The Heavenly Demon's Authority

The Heavenly Demon's Authority.

It begins with the two syllables of Namsang and ends with the two syllables of Sammae.

Even now, I still didn't know whether to call this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a martial art or an authority.

Mumyeong had never been able to explain in detail this power that had settled inside me by chance when I bit into the Heavenly Demon Jade. Because of that, I had been forced to grasp and uncover everything on my own.

The one thing certain beyond doubt was that this ability exacted a price. Mumyeong had warned me that it overloaded the brain, and that overusing it could accelerate the onset of dementia-like deterioration. No one had experienced that more keenly than I had.

It had been the first time, when I had known nothing and copied at once the second-grade Blood Demon Four-Wheel Chain Sword and the third-grade Twin Dragon Whirlwind Sword by the standards of the Cheonma Dae-seogo. I could not remember exactly what it was, but I had lost some precious memory. The most terrifying part was that I did not even know what I had forgotten forever.

Yet before the fact of that forgetting, something else had been seared into my memory with absolute clarity: the hellish agony of the copying process itself. Even when I first copied the fifth-grade Plum Blossom Spinning Dagger, the pain had been severe—but much of that had been the shock of unexpected pain. The torment of copying second- and third-grade arts had been on an entirely different plane.

And now.

For the first time in my life, I was face to face with a first-grade martial art by the standards ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the Cheonma Dae-seogo.

Crack.

Crackle.

Something was cracking. Something inside me was fracturing beyond control. My memories were being deleted. Was my very existence something as thin and fragile as glass? I thought that if the cracks went any further, there would be no turning back. I resisted. But no matter how hard I pressed bare hands against a splitting pane of glass, there was no stopping the growing fissures.

…

…

A gloomy voice muttered endlessly inside my head as if the mechanism itself had broken. This was different from usual. Blatantly so. My body was rejecting it. It was thrashing to stay alive. With every ounce of its strength, it was resisting the activation of the authority.

Ordinarily it would have moved straight to the next stage—however enormous and hard to swallow the lump of meat, it would somehow force the process forward. But it would not advance past a certain point. Something was loud, I thought. A familiar sound. And only much later did I realize it was my own scream.

"Gyaaaaaaah!!!"

Agony wrapped my entire body. Even if every wound were sliced open and packed with salt, it would hurt less than this. For the first time I learned that when pain becomes too extreme, you slip into a third-person viewpoint—as if watching someone else endure it. And the moment I realized late that the suffering was mine, every forgotten agony came crashing back down upon me.

"Ughgh…! Ughghgh!!!"

Froth and spit bubbled from my mouth. All manner of incomprehensible things poured into my mind.

Spurt.

And in a single instant, as if I had plunged into a black, bottomless abyss, everything cut off.

"…."

The place where I stood was a plain buried in white snow. I looked up at the sky. It was blue. A sky so blue it stung the eyes. I looked down at my two hands. There was no sensation at all. I had forgotten what I had been doing until a moment ago. I had forgotten who I was.

My name.

What was it? I couldn't remember. I seemed to recall that it was a name heavy with both love and hatred. The surname given to me. I seemed to recall that I had hated the surname inherited from my father quite a lot.

My mother stood beside me. She wore a young face. Suddenly I became aware of myself holding her hand. It was an extremely small hand. Quietly I let go of Mother's hand and looked at my own.

Something about this feels terribly strange.

It had been a long time since I had seen hands so young. Then I looked to the side.

Who are you?

There was a black clump. It was crouched beside me, sitting demurely atop the snowfield.

Well now.

The voice was somehow familiar.

You don't recognize me again.

I did not know how to answer that. The child version of me said something absurd even to myself.

Are you… a friend?

I don't know exactly what meaning that word is supposed to carry, but I suspect it may be the most useless and least trustworthy word in this world.

Whether we spoke or not, the mother beside me only stared endlessly at the blue sky, as if time itself had stopped. I shook her hand, but she did not even look at me.

I wonder when he will come.

Mother only muttered words I could not understand. My body was cold. I hated standing endlessly in this winter field, so for a long while I pestered Mother to go home. Forever, Mother did not look at me. I gave up pestering. I spoke toward the black clump that only gazed at me from the side.

Aren't you going home?

The house is collapsing.

The house?

Yes. So it's ambiguous. Whether I should return home, or not.

Then…

I looked left. I looked right. I looked at the sky. I looked at the ground. On the white snowfield, breathing out white puffs of air, I said to the black clump:

You must be cold.

Hm?

If your house collapses in a winter like this, you'll freeze, won't you?

I would be cold. But that isn't the only house there is. Honestly speaking, I can simply watch.

Really?

Yes. If it's going to collapse halfway, better it collapse completely—then I can find another house anew. It isn't a splendid house to begin with, only a shabby, wretched one, so from my position there's no need to cling to it. There may be hardship until I find the next house, of course.

Hmm. In that case, well, leaving it to collapse might not be so bad either.

The black clump raised something like a short, stubby tentacle of an arm and pointed at my mother.

Is that your mother?

Yes.

So this is the mother the Host always mutters about in his sleep. This is the first time I've seen her in the flesh. She always looked so hazy before.

I thought some familiar, longed-for word had just passed in that sentence. The black clump muttered.

The Host won't remember, but every night we had many conversations on this plain. Though 'conversations' is less accurate than 'fights.'

Really? I don't remember any of it.

I remember everything. We are alike. Horribly so. That is why I believe we will never compromise with each other to the end. To dream of warm, cost-free friendship—both the Host and I are far too realistic…

The black clump spoke quietly.

…and worn down and exhausted by reality.

What are you even talking about? I don't understand.

The black clump waved its short arms and shrugged its shoulders.

Explaining would be meaningless. When you wake you'll forget again anyway, and the Host will keep living driven by spite, the way he always has, to cover a heart left with nothing but scars.

I don't know who you're talking about, but if there's someone living that way, it must be a terribly sad life.

…Do you remember what I said at the beginning?

What?

Pat, pat.

The black clump brushed itself off and stood.

We are mixed together. Whether that was intended or not. The Host grows to resemble me, and I grow to resemble the Host. In that sense…

The black clump stood beside me and looked up at the blue sky.

As for me, I simply cannot stand by and watch this willful house collapse.

……

…

..

Flash.

I opened my eyes. Or rather, recovering my senses might have been the more accurate expression. I had blacked out. And the moment I woke from that blackout, the hellish pain resumed as if it had been waiting for me.

Crack, crack!

A damp, gloomy voice cried out as if thrashing in desperation.

"Th-this…! Ghh!!"

A choking smell of seared meat wrapped my whole body. Scarlet lightning of crimson flame coiled around me.

Damn… it!

I was taking something in with mad intensity. It was no longer merely tracing the imprint of a martial art. It was like a lantern of dying memories racing past my eyes.

I had it wrong. This…! This isn't simply an ability that copies martial arts.

I had been under a critical misconception. This was not simply copying martial arts. It was not an authority of such a simple dimension.

It was literally bringing it over! The entire past related to the martial art!

It had been flowing too fast for me to notice. I had been thrashing against the pain and failed to notice.

Everything was passing before my eyes. Every trial and error the Yama King had undergone from the moment he first acquired Heaven and Earth Great Shift until he trained in it.

And in between, the dense frustration, rage, and hatred the Yama King had felt came surging into me. Only then did one phrase the gloomy voice had recited without feeling—a phrase I had let slide by—drive into my mind like an awl and make sense.

So this is what 'Possession Experience Synchronization' meant!

"You bastard—what sorcery are you using?!"

KRAKOOM!

With a roar, Jeokmaryeong, wreathed in violet lightning, charged.

It was a fist. It flew in a straight line for my head.

I have to block it.

Even through the pain that made my mind go blank, the thought that failing to stop it meant instant death cut through. I snatched the last dagger remaining in my robes. With everything I had, I poured what residual internal energy remained of my twenty-gapja into my right arm.

This alone was not enough to stand against a first-grade Heaven and Earth Great Shift. The instant I struck, my left palm smashed down on the pommel of the dagger and ignited the explosive charge as well.

"What—?!"

A flash of light swept across Jeokmaryeong's bulging eyes.

KRAKOOM!

My eardrums half-ruptured. "Uwaaagh!" the watching Demonic Cult members screamed. Rumble… CRASH! The rain-soaked cliff face collapsed with a thunderous roar.

"Kraaagh!"

Unable to fully cancel the force, my body went flying like a scrap of paper. "Cough… cough!" I spat out the muddy water that had gotten into my mouth. My whole body was in tatters. But there was no room for self-pity. I crawled out with desperate strength.

A voice thick with hatred shook the cliffs as it rang out.

"You… you… maggot-spawn of the orthodox path!"

With a sharp crack, the white blank mask Jeokmaryeong wore fissured. The crack widened until at last the mask shattered and fell away. What was revealed between the fragments was Jeokmaryeong's bare face—covered in scars of every kind, radiating a savage light from his eyes.

"I'll tear you apart and kill you! How dare you inflict such humiliation on this seat!"

The arm he had thrust toward me was torn and scraped in every direction, blood streaming. But that was all.

"He's a monster."

It had been an ambush. Into the Twin Dragon Whirlwind Sword, into which I had poured every scrap of my twenty-gapja of internal energy, I had driven an explosive dagger into the bare fist of an opponent who—however much a master—was still bare-handed, and detonated it. I had done it ready for my own arm to be sheared off. Yet all it had accomplished was to smash Jeokmaryeong's mask.

On top of that, Jeokmaryeong's sudden assault a moment earlier had halted the progress of the Heavenly Demon's Authority.

Activation impossible?!

It seemed to be the effect of the interruption mid-process. I could feel the mental image that had been rapidly locking into place before my eyes scatter and dissolve.

Gwoooong…

The crimson eyes were going dark. My last card was going dark. Jeokmaryeong went berserk.

"I'll kill you! I'll personally pull out your fingers and toes one by one and make you howl for mercy through the gorge!"

My knees shook. Being locked alone in a cage with a rampaging tiger would have been less terrifying than this. There was no way to defeat that monster. No—I wasn't even hoping to win. There was no way to survive.

Clink.

Something fell from my robes.

"This is…"

It was the silver paper wrapped in a gold cord that Pahwanggun had handed me. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Pahwanggun's words rose in my mind.

—When you truly face a crisis so dire that death is staring you in the face—when no matter how hard you think, death is the only answer—use this. The method of use is…

With hands shaking violently, I fumbled for the handle at the back of the bell. Just as Pahwanggun had told me, I gripped the bamboo cap and pulled it free. A blue jade bead set into it came into view. I raised it high.

"Damn it all!"

Honestly, I had no idea whether something like this would work. In a border region like this? Superstitious nonsense like this in the middle of nowhere…? And what kind of variable could possibly arise in a place crawling with Demonic Cult members?

Every kind of doubt filled my head. But there was no other way. Before that beast in front of me charged—!

BANG!

The jade bead set in the bell's handle shattered to pieces.

"Next…!"

With a hand that was nearly broken, I seized the bell's handle. I yanked out the cotton packed inside the bell and shook it.

Ting—.

It was a clear, pure bell tone.

Ting—.

And nothing happened. Only the bell sound rang out exactly as I shook it.

"…?"

The watching Demonic Cult members cocked their heads.

"This… this…!"

Shaking the silver bell without end, I screamed.

"Fuck, you could've at least given me a thunderbolt bomb so I could fight back! Instead of this goddamn rattle! What, am I supposed to hold a memorial service at my own grave or what?!"

Even as I shook it, I had no idea what I was doing. The one clear effect it produced was only this:

"There are limits to how far you can mock me!"

Jeokmaryeong charged like a madman. As a means of provocation, it was certainly effective.

"U-uwaagh! Damn it!"

Tingtingtingting.

I shook the bell like a lunatic. Before Jeokmaryeong's fist, bearing down with force enough to pulp my skull in an instant, I squeezed my eyes shut. The vivid image of my head bursting like a watermelon filled my vision.

It's over.

Ting…!

One last silver-bell note rang through the gorge—and then.

"Stop shaking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. I have heard you well enough."

Jeokmaryeong's fist had stopped right in front of my nose.

"What?!"

Jeokmaryeong screamed. His fist was seized in one hand and held still before him.

Grroooan…

The earth shook under Jeokmaryeong's energy. Even so, the long, slender fingers that stopped his straight punch did not yield an inch. It was a hand wrapped in silver silk like bandages.

"You blocked this seat's fist with one hand?"

Jeokmaryeong muttered blankly.

"However much this may be the outermost fringe, this place is still unquestionably orthodox territory—so why is a disciple of the Heavenly Demon Cult here? Have you lost your mind?"

Someone stood blocking my path.

"This can't be. Why are you…"

Torrential rain poured down. Rain fell hard enough to soak everything. Yet the one who stood before me, long hair streaming, did not have a single fold of clothing wet. In the downpour, silver hair of immense length whipped and flowed.

Another Heaven Beyond Heaven, following Jeokmaryeong—another I now faced. And this person, I had already met once before.

"Eun Seollyeong?"