In the wake of the Great Cataclysm, the boundary between what humanity considered common sense and nonsense crumbled like a sandcastle.
Awakened people, monsters, magic, Gates.
Things that had existed only in novels and movies became reality.
Calamity became a neighbor, and the word death came cheap.
But humans are adaptable creatures.
They quickly accepted the unbelievable reality before them and made the impossible their new normal.
They thought nothing like it would ever happen again in human history.
No—they hoped it wouldn’t. Please.
But at this very moment, in an unnamed canyon in the Rub’ al Khali Desert, those who had been piling up blood and bodies without end had no choice but to admit it.
The common sense they had accepted had crumbled once more.
Rooooar.
The rain of steel lashing through the darkness stopped. The whirlwind that had seemed ready to swallow the entire desert slowly died away.
Amid the silence and shock that gripped them all, thousands of eyes settled on the figure who had emerged.
“Oh my God.”
“What the hell did I just see?”
The Hunters stared in awe and elation.
“He’s a demon. He has to be.”
“Inshallah.1 God…”
The fanatics trembled with fear and hatred.
And among all the people gathered there, the one being who wasn’t human spat out the one word they had all wanted to say.
“Monster.”
The Skeleton King’s mouth curled as he looked at the man before him.
“I told you, didn’t I? Let’s finish this before someone scarier than me shows up.”
“……!”
The man’s eyes widened. His hair was disheveled, and wounds large and small covered his body.
He had already been struggling against the Skeleton King, but now his injuries were the last thing on his mind.
“How… How can anyone do that?”
The man muttered in a dazed voice.
His bulging eyes stared past the whirlwind, at the blood and corpses it had left behind.
A thousand.
There had been a thousand warriors waiting in the rear.
The finest of the elite, held in reserve for the final blow. And with them, Amir—their greatest warrior and commander.
No. He had been with them.
Until that enormous whirlwind of steel swept them away.
They’re all dead? Killed by one man?
It was impossible to believe. Impossible to understand.
The man’s hand trembled around his sword hilt. A groan escaped through his clenched teeth.
“Th-That’s impossi—”
“Possible.”
His wavering voice cut off.
The Skeleton King had severed his words like a guillotine blade. He went on evenly.
“Jin Taekyung can do it.”
“Shut your mouth!”
The man’s furious roar split the desert. He glared at the Skeleton King, his eyes blazing.
Shhhhh.
Immense killing intent and aura rose from him, swallowing the space around him.
An ordinary Hunter would have struggled even to breathe beneath that pressure. The Skeleton King didn’t so much as blink.
To the undead, killing intent was more familiar than anything else.
Simply by existing, he was already in contact with death.
The man’s aura was no different.
Half as strong as that guy, if I’m generous.
Thinking of that guy, shimmering in the distance like a mirage, the Skeleton King let out a quiet snort.
The world called beings like him monsters. But the real monster was someone else.
“Why did you have to do something like this? If you’d stayed quietly tucked away in some corner of the desert, you wouldn’t have made that guy angry.”
“……God, God chose us. The great God Himself sent the Prophet to lead His warriors to the promised land!”
“The promised land?”
The Skeleton King glanced around as he echoed the words.
Corpses lay in every direction.
Blood flowed like a river, rising to their ankles. Limbs and chunks of flesh—no one knew whose—bloomed across the desert like flowers.
“Surely this isn’t the promised land you’ve been blathering on about.”
“……!”
“Unless you promised God you’d all die here together. In that case, I’ll give you that one.”
The man’s eyes wavered. So did those of every fanatic around him.
The Skeleton King’s voice, infused with magical power, carried far enough to reach Hunter and fanatic alike.
Each word poured cold water on the flames of fanaticism that had seemed as though they would burn forever. And each word made the Hunters take up their weapons again.
“There was a human. No, there were humans. Frail creatures compared to me, born with death as their fate.”
The Skeleton King remembered.
Countless faces he had encountered since coming into the world flashed before his eyes.
“They fought countless battles and kept dying. But they didn’t fight only for the god they believed in.”
They had families and friends. People they loved. Values worth protecting.
“I couldn’t understand those stupid humans. I couldn’t even accept that there were different kinds of death.”
But not anymore.
The Skeleton King had watched humans more closely than any other monster had.
He had stood beside them.
And at last, he understood.
The countless deaths he had witnessed could not all be called simply deaths.
“They were sacrifices.”
Some people killed for money and power. They abandoned their parents and children, betrayed their lovers and friends.
But there were others who burned like torches and died away like wildfires.
People who went forward prepared to die.
People who stood their ground and fought for others, for a better world, even in the face of death.
The world called them heroes.
It called their deaths sacrifices.
“But what should I call you? What should I call your deaths?”
“……!”
“If you have a mouth, then answer me. You foolish people who brought calamity upon the world after being deceived by an illusion.”
Kiiiiing.
The man swallowed a breath as the fading golden crown above the Skeleton King’s brow began to shine.
His wandering gaze passed over the countless faces surrounding him.
Hatred and contempt.
Resentment and confusion.
And not just from the Hunters.
Even the fanatics under his command were wavering.
Some of them looked at him with eyes clouded by resentment and confusion, then turned away. The sight struck the man as though something solid inside him had suddenly collapsed.
“I, I… I…”
He wanted to speak.
He wanted to shout at the people wavering before him.
Tell them not to be taken in by a demon’s silver tongue.
Tell them not to dare question the great God and His Prophet.
But his tongue wouldn’t move. The hand gripping his sword seemed to be losing its strength.
In his mind, gone blank, the demon’s words from a moment ago repeated without end.
But what should I call you? What should I call your deaths?
The man clenched his teeth without realizing it. Pain shot through a broken molar, but even that felt distant, like a dream.
The corpses of his followers filling every direction.
So did the sticky pool of blood at his feet.
Is this really…
Was this the promised land, meant to be green and beautiful?
Was it the heaven Almighty God and His Prophet had prepared for His people?
The question he had barely managed to keep from speaking echoed through his mind.
And through his dreamlike haze, a dazzling shaft of light brightened the darkness.
Whoooooom.
Golden radiance rose along the many-colored blade.
The light felt so warm. So sacred.
The man even forgot that the Skeleton King was holding the sword.
Looking at the demon who stood before him with the Hero’s Sword in hand, shining with a brilliance reserved for the chosen, he found himself asking:
“Are you… really a demon?”
It was at that very moment.
Step.
In a world where everything had stopped, a single person’s footfall rang out.
At the same time, a calm voice reached the man’s ears.
“You see what you want to believe. Just like you called a monster the Prophet and worshiped it.”
The wind held its breath.
Everyone turned in the same direction.
And at the end of all those gazes stood Jin Taekyung.
“Hamid Shah Masoud.”
The man stared blankly at Jin Taekyung.
Apart from Amir, no one knew that name. There was no way the man before him could know it.
“How could you know?”
“If I said God told me, would you believe me?”
“……!”
“You’re an easy bunch to read. You saw what you wanted to believe, and believed what you wanted to see. All the while telling yourselves this was God’s will.”
Splash.
He strode forward.
Blood splashed in every direction from a pool with pieces of flesh floating in it. The young man, already drenched in blood, paid it no mind.
“Tens of thousands are dead because of idiots like you. No—hundreds of thousands.”
Cities had burned. A massive tidal wave had swept through a harbor.
Countless people had died in sudden disasters. Happy families had vanished, and children who lost their parents had been sent to orphanages.
And none of it had been a natural disaster.
People had caused it.
“There is no God. And even if there is, He wouldn’t be an idiot who watches over trash like you.”
Jin Taekyung spat out each word as he looked across the countless fanatics.
Some staggered in shock. Others wept, belatedly realizing what they had done.
But if a few short words could have changed their hearts, those disasters would never have happened.
“How dare you, you wicked heretic!”
“God is great!”
Papapat!
At those sharp cries, figures rushed him from all sides like streaks of light.
A cold smile touched Jin Taekyung’s lips as he met their hate-filled gazes.
“Yeah. That’s more like it.”
At that moment—
Shwoosh!
Silver flashes shot up from every direction, splitting the wind.
They tore through space, piercing and slicing the blades and bodies hurtling toward him.
Whoooosh! Slice!
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
Only then did the survivors understand.
What the earlier whirlwind had been.
And how those caught within its reach had died.
Krrrunch!
An eerie noise filled the space for more than ten meters2 around him.
Blood poured down like rain. Arrows and daggers shot through the air, then flew back the way they had come, taking their owners’ lives.
“Guh…!”
They were lucky if they managed a dying gasp.
Of the hundred or so fanatics who had charged at once, half were torn to pieces beyond recognition.
Thud, thud, thud.
Flesh, blood, and bone fragments filled the empty spaces where screams had been.
Hamid Shah Masoud could only stare, eyes wide, as his sword hilt slipped from his hand.
Clang.
No one spoke.
Not the Hunters. Not the fanatics.
Not the Skeleton King, the Hero’s Sword hanging at his side, or Magic Johnson, standing upright in midair.
At this moment, only one person could speak.
He alone could pass judgment or grant forgiveness.
So Hamid Shah Masoud pleaded for mercy in a trembling voice. To survive, he had no choice but to beg for his one and only life.
He let go of his sword and fell to his knees.
He threw his faith, shattered beyond recognition, into the trash.
“P-Please spare me.”
A desperate plea.
Jin Taekyung looked down at him without a flicker in his eyes. Then he reached out.
A searing heat gathered at the tips of his bloodstained fingers.
Thwip. Thud.
A single blast of hot wind.
That was all. The man fell quietly and never got up again.
At last.
Jin Taekyung let out the breath he had been holding and lifted his head.
Clang. Thud-thud.
Countless still-sharp weapons fell, and knees sank into the blood-soaked sand.
Victory had come in the dim light of dawn. The battle was over.
But Jin Taekyung was looking west, where darkness still held.
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