An Ill-Mannered Child Requires Punishment
The battlefield was chaos.
Flame and shrapnel. Screams and the crash of steel.
At the very heart of the all-out collision between the Maid Corps and the heroes, Baekho ground her teeth and glared at Hongryeon.
"Why are you doing this? What the hell is your goal?!"
Hongryeon let her gaze travel slowly over the maids still locked in combat.
"Our goal, you say."
A brief murmur, and then her eyes settled.
"I could never presume to fathom the full depth of His designs. And yet."
Her eyes curved into faint crescents.
"That He is a pioneer destined to upheave this world — a savior — of that, there can be no doubt."
Baekho let out a breath.
"...What?"
"The advance of civilization. The evolution of life. The laws of nature are cold things."
Hongryeon went on, her voice even and untroubled.
"Those who fail to adapt are culled. So you too should accept your fate as Lord Masat's test subject."
Baekho's eyes twisted.
"Don't make me laugh. How many people have to die for that damned evolution of yours?"
Her bloodless lips trembled.
"Every single life is precious... Don't you dare trample that under a word like evolution!"
A short breath.
The conversation stopped dead.
Hongryeon's eyes narrowed.
In the next instant, the floor tore open.
A thunderous crash. A whirling gust came screaming through, and something cut the wind as it lunged.
Baekho dropped on reflex, one hand slapping the ground, both boots snapping upward like sprung steel.
A ringing clash — Hongryeon's twin blades glanced off and flew wide. Baekho spun like a windmill, and steel met steel in a vicious, rattling exchange of blows and blocks. She kicked the blades away with everything she had and opened the distance.
"Hah... hah..."
She was just starting to set her stance when Hongryeon vanished from her field of view.
What? Where did she go?
She whipped her eyes left and right, but there was nothing. Nothing at all.
And then — a wet, punching sound.
Baekho looked down at the plasma blade that had come clean through her abdomen.
"...Ah?"
Hongryeon had risen out of her own shadow. She was behind her, driving the sword in to the hilt.
A searing hiss. A sour, acrid smoke began to rise. The instant the superheated plasma started to cook her organs from the inside, the tip that had entered her belly dragged hard to the right.
A single, casual stroke.
Half her abdomen opened sideways.
Baekho screamed and collapsed to the floor.
"Ah — hhgh..."
Her intestines pushed out. She caught them with both hands. To keep them from bursting. To keep them from spilling. Blood, breath, sweat, and pain all detonated at once.
It hurts! It hurts so much!!
Pain so total she could not draw air. Tears welled up on their own. Her mind felt ready to fly apart at any second.
In the spreading pool of her own blood, Baekho's body jerked and shuddered. Anyone looking would have called it a mortal wound.
And yet, impossibly, the abdomen that had been torn open was knitting itself back together.
"...?!"
Baekho touched her stomach with a shaking hand. Flesh was growing back. The wound was sealing. Her organs were finding their places again.
Hongryeon walked toward her, high heels clicking against the stone.
"Do not play the hypocrite with that glorious power Lord Masat bestowed upon you, Baekho."
"...What?"
"You are nothing more than a single test subject. Fortune was kind enough to catch His eye, but had He not been there, you would have returned to the dirt a long time ago."
Baekho shook her head, her voice unsteady.
"No. This is... my Gift awakening..."
The words died in her throat. It was not as if nothing added up. That day in Seoul, when Masat had forced a tentacle into her mouth and torn through her body from the inside — immediately afterward, she had gained a recovery that made no sense at all.
"That... that can't be... the professor was certain I'd awakened it myself..."
"It cannot be, you say?"
Hongryeon tilted her head, her face utterly blank.
"I simply cannot understand it. Why He would treasure such an ungrateful creature so dearly..."
"...?!"
The moment Baekho looked at Hongryeon's face, a chill ran down her spine. The expression itself gave nothing away. And yet a terrible shadow hung over it.
Baekho was still staggering to her feet when —
Hongryeon closed the gap in a single breath and brought her sword down.
A ringing clash. Baekho caught it on her boot.
"Kh—!"
Hongryeon let go of the hilt. The blade sagged as if it were falling — then she recaptured the grip and drove in low.
A wet, shearing cut. The stroke took Baekho through the thigh. Her hamstring parted.
"Nngh!!"
Her stance collapsed with the scream. In that same opening, a blade came flying in at her back. Again. And again. Thin as a lash.
"How dare you."
A screaming rip of steel painted a line of red across her spine.
"So feeble!"
Another lash, thin as a whip-crack.
"You insignificant little thing!!"
A third stroke carved her open.
"To take Lord Masat's favor for your own...!!"
A storm of residual images and howling wind. Her entire back was painted red, as if a whip had done the work. Baekho's knees hit the ground.
She crumpled.
"Haa..."
Only after she had flung blood in every direction did Hongryeon let out a long breath.
"You do not belong at His side."
She tossed the sword into the air.
"So would you be so kind as to take your own life and exit the stage?"
Baekho's shoulders shook. She turned her head.
"Ptew!"
She spat a mouthful of blood-soaked saliva.
"A hero... doesn't yield... to a pack of villains..."
Hongryeon said nothing. She reached out, snatched Baekho by the hair, and drove her into the floor.
A sickening thud.
"Ah!"
Again.
"Ngh!"
And again.
Baekho made no sound at all.
Hongryeon slammed her down over and over. Blood ran in a thick line from Baekho's nose. Even so, she clenched her teeth and forced the words out.
"Those with power... have a responsibility... Strong or weak... if you're human... you live by leaning on each other..."
She spoke between ragged breaths.
"But you Mains... who slaughter people like insects... have no right to lead humanity..."
"No right...?"
In that instant, someone shouted.
"Baekho!!"
An A-Class hero came charging in to support her, a club whirling in his hands.
"Let her go!!"
He drove in from behind. But the sword that had been thrown into the air came down, and Hongryeon plucked it from the sky.
A single whispering cut. The saber split the air and left a tearing note behind it.
"...Ah?"
The neck of the hero who had come in so full of momentum... simply fell away.
A dull, final sound.
Baekho's eyes flew wide.
"You... you bastard!!"
Hongryeon's face did not change. She kicked Baekho.
A brutal, bone-deep impact.
"Aaaagh!"
Baekho tumbled across the floor, spinning dozens of times. She was soaked in blood. Her body was twisted. Her vision swam.
"Nnngh..."
Hongryeon approached at an unhurried walk.
"The strong devour the weak. That is an immutable law — a thousand years ago, and a thousand years from now. The line between life and death, and the right to sit a throne, are decided by the strong."
She leveled the sword.
"Bite your tongue and end yourself. Once a slippery little thing like you is gone, Lord Masat's vision will be all the clearer."
Baekho coughed blood and forced the question out.
"Why... why go that far... what is that lunatic to you...!"
Hongryeon closed her eyes.
"It is only natural that a faithful retainer should attend her sovereign."
And then, very quietly, so quietly she did not seem to know she had spoken at all:
"If only you were gone... Lord Masat would... only me..."
Baekho's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
The voice had been far too small to catch. Hongryeon's eyes snapped open, and her hand tightened on the sword.
"Submit. Or die. Those are your only two choices."
Baekho lifted her head. Her face was a mask of blood, her teeth clenched.
"...There's no point talking anymore."
She planted a shaking knee and stood.
"I was a fool... for even a second, I believed that man was capable of feeling something!"
Somewhere inside her skull, something caught fire.
And then —
"Ngh..."
A pair of ears pricked up through her hair. A white tail stirred at her waist. Black tattoos carved themselves across her cheek.
"This is...?"
The new drug Seo Aegyo had given her? But the sensation was different from before — alien. Rage should have been boiling up through her. Strangely, her head had gone cold instead. She was so calm it startled her.
Intricate circuit diagrams spread across her hero suit.
A low, rising hum. Pale powder scattered on the air, and a soft radiance began to pour off Baekho's body. Plasma flashed and crackled through the light.
Hongryeon caught her breath.
"...Lord Masat's Nano-Core?"
Baekho bit down hard on her lip. Power was overflowing inside her. But if all of this was Masat's experiment...
She had no idea what he was after.
If it's for the sake of peace, I'll use whatever I have to!
She kicked off the ground and charged.
The concrete floor cratered under the impact. White flame streamed from her heels and drew a line behind her, as if a meteor were scoring the earth.
"What?!"
Hongryeon brought her swords up on reflex.
It did not matter.
A single kick sent her flying. Before she could even find her footing, the next barrage landed. One blow. Then another. Each one hit like a meteor punching into the earth.
"Kh..."
To think she would be overpowered — by a mere hero, of all things. The force was so clean and so overwhelming she could not even deflect it.
Defense alone will not end this.
She watched for an opening and slipped inside, lining up a thrust —
A sudden, violent burst of thrust exploded from Baekho's heel. An acceleration no one could have predicted. Baekho's boot slammed into Hongryeon's solar plexus.
"Ghk—!!"
A shrieking rush of air. Hongryeon punched into the wall.
The impact was enormous. Cracks raced out through the wall and the floor alike.
Hongryeon staggered, then set her stance. Even after taking a meteor head-on, her body was already repairing itself.
"It is useless. Against a servant of the Mausoleum Temple... physical force is..."
That was when her knees folded.
"...?!"
The strength went out of her legs. Hongryeon sank to the ground. Only then did she look at Baekho's feet.
The boots were holding a sacred radiance.
"It cannot be. A sacred relic...?"
If so, it explained everything. The blows had not been landing on her flesh at all. They had been striking her soul directly.
"Hah..."
Hongryeon put a hand to the wall and stood.
And then — she laughed.
"Hahahahahahahaha!!"
A strange laugh. And something about it was wrong.
The voices were layered. Many voices. The timbre of an old woman. The scream of a child. A muttering that sounded like an echo.
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!"
Hongryeon clutched her forehead and shook her head from side to side. Grotesque afterimages lingered in the air. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then her head stopped dead.
"How amusing."
She straightened her back and slowly lifted her face. The whites of her eyes had flooded black. Her pupils were a raw, blood-soaked red.
Baekho's tail bristled straight up. She took a step back before she knew she had moved.
This isn't good... something ominous... no. Something clammy and clinging. I don't like this...
The Maid Corps and the heroes alike stopped fighting and turned to look at Hongryeon. They swallowed. Not one of them dared to speak.
In that ominous silence, Hongryeon lifted her chin as if the entire scene were beneath her.
"...Gwimun."
With that single word, a vast, devouring rush of darkness exploded outward.
Her shadow swallowed the walls.