The Purge

Tommy Lindberg awakened his ability when he was five years old.

His mother, raising him alone, had to leave the house all day to make ends meet, so she bought him some blocks to play with—and that's when he suddenly awakened.

The young Tommy, awakening all by himself, found the glowing letters and explanations that popped up fascinating and fun, so he eagerly followed along.

He built a house, a castle, a village.

He had no idea that what he was doing was actually happening in reality.

When his own home turned into a real castle and the shantytown ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠transformed into glittering skyscrapers, even as the ground shook like an earthquake and screams echoed from the people, he just thought it was the usual monster outbreak noise.

"Mom said to stay quiet in the house if I hear noises like that."

Tommy plugged his ears and dove even deeper into his block play.

And before long, the sun set and night fell.

When his mom didn't return at her usual time and Tommy grew bored of playing, he opened the door—and the world he'd always known had completely changed.

His house stood alone, isolated atop walls that soared to bizarre heights.

A sudden wave of terror washed over him, and Tommy wailed for a long time.

But no one climbed those walls to reach him, not even when he finally collapsed from exhaustion.

For a day, two days...

Tommy spent every waking hour crying and searching for his mom, only eating scraps of stale rice when hunger struck.

And finally, after a week had passed.

With no food left and no strength even to cry, Tommy lay on the floor, gasping for breath, contemplating death.

That's when the door to the house atop those towering walls burst open, and people rushed in.

They were all terrifying figures cloaked in black robes, but to Tommy, they looked like saviors come to rescue him.

The one who found and took away the dying Tommy was Karl Rutley, UHN Chairman. The fake Demon King.

For the next five years, Tommy created ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fortresses and structures of all kinds for the Canadian branch of the Hunter Association, hidden ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠away under the alias "Architect," his very existence kept secret.

Even Killopoti, the ocean fortress Kwon Mu-hyuk had destroyed, was Tommy's handiwork.

"You're... that, Architect?"

"I hate you! You're a bad hero! I'm not telling!"

The boy, who looked about ten years old, huffed indignantly from inside the narrow iron cage, clutching his blocks like a shield.

He hadn't been bathed or fed properly—his scrawny body was filthy, sweat streaming down his grimy face.

His legs had stopped growing normally from being confined so long, and the tiny cage was crammed with food scraps and dirty blocks, taking up every inch of space.

Yet the boy's eyes burned with hostility toward me, a total stranger, more than the humans who'd been "caring" for him.

"Uncle Karl said you killed him! You're bad!"

"...Ah, that uncle. Yeah, I did kill him. But..."

I glanced at the boy's Indexer and grimaced.

For a kid with construction skills, not combat ones, the karma stacked up on his Indexer was unnaturally massive for his age.

It wasn't hard to guess someone had forced this little guy to rack up that much.

"That uncle was way worse than me. At least in this life."

"Liar! Liii..."

"Grow up first. Bro's busy right now."

With Black Goat cultists swarming from behind, I put the kid to sleep and scooped him up.

"Put the child down, you kidnapper!"

"You lot turned him into this and have the nerve to cry kidnapper? Shameless bastards."

Seeing Tommy's state reminded me all too vividly of how they'd broken me down with corruption, draining my dark energy while I was a pathetic mess.

The humiliating days chained like a dog.

The repeated exploitation across most regressions where I couldn't even kill myself.

And I wasn't the only one.

The adults' selfishness, planted worldwide as the Corrupted Demonic World Tree, had been devouring children's futures as fertilizer.

The dean at my Hunter Academy, UHN Chairman Karl, even that Choi Joo-bong guy.

Hell, even the Iron-Blood Pope...

All of them, in the end, with their own reasons and justifications.

In a crumbling world, they'd stolen the futures of the kids and youth who should inherit it, all for their own.

Every hot breath from the sleeping Tommy made rage well up like red paint soaking through hanji paper, gradient by gradient.

Today, I'd smash everything these bastards had built on this kid's power.

I blasted holy power wildly into every corner of the ornate fortress city of walls and palaces the kid had built.

As if sensing my fury, Mighty Wrath of Evil-Slaying erupted with unprecedented destructive holy force.

"Gaaahhh!"

"Th-that crazy hero bastard!"

Kaboom!

Kr-boom!

Most Black Goat cultists, lacking flight abilities like mine, plummeted as walls and buildings collapsed, dying or getting injured.

Even those with flight skills or artifacts couldn't block my attacks and fell.

Whoosh!

"Ugh!"

I staggered dodging a sudden arrow.

Spotting the source, a lone intact turret hovered over the rubble—unsupported by any pillar. A safety zone awakener, apparently.

A Black Goat cultist inside was firing.

"Dark Storm Arrow!"

Heavy iron arrows whirled in black vortices, flying one after another.

My holy barrier blocked them all, but mosquitoes buzzing like this were annoying.

Roooaaarrr!

Thud! Boom!

Meanwhile, with my increased divine power, Giantia's height had grown to 500 meters.

From the moment she appeared, the earth quaked, her mighty roar threatening to shatter eardrums.

I tucked the holy sword under my free armpit—the one not holding the kid—and rubbed my fingers to mold divine power into earplugs, jamming them in.

Roooaaarrr!

Raaaahhh!

Kaboom! Kr-boom! Crash!

'Ah, much better.'

The divine earplugs worked great. For the full 10 minutes Giantia rampaged, I comfortably watched the Black ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Goat cult's Canadian branch get pulverized from the air.

When the 10 minutes ended and Giantia vanished, only pulverized building rubble and mangled, unrecognizable corpses littered the surroundings.

I scanned with my Indexer just in case—no survivors.

I landed lightly on the ground, still holding Tommy.

The kid was out cold despite all the chaos—exhausted beyond belief.

'They didn't even let him sleep properly.'

As I frowned unconsciously, Jeong Hyeon-seop and the holy knights rushed over from the rear, faces pale.

"D-did... did the hero do all this?"

"Yes. They resisted fiercely, so I stepped on them a bit."

"A b-bit? That doesn't look..."

"Pardon?"

"N-no! But who's the kid?"

Jeong Hyeon-seop eyed Tommy curiously.

A sleeping child was wildly out of place on this devastated battlefield.

"A kid the Black Goat cultists had. Seems he awakened a construction trait, so they exploited him for it."

"How could they!"

"Those scum deserve divine punishment!"

"Eh, if we're talking punishment, they got plenty earlier. Haha."

"Pfft, true enough."

Watching the holy knights rage over the kid then share wry smiles eased my heart. In this insane world, sharing this moment with decent people was a huge comfort.

"Is the back of the fortress cleared?"

"Yes. We wiped out even those fleeing through the back gate, dodging that giant warrior."

"Haha, good. Now we just mop up the remnants for a while."

"A while? Those crazy fanatics won't see daylight again!"

A holy knight pumped his fist excitedly, practically dancing with glee.

Back in Korea, my brother—who'd been staying in the VIP room at Gaon of Light Main Temple—had already moved into the cradle.

The previous occupant, Saintess Jeong I-seo, had eagerly returned to her family home to finally reunite with her longed-for parents.

"Bro! Already moved in? Haha."

"The Pope rushed it the moment he got back from the summit. Said we couldn't let you slip away... Anyway, grateful."

"So, how is it? Like it?"

"You asking that now...?"

"Why? Not your style? Move somewhere else?"

Bro slapped my back with a big laugh.

"When have I ever lived this luxuriously? Love it! Obviously amazing! Don't even need to ask—super grateful! Thanks, Mu-hyuk! Good job, little bro! Hahaha!"

"Ow, my hero back's gonna bruise. Hehe..."

His booming laugh cleared my ears and heart.

Across countless regressions, this was the first time I'd heard bro laugh so heartily and freely.

From my first regression in this loop to now, we'd been through so much in such a short time—more packed than any previous loop.

'We've come so far, achieving what I hoped for after all that wandering.'

I felt profound happiness and gratitude—not just to myself, but to whoever might be watching from somewhere in Gaon of Light.

Entering the cradle, I found bro struggling to move a desk amid unpacked boxes, so I helped while catching him up.

When I got to my friends—especially Chang-seok—bro sympathized.

"Once we're settled, invite your academy pals for a housewarming. Stuff yourselves with good food and drinks—bad vibes vanish like that."

"Housewarming? Yeah, Chang-seok would love it. Haha."

And one more thing.

Bro readily agreed to bring Tommy here and care for him together.

"Yeah! Great idea. I've always wanted to help kids like that hunter uncle who saved us young... How about we gather kids hurt by the Black Goats and raise them here in the cradle? Lemme see, we'd need more space over here..."

Bro finally had something he wanted to do.

Or rather, something he'd always wanted but given up on due to circumstances—now possible.

Gaon of Light Main Temple's cradle would truly become a "cradle" for wounded children.

And so, the first meeting between bro and Tommy.

Though the Gaon church offered to find adoptive parents, Tommy still needed time to readjust to the world.

"I'll curse you! You hero too! And these cringey Gaon of Light creeps... Mmph! Mmph!"

"There we go, eat up. Haha, good kid."

Tommy spat venom at the world but readily ate what bro fed him.

With warm meals, clean beds, fresh clothes, and days in the cradle, his body and mind would heal in time.

The Black Goats had left a massive mess, but Gaon of Light followers joyfully praised their god regardless.

The Iron-Blood Pope celebrated the Demon King's defeat and Black Goat purge with grand fireworks, broadcasting the joyous news worldwide.

'Dude's consistently all-in on PR.'

Impressed by his "genuine" zeal, I eyed the quests popping up.

My stalled heart pounded again.

Even across countless regressions—up to this loop with 999 luck—the Eternally Cursed Body trait had clung to me relentlessly. Now, its removal dangled as a reward.