Not Even a Threat
A demon forgets a kindness done to it in three seconds, yet carries a grudge older than dirt to the very end of its days. Such is the way of the Demon.
Bonjwa. Blood Demon Cheon Yujin. The moment I set foot back inside my own home, that man in sunglasses—whatever he was supposed to be, some kind of walking power meter—would be entered upon my kill list. Without fail!
And he ought to be deeply grateful to Bonjwa for it, too. If I, the finest of the Demonic Path, acted the part and mobilized every means at my disposal, something tremendous would unfold—something no one in this world could imagine.
Yes. Nothing special. He was merely slated for the kill list, and nothing more.
For I would not invoke the final secret art that Bonjwa, Blood Demon Cheon Yujin, reserves for the very last of last resorts. The incarnation of money and power. The tyrant across the dinner table. The ruler of our household. I would not unleash the technique whose very name chills the blood: "Telling Se-ah"...!
"...Hnngh."
What was this wretchedness welling up in one corner of my chest, anyway? The Demonic Path is called the Demonic Path precisely because it casts pride aside entirely and stops at nothing. And yet, for some reason, it felt as though I had cast away something worth far more than pride....
"N-no, it isn't...!"
Swish, swish! I shouted, whipping my hair—already a bird's nest from all the running—side to side in a furious head-shake. Was it worse because I had been hiding myself along dark back alleys on purpose, doing everything I could to stay out of sight?
Doing my best to ignore it—sweat, it was definitely sweat—I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my hoodie and turned my gaze toward the sky. Between the buildings lining both sides of the street, a formless current wavered faintly, steeped in violet. When I had first set out it had been barely visible; now it was unmistakably large.
In other words, I had definitively succeeded in closing the distance. Enduring the humiliations and never once stopping had carried me this far. What mattered was a heart that would not bend. From here on, all I had to do was make no mistakes, stay alert, and arrive. That was all...!
Thud! Crash!
"...Huh?"
The instant I rounded the corner to leave the alley, stars burst before my eyes and my backside slammed into the pavement. Zzzt. A current shot up through my rear—my tailbone, my tailbone precisely, had struck the concrete! A violent ache radiated out from it, through my backside, and all the way up my spine.
"Ugyeek, agyek, hyagyagyaga!" Letting out a shriek no words could describe, I clutched my backside and rolled across the ground. This cursed body, weak to every new stimulus like a newborn infant—I had banged my head, collected bruises all over, endured this and that, but the pain of a tailbone strike was a first, and it hurt several times worse...!
But hold on. What had I just walked into...?
A shadow fell over me. With trembling eyes, I slowly looked up at its owner.
"Grrk, grrrk..."
A man foaming at the mouth, blue light drooling from his glare. His coat was soaked with someone's blood—apparently he had already fought his fill. I found myself meeting eyes whose unfocused pupils were webbed with grotesque black veins.
"Hgyaaaah...!!!"
My body sprang like a frog and slammed into the ground a second time. I tried to at least assume a defensive posture, but I had been startled so badly that this wretched body would not even think about moving! My mind scrambled to respond with composure, but the strength had drained from my legs and my flesh refused every order. All it could do was tremble and shrink in on itself like a small animal before a beast of prey.
From far away I hadn't noticed it, but this body could not withstand the killing intent an Explosion Demon Art user naturally radiated. Worse, the eyes matter most in a fight—so why, just because it was frightened, had this body gone and shut them without permission?!
"Ah, aww, aaaaah...."
The Explosion Demon Art. A bestial demonic art that moved on pure instinct, attacking anything nearby that registered as a threat, friend or foe alike. But read the other way, that meant when there was absolutely nothing nearby that qualified as a threat, the user would sometimes stand quietly in place until the frenzy subsided—like a beast with a full belly.
Of all places, I had been at a dark corner with poor visibility, and my senses had gone numb from the exhaustion of running, so I had not felt his presence at all. Even in the darkness behind my clenched-shut lids, I strained my arms and legs, trying desperately to move—
...?
Why wasn't the attack coming?
Come to think of it, enough time had passed for a blade to have come flying at me any number of times by now. Terrifying as it was, I whipped this body as it thrashed against seeing, and barely pried my eyelids open.
"Grrk, kuuuh..."
Those unfocused eyes. They were not looking at me; they stared at empty air.
"Hweh?"
No, wait. What is this. No.
Before I knew it, I was on my feet, raising a hand and waving it before the man's eyes the way one checks on someone unconscious. The gap in our height was so extreme that I rose onto my very tiptoes, legs wobbling from the strain.
"E-excuse me...?"
"Krrrr..."
No reaction. None at all. That couldn't be right. Once the Explosion Demon Art activated, it attacked indiscriminately the moment anyone threatening came near. And the bar for "threatening" was so low that merely looking vaguely human cleared it—the criterion was practically meaningless. It was governed by purely bestial wariness; even a clawed animal capable of attacking counted as a threat.
Hold on. ...A threatening presence?
"...Huh?"
For a moment, my gaze darted between my own body and the hunter ruled by the art. No, surely not. No. It couldn't be.Bonjwa. The greatest under heaven, Blood Demon Cheon Yujin. The notion of going unrecognized even by a creature ruled by instinct was utterly impossible...!
"N-no way...! Hey—!!! Here! Look here!"
I knew full well this was madness. But this—this was truly unacceptable. This, if nothing else, I could not forgive. I could endure no further humiliation, so turning back from here was simply not an option...!
"Respond... RESPOND! Hey! You're looking, aren't you! I know you can see me... HEY!!!"
I waved and yelled right in front of the Explosion Demon Art user, yet he showed no reaction whatsoever. The humiliating moment I had suffered just before flashed through my mind.
"There's no way a newborn baby would be in a place like this. At best, it's a rat scurrying around the alley."
"...Squeak, squeak!"
And yet this was the Explosion Demon Art—the art that struck first, even against a target that was merely moving.
"B-Bonjwa is not... Blood Mouse...!!!"
BOOM! My leg, charged with fury, drove a seismic stomp into the ground, and a fist dredging up every last ounce of strength I possessed pierced the empty air.
"HYAAAAAH—!"
Tiger Heart Spear Strike
A form that pierces, shatters, and runs through the heart in a single blow. When one's training in the Fierce Tiger Fist reaches its zenith, it becomes a terrifying straight punch that raises a fist-wind even without internal qi!
Elbow drawn all the way back behind me, my fist shot out like a spear. With a heavy thud, the instant it struck his chest, a jarring impact ran through my fingers.
"Krrrrrrk...!!"
Tap, tap. The Explosion Demon Art user brushed at his chest with his hand, as though flicking away dust.
"...Huh?"
He tilted his head a moment longer, then curled his fingers and scratched briskly at his chest—the way a man scratches a mosquito bite in midsummer.
... In silence, I stared dumbfounded at my flushed, burning fist.
Then, from one end of the alley, came the cry of a cat. Mrow.
"Krrk? Krrrr... KYAAAAAH!"
Blue light poured from the eyes of the man who had stood as still as a machine with its power cut, bursting forth like an explosion, and without a shred of hesitation he began charging down the alley.
"Myeeeooow!"
Along with the cat's panicked cries came the din of things toppling, breaking, descending into pandemonium. The Explosion Demon Art hunter, triggered by the cat, ran off and never came back. He had responded to a cat. To a cat....
"...Huhahahahaha!"
Th-that is to say, Bonjwa's experiment had succeeded perfectly, precisely as first intended! With the fighting dragging on, the ranks of Explosion Demon Art users had swelled—and now I knew that they, sensing the majesty of the Blood Demon, greatest under heaven, would flee as though sprouting ten thousand tails. From here on, I need only beware of those who still possessed their reason!
Just as I had surmised, I could pass through places crawling with Explosion Demon Art users without hiding at all, and my pace leapt severalfold. I reached the area near the Gate faster than the journey here had taken—and though this should have been a moment for rejoicing, why did this wretched body keep spilling tears? Bonjwa could not fathom it in the slightest....
"The Gate...! Hngh!"
Others arrived by brilliant cunning, or by smashing a path through with sheer force; I had made it here through some process I could not begin to name. But arrived I had, and that was all that mattered. And there, someone had already claimed the spot before me.
"Namgung... Ye-rin?"
I was sure I had set out first...! Typical running dog of the Orthodox Sects! A fitting heir of the Namgung clan, the family that had thwarted Bonjwa at every turn even back in Murim! To see through my plan to reach the Gate and chase me all this way!
And yet, for some reason, she looked to be in rough shape.
"Haah, haah...."
Namgung Ye-rin stood drenched in blood, hot breath streaming from her mouth. The man facing her down was tall, his exceptionally balanced build obvious even at a glance. He wore a Sungmuryeon coat and gripped a sword hung with a plum-blossom tassel—and that blade gleamed fresh red with blood, presumably hers.
A one-on-one standoff—yet a hopelessly one-sided affair, the man in the Sungmuryeon coat plainly overwhelming her. But it was not that duel that caught my eye.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A pulsing heart. A distant longing. A violet rift tearing the world open.
From beyond it, something was calling to me.