Flames of Judgment
Daiyen was in a great mood today. The deal with Malik Twain had gone off without a hitch—he was a man with real long-term vision, which made for a satisfying transaction. As Nautilus's administrator, Daiyen had inherited Suhyun's unique ability, earning EXP every time she handled her duties. But this wasn't a one-off sale; it was an ongoing contract, which meant even more EXP rolling in.
Following the explanations Suhyun had given her about the ability, Daiyen had steadily accumulated EXP until finally unlocking her first feature.
Successfully supplied Nautilus with provisions.
System [Inventory] unlocked.
Of all the functions Suhyun had described from his unique ability, Inventory was the one Daiyen had wanted most. She was thrilled now that it was hers. It was small for now, but a vault no one else could touch—accessible anytime, anywhere—was worth its weight in gold to a merchant like her.
She was tempted to tell someone, maybe shoot a message to Suhyun, when one arrived from him instead. It sent a chill down her spine.
She stared at Suhyun's last message, about to ask what he meant, when a thunderous roar shook the mansion like the sky itself was splitting open.
"Kyaaak!"
Malik's servant guiding Daiyen—and Daiyen herself—clutched their heads and dropped low from the sudden impact. When the rumble faded, Daiyen rushed to the window to check outside.
Where the front gate had stood was now a black-haired man. Daiyen screamed inwardly.
What the hell kind of insane stunt is this?!
She was furious that Suhyun had attacked the mansion knowing she was inside, but at the same time, relieved. Suhyun wasn't the type to let emotions make him sloppy or cause self-harm. The angrier he got, the cooler and more precise he became, savoring revenge. He didn't act on blind greed or rage, so Daiyen started piecing together his intent.
He confirmed I was here and still attacked. What's his angle?
Stunned by Suhyun's sudden assault, she shook it off and observed the servants' reactions inside the mansion.
What the...?
It was a surprise raid, but the servants moved with eerie discipline, like they'd rehearsed it. Something felt off to Daiyen. The bustling servants were deliberately avoiding the door leading to the basement.
In emergencies without the family head, the steward was supposed to oversee the staff. But Daiyen spotted him heading underground. Seizing the chaos, she tailed him.
Like most mansions, the basement held storage for food and wine. Deep in the wine cellar, she overheard the steward muttering regretfully.
"Gathering new test subjects will take time, but it's better than getting caught."
As he poured alchemical oil around and pulled a magic tool from his robes, Daiyen realized instinctively: This is why Suhyun attacked.
What do I do? Stop him?
Daiyen was just a regular person—not particularly strong or weak for one. Even faced with clear evidence destruction, she hesitated. Then a massive pressure hit.
"?"
Daiyen felt nothing, but everything in the mansion groaned under the force. Massive oak wine barrels twisted, spilling blood-red wine like veins. Stone walls crumbled. The steward's ignition tool exploded in his hand.
"Kuh!"
A presence stirred behind the startled Daiyen.
Heavenly Demon Overlord Step
(Cheonma Gunrimbo) — Footwork technique. Not a wide-area attack as often depicted in novels, but reproduced with auxiliary effects as a precise movement skill. Surveys and dominates the battlefield like an athlete testing the ground, seizing ambient mana, scanning surroundings, and positioning optimally to herald battle.
"Chiki-chiki chaka-chaka choco-choco-cho."
Daiyen whipped around at the weird noise behind her, gasping. There stood Suhyun, grinning like he was having the time of his life.
"Do bad things and~"
Hum a childish tune of unknown origin as he sauntered past her toward the steward trying to torch the evidence.
"Chiki-chiki chaka-chaka choco-choco-cho, you won't get caught by us~."
The steward, hand barely burned, drew a dagger from his robes and hurled it at Suhyun. Incredibly fast for an old man, but Suhyun snatched it midair like a lazy catch, flicked his wrist, and pinned the steward's foot to the stone floor.
"Kraaaah!"
The blade sank so deep it vanished into the stone. The steward thrashed to free his leg, but the pain anchored him firmer than any stake.
He couldn't comprehend it. His black magic modifications had numbed all pain. His aged exterior hid a body tougher than a young man's, impervious to agony—yet the dagger burned like a red-hot poker, fire racing up his leg.
"Hurts, huh?"
Suhyun smirked mockingly.
"Figures. Guys who cheat pain think they can tank hits. They're all the same."
Removing pain to fight recklessly was heresy—drugs, spells, curses, body mods. Easy access, made you fearless, aggressive, battle-hardened. But it never became mainstream for a simple reason: the cons outweighed the pros. No pain meant no caution, no crisis sense. Slash your finger, poke your eye, gut yourself? No feedback, so you prioritize offense over defense. You die fast, just cannon fodder. Plus, dulled senses kill finesse, and no real pressure stalls growth.
Still, desperate types chased shortcuts. Suhyun, who culled villains regularly, knew their habits and heresy's flaws intimately. But he hated seeing them slip away pain-free, so he went the extra mile to give it back.
The dagger's agony fried the steward's nerves like oil in a pan. His screams echoed through the basement.
"Shh! Quiet down—you'll deafen our administrator. Who's gonna take responsibility?"
Suhyun jabbed mana-laced fingers into the steward, paralyzing nerves linked to his vocal cords. Only a deflating wheeze escaped.
The quest reward from dealing with scum, [Judgment] mana, amplified attacks on the wicked. Useless or mild on the good or lightly guilty, devastating on villains. Paired with illusion magic for pain, victims reported torment beyond human limits. A normal person might feel a stubbed toe; the steward felt his pinky toe wrenched off with pliers.
While the steward sobbed like a child, immobile despite enduring flaying flesh sober, Suhyun surveyed the evidence he'd tried to destroy: illegal demon contracts, experiment logs, preserved mutated organs, victims of forced mods, and untouched test subjects. Orphans, vagrants, beggars, homeless—all societal weaklings. Even freed, they'd be seen as lab rats, discarded post-use.
A mere grad student back then, he'd been powerless. Not anymore.
"W-Who are you?"
A scared orphan in a filthy, rusted cage asked in a trembling voice. Suhyun beamed.
"A good wizard here to catch the black mage!"
He pulled a small flower from his inventory, handed it over, showed empty palms, then "magicked" candy from his fist. The orphan's mouth gaped in awe; Suhyun popped a sweet inside. Eyes wide as the candy, overwhelmed by unfamiliar sweetness, the kid forgot to fear him, staring intently.
"Don't worry—the bad guy's about to vanish."
He fed candy to the other dazed orphans, scattered catalysts around the basement, and chanted.
"Close, close, close—thrice sealed, none uninvited shall enter this place."
⟨ Barrier Seal ⟩
Weaving the mansion's broken spells into a barrier, Suhyun invited Daiyen inside and dragged the steward out. His foot tore free like pinned paper ripping; he shrieked silently. Suhyun ignored it. No reason to care about lifelong sadists' pain.
"Who goes there!"
"Steward!"
Servants awaiting orders upstairs saw Suhyun hauling the mangled steward one-handed and swung without hesitation. Precise, trained spear thrusts targeted Suhyun—but pine needles don't pierce steel. Spears halted against his mana barrier, not even grazing his collar.
Worse, as Suhyun strolled casually, the spear-wielding servants were pushed back. Sturdy men in droves, shoe soles shredding as they desperately thrust, couldn't overcome the leisurely walker's force.
"So you knew everything and came prepared."
Perfectly armored Malik Twain descended from above, glaring down.
"Forgive us, family head. The intruder was too strong; we couldn't repel him properly."
The under-steward apologized below him. Malik placed a hand on his shoulder.
"No, you've been plenty helpful."
It looked like a kind boss covering for a subordinate, but Suhyun magicked Malik's hand on the shoulder.
"Who gave you potions to suck?"
Bang!
Mana bullet from Suhyun's fingertip targeted Malik's wrist, flinging his hand off. The under-steward, moving to shield his master, collapsed—upper body paralyzed where Malik had touched.
Malik, still recovering from Suhyun's Heavenly Demon Overlord Step rebound, smacked his lips regretfully after siphoning life force. He tried wheedling.
"Wouldn't fighting a healthy me be more fun?"
Give him time to drain servants, he urged. Suhyun snorted.
"What kinda bullshit is that?"
"No need to hide it. I know—you're addicted to battle's thrill, like me."
Malik spoke understandingly.
"Endless death paths, split-second right choices escaping death's shadow—that ecstasy! Truths glimpsed before doom, realm growth! The joy of taking life! That's why you came, right?"
Suhyun scoffed at the rant.
"You think you can even fight me?"
"I've seen your magic—probably reinforcement school. But it has a fatal flaw. Know what?"
"What?"
Malik snapped fingers; illusions spawned with chimeras and undead.
"Reinforcement mages boast magic resistance, but illusions bypass it! How long can you sustain it? That power earlier? Maybe ten minutes? Even reinforced, base flesh durability can't be overcome!"
Veteran battle mage Malik knew strengths and weaknesses from countless fights. Reinforcement—common and potent—was limited by fragile mage bodies buckling under boosted power. Boosting durability ate more mana, shortened uptime. Still, Suhyun's was tempting.
"That power! I will have it!"
"Done yapping?"
Suhyun shielded the witness-steward with defense magic, hurled him downstairs, and declared.
"One: Not reinforcement school."
Pure fist, no mana or arts. The leather-grafted undead blocking him shattered.
Malik gaped. Human body outputting that without mana or mods? And the punch form—flawless.
"Two: Your 'illusions' are so lame they don't even annoy me."
Suhyun mimicked the finger snap; illusions vanished. Injecting mana into illusion structures to dismantle—Malik paled. Dismantling used less mana but required deep understanding, fine control, high-quality mana. Rarely used outside overwhelming skill gaps. Something was wrong.
"Three: Even without those, you're too weak."
Suhyun erupted mana.
Mana normally scattered uncontrolled outside the body—strongest self-buffs, then contact spells, weakening with distance. Common sense: external mana dispersed instantly, irretrievable once mixed.
Malik's world shattered. Pure mana cycled like a body, devouring ambient mana around Suhyun. He trembled uncontrollably.
"D-Dragon!"
Malik's retirement reason, his squad's wipeout: nature's colossal unfairness incarnate in flesh, undefeated by humanity. Human-shaped, speaking, but dragon.
Devil-contracted to escape nightmares, yet dragon terror lingered soul-deep. Power from souls, monster flesh knowledge, fattened agony-spirits—all quailed before it.
Suhyun loomed over piss-soaked, collapsed Malik.
"Not a dragon. What you saw was maybe a dragon's bastard's bastard's bastard."
Recalling his master.
A real dragon would've vaporized this battle-mage trash silently. Killing only the squad while he fled proved it wasn't full dragon. But even scraps sufficed to annihilate elite squads. Dragons were absolute, irrational—born at the peak, bound by laws eventually.
Like a judge reading verdict, Suhyun intoned.
"Flames, arise. Burn souls stained in sin, devour unrepentant evil as pure fire. Purge this world of wickedness, leaving only chaste spirits. Let pain alone mourn the victims' souls."
⟨ Flames of Judgment ⟩
Quiet yet commanding, forcing all eyes in the mansion. Verdict incantation flowed.
Flames of Judgment
Blinding flames clung to Malik, roaring pure.
Human pyre was gruesome, but all watched transfixed, unblinking.
Devil-pact mana burned first. Massive power sustaining youth vanished; withered, greed-ridden flesh emerged.
Next, monster organs from devil knowledge: heart, lungs, eyes, pancreas, liver, muscles, bones—essentials incinerated, yet he lived.
Finally, stolen souls bloating his spirit blazed. His original body fully ash, flames danced in Malik's shape. Servants quaked near fainting, forced to witness.
Meanwhile, souls trapped in his foul spirit freed as it burned—ascending warmly, painlessly. Contrasted against Malik's grasping wails, his ugliness amplified.
Suhyun prayed for the liberated souls.
May your next lives be happy.
Servants' gazes freed from the soul inferno only long after.