Touch of the Evil God (1)
The Celestial Observatory is divided into two primary components.
First, microscopic cameras that drift through Earth's atmosphere, penetrating wherever the wind blows.
Second, a supercomputer on the Moon that aggregates and processes the high-resolution data transmitted by those cameras.
Naturally, this high-performance computer includes an AI. It only made sense. When one is stationed alone on the Moon for a long-term deployment, one cannot simply radio headquarters every time an unexpected situation arises. If an enemy nation were to intercept the transmission, the entire espionage operation would be compromised. Aside from regular reports, the frequency of communications had to be kept to an absolute minimum.
Thus, the method chosen was an interactive AI integrated into the Celestial Observatory. An AI to which I could offload all sorts of miscellaneous tasks, from program troubleshooting and colony maintenance to meal planning and physical conditioning. Of course, the AI in the observatory isn't capable of providing the diverse, conversational responses of old, trendy models like ChatGPT or Gemini. For security reasons, the data it was trained on is highly biased; so while its processing power is vastly superior, it makes for a terribly dull conversationalist. Having experienced this firsthand during my months of isolation, I can say this with absolute certainty.
Even so, the AI bundled with the Celestial Observatory possessed undeniable capability in fields like programming. Its computational power was so immense that even I, with only a rudimentary knowledge of coding, was able to forge a brand-new program after a bit of trial and error. Namely, the Battle Pattern Analyzer. I had successfully created a program that analyzed a target's physical dimensions, habits, and weight distribution to predict their next move.
'In the old days, it was all about pressing missile launch buttons, but ever since the Awakened appeared, close-quarters combat with cold weapons has made a comeback.'
I had figured it would come in handy someday. My prediction from years ago was proving entirely correct. Beyond the monitor of the Celestial Observatory, the sharpest blade of the Haninhae was currently assaulting the girl.
I loaded Yeomyeong's combat files into the Battle Pattern Analyzer. Since he was the one I had watched the longest—and fought against an absurd number of times—the accuracy of his pattern analysis was higher than anyone else's. All that was left was to relay the information provided by the analyzer to the girl.
I sank deep into the observatory's chair. Operating the panel, I switched the observatory's display mode from the standard monitor view to the immersive mode. The landscape of Earth unfolded before me in three dimensions, like a 3D movie. It was a mode I rarely used. It tended to cause motion sickness, and it narrowed the observable field of view. But now was not the time to be picky. To keep the girl alive, I had to give her the most precise instructions possible.
Pouring every ounce of my concentration into the observatory, I muttered, "Please, just follow my lead."
A young man who dared to demand their eviction from the very land of the church guided by the Evil God: Yeomyeong. At his words, Seraphina immediately rallied her followers. The battle commenced without delay. He was a dangerous variable, and she wanted him removed as quickly as possible. The fact that he was from another world yet did not wear an Iron Mask was deeply unsettling, but she did not doubt. She believed in the power of the gifts bestowed by the Evil God.
Fifty cultists, their movements synchronized through Merlin's illusion magic. She believed they would easily subdue the young man. It took less than a minute for that belief to shatter.
"Where on earth did you acquire this many firearms? Currently, possession of firearms is illegal in Korea."
Even amidst the roaring thunder of the battlefield, his voice rang out calmly. Though death sought to pierce him from every direction, the young man's expression did not waver in the slightest. As if entirely accustomed to this, he took cover, waiting for the split second they swapped out their catalysts.
Thwack! He swung a sword that gleamed with a silvery light. Even in the bright daylight, the sword's moonlight did not fade. The flat of his blade struck the back of a cultist's neck just as the man took a step to slip behind cover.
"Urgh—" Struck by the flat of the blade, the cultist collapsed, unable to even let out a proper scream.
"Since this is still a first warning, I will only incapacitate your followers. Once you, the one they call the Saintess, are arrested, this organization will naturally fall apart."
There was not a shred of hesitation in the young man's—no, the warrior's—movements. He utilized the church's ground-level buildings without restriction. Just when they thought he had hidden behind a pillar and turned their heads, the moonlight would flash from the ceiling. It was less of a battle and more of a hunt. Like an experienced hunter preying on beasts, he subtly lured them, led them into traps, and brought them down. Unfazed by their superior numbers, he systematically shaved away their forces from the outside in.
Even Merlin's command was useless in that moment. Though Seraphina pinpointed his location through the divine gaze and Merlin conveyed it via illusion magic, the warrior had already relocated before the information could reach the cultists. With every blink of an eye, another cultist fell. The roaring tempest of gunfire gradually quieted.
Then, the moment arrived. The moment their catalysts ran dry. Of course, there were plenty of catalysts left in the church headquarters, but they couldn't carry them all on their persons. Flustered by their enemy's unimaginable movements, the cultists had depleted their catalysts much faster than anticipated, and their opponent was not soft enough to grant them the time to reload.
"Are you finished? Then, let us begin."
The opponent, who had been evading and hiding, shifted to the offensive. Sheathing his moonlit straight sword, he gripped the moon blade on his back. He lightly swung the weapon, which was as tall as he was. Whoosh! The sound of tearing wind echoed. It was infinitely weaker than the thunder produced by the Evil God's gifts, yet somehow, it sounded far sharper.
The cultists hurriedly flipped their Thunder Staffs, gripping them like steel clubs in a desperate bid to resist. But, as was only natural, they were no match. Even the beastmen's physical capabilities, vastly superior to ordinary humans, were swept away like fallen leaves before the descending moon blade. The force of fifty, who had hardened themselves through a life on the run, did not last even five minutes.
"...Saintess. You must flee."
Watching the scene unfold, Merlin whispered with a grim expression. The old man was already certain. There was no chance of victory. No matter what they did, they could not win. While this was undoubtedly a trial from God, if everyone could pass every trial, it wouldn't be a trial at all. Some trials simply could not be overcome immediately. Merlin believed this was one of those moments.
"I will buy you whatever time I can. But it won't be long. A warrior of that caliber does not rely solely on sight. So..."
Steadying his trembling steps, the old man stepped in front of Seraphina. Pressing a finger against his heart, he conjured a blue mana at his fingertips. Believing that as long as the Saintess—the one who held God's gaze—escaped, the church could always be rebuilt.
"...No. It is fine, Merlin."
Yet, despite the old man's resolve, Seraphina merely reached out to him gently. Pushing him aside with a light touch, she took a step forward. Her voice was calm, utterly steady. Only then did Merlin turn his gaze away from Yeomyeong. He witnessed exactly where the eyes of the Saintess, who held God's attention, were focused.
"I will not be taken from here."
"Ah..."
"Because it seems God does not wish for it."
Though Seraphina's head was turned toward Yeomyeong, her ruby-red eyes were focused elsewhere. Around the powerful warrior who had just incapacitated all the cultists and was now shaking the blood off his moon blade. Around his body, spanning the entire range where his moon blade and straight sword could reach. She was staring at the silvery lines of light that traced the warrior's attack paths.
"...Whew. How unexpected. To think you wouldn't run."
Having knocked out all the cultists, Yeomyeong spoke as he sheathed his moon blade back onto his back. He was breathing heavily, slightly out of breath. To put it another way, subduing dozens of soldiers armed with the Evil God's gifts had cost the warrior nothing more than a slight disturbance in his breathing.
The massive warrior approached Seraphina. The sheer difference in height, combined with the overwhelming aura radiating from him, naturally pricked at the girl's skin.
"If you have given up, I must say it is a wise choice. You will face judgment in accordance with the lawful procedures of the Haninhae for unauthorized building occupation, illegal possession of firearms, and unlicensed religious activities—"
Pulling a binding rope from his pocket, Yeomyeong reached out to grab Seraphina's wrists. After all, a religious cult would naturally dissolve once its leader was captured. The details written in the mission order from the Haninhae—claims of being a priestess of an Evil God or hailing from another world—would all become meaningless once she was bound and thrown into a cell. No matter where she came from, she could not escape the order of the Haninhae, which Yeomyeong himself enforced.
"—and as such, you are hereby notified that you will be detained in the Haninhae holding facility. You have the right to defend yourself during your trial, and..."
Just as Yeomyeong was about to slip the rope over Seraphina's hands, slip. The girl's pale hands smoothly glided out from between the ropes. Was she playing a game? Or had she finally realized the gravity of her future? Yeomyeong looked at her face once more.
"...I have no choice, then. I will finish reading you your rights after you are in custody."
She was staring into the empty air. Her eyes were focused as if she could see something hidden within the cracks of the hazy sky. This was a pattern he had often seen during arrests. Usually, it was gang bosses high on drugs who acted like this. Yeomyeong sighed and moved his arm. He intended to strike the back of her neck with the edge of his hand to knock her out.
Whoosh! The warrior's sturdy hand sliced through the air. There was no resistance. No sensation of impact. Sensing something amiss, his eyes narrowed. Somehow, the girl had already turned her head, slipping completely out of his attack range.
'...What a bizarre coincidence.'
Yeomyeong reached out again. While the back of the neck was the least painful spot, a strike to the solar plexus would also do the trick. Controlling his strength so as not to pierce her fragile body, he thrust his fist toward her chest.
"...?!"
But once again, Yeomyeong's fist missed its mark. The girl had twisted her body and taken a step back. Yeomyeong immediately altered the trajectory of his hand, but she evaded even that by pulling her waist back. She moved precisely to the exact spot where the attack could not reach. Once or twice could be a coincidence, but three times was not. Faced with this unexpected situation, Yeomyeong muttered.
"...It seems you are well-versed in martial arts."
There were no signs of training on the girl's body. Her skin was soft rather than calloused. He had assumed that once the cultists were dealt with, arresting her would be simple. Had he been arrogant? Trying to bind her before even subduing her.
"Then again, to establish a religious organization in an era like this, you must have a trick or two up your sleeve. I underestimated you. My apologies."
Yeomyeong spoke as he drew his straight sword. Soon, his blade began to shimmer with a silvery light resembling the moon. This was an ability he had acquired by slaying an Awakened who infused cold weapons with mana, and then consuming the magic stone harvested from their corpse. With this, an ordinary iron sword became an unyielding, masterwork blade.
——!
Tearing through the very sound of the air, the sword lunged forward. Though he swung with the flat of the blade to merely incapacitate her, the speed and power of the strike were far from ordinary. The very sword that had executed countless criminals—those who boasted of their martial arts prowess or ran rampant after awakening powerful abilities—was now thrust toward a single young girl. And yet, once again.
Step.
With a light step, the girl slipped out of the blade's path.
"...!!!"
No matter how many times he repeated it, the result was the same. Whether he slashed, thrust, or brought the blade down, the young woman evaded every single attack path with steps as light as a dance. She wasn't exceptionally fast. Her reaction time wasn't superhuman. Yet, she remained untouched.
'What on earth is this!'
Faced with a style he had never encountered before, Yeomyeong was secretly astonished. Slipping out of the path. It couldn't even be called dodging. If she were blocking, parrying, or evading after reading the telegraphs of his attacks, he could understand. It would simply mean her abilities surpassed his own—that she excelled beyond him in either physical capability or technique. In that case, he could adapt. He could win.
The Awakened ability Yeomyeong possessed was one of constant growth. It absorbed all arts. Its capacity for Acquisition was so absolute that he could master even a foreign world's language in an instant; given enough time, he could overcome any opponent. But this was different. "Dodging" was a concept of combat. It required reacting to footwork, the shift of shoulders, and the like. Yet, the girl wasn't even looking at Yeomyeong. She merely stared into the empty air around him with her unfocused red eyes.
Even that did not last long. After a few more futile strikes, the girl closed her eyes entirely. She closed her eyes and concentrated, sensing "something" with every inch of her skin. And then she moved. She moved before Yeomyeong could even decide where to strike.
For a moment, the warrior felt as if he had become a puppet. The combat experience etched into his body, the talent and ability forged through life-or-death struggles—whenever he thrust his sword in accordance with them, he found himself striking at her head only after she had already turned it away. He kicked at a spot where her foot had already retreated. He punched at a space she had already stepped back from.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Old Man Shin had told him stories of a concept called "striking second but arriving first," but even that had its limits.
Step, step.
The young woman's light footsteps succeeded in evading his attacks before they were even launched. It was as if she were reading the future. Or as if she already understood everything about the man named Yeomyeong.
The habits Yeomyeong had accumulated over his lifetime. The fighting style and textbook forms born from countless battles, long since hardwired into his subconscious. Every single bit of it was being read completely. If she were merely reading his thoughts, he could have simply overwhelmed her with a speed she couldn't react to. But she acted as if she already knew what thoughts he would have before he even had them.
Unable to suppress his irritation any longer, Yeomyeong growled, "...What on earth are you doing? How are you evading all of my..."
"..."
The girl did not answer. Instead, with her eyes still closed, she offered a serene smile. It was answer enough. Yeomyeong had heard the conversation she had shared with the old man just moments ago.
"...Ha. An attack cannot connect because God does not wish it? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"
His expression hardening, Yeomyeong threw his straight sword to the ground and drew his moon blade.
"There are no gods in this world. I can tolerate religion as a matter of personal preference, but even that must exist under human order."
Through his countless missed strikes, he had realized something. Though she was slipping out of his attack paths through some method she claimed to be divine will, her actual physical capabilities were not high. In that case, he simply had to crush her with an attack she could not possibly evade.
"There is no such thing as a transcendent will that crushes humanity!"
Yeomyeong brought down his moon blade with all his might, unleashing a finishing move he rarely showed.
Rumble!
With a deafening roar that shook the earth, the ground tore open. This was no longer an attack meant to subdue and capture. In his heart, Yeomyeong had already abandoned the priority of taking the Saintess alive.
'Rather than risking failure for the sake of a live capture, it is better to eliminate her and rescue the kidnapped children.'
Standing upon the trembling earth, Yeomyeong recalled the young girl he had seen a few days ago. A child who had been kidnapped and brainwashed by a cult whose language she couldn't even speak. A little girl who had smiled and introduced herself as Nisyona—meaning "The Tested One" in the church's tongue.
This mission did not just entail the eviction of the cult; it also included the rescue of the kidnapped Earth humans. Even though the written orders from above placed the capture of the Saintess as the highest priority, he had rearranged those priorities under his authority as the field commander.
'I will rescue you soon. Please, let me not be too late,' Yeomyeong resolved.
Right on cue, the debris that had been blasted into the air rained back down. As the obscured vision cleared, a silhouette emerged. The warrior expected to see the crushed corpse of the Saintess. Until now, his finishing move had never missed.
Yet, as the dust finally settled, what met the warrior's eyes was...
"...Haha."
A pair of ruby-red eyes, staring at him from a distance as she aimed her weapon—having evaded even Yeomyeong's ultimate strike as if she had known it was coming all along.
Bang!
With a deafening roar, thunder blasted the warrior's right arm.