Chapter 579

Slice!

The instant a streak of light cut across his chest, Song Cheonwoo felt his vision dim.

It’s hot.

It was lightning.

The kind of lightning even a hero of old—one who had left his mark on the chaotic, perilous Great Cataclysm—had been unable to stop.

Song stared at the sword in his hand, his eyes trembling. Only seconds ago, it had shone with aura. Now something sharper and more destructive had cut it in half.

Clang.

The sword slipped from his grip and clattered across the ground. A beat later, pain swept through his body.

“Cough.”

Drip, drip.

Dark red blood spilled from his mouth, staining the snow. His clothes and armor split diagonally, exposing his bronze-colored torso. A fine line across his skin and taut muscles glowed red.

SHWAAA!

An enormous amount of blood burst forth like a waterfall.

It ran from his left chest to his right hip. The injury left by that bolt of lightning was devastating. It would never heal.

Song staggered backward as the strength drained from his body.

Crunch.

His unsteady foot came down on blood-soaked snow.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. And then…

Fsssh.

At the sound of piled snow falling away, Song barely managed to steady himself. A massive crevasse gaped behind him.

He could retreat no farther. There was nowhere to go forward, either.

Damn it.

His chest felt hollow. Perhaps that was the life still draining out of him.

Song raised his head. Someone was walking slowly toward him.

Choi Minwoo.

The only blood descendant of that person, whom Song had always respected and feared. He remembered the quiet words he had heard just before the lightning struck.

“Have you forgotten whose blood flows through my veins?”

But now Song saw someone else in the young man before him. Someone who was not here, who existed only in his memories. Someone he could not have watched from nearby without feeling both reverence and fear.

Song realized something he had long forgotten: Cheon Taemin’s blood flowed through Choi Minwoo’s veins.

“…Hyung¹?”

The word escaped between ragged breaths.

Through Song’s blood-red vision, the young man holding a brilliantly shining sword looked like his maternal grandfather. His somber eyes seemed to ask why Song had changed sides.

“Don’t come closer. Stay away!”

Song shouted with what little strength he had left and swung his sword. Or thought he did.

The hand that had dropped it moments earlier was empty. It swept through the air until someone’s firm grip stopped it.

Whooom. Thud.

Choi Minwoo seized Song’s wrist and squeezed.

Crunch.

Bones shifted out of place, and Song screamed.

“GRAAAAAH!”

Thud.

Unable to bear the pain, Song fell to his knees. Choi gazed down at him, his eyes steady. What he saw now was not Song Cheonwoo, but an old man.

Zzt, zzt, zzt.

The radiance surrounding Hero’s Soul slowly faded. The fight had already been decided.

“Stop. It’s over,” Choi said quietly.

“…!”

Song went rigid. He had lost? Impossible. It could not happen. It should not happen.

But there was no denying it.

His trembling gaze lifted to Choi, whose calm expression made the bloody fight they had just fought seem unreal.

“How? How did you…?”

“I’m not sure.”

Choi felt the immense power flowing through his body. Only a few months ago, he had been unable to sense it. It was the only gift his maternal grandfather had left him—and Jin Taekyung had torn open the wrapping and returned it to its rightful owner, along with a way to put the gift to good use.

“Perhaps… because I was stronger than you.”

That was not all. Choi had believed in himself and acted with an upright heart. In return, the sword imbued with a hero’s soul had granted its worthy wielder even greater strength.

He looked down at Song, his gaze unwavering.

“I won, and you lost. That is all that remains between us.”

“…!”

The old man’s trembling gaze gradually settled. A hoarse voice came through his bloodstained lips.

“Yes. You’re right. Though I didn’t expect this outcome.”

“Neither did I. I never thought we’d end up here.”

Anger. Hostility. A faint trace of pity for a man who had fallen so far. Choi felt all of them, but above all, he wanted to know why.

Why had Song done this? And could Choi believe what Song had told him earlier?

“Why did you do it? If we’d worked together, driving Go Jun out and taking control of Ares Guild wouldn’t have been difficult.”

“I know,” Song answered hollowly. “I thought so too.”

“Then why?”

“I had no choice. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Choi already knew who had made that offer.

“Go Jun. Was it all on his orders? Our alliance, everything up to now?”

“Cough. Orders?”

Song spat out more blood and gave a feeble laugh. He was plainly laughing at Go Jun.

“If it were Lee Jungryong, perhaps. But that bastard is nothing more than a powerful, immature brat. I may be a despicable and pathetic old man, but I haven’t fallen so low that I would submit to the orders of some young punk. My alliance with you was entirely my own decision.”

“Then—”

“I told you. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Choi looked into Song’s fading eyes and suddenly understood what the old man still had left—and what the offer must have involved.

“Your family.”

Song gave a small nod.

“I didn’t realize until after I lost to Lee Jungryong. I’d forgotten what mattered most.”

His had been a hard-fought life. Before the Great Cataclysm, he had worked day and night to support his family. During it, he had been unable to leave the battlefield. Afterward, he had begun another struggle to reach the center of power.

Losing that political struggle to Lee Jungryong had reminded him how precious his family was. Then Lee’s death had rekindled his ambition, and Song had forgotten them again.

“My absence was the root of all this. I suppose this is the price an old man paid for reaching too greedily after ambition too late in life.”

“You’re probably right.”

Choi’s answer was cold. Hearing Song lament his own choices stripped away the last of his pity.

“Because of you and Lee Jungryong, I lost the only family I had.”

His voice was cold, but fury burned beneath it.

Because of two adults’ ambitions, a child too young to know what ambition meant had been left little better than an orphan. Before he could even understand that his parents were dead, his maternal grandfather had disappeared too. Choi had lived all these years resenting him.

“…I’m sorry. It was my fault.”

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t have any objections if I burned you to death right now. Would you?”

The voice came from somewhere above them. It was not Choi’s.

Crunch.

Kim Hwajong stepped onto the ground, covered from head to toe in blue yeti blood. Flames burned in the old butler’s eyes, matching the whip of fire in his hand.

“Hwajong. It’s you.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, you bastard. Do you know how much the Young Master—”

Kim looked ready to swing the whip, but a slight glance from Choi stopped him. The old butler pressed his lips together and stepped back.

Choi turned to Song.

“Then is everything you told me about my maternal grandfather a lie as well?”

“I wish it were a lie. But it is all true. I’ve already come too far.”

Kim frowned, unable to understand what Song meant. Choi let out a breath, torn between relief and disappointment.

His grandfather was alive. That was welcome news, even if he had been unconscious for more than twenty years.

But that could wait. For now, Choi had to decide what to do with Song.

—Young Master.

Kim’s message spell carried pride in Choi, fury toward Song, and a faint hope. Choi shook his head. He knew what the old butler wanted to say.

—Butler Kim. That isn’t possible.

—What do you mean, it isn’t possible?

—Give me a potion. We need to treat him just enough to keep him alive.

—But…!

Kim looked ready to protest, but Choi’s calm gaze made him hold back. He knew Song was a crucial witness—and, while alive, evidence in his own right.

He simply wished it weren’t so.

“Butler Kim.”

“Damn it. All right.”

Kim cursed as he handed over a mid-grade potion. Choi’s eyes widened.

“Did you just swear in front of me?”

“Yes, I did. Why?”

“I’d heard a little about this, but you’re nothing like the man I remember.”

“This is who I am. When you were little, I watched what I did and said in case you picked it up from me.”

“Why stop now…?”

“You’re almost thirty now. Since things have come to this, learn from me if you want to learn. Or don’t.”

Is this really the man who’s been by my side since I was a child?

Choi let out a quiet laugh at the old butler’s gruff tone.

“Butler Kim.”

“What? And stop laughing. That’s no way to treat an elder.”

“Thank you. For becoming my only family.”

“…!”

“I’ve always wanted to tell you that.”

After saying it, Choi could not bring himself to meet the old butler’s eyes. He turned away without another word.

At the end of the path before him, an old man lay buried in the snow, waiting for death.

Click.

Choi pulled the stopper from the potion. Its delicate, fresh scent drove back the smell of blood.

Song watched him approach through eyes that seemed about to close for good.

“Are you… going to save me?”

“Do you want to live?”

“I… That’s…”

Choi felt a surge of disgust at his hesitation.

“If I had my way, I would kill you a hundred times, a thousand times over.”

“B-but my family…”

“There must be a way to help them. We’ll deal with it once we’re out of here.”

“…”

“Choose.”

Song hesitated, then nodded with a look of resignation.

Choi gazed at him coldly and slowly tipped the potion.

Hiss.

The wound began to close the moment the milky liquid touched it. It was an extremely weak recovery, but to someone, it was a lifeline that could give them enough strength for one final effort.

Crack!

Where had that strength come from?

Amid the snow exploding in every direction, Song Cheonwoo launched himself with superhuman force and slipped into the enormous crevasse.