The Offline Showdown (5)

The legendary offline showdown had actually come to pass. I had only ever heard tales of such things; this was the first time I had ever witnessed one materialize in the flesh.

It felt like watching a relic of a bygone era, an artifact of ancient romanticism that belonged strictly to the past. After all, what was the point of taking a fight offline when winning the argument on the screen was all that truly mattered?

Back in my world, people possessed the ultimate trump card: the threat of legal action. Dragging someone to court was mutually exhausting enough to be practically suicidal, and it only worked against clear-cut, one-sided harassment rather than mutual mudslinging, but it was a deterrent nonetheless. More than anything, the sheer humiliation of showing your real face to the public was terrifying.

Just look at the Blood Demon. Even without his face ever being revealed, he was being mercilessly memed to death across the forum. If an offline showdown went sideways, you had no right to complain when the entire internet put you in the stocks and paraded you around for ridicule. Human malice had not eroded one bit with the changing of eras or worlds. In fact, Earth's internet culture often felt far more vile and degenerated. I suppose that's just the tax you pay for advanced technology.

Setting those idle thoughts aside, I pulled up the video recording the Heavenly Demon's martial prowess.

On screen, a woman clad in midnight-black robes stood opposite a towering brute draped in a battered, threadbare martial uniform. The difference in their physical weight classes was staggering, yet that monstrous bulk meant nothing. The woman toyed with him effortlessly, dancing around him with absolute, contemptuous ease.

Wait... she's beautiful?

Her overwhelming dominance was mesmerizing, but her appearance stole my breath even more. Her beauty easily rivaled that of the legendary elves—no, it surpassed them. Paired with her aloof, untouchable aura, she looked like an exotic flower blooming alone at the peak of a sheer precipice: a blossom guarded by countless mortal perils, its slender stem bristling with venomous thorns.

Her martial might, her breathtaking features, and her regal poise were all undeniably worthy of the title 'Heavenly Demon.'

Could someone like this really be spewing that boomer-tier archaic nonsense on the Gallery?

I couldn't say with absolute certainty that this supreme master in the video was our forum's Blue Tag deputy moderator. Yet an overwhelming gut instinct whispered that they were one and the same. The dated, archaic cadence that felt so old-fashioned on a message board carried the weight of seasoned maturity in real life. The stubborn, unyielding temperament reflected an uncompromising, lofty dignity. Even the subtle nuance of her praising her own looks matched her real-world presence without a seam of contradiction. There was virtually no daylight between her forum persona and reality. The only sticking point was her formidable status and potentially advanced age, but neither of those truly mattered to me.

The title of 'Heavenly Demon' meant she was the supreme sovereign of the Demonic Cult. The leader of an organization that immense was never someone to be taken lightly. As the saying went, the position made the person; sitting upon that throne could easily have molded her domineering manner of speech over the years. What seemed like sheer arrogance was, fundamentally, boundless self-assurance.

More than that, I thought of her opponent—the fixed-handle user who had uploaded that grotesque gore thread moments earlier. Taking advantage of the moderators' brief absence, that gonic had posted sickening photographs of slaughtered corpses and floors bathed in blood. Though the post was purged almost immediately, I had caught it before it vanished, and I knew right away: the Heavenly Demon had simply executed someone who had it coming.

I should give her some cover fire.

I left a comment arguing that our Blue Tag couldn't possibly be the real Heavenly Demon because she wasn't wielding the sword I had gifted her. Everyone knew the Heavenly Demon was a master swordswoman, skilled enough to cherish a blade forged of Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron. Naturally, given how effortlessly she toyed with her foe barehanded, possessing a sword made little practical difference. Even so, it worked in my favor if her true identity stayed under wraps.

If the Heavenly Demon took flight and went into permanent hiding from the embarrassment or scrutiny, that would be a disaster for me. Besides, what good did it do for me to pierce her disguise? As long as I remained trapped in this forest, it changed nothing, and even if I managed to step foot into the outside world, it wouldn't matter. We had always treated each other with mutual courtesy and respect under the shield of forum anonymity. If we could do that online, why would it change in reality? It wouldn't.

Above all, she has the highest probability of actually rescuing me from this place.

If her identity blew open and she abandoned the forum altogether, I stood to lose everything. Far better to keep exchanging pleasantries, trading resources, and seeking cultivation advice just as we always had.

Watching the forum descend into sheer bedlam over the video, I opened a private message window. Naturally, I addressed the one person who ought to be busiest right now.

I had assumed she would be frantically drafting a statement to clear her name, yet her reply arrived instantly. At that speed, she was practically watching the fire burn from across the river with popcorn in hand.

Setting aside my brief bewilderment, I broached the drama captivating the forum.

Wasn't that just a thinly veiled humblebrag about herself? It certainly smelled like one. Her stubborn denial carried the desperate feint of someone caught red-handed, but I let it slide without pressing further. As I said before, maintaining our warm rapport was my absolute top priority.

One thing was beyond dispute: she was thoroughly basking in the spotlight. Her fierce jealousy toward the Blood Demon—who was worshiped on the forum, even if only in ironic memes—and the brazen attention-seeking bait she used to post before landing the Blue Tag moderator badge all pointed to the same truth. For all her fiercely independent, march-to-my-own-drum demeanor, she harbored a deep yearning for validation from the community.

Well, she's only human.

Finding out the supreme sovereign ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the demonic sect had such an endearing quirk only made her more charming. Crucially, she never threw low-blow insults or hurled slurs at people's families to ruin their day. In my book, she leaned far closer to goodness than to malice.

From the sound of it, she desperately wanted to keep enjoying the Gallery just as she always had. She truly loved this strange extradimensional board. Pondering her words for a moment, I typed out a reply.

Even if the users figured out her identity, she remained completely blind to theirs. That was the crux of it. The dynamic was a one-way street, not a two-way boulevard. The only real vulnerability was that the real-world prestige of the Heavenly Demon might suffer some collateral damage from board trolls.

She wore an attitude of absolute nonchalance, but she wasn't wrong. This was a forum where even the reigning Zhongyuan Emperor was subjected to every derogatory moniker imaginable. Why should the Heavenly Demon be any different? If anything, the insults tossed around here were remarkably tame. Back on Earth... well, the less said about our creative vitriol, the better. I had learned the hard way just how endlessly degenerate human name-calling could become.

Pro athletes on Earth had some truly bizarre, unhinged nicknames. I wonder if it's the same here?

I would have to look into that sometime. At any rate, her anonymity wasn't something I needed to lose sleep over. She had already concocted her own solution, and our private dynamic remained as solid as ever.

So the guy was absurdly powerful. And the Heavenly Demon had utterly toyed with him. If someone of her caliber walked into the Forest of the Four Seasons, she would probably conquer an entire regional territory overnight.

Shaking off the idle daydream, I glanced across the clearing. Nearby, Ggobongi was enthusiastically sawing through a thick timber log.

Would Ggobongi recognize this Geumjang guy?

Curiosity piqued, I asked the Heavenly Demon to send me the Hanja characters for Geumjang's name. Once the characters appeared on my screen, I called out to the gorilla.

"Ggobongi! Come here for a second!"

"?"

Ggobongi dropped his saw mid-stroke and came bounding over. Just two days ago, he would have pretended to be stone deaf whenever I called, but now he answered promptly. Gifting him those reading glasses seemed to have fostered genuine trust between us.

"Do you know who this is?"

I etched the characters into the damp soil with a stick.

"......"

Ggobongi squatted down, squinting intently through his spectacles for several long moments. Recognition sparked in his dark eyes. He nodded vigorously, turned to face me, and let out a string of emphatic vocalizations.

"#%@#%!"

"...Right, you still don't speak Korean, do you?"

"Ooki?"

"Sigh. Damn it."

I really needed to hurry up his language lessons; trying to communicate like this was suffocating. Having to run everything through the Heavenly Demon as an interdimensional translator was an enormous hassle, not to mention rude to her. Nevertheless, I relayed his reaction, and she promptly decoded the meaning for me.

Whether their goal was to assassinate the true heir or bring him back to the fold, the succession was a matter of life and death for the Blood Cult. Geumjang—the pillar of their sect and their ultimate weapon—had been crushed beneath the Heavenly Demon's boot. Marked for destruction by the supreme sovereign herself, what could the remnants of the Blood Cult even do? Nothing. Their only desperate gambit would be clinging to the coattails of Ggobongi and the Chief Gorilla.

No matter how desperately I craved human contact, I had zero desire to bunk with suicidal fanatics comparable to Hitler worshipers. We wouldn't even speak the same language, and there was every chance they would slaughter me in my sleep. Then again, any sane person wouldn't dare set foot anywhere near the Forest of the Four Seasons in the first place...

Back on Earth, religious cultists regularly committed unspeakable horrors under the sway of their gurus. In a fantastical world brimming with literal blood magic, their madness would be magnified tenfold. Resolving to keep a sharp eye out for Blood Cult movements, I sent a final note to the Heavenly Demon.

What kind of clarification had she cooked up to warrant hyping it like that?

I tossed an Inedia Pill to Ggobongi as a reward for his cooperation. The gorilla caught it out of the air with delight and popped it into his mouth like gourmet candy. From his perch on the shelter roof, Ppareumbo cast an enigmatic, heavy glare in my direction, but I carefully looked away. I still had plenty of pills left in reserve.

Now then, let's see if she's posted it yet...

I refreshed the front page of the Gallery.

A thread title that was utterly impossible to ignore flashed across the top of the feed. The author handle was indeed 'Heavenly Demon.' After telling me all that, was she really just going to openly declare her true identity? Flabbergasted by the sheer contradiction between her words and her actions, I clicked the link. The traffic was so immense the page hitched for a solid second before loading.

"Um..."

Whatever else could be said about her, one conclusion was irrefutable.

She is actually a genius.

A truly, terrifyingly wise ruler indeed.