The Oldest Memory
The oldest memory. After suffering from amnesia, the first place I opened my eyes to was a dim, shadowy room. Shards of glass lay scattered across the floor like the face of Eighteen, and my entire body was drenched in a warm liquid, as if I had just stepped out of a bath. Jeong Yongjin stood before me. Dressed in a lab coat, he spoke to me in an excited voice, but I could not recall the details. My gaze had been fixed on the empty air at the time. More precisely, on the hologram window that had appeared.
▼ Predated Hwanjong List
▶ Reviver
An incomprehensible situation. Though my mind was as blank as fresh paper, I recognized its unreality. The decisive reason I could not be called an ordinary person. This hologram was visible only to me. That was why I became this grotesque being who would not die even when killed, and who drooled at the mere sight of a Hwanjong.
Back in the present, I stared at the hologram.
▼ Predated Hwanjong List
▶ Reviver
▶ Neck-Snapping Statue
I confirmed the newly added ability.
Neck-Snapping Statue
Rank: C
Trait: Neck Snap
Penalty: Temporary Loss of Self
▼ Neck Snap
Snaps the neck of every breathing human within a 300-meter radius, based on the user's position.
▼ Precautions
1. This trait applies only to humans.
2. It cannot be canceled after activation.
3. Temporary loss of self lasts for 5 minutes.
...Temporary loss of self. That phrase bothered me. There was no way to use a Hwanjong's ability without cost. Resurrection was the same. Every action demanded a price. In any case, the important question was whether this ability would work on the enemy. I was 100% certain it would. I had cleaned H-I-01's room like a mother. Through more than a hundred deaths, I had learned with my own body just how powerful its neck-snapping was. Among all the hazardous entities, it possessed the highest single-target lethality.
I hid and waited for an opening. When the man, who had been circling the door where Naram noona was trapped and attacking it, realized his efforts were futile and turned his back, I activated the ability.
Trait 'Neck-Snapping' has been activated.
A fog began to settle over my mind. My thoughts grew hazy, as though I were lying on a bed. The surroundings darkened like night, and everything fell silent. I began walking aimlessly.
... ... 9:32 PM. After walking diligently, hunger struck. I felt nauseous, as if I might vomit, yet strangely, my stomach growled. So I picked up the bread at my feet and ate it.
... ... 9:58 PM. I am hungry. Even if I eat dirt. Even if I eat stones. Even if I chew on people. This hunger would not subside.
... ... 10:98 PM. My head is back??■■?? around■ nothing to eat ■ tear off my ■■■. The hunger won't ■settle ■■ feels■.
... ... 4:8■■ PM. Hungry. Tear off my entire body■■■■ still hungry ■■. Hungryhungryhungryhungry?hungry?hungryhungry?hungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungry?hungryhungryhungry?hungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungry?hungryhungryhungryhungryhungry?hungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungry
***
In the Solis Kingdom, Sandrea Richmond was no ordinary man. Gifted with exceptional talent for magic from a young age, he met the Sword Saint by chance and became his disciple. By the age of thirty, he had reached the fifth rank—a height most ordinary mages could never attain even after a lifetime of effort. He possessed an outstanding understanding of physical enhancement spells and swordsmanship. Armed with the mana-absorbing white armor and greatsword gifted by his master, he became a fearsome Anti-magician, striking terror into all who wielded mana. People called him the Sword Master.
The title stuck because, alongside the Sword Saint and his other disciples, he had achieved great feats in the war against the Lunario Kingdom, and among the Sword Saint's seven disciples, he adhered most closely to his master's combat style. For his contributions in that war, Sandrea gained both honor and wealth. It was then that the once-simple country youth, whose only gift had been magical talent, first showed signs of corruption. When even the kingdom's arrogant nobles began praising him as a "war hero," the attention proved too much for a mere rural boy. As time passed, he grew arrogant. Convinced he was a "special human," he sank deeper into that delusion and changed. He believed no one beneath the heavens possessed talent equal to his own, and that he would surpass even his master within ten years. Therefore, it was only natural that a special being like himself should enjoy greater rights than others.
"Please spare me. Please spare me. I beg you. I'll do anything..."
Anyone who so much as irritated him faced death or equivalent punishment.
"I'm not a prostitute. I don't want this. Please don't..."
Beautiful women were assaulted on flimsy pretexts or with promises of gold and jewels.
"If you succeed in this matter, I'll marry you to my daughter and make you a noble."
Even when he killed the innocent, he believed himself entitled to do so. His master and fellow disciples offered warnings and advice when he crossed the line of humanity, but the Sword Master ignored them all. He dismissed their words as the jealous cries of commoners envious of his rise from peasant to noble.
"Sandrea, I can no longer overlook your actions. I will stop you here."
The Sword Master's rampage was finally halted by his own master. To curb the arrogant disciple, the Sword Saint challenged him to a duel. Even while betraying his master, the Sword Master had never ceased his training, and in his delusion that he could win, he accepted. Yet he was defeated and forced to flee the duel. After surviving, he lost everything. Those who fled from a duel paid a steep price for defeat. That price was his gold, his honor, and his noble status. For one who had tasted nectar from the heavens, the depths felt like hell. Though he had survived in disgrace, he thrashed in agony at having lost all he possessed. He wasted his days drowning in drink. The once-brilliant light in his eyes faded completely, leaving only the venom of a defeated man. He wanted to kill the master who had destroyed everything he had. He wanted to reclaim the glory and honor of being the Sword Master.
Then, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity came to him.
"As written in the prophecy, demons have descended upon this world. They will soon attempt to devour this kingdom."
"Will you not slay the demons and once again be remembered as a hero?"
The Holy Light Church. A new religion in the Solis Kingdom that claimed mana was divine grace and that devout believers would receive stronger mana. Though any competent mage would recognize such doctrines as nonsense, the cult enjoyed fervent popularity among commoners, nobles with little magical knowledge, and weaker mages alike. The Sword Master had not been fond of the Holy Light Church, yet he sensed this might be his final chance. Thus, he once again took up his white armor and greatsword to slay demons. He vowed to kill them swiftly and reclaim his status as a hero. That was why he had arrived at the Supernatural Research Institute faster than anyone else.
The demon wearing a human mask was weak. Far weaker than the Sword Master had expected. It wielded strange tools, but that was all. Such power might fell mages of the fourth rank or below, but it held no sway against fifth-rank mages whose barriers had grown sturdy.
'Pathetic.'
The Sword Master beheaded the demon. Then he moved diligently onward, searching for the next one.
"Found it."
The door was grotesque and horrifying, as though an artist of malice had poured every negative human emotion into its design. Occasionally, the head dangling from its peak let out incomprehensible sounds—"Heeek, heeek"—suggesting it was a passage to a demonic realm.
"...How do I open it?"
The Sword Master frowned. Yet his contemplation did not last long. His motto was, "If the body is weak, the head suffers." Being absurdly strong, he had no need to strain his mind like other mages. Clang!! Clang!! "Heeeeeek!!" Clang!! Clang!! "Graaaah!!" Clang!! Clang!! "...It won't budge."
The Sword Master wiped the sweat from his brow. No barrier, no wall had ever withstood him before. So this was what a demonic realm was like.
'I'll have to bring someone from the cult skilled in dispelling barriers. A clever one should find a solution.'
The Sword Master sheathed his greatsword and turned around. Then he doubted his eyes. A demon had appeared, its form even more grotesque than before. Its neck hung at a broken angle like a malfunctioning doll, and blood tears streamed from its eyes. Its eyes were pitch-black, as though dipped in ink, and razor-sharp teeth like saw blades jutted from its gaping maw.
"Aaaaaargh."
The Sword Master's heart trembled once more. This was not excitement or exhilaration. For the first time in ages, he felt fear. Disgust born from an incomprehensible, grotesque appearance. Killing intent darker than any malice in this world. The Sword Master reflexively drew his sword, but—
"Graaah?"
Before the demon, he was nothing more than a powerless man. Countless layers of sturdy barriers shattered in an instant. By the time he regained his senses, his neck was already broken. Impossible. The Sword Master could not believe it. Even if drink had dulled his edge, he had never imagined falling so helplessly. No matter how much he had let his guard down, his barriers should have been difficult even for high-level magic to break. Yet the moment he drew his sword, his neck snapped. The speed was unbelievable. In his prime, he might have dodged it, but the demon's surprise attack was beyond reaction.
'Was the first one a bluff? Did it deliberately lure me into lowering my guard...?'
The Sword Master watched the demon, which was now devouring its own body. The creature chanting in that grotesque voice seemed like the very embodiment of terror, descended before him. His thoughts ceased. It was horrifying. Terrifying. He wanted to flee this place immediately. His legs and arms refused to obey...
"Grreeeaaargh..."
'I don't want to die...'
'I don't want to die so meaninglessly here...'
'I'm a special human...'
'More talented than anyone...'
The Sword Master's heart stopped, empty and hollow.
***
"I'm sorry."
While cleaning up the man's corpse and my own, Naram noona began to sob and scold me, so I dropped to my knees and begged for forgiveness.