Cheonma Shingong

Isabella stood before the two doors.

She had remained there ever since Randolph first stepped through.

"…Randolph."

She was looking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back upon herself. A life of endless flight. She had never settled, always moving from place to place. She had become the Snake Princess, aided the Star's Successor, become the Desert Queen, then played the young lady of the Dercian family within that household, and later met Randolph once more as an apprentice knight of the Palga order.

Meeting him again, she felt she finally understood something.

"Randolph. I was chasing a star."

A star hanging in the heavens. She had been moving all this time to catch a star that could never be caught. Among the countless, unfathomable stars, she had believed her own must exist somewhere.

"O Star's Successor. My master, my king."

Isabella stretched a hand toward the door Randolph had entered. If her heart had its way, she would go in this very moment. She wanted to rush through and aid him at once.

"My true star is…"

She felt as though she had found it at last. Her true star had been beside her from the very beginning. It had been right there, and still she had not known. How foolish beyond measure. Now that she understood, could she approach?

No. Not yet.

She had to grow stronger. She could not become a burden to him—to her star.

It was then.

With a creaking groan, the opposite door opened, and a shadow appeared. Above the shadow floated nothing but a single enormous eye.

Voices of different kinds. A man's, a woman's, a child's—all tangled together as one.

"…I can."

Isabella nodded. There was no need to deliberate.

The shadow pointed to the opposite door—the one Randolph had entered.

The words arrived all at once, yet not so tangled that she failed to grasp their meaning. …She sensed no malice in them. That for Randolph to win, there would be a moment when she was needed—that was not a matter she could take lightly.

Creak.

Isabella crossed the threshold.

And the shadow that had been watching her closed its eye and began to weep.

The Sole Emperor's Starlight!

The name of a starlight that was not my own. Contrary to the Sunken Emperor's explanation, the name of a Hidden Trait I had never possessed had surfaced.

Evolved Hidden Traits, or unique Hidden Traits, seem to be the exception.

There were not many special starlights visible on the map. It appeared this was a game of finding the one among them that suited me. And a five-star, no less—five stars. Only one could be equipped at a time, but the stats were absurd.

I'll keep it equipped until I find a five-star starlight that fits me better.

Equipped starlights could be unequipped and swapped at any time. That was how I had been able to rearrange their order. Unlike ordinary starlights, however, special ones seemed impossible to "remove" entirely.

…Indeed.

The effect gained from arranging them in a special sequence had vanished. And yet the Attack Power and HP still exceeded what I had before. For now, the nearly thirty points of Attack and HP from a five-star starlight were better than Star's Memory.

In this game, the first strike is always advantageous.

So raising Attack Power came first. Starlight of Dexterity had only granted +2 Attack and +8 HP, making it inefficient when launching a preemptive assault.

But are first and second strike determined at random?

The two opponents I had faced so far had possessed no starlights at all. They had been auto-defeated, so the distinction between first and second strike had been irrelevant. From here on, it would be different. Participants who had grasped the importance of starlights would be desperately scouring the island. I needed to uncover the criteria for first and second strike.

It was then.

Memories swept through my mind like a panorama. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Moments later, an entirely different world unfolded before my eyes.

"Kill the Emperor!"

"Kill the tyrant Reinhardt!"

"Mad Emperor!"

"Kill the Demon Emperor!!"

Enraged crowds and soldiers poured in like a tidal wave. For the palace of an emperor who had unified the continent, the rivers of blood ran far too deep. Everyone within the palace had died. Everything had been shattered and destroyed. Down to a single child, down to a single ant. Utter pandemonium. If hell existed among the living, this was it.

"Follow the Great Hero Maltiel!"

"Lord Maltiel guides us!"

"Ohh, Messenger of Light!"

At the center of those crowds and soldiers stood one man. The Great Hero Maltiel. Even the continent's foremost Sword Master, even an Eighth-Circle Archmage, had been cut down mercilessly by this man. When none remained to bar his path, he stood alone before Emperor Reinhardt.

"Tyrant Reinhardt. Emperor who deserves to die."

"…Looking at that face of yours only makes my head hurt worse."

The Emperor's features twisted with disgust, the expression of a man thoroughly sick of it all.

"You could have taken the palace without shedding blood. Why kill them all?"

"Because no clean human would remain in this imperial palace."

"Hah. Hardly the words of a celebrated Great Hero."

"A cleansing is required. To purify this rotten empire—this world."

"…Convenient, I suppose. History will record it all as my doing either way."

"History sides with the victor."

Both of them were butchers, yet one became a Great Hero and the other a tyrant. A ridiculous affair. But more ridiculous still was his own position—having unified the continent, and still able to do nothing. This world had not improved. He had made it one, only to realize at last that it could never truly be one.

In the end, had the dream been only a dream?

They say dreams exist to be broken.

The Archmage had been right. Dreams exist to be broken—truly so.

As the Emperor smiled bitterly, Maltiel smiled in turn.

"How sad. A death that no one mourns."

CRACK!

BOOOOM!

…A storm of lightning crashed down, and the recollection ended.

I was dazed by the sudden flood of memory. But one thing was certain.

These are the Sunken Emperor's memories.

What I had just witnessed were the memories of the Sunken Emperor standing right beside me. Memories he himself had likely forgotten. The emperor who unified the continent, Reinhardt. And the Great Hero who killed him, Maltiel. Having forgotten everything, having lost everything, he had sunk to the very bottom of the Abyss.

"Why are you acting so suddenly?"

"…It's nothing."

I gave a small shake of my head. There was something more important right now.

If every other unique starlight holds a memory of its own…

The intent of this game was beginning to show itself, piece by piece. A game of following the Star's Memory, quite literally. Perhaps it was meant to walk the participants back through memories most of them had forgotten. Or perhaps some other hidden tale lay buried within.

And at the same time, I grew curious.

What memories does my starlight hold?

…Eternal Randolph. That unique starlight would be somewhere on this island as well. Greed, the Heart of the Eternal Lord, the High Druid's Grand Nature, the Eye of Truth, even the God of the Demon Blood Species—each of them would surely hold a memory, a story. And those contents would become vital markers for the path I walked from here on.

I need to take this more seriously.

My reasons to win had multiplied. So had my reasons never to yield what was mine to anyone.

I clapped the Sunken Emperor on the shoulder as he continued to stare at me with puzzled eyes.

"Dreams exist to be dreamed, my friend."

"…? Have you gone mad all of a sudden?"

When day broke, the Sunken Emperor was gone. No doubt the effect of his main body being released from transfer to the Star's Prison. Parting without so much as a farewell was a touch disappointing, but I paid it no mind. There could be no eternal allies in this place, after all. He himself had said as much—that when he met his main body, he would show no mercy.

Thanks to him, I learned a great deal.

I also now knew what I had to do. Without the Sunken Emperor's counsel at my side, I would still have been wandering lost.

Inside the cave, I gripped the Cheonmado.

…Only one who has undergone Molting and Annihilation and glimpsed the Asura can fully master Cheonma Shingong. Yet amassing purely demonic energy through human mental cultivation alone is impossible; one must accept a more fundamental Demon.

The Cheonmado kept speaking—of how to surpass the wall and become an Absolute.

The Heavenly Demon became a being of the Abyss in order to master Cheonma Shingong.

One could not remain human. Through human mental cultivation, one could never become an Absolute—never become an Asura. And so the Heavenly Demon had cast his own body into the Abyss. He had abandoned being human. Through that, he had undergone Molting and Annihilation and glimpsed the Asura. Had this not been the special nature of the island, had it been a direct confrontation, defeating the Heavenly Demon would have been impossible.

And so greed stirred in me.

I was one who coveted. I wanted to make ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this mine as well.

Special starlights only appeared at night, and I had already gathered every starlight obtainable in the morning. I began to focus.

The Cheonmado is a mental cultivation method.

The Cheonmado itself was both a manual of mental cultivation and a martial arts text. I now understood all too keenly why it was the Heavenly Demon's most precious possession. By now, he would be searching for me with everything he had. So before he found me, I would master at least the insights engraved within it.

The first path toward Cheonma Shingong is abandoning one's humanity.

I settled into position, closed my eyes, and cleared away every stray thought. Of course, I had no intention of truly abandoning my humanity. I was human, I was Park Hyunmyung, and I was Randolph. Those three propositions I would never surrender. Besides, there was no need to abandon them.

Dreadful Omen. The One Who Blooms Darkness. And the Demon of Greed.

I possessed a deeper darkness—a deeper Demon—than anyone!

I was confident that even the Heavenly Demon himself could not have held a darkness deeper than mine.

"Are you insane? Stop!"

Winter cried out urgently, as though she knew exactly what I intended.

"The contract engraved on that blade cannot be undone. Even my power isn't enough! Dominating it with your own strength is even more out of the question!"

I know. I know that.

Blooming the Eye of Omen and using Winter's power to release the contract was not for the sake of dominating this Cheonmado.

"You'll be consumed. The spirit engraved on that blade must never be carelessly awakened! What are you trying to do by waking a filthy, monstrous Evil God…?!"

An Evil God. An Evil God, she said.

I understood Winter's reaction. But my purpose was different.

This island, this game—its purpose was the recovery of memory. Everything that existed here was a specimen of memory. It would be possible. Here, and only here, it was possible. Just as I had revisited the memories of Sole Emperor Reinhardt.

…So then, Cheonmado.

Show me your memories.