The Dimensional Swordmaster C11

Chapter 11 The Whereabouts of the Sword (1)

“Siyoung, have you arrived at the dungeon yet?”

The cheerful tone barely lasted a second before it was met with a roar of pure rage.

— You insane bastard! I’m not doing this! I can’t! Of all the people in the world, why the hell would you send me off with these lunatics?!

“My, my. Our little Siyoung is getting bold, huh? Since when did you start yelling at your big brother like that?”

Though Gong Sijin’s face wore a pleasant smile, the murderous aura dripping from his voice was unmistakable. Yurian discreetly set down his water glass.

Siyoung’s voice carried so loudly that Yurian could clearly make out every word coming through the receiver.

— What the hell am I supposed to do with them?! I can’t handle this! Send them back—now!

“Siyoung,” Sijin said smoothly. “You can scream all you want, but you’re still going into that dungeon with them. Why? Because I’m your guild master. And when the guild master gives an order, you follow it. Why else? Because you’re my little brother.”

If you didn’t want to take orders, you should’ve been born first.

Yurian almost nodded instinctively. That made sense to him—if your superior gave an order, you obeyed. Especially if that superior was family.

If the commander says ‘jump,’ you ask ‘how high.’

That logic was second nature to Yurian, who had lived his entire life steeped in military hierarchy. Disobeying a superior’s command was an act worthy of execution—simple as that.

Which was why Gong Siyoung’s rebellious tantrum struck him as… strange. In Yurian’s world, this would have been considered borderline treason.

Yet Gong Sijin absorbed all of that fury with an unshakable, patient smile. His reply was calm and unyielding:

“Do as you’re told.”

Yurian found himself nodding again, spoon idly scraping at the empty bowl before him in silent agreement.

By the time the heated call ended, Sijin slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to him with a gentle apology.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Shall we head out?”

Before standing, Yurian quickly popped the last piece of meat into his mouth.

“Hey, that thing earlier—was it some kind of communication device?”

“Ah, this?” Sijin pulled the phone from his pocket with a small smile. “It’s called a hand phone. Like you guessed—it’s a machine used for communication.”

So that was a hand phone. When Yurian asked if he could touch it, Sijin readily handed it over.

“I heard Siyoung’s voice coming from it. It’s amazing.”

“Haha, sorry about that. He was a bit… loud, wasn’t he? He’s throwing a fit about the dungeon. I, uh, might’ve forced him to take a team along.”

“Forced?”

Yurian tilted his head. Why go through the trouble of forcing a team together? Sijin hesitated, a faintly awkward smile softening his face.

“It’s a bit complicated… You know Siyoung’s an S-rank hunter, right? He’s exceptionally skilled, but not exactly… tactful. People tend to misunderstand him. His interpersonal relationships aren’t great.”

There were only a handful of S-rank hunters in the entire country—people others instinctively avoided. And Siyoung, with his blunt manner and perpetually irritable tone, didn’t make it any easier.

He wasn’t malicious, but his sharp tongue and lack of social grace made people wary. Add to that the fact that he was the guild master’s younger brother, and the distance between him and others only grew wider.

Unlike his smooth, diplomatic brother, Siyoung managed to offend people within minutes of conversation.

Young, brash, and tactless—he had a way of saying the exact thing no one wanted to hear. Isolation was inevitable.

“So I tried putting together a team that wouldn’t treat him differently. But… well, once I did, I realized maybe I overdid it. Anyway, it seems he’s not thrilled.”

“I see,” Yurian murmured, understanding dawning.

It sounded like the kind of considerate gesture a commander would make for an unstable soldier under his care.

He handed the phone back to Sijin, his expression thoughtful. As a brother, Sijin probably couldn’t help worrying that Siyoung was being left out.

“I have to say, though—Siyoung does seem to listen to you.”

Sijin chuckled. “He usually does.”

Yurian nodded. Despite his protests, Siyoung still followed orders to the letter. He grumbled, sure—but he never truly disobeyed.

Even after just a day together, Yurian had a fairly solid grasp of the man’s personality.

People who truly had no intention of obeying didn’t argue. They just didn’t do it. The ones who talked back, complained, and fussed—those were the ones who still cared enough to follow through.

As they spoke, the two of them made their way back up to the second floor.

Sijin was easy to talk to—pleasant, patient, and informative. Now that the “no amazement aloud” rule was lifted, Yurian asked every question that came to mind.

By the time he learned about something called a taemong—a prophetic dream of one’s birth—and that Sijin’s had involved a tiger, while Siyoung’s featured a rose blooming in a glass castle, the examiner, Jung Mirae, had returned.

“Mr. Yurian, please come in.”

Before Yurian could move, Sijin approached her for a brief, hushed conversation. After a few exchanges, he gestured toward Yurian.

“They said you can come in with me.”

Both Mirae and Sijin motioned for him to enter.

Inside, Yurian moved with ease. His stomach was full, and he’d done this once before—no reason to hesitate.

Before Mirae could even speak, he positioned himself in front of the machine and placed his hands upon it. The familiar tingling sensation returned, sharper and longer than before.

But once again, nothing appeared. No status window. No response.

As the two discussed something in low voices, Yurian’s interest quickly waned. He couldn’t follow their conversation anyway.

He straightened his posture and idly looked around the room instead.

Aside from the black device, there were countless other objects—machines, he assumed. None radiated mana.

A faint hum filled the air, and Yurian’s eyes drifted upward.

From a narrow rectangular opening in the ceiling, cool air flowed down. That can’t be magic either, he thought. The soft breeze brushing his cheeks tickled pleasantly.

“Mr. Yuri,” Mirae’s voice called. “Could you try using one of your skills? Anything at all.”

He turned to look behind him. Mirae was scribbling something on a clipboard while Sijin stood nearby, his expression serious.

By skill, she must mean magic, he assumed. Quickly, he began calculating what he could safely perform in a place like this.

“Hm…”

It was a tight space, and the mana density here was abysmal. Without a mana stone, his options were severely limited. Maybe something first-circle?

Preferably something harmless. After a moment’s thought, he stretched his hand forward.

He gathered what little mana he could muster into his palm.

Tiny sparks of energy formed—a first-circle spell, weak and unstable. He exhaled slowly, focusing intently as he forced the flow to coalesce.

A small pebble materialized above his hand—barely the size of his thumbnail, smooth and perfectly round.

“That’s… quite small,” he murmured.

In his own world, it would’ve been at least the size of his fist. He clicked his tongue, mildly disappointed.

If he’d known, he would’ve brought every last mana stone he owned. Without his sword or proper materials, he was barely better than an ordinary person here.

He rolled the pebble between his fingers just as Sijin let out a soft sigh.

“You can step out now, Mr. Yuri.”

Maybe the results hadn’t gone as hoped. Crushing the pebble between his fingers, Yurian walked toward them.

“Mirae, does this mean we can’t get any clearer data here?”

“Unfortunately, no,” she replied, frowning. “He clearly is a hunter, given he can use a skill—but I’ve never seen a case like this. It’s… confusing.”

It’s not a skill. It’s magic, Yurian thought, but he kept that to himself. Judging by their faces, now wasn’t the time to interrupt.

He fiddled absently with the crushed fragments while the two continued their incomprehensible discussion.

Something about “further evaluation at headquarters,” and “classification protocols.” It all went in one ear and out the other.

Right, the sword, Yurian remembered. I need to ask about retrieving it once they’re done.

He blew gently on his palm, scattering the fine dust that remained.

“I understand,” Sijin said finally, bowing slightly to Mirae. “We’ll keep this confidential for now.”

He turned back to Yurian with a strained smile.

“This won’t be easy. Without knowing your abilities, we can’t assess anything properly…”

He raked a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. A full examination at headquarters would take weeks—at least a month if everything went smoothly.

And keeping Siyoung by Yurian’s side that long? Impossible.

A few days apart was manageable. A month was a disaster waiting to happen.

If only they could identify Yurian’s rank… but apparently, even that simple task was proving complicated.

Though Sijin maintained a polite smile, he wasn’t fooled by Yurian’s carefree demeanor. Who knew what secrets that guileless face might be hiding?

If only Yurian would demonstrate another “skill”—then maybe he could get a sense of his true power.

Skill…?

A sudden thought flashed through Sijin’s mind. Slowly, his lips curved into a cunning smile.

He placed a hand on Yurian’s shoulder.

“Mr. Yuri, by any chance… would you be interested in entering a dungeon?”