coming from beneath, enveloped him—leaving him speechless, emotionless, without time to react. First, the smoke wrapped his ankles, then moved upward to his legs and torso, seizing him up to his neck. “Uh” was all he had time to utter, still in disbelief whether he was awake or not. As darkness engulfed him, excruciating pain squeezed his head, paralyzing him. He screamed, “Ahhhhhh!”

The empty chair creaked slowly…

No indication, nothing, no sign that the man Ryu Han-Bin was even on planet Earth. As if he had never been…

* * *

It was not until he regained consciousness that the man Ryun Han-Bin, found himself blind and helpless at a strange place. Not because of darkness; quite the opposite. The intensity of the existing light was so much that it was clearly impossible to try to distinguish anything at all. Then, a voice was heard through an even brighter light: “Accepted all suitable human beings.” It made him want to crouch and bow, such was the superiority and out-of-this-world feeling, no matter how powerful of a man he was. “Am I dead?” was all he could think of. It would make sense that it is his soul experiencing all this. Then, to his terror, another voice responded—as ethereal and powerful as the first:

– Is this the only number of suitable beings? I heard that the number of candidates is over 7 billion.

– They are estimated to be 7 billion, yielding this number of apt specimens. Wasn’t the probability very low upon commencing the project?

-That is correct.

Han-bin was confused. What on Earth were they referring to? The voice continued.

– All, transplant guidelines.

– But can I possibly do it like this? Is it not that the compatibility of artificial match is excessive?

– Appropriate for motivation and adaptation. Not an issue. The effectiveness has already been confirmed through the sampling of existing fitters.

-Okay.

Sheer terror overcame Han-bin. He wasn’t experiencing an after-life event.

Much worse, this could not be an omnipotent god dealing with souls… Just then, it came. He felt something penetrating him in the light as excruciating pain hit him. He screamed. Panting for breath between screams, he heard the voices again:

– Oh, I made a mistake.

“A mistake? What the hell is a mistake?” Han-bin thought.

The voice continued, sounding embarrassed,

– An error indication appeared in the guideline

– Ah, it is only one. There are hundreds of them; one cannot be accounted for.

The other responded.

Before he could react, Han-bin was pushed and dropped by the owner of the voice. All he could hear were his endless screams. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” It felt as if he fell forever. Then, the voice was faintly heard in the distance:

– Applicant number 398, begin the dimensional transfer.

* * *

Ryu Han-Bin was sitting on a large rocky area full of sharp rocks and edges when he came to his senses. He could see dry swords and trees in several places. “No, this isn’t Korea. This isn’t even Earth!” He couldn’t have any doubts about his judgment. For one, there was no sun or clouds. Though it was too bright to be night-time, a dark-red, hazy sky shone ominously like a twilight.

A thought hit him just then. He blinked. “This is a dog dream, a nightmare. It’s got to be one.” He pinched his forearms. He slapped his cheeks. Nothing had changed. Desperate at the thought that this could be real, he shivered in disbelief. “No! It must be a dream! It must be a dream! If I’m not dreaming, then I must be out of my mind. How long have I been like this?”

It is unclear how many seconds, minutes, hours, these thoughts raced through his mind. “This is for real…” As he came to the realization, extreme anger overcame Ryu Han-Bin, “What the fuck is going on?”

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