The Difference of a Single Rank

It had been a world where all things shone with splendor.

To the people of today, it would have been called a true heaven — a paradise. That is, until the beings from beyond invaded.

Already a tale of more than a thousand years past.

It was a world that, nowadays, more souls had never heard of than had.

She — the God of Beginning and Blessing — had created the White Temple. In the beginning, it was a temple built to repel the outer beings, its sole purpose the salvation of paradise's people. She had gathered survivors and divinities alike from every planet the outer beings had ravaged.

She never dreamed of revenge. Their power was far too dangerous; even staking her own life, the odds of victory were slim. And she could not bear ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to look away from those who followed her.

The God of Beginning and Blessing had simply wanted to resist.

One by one, their number swelled. More than ten divinities came to dwell there, and before anyone noticed, the little temple had grown bloated and vast.

Such was the origin of the White Temple.

None of it means anything now.

He looked around. All about him stood the beings who had turned against her and everyone who followed her.

"What is this farce supposed to be?"

"Fighting the outer beings is meaningless. Someday their power will surpass our own."

"Isn't that exactly why the White Temple was built?"

The God of Struggle laughed, savage and unrestrained.

"So now you'll tuck your tails like beaten dogs and throw in your lot with the outer beings? They know no satisfaction. Ally with them today, and one day they will devour you too."

"It will be fine. We have a means."

So spoke the God of Beginning and Blessing. The God of Struggle arched an eyebrow, as if that serene, unshakable poise of hers disgusted him.

"A 'survival' bought by sacrificing your followers and ours, is it?"

One corner of his mouth curled upward. A sneer, plain and simple.

"We swallowed every humiliation, every insult — all the way until our power brimmed to its very limit. And we judged this place to be the moment."

Earth had been a singularly special planet. And it was crowded with people. Though they possessed no special abilities whatsoever, they had multiplied into the billions.

The God of Struggle remembered the day he first fell upon that world.

An incomparably radiant planet, with vast oceans of mana still pooled within the world itself.

And so he had resolved: he would raise his strength here, and fight his final battle.

Perhaps, in truth, he had simply grown tired. He had made struggle his divine calling — and yet he had been the one who ran.

"Well — it's all pointless talk now. You have already resolved to betray us, and we have judged that you must die. We have."

At his words, the God of the Firmament raised a hand. The sky flared white as countless black clouds came boiling in from every horizon.

In a single instant the heavens flashed — and thousands of bolts of lightning came crashing down.

First things first. I thought through what state the battlefield was actually in.

Asymmetric power had met asymmetric power — and our allied Transcendents were, against all odds, holding the advantage.

The greatest danger to us was this: the mere possibility that I might die meant someone was interfering — that our Transcendent allies ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had been placed in peril.

Or that the White Temple — humanity's faction — might actually lose.

I didn't want to think about it, but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if the White Temple fell even with the Emperor stepping in, then this entire board we'd worked so hard to tilt in our favor would collapse into meaningless wasted effort. And for all our advantage, if the enemy Transcendents were holding hidden cards of their own, this was never going to be settled with one quick strike.

So what was the most realistic scenario?

Someone intervenes.

If Hyeong-ak and Jan-ak had someone who could buy them even a single moment of time — then the people on the ground would die, one after another.

Then it has to be me.

I had considered pulling Seo Gayeon out, but borrowing her power was still premature. Countless magic soldiers swarmed the ground below, and if the Nazi Empire committed itself in earnest, she needed to stay right where she was. Hong Yuhwa and Seong Hanbyeol were impossible to extract either — they had to remain and protect Seo Gayeon.

I donned the Mask of Bewitchment and strapped on every piece of armament I could carry.

Even so, the unease refused to fade.

"O Light, bring annihilation to those evil spawn!"

"O God of Struggle, O God of the Heavens! Lend us your strength!"

The city was already half-collapsed, yet the people's eyes stayed unflinching and true — perhaps because they knew the White Temple stood behind them.

I leaped high, straight toward the most powerful-looking demon in the vicinity.

— Ahahaha! The wretched vermin comes seeking its very own grave!

There was no need to draw Heukcheon. I simply sheathed my fist in Heaven-Defying Qi.

Black Mirror.

The Heaven-Defying Qi coiled around my hand. With a light flick of the wrist, as if scattering seed, I gestured.

CRRRASH—!

I shattered the armor the demon had forged from demonic energy and laid my palm flat against its sternum.

Thud.

A light sound. But the Heaven-Defying Qi that had breached through Black Mirror convulsed through its insides.

— Kgh... Such... such an impossible power...

The demon toppled.

Retrieve.

And then, the Formula of Absorption. I applied the two powers in tandem: the Heaven-Defying Qi withdrew, and the Formula of Absorption drank down the corrupt energy it left behind.

My head throbbed.

...This one's a bit rough.

Every demon I felled sent its power passing through me undiluted. The concept stat itself climbed quickly, but the efficiency was poor.

"Th-thank you. Thanks to you, we can finish up quickly and go help the others."

"M-Masked Man? The man who wielded the golden flame in Korea?"

……

This was not exactly welcome.

...Then again, perhaps it was a little welcome after all.

I leaped once more, up onto a rooftop. Whenever a dangerous demon appeared nearby, I took it down and reclaimed its power — and I kept that rhythm up for some time.

Then the Sword Demon's senses warned me that I was standing inside someone's 'range.'

Ding.

A translucent blue window bloomed across my vision.

I fixed my gaze on the alley. Fifty meters out, a man in a long coat and a fedora was swaying unsteadily toward me.

"This is troublesome."

The man was smiling. And I knew him. As things stood, he was someone I could not beat even if I died and came back to life.

"I didn't want to cross paths with you."

……

A dark aura seeped off him, rising like heat haze. My senses screamed their alarms like mad: run, now. Abandon everyone, and you might just survive.

"See? Who else would be carrying a tool that can summon a Transcendent whenever they please? You must be someone the Transcendents hold very dear."

The man's eyes glinted as he said it. A killing intent thick enough to choke the breath from me came crashing down. Those pupils brimmed over with envy, jealousy, and greed.

"I did a little digging into you, once. What a fascinating life you've lived."

……

Every word clung to me, sticky and rotten. Words steeped in jealousy and spite; eyes that glittered with naked covetousness.

"You must have lived wanting for nothing. You're probably some great family's secret weapon. Or somebody's inheritance. Anyway — here's what I wanted to say."

The man's killing intent grew thicker still.

"Even knowing the Transcendents love you, I'm so jealous of you it's driving me out of my mind. That's why I never wanted to meet you."

"Because I'd want to kill you—," he added.

"Even knowing it would turn the Transcendents against me, I came to want you dead. No — that alone wouldn't quite be enough, would it. And it seems you know about my ability. Good. Then that settles it. From this moment on, I'm going to parasite you. Right after I kill you."

The Parasite — Kalia.

The sword in his hand began to hum. Strand by strand, a deep violet energy started winding around the blade he held.

Sword qi compressed to its absolute extreme, shaped into threads — threads used to hone the blade itself. And once that was done, the sword transformed into something like a star given form.

The light of destruction that unmakes all things — Sword Gang. And it unfurled in the demon's hand.

"Now, then..."

The demon stopped mid-stride, staring past my shoulder.

"You people are always the same. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moment you decide your own strength falls short, you drag someone else down and seat yourselves in their place. That, in itself, is no sin. It, too, is part of struggle."

Clop, clop.

So spoke a knight atop a white horse, as if he had ridden straight out of another age. Behind him stood dozens more — their emblems all different, yet every single one of them bearing divinity.

"But harming your rival and selling off your own soul — that act itself is repulsive. Killing others despite your own inadequacy, stealing what is theirs, coveting another's possessions as your own — that behavior alone is proof that you deserve no quarter," the knight said quietly.

"The likes of you?"

The demon laughed, sounding thoroughly amused.

"You cannot be serious. One Upper Rank and ten Middle Ranks — plus a rabble of lower Ranks — and you dare face me? Even granting the gap between divinity and demonic energy... the likes of you?"

The demon. Kalia snickered as he looked my way.

"Well, fine. It merely delays me a little. Once I've wrung every last one of your necks and gone to aid Lord Hyeong-ak, all will be well."

Kalia spoke with leisure, then intoned softly:

"Poor, pitiful faithful. And you — today, I shall teach you what the difference of a single Rank truly means."