False Heaven

Misfortune events that try to kill a player usually do it indirectly — heavenly punishment, meteor strikes, absurdly high-level monsters spawning out of nowhere. Depending on how well you've raised your character, you can still fight your way out of those.

But the things that pop out of an Eok-kka event? No buildup. No warning. The trigger just fires, and the moment the conditions are met, the message [You have died.] slams across the screen.

It didn't matter how strong the player was. Didn't matter if their gear and skills were maxed out in cheat mode, or if they were sitting in an invincible state. None of it meant a thing.

Because the character just drops dead on the spot. There is no counterplay.

So the second I clawed my way free of the shock of nearly dying right there in my own base to a random Eok-kka event, I raised my voice and shouted.

"Skill Window!!!"

Were all special skills like this? Just a flavor description and no actual effect listed.

So what the hell even was this skill.

I headed straight back to the training grounds, sat down, and tried to run the art immediately.

Naturally, slaughter energy wouldn't circulate through it. Following the memories that had been jammed into my head the instant the skill appeared, I moved spiritual energy from my Golden Core according to the art's method —

Wait. Hold on?!

I'd filled my Golden Core with slaughter energy disguised as spiritual energy —?!

The second I remembered that little detail, the disguised slaughter energy moved exactly as the art dictated. The activated technique sent a red-sunset tide of slaughter energy blooming outward from me, dyeing everything around me blood-red.

Slaughter energy rolled across the training ground floor like waves.

A familiar sight. A familiar scene.

"...?"

It was the same look as when I'd forced my Mental World into reality by using the wheel as an axis and dragged it out into the open.

An art for creating a sky of one's own.

So Reason Against Heaven was an art that presupposed the manifestation of a Mental World.

The very technique Cheon Nan-cho had openly dismissed as so filthy old it was practically ancient — the Mental World.

Any cultivator could copy it. It wasn't even a proper art.

Which meant there were just as many ways to counter it.

"Hmm..."

For a skill that came pre-loaded with an Eok-kka event, the effect felt oddly underwhelming — and then something felt off.

Because normally, projecting a Mental World into reality meant handing every cultivator with the means to attack a Mental World a free shot at your weak point.

That was why I'd only ever used the wheel — my true-name Dharma Treasure — to temporarily construct one, and only for the purpose of detonating slaughter energy with the Bomb skill or yanking out a massive volume of it all at once.

But the Mental World I'd just called up with this art was... different.

Aside from a light cost in mental power and spiritual energy at the moment of activation, there was almost no burden — and once it was up, I could even feel slaughter energy replenishing.

"What is this."

For a Mental World manifestation, something was wrong.

I snuck a glance at the skill window. The skill level was climbing in real time.

That was the same leveling speed I'd only ever seen when I first acquired the basic skill, Human Slaughter Art. Looking at that, it did seem like this really was calling up a Mental World.

"I should ask Elder Togo!"

His help-functionality was lacking compared to Cheon Nan-cho, sure — but he'd lived a long time. When it came to junk techniques like the Mental World (Cheon Nan-cho's words, not mine), he'd know far more than she did, right?

I dismissed the art, left the training grounds, and scurried straight to Elder Togo to brag about my new cultivation art.

No — wait. Asking about the art came first, not bragging.

"A cultivation art related to the Mental World? How curious. Even before I was sealed, the Mental World was already considered an outdated technique. How did our little newborn come to be tied to such an art?"

"I know, right!"

The foundation of my Mental World had been laid when I first completed Qi Condensation. I'd instinctively recognized the Sea of Slaughter built atop the Status Window inside my mind just before forming ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my Core. And only after the Core was complete had the Mental World actually taken shape.

In other words, I had no idea why the Mental World even existed.

It was there, so I used it. That was all!

"So what is this art called?"

"Uh — Reason Against Heaven!"

"I've never heard of it either. Would you show me?"

I activated the art in front of Elder Togo, who was watching like this was some kind of adorable performance.

This time I properly injected spiritual energy from my Golden Core instead of slaughter energy — and a golden world began to bloom, then collapsed on the spot.

...?

It doesn't work with spiritual energy?!

"Uhyahak...?"

A dazed noise slipped out of me as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠my body went limp and crumpled.

What the hell.

There was no strength left in my body at all.

I sat there feeling completely neutralized while Elder Togo scooped me up, held me, and stroked my head for a long while.

"Don't push yourself, little newborn."

No, that wasn't it — something was weird. Earlier, when I'd accidentally run it on slaughter energy, a Mental World packed full of the Sea of Slaughter had come out just fine. Normally? Well — normally?

Then whose Mental World was that golden one I'd just seen for the first time?

No need to think about it.

It had to be me who wasn't me — the one with a different name. Yu I-seong.

That had been Yu I-seong's Mental World.

And if my Mental World was a world overflowing with slaughter energy, then Yu I-seong's was one overflowing with spiritual energy.

But that difference alone didn't explain the total powerlessness I was feeling right now.

I kept turning it over and over in Elder Togo's arms until my thoughts finally reached the exclusive weapon sitting inside my heart — Yu I-seong's.

Yu I-seong's exclusive weapon, her conscience, her heart.

Yu I-seong's Mental Image.

Was it Evil Karma proportional damage?!?!

This is Eok-kka, isn't it?!

By base time alone, I'd been completely neutralized for over three days. The moment I recovered enough to move even a trickle of slaughter energy inside my body again, I immediately ran the art from inside Elder Togo's arms.

This time I properly circulated the slaughter energy disguised as spiritual energy, and the slaughter energy flooding the manifested Mental World restored me to full in an instant.

Perfect revive!

Before I could even move after the sudden recovery, Elder Togo — still holding me — let out a small exclamation of realization and spoke.

"So that's what it was. A False Heaven, indeed."

"What's that?"

"A kind of self-assertion. Telling Heaven a lie — This is my domain! It doesn't project a Mental World into reality. It assimilates reality to behave as if it were a Mental World."

"Is that good?"

So what's the actual performance?

"I would call it a difficult art. If it grows well, it could stand against world-altering Laws to a meaningful degree on its own."

"So it's still below Laws, then?"

"But if you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠use a Law together with this art, wouldn't that make you even stronger? You've obtained a fine art, little newborn."

Elder Togo's official stamp of approval: this was a performance skill. Thud.

Want to argue? Come back after you've raised your realm higher than Elder Togo's! For reference, his peak was the late stage of Deity Transformation — keep that in mind!

When you're comparing game tiers, records, or scores, always cite the highest record. That's the national rule.

"Thank you, Elder Togo!"

Alright. Now that I'd confirmed this was a good skill worthy of the special tag, only one thing remained.

"What do I rename this skill."

A truly enormous problem.

Using a skill without shouting its name either took forever or required thousands of repetitions until it became second nature — so of course I had to rename it.

I mean, I couldn't exactly yell Reason Against Heaven! in the middle of every fight.

And no matter how I looked at it, the name was too long.

"Hmm... two characters, as always. That makes it even harder."

Yu Hee believed that if you secured performance, romance followed — and that affection was born when performance and romance walked together. So the struggle to name it in a way that preserved the romance went on for a very long time.

"Deployment... no, Domain... hmm... Barrier?"

Wasn't there anything decent in two characters.

After agonizing over it for ages, Yu Hee finally pulled the barcode scanner from her heart, converted it into a phone, and dialed the Humanity Clones for help.

Of course, the Humanity Clones were currently locked in combat with a Reality Denial that had grown far stronger thanks to the slaughter energy disguised as spiritual energy, so they were in no position to take that help request — but they were still, in their own way, Yu ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hee. And they were dead serious about naming things.

"Oh, and for the record — Fantasy Manifestation, Inherent Barrier, Domain Expansion, Stand, and anything like that is banned. Banned."

Even after the connection cut off with a click, Yu Hee fretted and fretted — and finally made her decision.

"Skill Name Change."