I Was a Madman Too (9)
KWAaaaaaaa!
A storm of black demonic energy raged through the air. The rough skin of the earth was ripped up by the gale, trees were torn out by the roots and swept into the maelstrom, and the storm swallowed the debris of shattered buildings and choking dust before swelling even larger as it scourged everything in its path.
Faced with that bizarre and terrifying sight, helpless fear crept into Baek Cheon’s eyes.
This… this is…
It was, quite literally, a storm. Something no human could create—no, something no human should ever create.
KWAaaaaaaa!
That ominous black current swept everything away, crushing it, tearing the world to ribbons.
Demonic energy pressed down on his entire body and squeezed his throat shut, as if it would allow neither breath nor the twitch of a single finger.
Before that overwhelming force, Baek Cheon’s existence was far too small.
So this is a real bishop…
He understood now. He had no choice but to understand.
Why the martial world still shrank away from the name bishop, why even speaking it had become taboo. Why the sages of old had buried the cursed name of the Demonic Sect so deeply that they had tried not to think of it at all.
And he understood something else as well. Why Cheong Myeong had looked at the bishop of the North Sea and called him nothing more than a halfwit.
A true bishop tore at the earth with demonic energy and made the heavens tremble. It was a force unlike any martial realm he had ever imagined—something that could only be described as pure destruction.
…I feel like my heart’s about to break.
Even Baek Cheon, who had overcome countless crises with Cheong Myeong at his side, felt the urge to abandon everything the instant he stood before a being called a bishop.
He had always believed that no matter what kind of situation he faced, his heart at least would never break. But now he had to confront, painfully, just how arrogant that belief had been.
How utterly powerless was human will before this monstrous force that seemed ready to engulf the world whole?
“Ugh….”
“Ah… ahh….”
Even the Red Dogs were staggering backward. Those hunting dogs who would have laughed while their bodies were torn apart if Jang Il-so had ordered it were now retreating from their master. No—retreating was too mild a word. They were fleeing, though they lacked the courage to turn their backs on the bishop.
They did not fear death. But wasn’t there something in the world more frightening than death?
Their weakness was so stark it made the Red Dogs’ fearsome reputation seem meaningless, but Baek Cheon could not mock them. No, he couldn’t even think to. He was spending every shred of his own strength just to keep his own feet from moving backward.
Crack.
His lower lip, clamped so tightly between his teeth, split open and blood ran down. The wind caught it and scattered the droplets into the air.
“Ugh….”
And yet Baek Cheon endured.
He had already experienced this once before. He knew, at least somewhat, how monstrous and inhuman these bishops were.
But for those encountering a bishop’s presence for the first time, the scene before their eyes was even more shocking. It was a catastrophe beyond anything that could be described with a single word like despair.
“Ah….”
Namgung Dowi involuntarily took a step back. His eyes trembled wildly, as though struck by lightning.
How…?
How could something like that exist in this world?
He was the eldest son of the Namgung family, the one destined to become the head of the Namgung Clan. He was no stranger to the existence of powerful figures who ruled the world. But this bishop was on an entirely different level from any of the experts he had known until now.
“How….”
It was different. Different even from the patriarchs of the Five Great Families who commanded the world, and different from the sect leaders of the Nine Great Sects who oversaw the realm.
He had never even sensed a force this enormous from the previous generation’s absolute masters, those who had surpassed them all and then turned their backs on the world. That alone made it a hopeless power.
One thought rose naturally in his mind.
That’s not something a human can deal with. That is…
“Ugh….”
Before he knew it, Namgung Dowi was slowly backing away—until someone seized both of his shoulders from either side. He jerked in surprise and looked around, muttering,
“Y-Yoon Jong, Dojang… Jo Geol, Dojang….”
Jo Geol and Yoon Jong had dug their fingers painfully into his shoulders, forcing him to stop retreating.
“Do not retreat, Young Patriarch.”
Yoon Jong bit down on his lip hard enough for blood to show as he spoke.
“Endure it.”
At those unyielding words, Namgung Dowi’s eyes wavered.
Endure it? How? How could he say something like that after looking at that thing? If they were truly seeing the same scene he was, how could they possibly speak those words so calmly?
Aren’t they afraid?
Even now, Namgung Dowi felt as though his spirit would collapse before his body did. His soul was screaming beyond his own control—how was he supposed to endure this?
Was he supposed to stand here and accept the death coming for him as though it were natural?
I can’t do it!
Just as he was about to shout in bloodshot fury, Namgung Dowi suddenly fell silent. What calmed him was the faint tremor he felt in the hand gripping his shoulder—Yoon Jong’s hand.
Namgung Dowi flinched and looked at Yoon Jong.
He’s shaking?
His gaze dropped slowly downward. Yoon Jong’s legs were trembling so violently they looked ready to buckle at any second.
A suppressed groan slipped from Namgung Dowi’s mouth.
So that’s it….
They weren’t unafraid. They weren’t pretending.
They were trembling.
Come to think of it, that made perfect sense. They were human, too—why wouldn’t they be afraid? They might well be feeling even greater terror than Namgung Dowi himself.
And yet they had not retreated a single step. They were standing there and enduring the existence of the bishop.
“Do not leave behind the memory that you….”
Gnnh.
Yoon Jong bit down hard on his lip as he spoke.
“……that you ran away, Young Patriarch…… for your own sake, too!”
Namgung Dowi’s jaw convulsed.
He forcibly turned his gaze and saw Cheong Myeong’s back in front of him.
Even standing behind him, Namgung Dowi could feel his resolve twisting. Then just how much was Cheong Myeong bearing while facing the bishop head-on?
Dojang….
He clenched his fist as hard as he could, and his nails dug into his palm.
Crick.
Grinding his teeth until it felt as if they might snap, he planted both feet firmly on the ground.
Did he have the courage to fight back? No, not yet. If that demon charged at him, Namgung Dowi’s will might crumble in an instant.
But…
Even if I’m pathetic beyond measure…
When there was someone standing there and holding the line for him, how could he possibly turn his back and run?
Bloodshot eyes blazing, he gripped the sword in his hand as though he meant to break it.
“Even if I… can’t be of much help….”
The words squeezed out of Namgung Dowi’s throat, thick with blood.
“……I’ll at least die with you.”
Only then did the hands on his shoulders lose their strength. But Namgung Dowi never noticed; he only stared fixedly at Cheong Myeong’s back.
Dojang, please!
There was an ache of desperate prayer in that gaze. It was like the look someone from a distant past had once sent toward that same back. That look pushed against Cheong Myeong’s shoulders.
KWAaaaaaaa!
The vicious demonic energy, so fierce that even brushing against it would flay the skin and churn the insides into ruin, swept across the battlefield at terrifying speed.
Cheong Myeong bared his teeth as he met the explosively surging demonic energy head-on.
“So, then….”
A laugh slipped out of him despite himself.
So I really went around taking on things like that, huh?
Every time the tips of his fingers ached as though they might shatter, a hollow chuckle rose in his throat.
“Honestly….”
A crooked grin pulled at Cheong Myeong’s lips, and a rough laugh escaped between them.
“I really was a madman.”
He had faced demonic energy more times than he could count. But didn’t people say the world looked different depending on where you stood? The bishop he had once looked down on from a lofty position and the bishop he now looked up at from far lower ground were as different as heaven and earth.
He could feel a power so overwhelming it was nearly despair itself. And at the same time, fighting spirit began to boil fiercely in Cheong Myeong’s eyes.
A difference in power, huh….
He bared his teeth like a prowling beast.
“And here I thought some lowly bishop was getting mighty cocky.”
A thick murderous intent sharpened Cheong Myeong’s aura to a razor’s edge. Then, from beside him, a voice muttered under its breath.
“……Chilling.”
Jang Il-so’s robes flapped wildly in the wind. But Jang Il-so himself did not so much as twitch, meeting the onrushing demonic energy head-on.
He lifted one hand and brushed it across his face.
“The world is as vast as ever. To think there were people like that openly existing in it.”
Cheong Myeong snorted.
“What, are you scared?”
“Scared?”
Jang Il-so turned his head toward Cheong Myeong beside him. His long eyes curved into an amused crescent.
“You’re a naughty child. You really should break that habit of saying things you don’t mean.”
“That’s rich coming from you, you crazy bastard.”
“Kukukukuk.”
Jang Il-so laughed merrily. Even so, his eyes flashed with a cold blue light. Despite standing before his absolute enemy, his wickedness did not dim in the slightest.
“This is certainly an error in my calculations. And I’m not particularly fond of variables.”
His face was smiling brightly, but the air around him writhed with something uncanny.
“If a variable appears that can’t be used, then it needs to be removed. Whatever it may be.”
“……I don’t exactly feel like agreeing with you,”
Cheong Myeong said with a snort, turning his sword over into a reverse grip.
“But I do agree with that part.”
Jang Il-so’s eerily gleaming eyes and Cheong Myeong’s cold, boiling gaze crossed in the air.
“Then let’s find out.”
Jang Il-so slowly lowered his hand and said it, then spread both palms and calmly stepped toward the horrific storm of demonic energy.
“Just how sharp the exquisite blade I prepared really is.”
“Don’t get in the way, you idiot.”
Cheong Myeong, too, let his sword hang low and stepped forward.
Two black-and-red figures, separated by distance, advanced toward the front. Toward the black storm raging as though it meant to swallow the world whole.
Those two people—natural enemies who could never walk the same road—were looking at the same place in this moment.
KAGAGAK!
KRARARAK!
At the moment when the scrape of Cheong Myeong’s sword against the ground and the friction of Jang Il-so’s rings rang out at the same time—
KWAaaang!
the two of them kicked off the earth as if in perfect agreement and hurled themselves straight into the storm of demonic energy.
Cheong Myeong’s sword, pouring out Zaha Divine Art to its utmost, unleashed a red sunset glow. And Jang Il-so’s both hands, driven to the limit with Blue Flame Killing Gang, burst into blue fire.
Two streaks of light—one red, one blue—sliced toward the darkest place in the world.