Nothing is more foolish than confronting a Demon after the sun has dipped below the horizon. This is a sentiment shared by anyone with even a passing knowledge of the seven races.
* * *
Crows cawed.
Bats took to the dark sky with a frantic flutter of wings. In that moment, the fighters of various races standing on the forest floor found themselves unable to move so much as a fingertip.
“……Ugh, ah, ugh.”
With the sun gone and the moon reigning in its stead, the Demons became the absolute masters of this domain. While everyone else stood frozen in terror, only the Nobles of the Night moved freely through the oppressive gloom.
“You’ve all lived such agonizing lives.”
The appearance of the Demons emerging from the thick shadows was ill-suited for the grim setting. They wore pitch-black formal attire better suited for a grand banquet hall, and their every step and word was steeped in leisurely elegance. They looked less like combatants and more like high-born nobles spectating a sport.
“You… arrogant… pricks.”
That was the defining characteristic of the Demons.
Other races who knew them often described them with a single phrase:
Insufferable bastards.
“When night falls, you should have covered your eyes and hidden your bodies—if you didn’t wish to encounter us, that is.”
A charming, melodic voice poured into the dark forest. Walking with an unfaltering stride, a Demon passed by the frozen fighters, grazing their cheeks one by one. Even when he poked and prodded them with a mocking finger, the warriors couldn’t even flinch.
“Ah, it’s quite boring when there’s no response.”
To be precise, they couldn’t flinch.
Because right now, reality was invisible to their eyes.
“I suppose you’re all busy having pleasant nightmares.”
It was the most infamous of the many unique powers representing the Demons. An atrocious Authority that, if experienced even once, would make a person lose sleep at the mere mention of the word ‘Demon.’ A terrifying power that, with a stroke of ill luck, could completely shatter one’s mind or trap them in an eternal slumber.
People called that power:
“Please, do not wake up. Sleep peacefully forever.”
Hell.
* * *
Darkness swept through the forest.
Swallowed by the pitch-black gloom, Seol-yoon reflexively squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them a moment later, she faced neither darkness nor the forest. Before her stretched a desolate wilderness—a wasteland where pale dust billowed in the wind. There, countless people lay strewn across the ground like discarded debris.
“Ah.”
The fallen made no sound. With a dazed expression, Seol-yoon scanned their faces one by one. They lay in various states of death. Her kind neighbor had his eyes closed peacefully; the woman who always cracked pleasant jokes was staring wide-eyed while clutching her son; and the five-year-old child in the woman’s arms had his eyes closed, his small hand still gripping a piece of straw.
Countless lives, each having lived differently and possessing the potential for diverse futures, had all crumbled here. They vanished like shimmering heat haze under a scorching sun.
“…….”
Seol-yoon took in the scenery in silence.
She knew this wasn’t reality. Yet, she couldn’t turn away from the scene unfolding before her. This was neither a simple hallucination nor a mere nightmare.
It was a memory from the distant past that she harbored deep within.
A memory she desperately wanted to forget, but one she must never let go of.
As she stood there aimlessly, a distant voice echoed in her ears like a phantom.
It wasn’t the language of the West.
It was a language familiar to her. The tongue of the East.
“We have cleared them all out. Not a single one remains.”
“Excellent.”
The voices came from beyond the dust. Past the pale, rising haze, soldiers on horseback engaged in a dry, clinical conversation.
“Do not look back. This was not a mistake. It was something someone had to do.”
“……Is that truly so?”
“Yes. It was an absolute necessity for the Great Land.”
Seol-yoon remembered every moment.
She remembered the faint scent of blood in the dust, the acrid smell of the earth, and the pungent aroma of tobacco that wafted from the soldiers. The sound of their warhorses breathing was still vivid, as if it had happened only yesterday.
“Believe in the Great Land. If you cannot believe in the Great Land, then believe in the Great Conqueror. For our Khan is never wrong.”
Seol-yoon remembered their words, syllable for syllable.
She remembered the monologues they muttered to themselves.
After their brief exchange, they departed.
Hooves kicked the earth, and by the time the sun hung perfectly in the center of the sky, Seol-yoon was the only living human left. A small, insignificant girl abandoned in the heart of death.
“…….”
Seol-yoon watched her younger self crawling out of a well. The small Eastern girl, who had lost all color, briefly looked at the bodies of her neighbors and friends who had died like dust, and her parents who had left the world before her. Perhaps unable to accept reality, she didn’t stop at looking but reached out to stroke them with her tiny, fern-like hands.
But nothing changed.
Only then did the girl burst into tears.
Through her sobbing eyes, the girl saw a piece of weaponry caked in dust. It was a sword—an object far too heavy for a child to carry. Seeing it, the girl thought of a legend she had heard once.
— Seol-yoon, they say that if one’s sword realm reaches the heavens, they can undergo Ascension and leave for Paradise. In that Paradise, the ones you cherished will be waiting for you, and it is filled with sweet happiness.
Yes.
This was the moment the girl Seol-yoon died, and the moment the Swordsman Seol-yoon was born anew. The memory that completely transformed her life.
“……Insufferable Demon.”
Facing her distant memories, Seol-yoon muttered with concentrated hatred. At that, the scene before her began to shake violently. As if time were rewinding, the fallen people stood up and regained life. In the rewound world, Seol-yoon’s precious people were smiling brightly. Then, along with the sound of galloping hooves, long, sharp spears flew in. Crimson droplets of blood splattered over their peaceful daily lives…….
“Stop.”
With an ear-splitting scream, a person collapsed. Arrows, spears, and swords rained down on those fleeing desperately. Human bodies broke so easily. The process unfolded before Seol-yoon’s eyes with agonizing vividness. Even with her eyes closed, it played out in her mind.
“Stop, stop it……”
Seol-yoon gritted her teeth, her voice thick with pain.
She knew this was the Authority unleashed by the Demon. A trick that infiltrates a living being’s mental world to reenact painful memories and break their spirit. It was a simple mental attack, yet one that proved fatal to most creatures.
“Stop.”
Seol-yoon was a genius swordsman.
But before this Hell, she was reduced to a mere hack. Seol-yoon could neither cut down the nightmare unfolding before her eyes nor drive away the endless darkness. She could do nothing but face the repeating nightmare. Helplessly, horribly.
Screams poured incessantly into Seol-yoon’s ears.
And then…….
「The mere fact that I was breathing in the same world as that bastard was absolutely horrific.」
A familiar voice echoed from somewhere.
「How is that demonic bastard still living while being praised?」
「Why is this world so twisted?」
With that, the Hell unfolding before Seol-yoon began to tremble.
「No matter how much I think about it, I cannot accept it.」
「There are far too many things I cannot accept.」
「Thus, the conclusion I reached was clear.」
Seol-yoon slowly opened her eyes.
She knew the owner of this voice.
「A Swordmaster can only be killed by another Swordmaster.」
「So, I decided to become a Swordmaster.」
The small gladiator.
Arhan.
* * *
Facing a Demon at night is a very foolish act. From the moment the moon rises, a Demon’s physical abilities and their capacity to manipulate mana increase remarkably. Simultaneously, their true power, which lies dormant during the day, awakens.
The most representative of those powers was Hell .
“Hoh.”
A Shaman communicates with the spiritual world.
An Elf communicates with the world of spirits made of elements.
Beyond them, numerous races and various classes can communicate with worlds other than the Middle Realm to draw power and exercise Mystery. Among them, the ‘Demons’ were special.
Though it was only possible during the ‘night,’ Demons were capable of communicating with Hell. This Hell was a type of world—an inner world containing the painful memories of living beings, the sins they committed, their regrets, and their deepest fears. Since it was an inner world, any sentient being harbored a Hell within their heart. Demons could tamper with such a world.
They could show ‘the most painful memory’ as a nightmare to someone sleeping, repeating it endlessly; they could force someone to relive their most regretted moment; or they could manifest their greatest fear to pollute their mind. A Demon’s combat began and ended with the governance of this Hell.
And the Demons were the only ones who possessed the power to govern Hell. That was why, in the pitch-black night, they reigned as beings everyone avoided. Unless one had Demon blood flowing through them, there was no way to defy the Hell they commanded.
Of course, even if they couldn’t defy it, there were those who resisted.
Priests who entrusted their souls to God for divine protection; Shamans who split their own souls and scattered them across the spiritual world to remain free from mental interference; and the noble Witches of the Sky who had cast off all painful memories and regrets.
“This is quite peculiar.”
However, in the eyes of the Demon, ‘Red Count’ Hartias, the human before him belonged to none of those categories. He possessed no spiritual ability, he didn’t inherit Demon blood, nor did he harbor divine power.
The human was a pure Swordsman.
And for a Swordsman to resist Hell with their pure strength alone, they needed armor. The next stage after the brilliant wings—sturdy armor capable of blocking anything. The invincible armor that only ‘Sword Experts’ could possess.
“What is that?”
Yet, the young man before him was a pure human, and his sword realm was merely that of a ‘Sword Walker’ who hadn’t even sprouted wings. Nevertheless, he was driving away the darkness. The Demon, Hartias, found this situation difficult to accept.
“Just what is that thing you’re harboring in there?”
Hartias looked at the human.
The Hell he had drawn out from the human vanished before it could even manifest in the world. Instead, another inner world was replacing the darkness.
In place of the pitch-black gloom, a barren land without a single blade of grass unfolded. A horrific silence flowed through that land, and upon the quiet earth stood a particularly towering hill. Atop the hill was a mansion that didn’t suit this land. In the mansion’s yard sat a single boy who had lost all expression.
“This isn’t a talent a human should possess.”
Manifesting one’s inner world to counterattack is a specialty of Shamans or Wizards. An inner world is constructed in proportion to the caster’s mental strength, and those manifested by novices are bound to be faint and unstable.
However, at this moment, the boy’s world unfolding before Hartias’s eyes was excessively solid. It wasn’t made of mental strength, but as if it were forged of Steel .
Hartias looked at the boy situated in the estate where not a single person resided.
The boy’s voice flowed out.
“A Swordmaster can only be killed by another Swordmaster.”
With that, cold pieces of iron fell from the sky and slammed into the ground. Blades poured down like rain. Cold swords were erected one by one like tombstones upon the silent earth.
“So, I decided to become a Swordmaster.”
The boy’s face became that of a young man.
Behind the boy-turned-young-man, the transparent soul of an old man shimmered. An old man who resembled a lion—that old man was staring clearly into Hartias’s eyes. The voice of the old man standing behind the boy echoed like a growling predator.
「You have no right to set foot in the Land of Swords.」
The moment those words ended, Hartias felt an intense pain. A bizarre and horrific sensation, as if his entire body were being sliced by a thousand blades. Hartias reflexively burst into laughter.
“This…… I’ve truly found an interesting human.”
He didn’t lose his smile even as his body felt as though it were being mangled.
He didn’t take his eyes off the human before him. Madness filled Hartias’s eyes.
“I will come for you again before this night ends. Without fail.”
With that, the gathered darkness vanished without a trace.
“I have remembered you!”
* * *
The darkness that had obscured my vision vanished. The pressure that had constricted my body disappeared as well.
The moment I opened my eyes, I was back in the pitch-black forest. Looking around, I saw fighters with dazed expressions. There wasn’t even time to figure out what had happened.
A Demon had appeared, and before he could do anything to me, the gift the Orc Elder had given me shone. The Demon muttered something about remembering me and coming back for me before vanishing. Amidst the situation that had unfolded in an instant, one thing was certain: I had bought time.
In that case, I shouldn’t waste this moment by standing around dazed.
“Seol-yoon!”
“……Uh, ugh. Huh?”
“Snap out of it and let’s go!”
I firmly grabbed the hand of Seol-yoon, who still looked dazed, and led her away. This was our chance while everyone else had lost their senses. Since the flow of the Racial Duel was turning into a melee, we could gain a lot just by positioning ourselves well. To do that, we had to move fast…….
「That Orc fellow gave you a useful gift. Though it’s not to my liking.」
I ran while holding Seol-yoon’s hand.
「Well, still, for the sake of a pathetic descendant, I can handle a few bothersome tasks. As is my duty as an ancestor…….」
“What are you blathering about? It’s distracting!”
「Ahem. What kind of way is that to speak? Do you know what trouble I just went through for you?」
“I didn’t ask. Explain it to me later, later.”
「Haha. I wonder whose descendant you are to be so polite.」
Since the situation was so urgent, I didn’t have the luxury of listening to Liam’s monologue. My Master’s voice, echoing in my head in an already chaotic situation, was excessively irritating. Whether he decided to listen to me or just got sulky, Liam finally shut his mouth.
And then.
“……?”
While running, the ground beneath me suddenly gave way.
‘Damn it—’
It was a trap. And it was…….
“Gotcha, human!”
The race that was the best among the seven races when it came to ‘making’ anything.
“This is how we Dwarves of the Sky Mountain Range fight, mwahahaha!”
I had fallen into a trap made by a Dwarf .
“I absolutely loathe those who fight like brutes! Uh-hahahahaha—!”
An unpleasant laughter poured from outside the trap.
Having fallen a great distance, I looked at my ankle. It was badly twisted. It was impossible to fight.
“Master.”
In the end, the time had come to use my trump card.
“Is there any way to coax the Dwarves?”
「…….」
“I mean, if you think about it, aren’t I the descendant of the wonderful Dwarves? It seems like a moment where I desperately need the advice of my Master, who is wise and always provides me with the correct answers. A foolish descendant seeks the wisdom of his ancestor.”
「…….」
“Please. Are you sulking?”
「Didn’t you tell me to shut my trap because I was distracting?」
“No, I didn’t go quite that far…….”
Liam made it obvious he was sulking. Anger surged because an old man was acting like a child, but I had no choice.
「If you kneel and say ‘I’m sorry, Grandfather,’ I’ll help you.」
“I’m sorry, Grandfather.”
Since he was the ancestor of the Great Caravan, the most powerful Swordmaster in history, and a venerable forebear, kneeling a hundred times was only natural.
「One more time.」
It really doesn’t bother me at all.
「If you don’t do it quickly, I won’t help.」
……It really, truly doesn’t bother me one bit.
Not at all.
